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Creating a Peeing Monster


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This one's probably my most varied story yet in terms of what all gets peed on. It's also a crossover, told from the perspective of Ginger from the PWYS bus as she and her younger sister join Theresa and Kara from Hatsu's van on a plane and then on a train.

~~~~

At only eighteen years old, my little sister Samantha was more intellectually and wittily precocious than I ever was, though she had the looks and curves to make a totally different kind of precociousness equally available to her if ever she were to avail herself of it. But instead, she tended to dress plainly in T-shirts and pale blue jeans, though both were often just snug enough to leave the outline of her shapely butt and breasts relatively unobscured. My own usual track suits, skinny jeans, and tank tops did my figure justice as well, but my clothed sex appeal just never seemed quite as effortless as Sam's.

We were boarding an airplane, bound for Paris. Sam had long dreamed of backpacking through Europe, and although I had often teased her about how clichéd it was, I secretly couldn't help but share her aspiration. Then, about six months before her high school graduation, I met and made fast friends with Kara and Theresa, and one night at the end of a hard semester, Kara jokingly suggested that we celebrate having overcome a particularly rigorous round of exams by taking off for Europe. "Boy, do I wish!" I'd laughed, but Theresa's smile seemed more thoughtful. To make a long story short, she convinced us that we could actually do it, especially since a novel that she'd prodigiously written as a teenager was really accelerating in sales and was becoming something of a hit. Once that decision was made, the choice to extend an invitation to Sam seemed obvious, at least with our new financial resources.

At first, Sam had quite regretfully declined. Although she was very scientifically minded, she did have one irrational fear: claustrophobia. The thought of a tiny airplane restroom therefore terrified her. It was one of the reasons she'd never flown or taken a long-distance bus before. When she'd confessed that she'd almost prefer to wet her pants than brave such a "hellhole," I had then mumbled something about it being too bad that the plane seats wouldn't be like the ones in that experimental bus I'd ridden once. However, Kara and Theresa had actually heard what I said and insisted that I tell them the story. Once I shared that tale, they opened up about Kara's sister's van, in which they had both peed on the seats due to the sister having an exceptionally quick and effective cleaning solution. At that point, the three of us had exchanged pointed looks as our mental gears turned almost in sync before directing a collective gaze at Sam.

"Aw, hell, no!" she'd said, reading our expressions like a book. "It's not a private vehicle or some weird experiment!" Her unconscious adjustment of her slim glasses had betrayed her curiosity, however, since I recognized it as a habitual sign of fascination.

"Look," Kara had piped up, "is it ideal? No. But you just said there's a good chance that you'd sooner wet yourself than use the lavatory. Well, if you do, some of it is bound to soak through, so it's almost inevitable that some part of the plane will get wet anyway. We'll bring some of my sister's cleaning stuff, which sanitizes just as well as anything on the market and probably better. No harm done, I promise!"

"Besides," I'd added, "didn't you tell me once that human urine is actually quite sterile?"

"It would technically be a Plan B," said Theresa, "If you feel brave enough to use the bathroom, great! And even if you make it on the flight, there'll still be at least a couple of trains to ride after we get there, probably with bathrooms just as cramped."

We'd reminded her that we'd be sitting at the head of a section of seats, where all strangers would be seated behind us and therefore unable to see her, especially if she took the window seat. After that, it didn't take much longer for her to agree to our plan. It probably helped that her only other options were to either wear a diaper or sit on a folded towel. Sam said that the latter would just make her feel like a dog having newspaper put under it, and the former would be even worse! If she would likely have to pee somewhere other than a toilet anyway, then the least embarrassing way was, perhaps paradoxically, to just go directly on the seat.

Kara procured plenty of her sister's cleaning solution, called Phleb, and even managed to give Sam a demonstration under more private circumstances. We drove to the airport in her new car, and just as we parked, Kara said, "Wait! I gotta pee." Sam was intrigued despite herself as our brunette companion simply pulled her jeans and panties down and spent over half a minute with a hissing flow of pee pooling around her and soaking her seat. Moaning in relief, she redressed herself and took just about minute to spray Phleb on the seat and wipe it off with a paper towel from the glove compartment. No one could see, feel, or even smell a trace of Kara's considerable puddle. She also made sure that I got a good view of her cleaning technique, which was actually quite simple. This clearly made my sister feel much better about the situation, especially after Kara told her just how many times she'd done that in her sister's van with no detectably lasting effects on the vehicle.

Sam was wearing her usual snug T-shirt, but she'd traded her typical shorts for a knee-length black skirt to make it easier to relieve herself without having to move around conspicuously. Just prior to boarding, she also stepped into the ladies room so that she could privately strip her panties off and stuff them into her bag. If she was going to avoid any conspicuous shuffling around, she felt that there would have to be nothing between her vagina and the cushion.

Now on the airplane, Sam absent-mindedly found our seats, dropped her backpack on the floor, plopped herself down in the left window seat, and brushed a lock of raven-dark hair behind each of her ears. I then took the seat right next to her, leaving Theresa and Kara to sit straight across the aisle from us. Within a twenty minutes, the plane took off, and we all bit back a squeal of "We're actually doing this!"

We spent much of our time taking advantage of the in-flight entertainment. While Theresa introduced Kara to Game of Thrones, complete with running fan commentary, Sam and I engaged in a few games before settling on the third Lord of the Rings movie which we'd never gotten to see. It was about three hours into the flight, in the last third of the movie, that Kara crossed her legs. I thought hardly anything of it until a bit later when she started biting her lip randomly. About fifteen minutes later still, she started shifting in her seat, and I all but knew that she would have to make a decision soon. Within another fifteen minutes, she had given up all pretense. Her still intertwined legs were bouncing on one foot, and she held her crotch almost constantly as she rocked back and forth and glanced between the cushion underneath her and the direction of the restroom at an increasing rate. Next came the soft whimpering, and at that point, I almost spoke up and told her to just go because she seemed so uncomfortable. But just as the words were on the tip of my tongue, Sam herself beat me to the punch.

"You know what? Screw it!" she cried in hushed exasperation. She flipped the back of her skirt up against the back of the seat and leaned backwards a bit to keep it there. Next, she spread her thighs apart and drew the front and sides of her skirt taut across them. Taking only a second to verify that none of the crew were headed our way, she finally told herself to let it all go. And she did! Visually, Sam hid it well, but her almost immediate gasp, simultaneous with an explosive hissing sound, signaled her much needed release. I had by now paused the movie just in time to notice an already impressive puddle peeking out from under her skirt, the barely visible ripples testifying to the strength of her torrent. She leaned her head back and moaned as loudly as she dared. "Oh, sweet mother of…" She cut herself off with another gasp and actually smiled in contentment as she continued peeing uninhibitedly into the cushion. When the flood finally dwindled a full minute or so later, she let out a deeply satisfied sigh. "Holy crap! That felt awesome!"

I chuckled at her before pulling out the Phleb and a paper towl from our carry-on. A very relieved Sam took them and made short work of cleaning her seat up while I stood on lookout. Little over a minute, Sam was quite happily sitting on a dry cushion, enthralled by the movie once more.

It wouldn't be the last time, either. In the next couple of hours, it got dark as we crossed several time zones, and we had all stayed up the previous night in order to help sync up with European clocks, so we were appropriately sleepy shortly thereafter. I was just beginning to doze off when Sam, who'd started squirming about ten minutes earlier, just leaned back and let loose into her seat again, peeing much more nonchalantly than but just as fiercely as the first time. That relative nonchalance was my first inkling that we may have created a monster.

That inkling became a virtual certainty within three days. After landing in France, seeing the sights, and soaking up the atmosphere, we finally decided it was time to give Italy a visit as well. She was already squirming a bit when we arrived at the train station, but when we saw the line for the restroom (and the outrageous fact that it actually had a monetary toll), she decided she'd hold it for the train, briefly confirming that we still had plenty of Phleb.

Each of our cabins was about seven feet wide and ten feet deep with three comfortably wide seats, an overhead storage compartment, a fold-out bed just above it, and a fold-out dinner tray mounted on the wall under the window. The wall opposite the seats was even carved into a closet of sorts. One of them would likely not be used for much more than sleeping, since the four of us were content enough in each other's company that not even Sam felt uncomfortable with all four of us in one cabin during waking hours. Nevertheless, we decided that Sam and I would take the first cabin while Kara and Theresa would bunk in the adjacent one.

As soon as we entered and let our bags fall to the floor, I expected Sam to head out to investigate the size of the on-board bathroom to see if she could handle it, or at least send me to check it out if she didn't want to risk moving too much. I did not expect her to just lock the door, drop her jean shorts and panties to her ankles in a single motion, and immediately proceed to pee on the middle seat. Since she was facing it, she didn't even bother to turn around and sit down. Instead, she just kneeled backwards on it with her knees apart and released a fierce stream that pooled rapidly between her legs. "Oh, that's better! I had to go so bad!" she moaned just before the flood finally tapered off after a long minute or so, leaving the cushion completely soaked.

Theresa and I gaped amusedly while Kara voiced my earlier thoughts with her best Dr. Frankenstein impersonation. "It's…It's alive! We've done it, Igor! It lives!"

At that point, we wordlessly agreed that there was little point for any of us to even try using the actual bathroom unless any of us had to poop, which was unlikely given that we'd all made sure to take care of that before leaving our hotel that morning. I was the next to soak a seat about an hour later, when Kara, Sam, and I were all lounging on triple seat while Theresa sat on the floor browsing prospective Italian sites to visit on her iPad. I was talking on my smartphone with my mom, telling her all about our sightseeing, and as Mom kept gushing about how happy she is that we had this opportunity, I felt the urge building. Within about five minutes, it had escalated to where I decided it was time. I lodged my phone in place between my cheek and shoulder, stood up, dropped my pants, sat back down on my seat, and simply started peeing fiercely. I moved the phone a bit away from my mouth for a moment so Mom wouldn't hear me moan softly as I shamelessly relieved myself on the cushion for almost a minute. I doubt Mom had any clue what I was doing as I kept talking to her!

Theresa suddenly grabbed her crotch and hissed. "Damn it! Now you've made me have to go!" She was sitting on folded legs, so she promptly rose to her knees, lowered her boyshorts, sat back down on her haunches, leaned forward to pivot her vagina somewhat backward, and sighed in satisfaction as her own torrent rushed out between her legs onto the floor. The other three of us laughed at her nonchalance as her focus quickly returned to her iPad while she was still quite rigorously wetting the carpet.

Kara's turn came in the evening when we sent her after some complementary food. She'd been gone for a while, and we were just beginning to wonder what was keeping her when she burst into the cabin, locked the door, and practically threw the treats she'd procured into our hands. She then unfastened her jeans, tore them and her underwear down, kneeled on the nearest seat just like Sam had done, and promptly unleashed a forceful torrent of pee onto the cushion. "Oh, my God!" she moaned. "That guy just would not shut up!" She gasped in pleasure as she kept peeing uncontrollably. "I think he was too busy staring at my boobs to even notice that I had to go to bathroom!" She threw her head back, gaping in utter relief, and just let the pee continue flowing out of her almost as if from a firehose. "Whoo!" she squeaked in awe when she had finally expelled it all. "I had to piss like an effin' racehorse!" Clearly, she did.

As night fell, we changed into our pajamas. Theresa was the only one who had actual pajamas. Kara's nightclothes consisted of boxer shorts and a tank top, while mine was just a T-shirt and underwear. Sam decided to wear nothing but a loose, knee-length T-shirt, for reasons that were pretty obvious by then.

Kara and Theresa eventually retired to their own cabin for bed, and I got the top bunk in Sam's and mine after three rounds of Rock-Paper-Scissors. It was only fair, since Sam had the enviable ability to sleep like a baby on practically any surface. In fact, she had already folded up the armrests dividing the triple seat and curled up across two thirds of it with a pillow and a quilt when I climbed the ladder to reach the bed above her.

I drifted off soon after, but about three hours later by my estimate, I was awakened by a loud shuffling just in time to here Sam mutter, "Oh, for God's sake!" I peeked underneath to find her with the blanket thrown to the side. Looking awake but mildly annoyed, she crawled backwards a bit on her hands and knees before spreading her shins apart and crouching almost like a cat on her palms and folded legs. Hovering her butt a couple of inches above the seat, she pulled the excess of her shirt into her lap and moaned as a desperate torrent of pee began gushing out of her, hissing loudly as a puddle quickly formed between her legs and soaked the seat. "Oh, that feels good!" she sighed in contentment as she let herself pee freely for a little over what seemed like two whole minutes. When she had finally emptied her apparently bursting bladder, thoroughly drenching the seat once more, she crawled back up to the pillow, collapsed back into a fetal position, and pulled the blanket back into place.

Yep, we had definitely created a monster.

~~~

I hope you enjoyed it! If anyone's wondering where the name "Phleb" came from, it's a somewhat cheeky reference to this: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AppliedPhlebotinum

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Your stories are fantastic, RedHatter, some of the best I've ever read on here. Like you, I love the boldness and the nonchalance of girls peeing wherever they want. Keep it up, and I look forward to your next great story.

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