Forced To Use A Bucket At Work

[sweet_release 55]

Here's a little tale of desperation I wrote up for a pal that I thought deserved to be shared with you all... 

I used to work on a pick-your-own fruits and veggies farm out on the West coast - not in the actual fields, but manning the little farm stand. When people came in, I would check their wrist bands and hand them plastic buckets (like this: https://products.blains.com/600/14/140431.jpg) to put their harvest in. My little building contained nothing by a cash register, piles of those buckets and a sink to wash the dirt off your hands. There was a main building where guests could buy souvenirs and snacks, plus the only bathroom on the farm, separated from me by about a 2 minute walk. 

It's important to note here that my boss was kind of a jerk. Nothing made him angrier than people sneaking onto the farm without paying the entrance fee, so I was not allowed to leave the desk unmanned under any circumstances. I ate lunch at the counter and unless there was someone else free to cover for me, I was basically stuck there all day. Because of this, I was usually quite careful to make sure I peed right before my shift began and controlled my water consumption pretty carefully. 

One day, though, it all went wrong. It was a scorching 85 degrees and all I had to cool me down were a few dusty fans and staying hydrated. I kept filling and refilling my Nalgene from the sink - it felt like I was sweating every bottle right back out. Of course, that's not quite how human physiology works, and halfway through my shift a slight need to pee began to arise. I radioed over to the main stand to see if anyone could cover for me, but nobody was free. Having pretty good faith in my bladder control, I figured I could get through the last 3 hours or so as long as I slowed down on the water. It would be unpleasant for sure, but I could make it, and I'd just dash right over to the main building as soon as I was done. 

Spoiler alert: it was not fine. My bladder kept filling and filling as all those past bottles dripped their way through my kidneys. I was thankful that I sat on a stool behind a high desk - like your girlfriend says, it's definitely easier to hold while sitting, plus no one could see me flexing my thighs and squirming around. As the last hour approached, I did give in and popped the button on my denim shorts to give my bladder some much-needed room to expand. The minutes ticked by, but I would be okay. I could make it. With about half an hour to go, though, I got a terrible call from my boss: we were having an event the next day and he needed me to stay late and clean up the farm stand so it would be "presentable". I grumbled internally, but that was fine - I could still go use the bathroom after we closed and then come back to clean.

Finally, finally my shift ended and I gingerly peeled myself off the stool. Tugging my t-shirt down to cover my unbuttoned shorts and (at that point quite obvious) bladder bulge, I locked the door behind me and set off towards the main building. As soon as I stood up, I realized just how desperate I was. I badly needed to piss and I needed to piss soon. I waddled as fast as I could, up the dirt road and up the steps to the main building, only to be met by the worst sign I'd ever seen taped to the door: SORRY, CLOSING EARLY TODAY!  No one had told me, and there was no explanation offered. I jiggled the handle and knocked loudly on the door, hoping that they too had just shut down for a deep clean and there were still employees inside. Alas, I was met with no response. 

At this point, things were getting bad. I don't get truly desperate often, but it was building and building by the minute. After confirming that I was truly alone, I allowed myself a quick, blessed moment of relief by shoving my hands between my legs and giving myself a tight squeeze. Not knowing what else to do, I set off back towards my building, cursing my boss and the whole stupid farm under my breath. Safely back inside and assuredly away from prying eyes, I devolved into an archetype of desperation. I was bouncing from foot to foot, clutching myself and letting out (frankly embarrassing) whimpers. I ran through my options, of which there were not many. I didn't have the keys to the main building, so that bathroom was truly inaccessible. I lived too far away to consider driving home and coming back, plus my boss would lose his mind if he stopped by and I wasn't there. We had no porta potties or other facilities. I briefly eyed the sink, but it was too high for me to jump up on and I was certain that if I tried to clamber up in this state, I would end up leaking at a minimum, if not worse. It seemed like my best choice was to find a place to squat outside. 

Now, another important piece of information is that our land shared a border with a neighbor's residential house, and that border was directly next to the back side of my building. Furthermore, there were no hedges and not much tree cover to make the separation; the "border" was just a chickenwire fence and a few scattered trees. None of the trees were thick enough for me to hide behind, and there weren't even any bushes, but I was frankly too far gone to care about dignity. I shuffled around back, feeling like I quite literally did not even have a minute to spare; I could feel the piss begging to burst out of me, pulsing down again my tightly clenched urethra. I made it behind the building, hands already eagerly tugging at the waistband of my shorts, but just as I was about to squat down, I glanced up and... made direct eye contact with my neighbor, who had apparently picked the world's worst time to hang out in his back yard. With a yelp, I stood back up and ran back inside. Practically in tears, I frantically considered last resorts. Peeing anywhere else outside was too risky as my boss was definitely still on the premises and could show up at any minute to check on my cleaning progress. I was absolutely certain that if I didn't do something in the next 30 seconds, I was going to be pissing myself for the first time in my adult life. 

There was only one option left: the buckets. You might be thinking this would have been the obvious solution all along, but you see, I am something of a germaphobe and take food safety really seriously. Even with the knowledge I could wash and sanitize it, the thought of urinating in a container that customers used to carry food had been simply unjustifiable. All of the adjectives in the world could not reflect just how desperate I was than the fact that I was now truly considering it - no, not considering it, deciding on it. 

With a groan, I locked the door, grabbed the first bucket I could reach, fled behind the counter and flung it onto the floor. With my legs shaking like crazy, I frantically clawed my shorts and panties down to my knees and squatted down. Now, sometimes when I've been holding my bladder for too long, it takes a minute to get going and I just sort of dribble for a bit. This time, that was absolutely not the case. My stream began as soon as I lowered myself down and it was strong. That little building was quickly filled with an obscene array of sounds: the incredibly pronounced hiss of 8 hours worth of urine leaving my bladder at maximum velocity, the loud drum of my heavy stream against the hard plastic bucket, and the rather obscene moans and gasps leaving my mouth fully involuntarily. Within a few seconds, the sound of piss hitting plastic changed to the bubbling noise of liquid meeting liquid as my release covered the bottom of the bucket. 

As I've mentioned before, one of my main turn-ons is not just a desperate, gushing piss but a long one. As I often do when I think something impressive is happening, I pulled out my phone to time this, albeit missing the first several seconds. The relief I was feeling was some of the best I've ever had. I pissed on and on, the thick stream not even beginning to lose power until a good 20 seconds had passed. After that initial torrent, things slowed to a more normal speed and decibel level, but they did not stop. It felt never-ending. Normally, this would be my dream scenario, but once the crazed urgency left the forefront of my brain, the reality of the situation did begin to set in. I was peeing in a bucket at work, in a building with open windows, with the possibility of my boss showing up at any minute. I began to push hard, hoping to draw things to a close before the situation ended in me getting fully and shamefully fired. Finally, things did draw to a close, although it did take several rounds of pulsing my bladder to rid myself of the last few waves of piss. I pressed stop on the timer, shook myself dry and redressed myself. I dumped the bucket in the sink, scrubbed it copious amounts of soap and the hottest water I could stand, and then rinsed it out with bleach to soothe my anxious mind. I finished up the cleaning as quickly as possible, locked up and drove home with my legs still shaking slightly. 

Now, what of the results? Let me tell you - it almost made the stress worth it. I checked the timer when I got to my car: including the pauses between those closing mini-streams but not including the first few seconds I'd missed, the beautiful numbers that appeared on my phone screen read 1 minute and 48 seconds. And in terms of volume... The buckets we used held 8 quarts and were about 8 inches high. At the time, I didn't think much of my output; when dumping it in the sink, I noted that I'd filled the bucket maybe an inch, which didn't seem like all that much. However, writing this up just now inspired me to do some math. If my piss filled about 1/8 of the bucket, that would be about a quart... And one quart is the equivalent of ~946 mL. I'd measured my piss on a few prior occasions, but never when truly desperate - a slightly-more-than-comfortably full bladder usually gets me about 550-600 mL. Never before had I gotten so close to a liter. I almost wish I'd held on just  a little bit longer and gotten all the way there.... I guess I'll have to try again! 

Edited May 19, 2023 by sweet_release
Typo in title

[glad1 2,605]

It seems we must have used the same bucket. 🤣

[Adyguy6970 815]

Thanks for sharing that.  Holding for as long as you did was pretty impressive.  I occasionally pee into a measuring jug but rarely produce more than 300-400ml.  

[Kupar 12,574]

A tremendous account of your desperation! I hope the relief was worth all that worry ❤️. Thanks for writing about it! 

[Takashi96 847]

That was beautifully executed! I absolutely felt your anxiety about being caught in a compromising situation. Along with being in the difficult position of having to pee somewhere against your personal rules. I too have been in a work situation where I had no choice but to pee in a container used for produce. Likewise, I couldn't use enough dish soap and bleach to clean it out afterwards. 

It's tricky when you have a piss fetish, but then find yourself forced to urinate in an undignified way. It's like this whole intersection of contradictory emotions. Reading it as an employee who's been in similar situations, I was angry at your asshole boss for not letting you use the bathroom. Then as a piss fetishist, I was turned on by your description of the way you solved the problem. Of course I also felt appropriately guilty about that. 

Edited May 20, 2023 by Takashi96
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