Chapter Nine: WATER CONSERVATION GROUP
The week following Erica’s victory in the Champion Bladder contest, all the All Day Girls met to confirm her as the winner, and to discuss the contest. Taking up Susan’s idea, Janet and Emma had set up a Water Conservation Group, and registered it as a School society, which entitled them to use a class-room or seminar room to hold meetings, and at last all the girls could assemble without causing suspicion by crowding into someone’s study. To emphasis that they were a proper society, Janet was appointed secretary, and had to take minutes for the meetings.
Pauline’s position as leader of the All Day Girls was confirmed by making her president of the WC Group, and she began the meeting by reminding the girls of the volume of pee that Erica had held, 1.73 litres, the most of any girl in the contest, making her a worthy winner. Pauline continued by stating that though she had come second, and had easily qualified as a 24 Hour Girl, she had not even been able to wait a full 24 hours when she was Erica’s age, making her accomplishment as Champion Bladder while still only 13 all the more amazing.
Remembering the strain that the contestants’ bodies had suffered, it was decided that the Champion Bladder would be contested annually, during the second term of the school year, and that the champion should not have to defend her title again during that year. However, the qualifications for All Day Girl membership and 24 Hour Girl membership still had to be renewed each term, and any girl could attempt to join the 24 Hour group at any time. The formal business of the meeting was then over, as there were no new members to welcome, so Janet, as Group secretary, asked Erica if there was any particular reason why she was able to hold her pee so long.
“Because she has an enormous bladder,” interjected Beth, but Janet persisted that there must be more than that.
“I suppose it started when I was 7,” said Erica. “My parents had inherited a farm or plantation in Zimbabwe, and were still managing it then. My mother was a terrible colonial snob, and believed that whites, particularly white women, had to behave terribly correctly. Among other things, that meant it was unthinkable to squat and pee in the bush, in case a native saw you. This rule applied even to a girl of 7, so if I wanted to go out on the farm with daddy, I had to hold my wee until we got home. That could sometimes be all daylight, 6am to 6pm, and it was important to drink lots of water to avoid dehydration. When I first started doing this I would be frantic by the time we got home, holding myself and trying not to let anyone see, but by the time I was 8, I was waiting all day without too much trouble. Soon it became a normal thing to do. When I was sent to school in England, the cold weather was a real shock to my bladder, but I was so much in the habit of not going during the day I soon managed to make myself hold it again. I’m sure I had a naturally big bladder, but the training must have helped. After all, not many girls of 7 are made to try and wait 12 hours.”
“I think that training from a young age is what does it,” began Michelle. “You all know that my parents are French aristocrats, and my mother, like Erica’s, was terribly conscious of her social standing. She, and her daughters, always had to keep themselves aloof of the local peasants, so we could never be seen to do something so common as use a public lavatory. We just had to bottle it up until we got home.”
“When I went to France, I could never find a public loo,” said Katrina, “so how did you get any chance to be common?”
“That was just the point,” continued Michelle, “the public loos in our rural district were mainly clumps of bushes that the women used to pee behind, or filthy cubicles behind cafe-bars, so there was a lot of incentive for a shy 9 year old to hold her water. To make life more difficult, I went to a convent school, and touching yourself between the legs, for any reason at all, was absolutely forbidden, almost the worst possible thing you could do, at least until you were old enough to fornicate with a man. Even now, I won’t hold myself until there is absolutely no other way of avoiding wetting myself, as you might have noticed in the competition. The convent sisters didn’t exactly encourage us to pee either, and we were never allowed to go during lessons, which was sometimes a problem for the girls with small bladders, and made us all experts as finding ways of holding back our wee without showing it.”
Janet noted this down, together with Erica’s explanation, then looked expectantly at the rest of the girls. Rachel was the next to tell her tale.
“I’m exactly the opposite, I was encouraged to pee as often as possible when I was young, making out I had a really weak bladder. You see, my mother really did have a small bladder, really small, like she needed to pee every hour or two, but it was obviously an embarrassment for a grown woman to behave like this, so she used to use me as the excuse. It was always ‘My daughter needs to go to the toilet quite urgently’, or ‘My little girl will not be able to wait that long without visiting the loos,’ when all the time it was mother, and not me, that wanted to go. At first I didn’t think anything about it, but as I got older and went out more without her, my friends and their parents were always making a fuss, taking me to the toilet when I didn’t want to go. I began to feel I was some sort of freak, and wanted to show people that I did not want the loo all the time, like they thought. So I went to the opposite extreme, and refused to pee at all unless it was absolutely desperate. Of course, deliberately not going before a long car ride, just because I was not bursting at the time, meant I could end up frantic, but I still would not tell anyone. Like Michelle, I knew every possible way of waiting without showing it. Soon I realised that in actual fact, I could not only wait far longer than mother, but longer than most of my friends. Now I am a 24 Hour Girl, while mother seems to be getting worse as she gets older, and now I feel really sorry for her, because she does get into some awful, frantic situations.”
When Janet had finished writing down Rachel’s story, she suggested that as it seemed that most of the girls had a story to tell about how they discovered their exceptional bladder capacity, they should go in alphabetical order, starting with Alison.
“It was the pony club that started me off, or rather, stopped me going,” she began. “Like many little girls, I was horse mad from about 7, and joined the local pony club. Since my parents were not seriously rich, it was nothing flash, just something run by the local stables for girls who could not afford their own ponies, but as far as I was concerned, anything associated with horses or ponies was wonderful, and I knew there was no chance of anything better.”
Several other girls nodded in agreement at this, remembering their own pony club phase. “We could spend all the weekends at the stables, cleaning, grooming, mucking out, even riding if there was a free pony, because we were really free labour for the owner. In return we were treated like dirt. We had to bring our own food and drink, they would not even give us a cup of tea, nor were we allowed indoors to use their loo. There was a really grotty outdoor one for us, absolutely horrid, all dark and dirty, with spiders and other awful things crawling about in there. All the girls hated it, but some just had to pluck up courage to use it, or they would have wet their pants. Others used to squat in the back of the stables if they thought no-one was about. I was terrified of spiders, so would rather have died that use the loo, and too shy to dare squat in a stable, so I just had to wait as long as possible and then when I was about to wet my pants, run home. Because I wanted to spend all day at the stables, I forced myself to wait longer and longer, until I could last out from 8am to 5 or 6pm, and even bear riding with a bursting bladder.”
“Riding must be one of the worst positions to be in when you are bursting,” said Diane. “Impossible to cross your legs, being jolted about all the time, and in tight jodhpurs, which would show the slightest leak. It is probably the best exercise there is if you want to strengthen your bladder control, which means that most professionals will have 24 hour bladders.”
“No way,” interrupted Rebecca, “I used to compete regularly, and there were always men riders peeing against horse-boxes or in the back of trailers, and I saw one very famous person who had wet herself on a cross-country event. She said she had splashed herself at the water jump, but her crutch and bum were wet and her legs dry, so draw you own conclusions. Another time, I had to keep guard while my instructor peed in the car park, and she was really getting in a state because she couldn’t find the Ladies. I wasn’t bothered, but I had a good bladder before I started riding.”
“I think dingy sailing is just as bad, maybe worse, because there is so much water about to encourage you kidneys, and absolutely nowhere to go,” Caroline began. “I was twelve before I discovered my capacity, or to be exact, before I had to use it. Before that I used to pee when my friends did, whether I wanted to go or not, just to be part of the group, and it never occurred to me that the other might have really wanted to go. Anyway, at twelve I started dingy sailing at daddy’s yacht club. The lessons were no problem, for me at least, only about 2 hours long, but once I was competent I went out with my older brother and his friends, who did not exactly welcome me, but daddy had bought him the dingy and he had to share it with me. It wasn’t until a long time afterwards that I realised that their generosity in offering me drinks all the time, first Cokes and then cider or shandy, had any ulterior motive. Sure, I wanted to pee, but not so badly as to spoil my sail, and certainly not enough to make me ask to go back to the club house. In fact, several times it was the boys who had to pee over the side, which really embarrassed some, and I guess they were absolutely desperate before they did it, because I saw some really incredible pisses, either blasting out like a fire- hose, or taking for ever. Once one of their girl-friends had to squat in the boat and pee, which must have been mortifying for her, but she had been squirming about and even holding herself for ages before she gave in, so she must have reached the limit of her endurance.”
“Riding a motor-cycle is another torture position, particularly on the pillion.” This was Susan telling her story. “I was a real tear- away at 13, and joined the local bikers gang. Apart from losing my virginity, I also had to learn to drink beer to be accepted. Then we would ride as a group, and no stopping until the whole group did, so I had to hold my pee as long as the much older girls. Riding pillion, wearing skin-tight jeans with your legs wide apart and pulling the jeans tight across your bladder, is absolute agony, but I just had to make myself wait. At first I was one of the frantic ones at the stops, but I managed to develop my capacity enough to become above average by 14, though I could never equal some of the girls in their late 20’s, who had been bikers for over ten years, and had developed the most incredible bladders. They seemed to be able to wait for ever, and you could see their bladders swollen up so much, even wearing tight jeans, that I used to wonder if they had some way of blocking their holes so it was physically impossible for them to pee. They were real hard cases, and I am sure they would have done that if it was possible, just to force their bodies to the limit. There was never an official waiting contest, but there were definite kudos attached to being the last to pee, holding out until the second or third stop. There were stories among the girls about the men putting a tourniquet round their cock to hold back their piss, and they were the sort of girls who would want to out-do the men. However they did it, I reckon the could have out-waited every one of us here and still not crossed their legs.”
“When the meeting’s over, I’ll treat you both to coffee and biscuits if you tell me more about the men wanting to pee in the boats and on motor bikes,” said Tamzin who openly admitted that seeing a man desperate to pee really turned her on, and hearing stories was the next best thing. “I think seeing a bloke so desperate he has to put a tourniquet on his cock to hold it back would drive me wild. I haven’t even seen a man holding himself for ages.”
“We have heard a lot of really fancy reasons for learning to wait,” continued Emma, “but was I the only one who was just a shy little girl, to whom having to admit wanting to go to the loo was the most embarrassing thing in the world. I can’t remember what started it, but I know that when I started boarding here, I simply could not bear to admit to anyone that I wanted the loo, nor even be seen going in the loo alone. I would hold on as long as I could possible bear it, then only go with at least one other girl, so my visit was not so noticeable. I was always getting told off for fidgeting in class because I was absolutely bursting because I was trying to hold out all the morning.”
Rebecca and Janet both admitted that they had also been through a stage of not wanting anyone to know that they wanted to pee, and holding out until it was absolutely unavoidable.
“Am I the only one among you who was just interested in waiting as long as I could?” asked Pauline. “I can’t remember exactly what started me off, but even at 7 or 8 I knew I could wait longer that most of the others in my class, boys or girls. I was also intrigued, and a bit worried, by those that seemed to be really desperate. Then I wanted to know how they felt, so desperate that they were holding themselves as they ran to the loo. So I didn’t go to the loo until I was desperate, instead of going with my friends because they did. At first I could only just make it to the end of lessons, then I could manage to walk home (I was at a day school then) until by 11 I could wait a whole twelve hours. I was an All Day Girl during my first year here, and still making mental estimates of the other girls capacity. That eventually lead to starting the group, but not until I was in the 5th year, and I was confident enough to talk to other girls I thought had large bladders, and suggest we prove our capacity. Tamzin, Janet, Katrina, and Rachel were the first members. I suppose we should write the history of the start of the group before we leave the school.”
“I think that’s enough reasons for having big bladders,” said Tracy, “but aren’t we forgetting that one of our basic aims is to identify other exception bladders, large or small, throughout the school. We seem to have been so wrapped up with out Champion Bladder and 24 Hour competitions that we have forgotten our other objectives. Has anyone seen anything interesting bladder-wise?”
“One thing we should try,” began Susan, “is to look for girls who go between first and second classes, because that might mean they can’t even last out from assembly to break, a mere hour and three-quarters, which is a good test of a small bladder.”
Erica considered this. “I hadn’t thought of that, but now you mention it, there are one or two girls in my form who often seem to slip away between classes in the morning. I’ll definitely take more notice, maybe even develop a weak bladder and go with them. What I can definitely report, though, is that I cannot identify any other juniors who consistently go longer than lunch time without a pee, but maybe sometimes they go out of habit, just to confuse me.”
“Big bladders are more difficult to identify, unless you can get them in a real having to hold for ages situation, and that is never easy. We have never noticed any in the juniors, but, there again, we didn’t notice you because we have never really looked.”
“I think I have found a small bladder in the fourth year, who seems to fail Susan’s test,” chimed in Mary. “There is an Indian girl who I think only joined us this year, who I have seen several times heading for the loos after assembly, and she also goes at break.”
“That’s Christiana Shah, she is actually Pakistani,” answered Diana, “she’s not in my class, but now you mention it, she does often make a bee-line for the loos at break. I’ll keep my eye on her from now on.”
“I’m her form prefect,” added Michelle, “and she is often late back from assembly, but I never guessed the reason. If, at sixteen, she has trouble lasting less than two hours, then she must have a tiny bladder. We will have to mount a full observation exercise on her, check how much she drinks at breakfast, try to note every time she has a pee, the whole works. I’ll organise it if you like.”
“We have exams at the end of this term,” added Diana, “and some of those are three hours, in the morning as well, which should be a real strain for anyone as small as Christiana seems to be. I’ll check her time-table, so we know when we need to be alert. That is assuming that under these new rules we are still not allowed to leave the room until we are finished.”
“You can’t rely on anything these days, with all the changes and modernisation, and we can hardly protest if it is changed,” complained Caroline. “You have to admit that the no leaving rule does penalise anyone with a really small bladder. It must be misery trying to finish your paper when you are desperate for a loo, crossing your legs or sitting on your foot, trying to concentrate on some tricky maths problem.”
“Imagine writing an essay while you are holding your crutch,” added Sara, “it would be bloody near impossible unless you had three arms like one of those Indian Gods. I think that all exams should be at least three hours long, held in the morning in unheated rooms, and a compulsory drink half-way through. That way the pass mark might come down enough to get me through English Lit.”
“Changing the subject completely,” started Janet, “Do you realise that in the entire Champion Bladder competition, only two, or possibly four, girls actually went right to the limit of their capacity. Pauline and Tracy were the only ones who completely broke down and leaked past their fingers into their knickers. All the rest of you either gave up because it was too uncomfortable or won their heat, while Alison and Michelle were border-line cases that just let a bit go.”
“Good point,” said Caroline, “I must confess that I could have waited longer if my life had depended on it. I was absolutely bursting, but it was discomfort rather than an imminent leak that made me give up.”
“Another point we should consider,” said Rachel, “is that we were in a situation where everyone watching knew what a state we were in, and that wetting our pants was not going to be a social disgrace. Waiting, and holding your pee, is a very complex matter, and will- power has a much to do with it as sheer bladder capacity and strength. If we had been in a situation where the only way we could pee was by wetting ourselves in front of a bunch of strangers, how many of us would have held out a bit longer?”
“I might have been able to.” replied Pauline. “When I had that holding contest with Jerry’s rugby club friends, I put myself in a situation where I simply had to hold it or look a complete fool by wetting my jeans after I had turned down the chance to pee at the stop. It was a case of simply having to hold it, there was absolutely no alternative. Whereas, in the competition, I thought I was holding with all my strength, but I knew that it would not matter so much if I finally broke down and wet myself. Subjectively, I thought I held more pee on the rugby outing, but then told myself that it could not have been so, because I burst at the end of the contest.”
“That’s the same sort of thing that my friend Joan told me,” chimed in Erica, “when you are in a situation where there is absolutely no chance of a pee, you simply have to hold it somehow, even if it nearly kills you. It was her telling me that that gave me the extra endurance I needed to win the rematch.”
“Another thing,” added Beth, “have you noticed how often people say things like ‘I only just made it to the loo, I could never have waited another minute’, and how rarely it is the other way, ‘I was only a couple of minutes from the loo when I broke down and pissed myself in public.’ It seems to be a case of if you really have to wait, you normally can.”
“Exactly,” replied Rachel, “last winter I was caught in one of those monster motor-way traffic jams with my mother, who you know has a small bladder. To make it worst, we were on an elevated section, so there was not even the possibility of stopping on the hard shoulder and finding a bush on the verge. Mother did not say anything for ages, though I noticed she was crossing her legs and squirming about more and more, but eventually she began to double up and hold her crutch with desperation. She was saying things like ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, I can’t wait much longer,’ and ‘If only there was somewhere we could pull over, I’d rather squat by the door than wet my pants in the car.’ Then she was holding herself with both hands and pleading with me to find her somewhere to pee before she burst. It was only luck that I was driving, because there was no possible way that she could have driven in the state she was in. I didn’t know what to do or say to help her, but luckily the traffic cleared a bit and we got to a service area after about 45 minutes of desperation. I didn’t even try to park, just drove as close to the loos as possible and let her run, as fast as she could while holding herself, straight inside. Afterwards she said that she would not have been able to wait another second, and if I hadn’t driven so close she would have wet herself. I’ll never know, but I think that if we had been stuck for another five minutes, or even ten minutes, she would still have made it with a second to spare. Thinking about it, have any of you ever seen an adult who has wet themselves?”
All the girls shook their heads. Wetting their pants was something that young children did, not adults, unless they were indulging in some private competition like the Champion Bladder. Annette, ever the pedantic scientist, claimed that the concept of always being able to hold a bit longer, just until you found a loo, was mathematically unsound, as it implied that you could wait for ever if there were no loos about, but even she had to admit that, in public at least, it did seem that most people could wait long enough to find somewhere to pee, even if it was a bush and not a real loo. Rebecca was the first to voice the implication of this, that to reach their true maximum capacity, they would have to put themselves in a position where they were in pubic and simply could not pee, however badly they wanted to. The question was then how this could be achieved, and, what if it went wrong and they did reach a point when it was simply impossible to wait any longer.
There was also the question of how they could measure the volume, when they would not be able to plan ahead where they would pee. Janet suggested that this could be overcome by just timing their pee, and comparing this time with known volume records done at home or in school. All the girls agreed to give this more thought, and see if they could think of any other ways of really finding their limits.