Chapter Twelve: GERALDINE'S JOURNEY
Each girl at Elmdene school was allowed four half-day leaves a term, subject to certain conditions such as all their work being up to date, and a good conduct record for the term. Geraldine had elected to take all her leave as one weekend to spend with her parents.
At seventeen, Geraldine was an easy All Day Girl, but had twice failed to become a 24 Hour Girl, because while she could just last out the full 24 hours, she could only do so with a lot of leg crossing and jigging about during the last two hours, and this was not considered the normal behaviour they had to be capable of until the end.
Geraldine was just above average height, with long ash-blonde hair and the looks and figure that most of the other girls would have died for (Had Elmdene ever done anything so vulgar as hold a beauty contest, she would have certainly been one of top three, if not the winner). Not content with standing out for her looks, she was infamous for wearing skirts so short and so tight that they were constantly pushing at the permitted limits. Hardly a month passed without her being summoned by Mrs. McKenzie, the deputy head mistress, to be reminded of the standards of decency that Elmdene girls were expected to meet. She would apologise, let down the hem a couple of inches, and then take it up in half-inch stages after a week or so. She had also been reprimanded for her pantie line showing through her skirts, mainly because they were so tight and her knickers so small. She avoided this by wearing thongs, even though these were considered indecent, and unsuitable for respectable Elmdene girls.
Saturday afternoons found her helping in her father’s chemists shop. She was counting out the tablets her father, the pharmacist, had dispensed, printing the labels and updating the computer stock control system. As a precaution against a mistake in dispensing, she would check the drug type and recommended dose against her father’s prescription. She had nearly finished, and was hardly thinking, as she counted out 50 small yellow pills, then, as she printed the label she saw the drug description; Diuretic, one tablet daily after breakfast. She was alone in the dispensary, and the temptation was too great. Quickly she took another bottle and counted herself out 50 pills, and slipped the bottle into her pocket. As she had written the stock control program, it was only a few minutes’ work to go into the main database and hide all traces of her theft.
When she had finished her work, she checked the Pharmacopoeia to make sure there would not be any undesirable side affects for taking the drug: Possible dehydration or potassium deficiency if used to excess, but no harm from a single dose, except an increase in the volume of urine. She smiled to herself at the possibilities this opened up. Geraldine was supposed to be back at school by nine o’clock on Sunday night, but she wanted to spend the evening with her boyfriend, so decided to risk sneaking into school early on Monday morning. There was a 5.45 train that got to Packton station before 7 am, and if she took a taxi to the school, she should be able to get into breakfast on time. It meant travelling in her school uniform, but she had come prepared for that. A quick cup of coffee before her mother took her to the station, and she was on the train with 5 minutes to spare, hoping that no-one would recognise her school blazer, and her grey uniform skirt, which, while not excessively short by her standards, was really very tight, and she had to wear thong knickers to avoid the dreaded, forbidden, pantie line.
As often happened to her when wearing skirts, single men took most of the other seats in her part of the open-plan carriage. She ignored their admiring, or lecherous, glances, thinking back to the previous evening. It had been over a month since she had seen Alan, and absence makes the heart grow fonder and the cock grow longer, certainly seemed true in Alan’s case. She had never known him so hard, or so big, or keep going for so long, and it had been well worth staying for.
After an evening in the pub, her bladder had been wonderfully full, which had heightened all the sensations of his cock inside her. And afterward, what a glorious, full bore pee it had been, she loved it when she was bursting and her pee absolutely blasted out. She wriggled her thighs together in memory, then had an idea. If she took one of her diuretic tablets, she should be bursting and feeling really sexy by the end of the journey. With luck she would be really bursting, and should be able to pee a real gusher in the station loo, or maybe she would hold on until after breakfast to get herself really, really full. It would all depend on how effective the pills were. She filled her mouth with saliva and swallowed one of the yellow pills.
As the train started she glanced at her companions; one quite presentable boy sitting opposite, two dirty old men next to him, and all three pretending they were not trying to see up her skirt, two middle-aged business women at the other window, giving her the occasional disapproving glance. Well, it wasn’t her fault if they were too fat to wear short skirts, Geraldine was used to older women being jealous of her. She resisted the temptation to try to pull her skirt down, knowing that it would not make any real difference, and settled down to read her book. Half an hour later Geraldine was finding it difficult to concentrate on the novel any more. She really did want to go to the loo rather badly already, and she had crossed her legs to try to make the urge go away. The train was approaching Blackfen Halt, and after that there was a long non-stop run to Packton. She wanted to go far more badly that she had expected at this stage, but there wasn’t much she could do. There were no loos on the train, and they would not stop long enough at Blackfen for her to get off and use the station loo, even if there was one, which seemed unlikely. Blackfen had been de- staffed for years, and most of the station buildings were boarded up against vandalism.
She tried to convince herself that the drug would not have much more effect, and she would just have to hang on for the rest of the journey. After all, the idea of taking it was so she would be bursting, and she was going to be that for sure. She studied the buildings at Blackfen, just to convince herself that she had made the right decision. Absolutely no sign of any loos, neither men’s or women’s. If she had got out there she would have had to pee in the car park, and then wait for the next train, an hour later. So there never had been any choice but to hang on. After all, she was an All Day Girl, so she should not have a problem. A quite attractive middle-aged man had got on and sat next to her, and kept taking sidelong glances at her. She was crossing her legs more tightly now, which was making her skirt ride up, not far short of showing her knickers. She made a token effort to pull the skirt down, but it did not make much difference, and it was not long before it had ridden up again, even further that before.
In the five minutes since they had left Blackfen her need to pee had increased rapidly, far more than she had expected, and she was now really desperate, legs twisted tightly together and she was beginning to squirm about to try to find a more comfortable position. All she had succeeded in doing was making her skirt ride up, and drawing attention to herself. Even if she didn’t get any worse, it was going to be a real struggle to hold on for nearly half an hour, and if she got any worse at all, then leg crossing might not be enough. Best thing, she thought, would be to get on her heel now, before it became a real crisis, and take some of the strain off her bladder muscles. She casually uncrossed her legs, intending to sit like that for a bit and then equally casually tuck one foot under her, but within seconds of uncrossing her legs she wanted to pee so frantically she had to get her foot up before she lost control. The trouble was, her skirt was so tight it stopped her heel tucking up between her legs and pressing hard against her crutch, so it was only about 20per cent effective, and she had to shudder and grit her teeth with the effort of holding her pee.
She seemed to be getting more desperate every minute, and she was going to have to get her heel properly in place to have any chance of lasting out until Packton. The only way to get some slack in her skirt was to pull the back up several inches, so it was half way up her bum, when at last her heel was pressing properly into her, and she was more in control of her pee again. She did her best to discretely pull the sides of her skirt down again, but she did not want to draw attention to how much leg she was showing.
All four men in the compartment kept glancing at her thighs, while pretending to be looking elsewhere, all now aware that she was wearing white socks and no tights. She tried to ignore them and read her book, but, even sitting on her heel, she was wanting to pee so badly that it was quite impossible to concentrate on Hardy’s long, complicated sentence structure. She closed her eyes and squeezed her bladder shut, willing the desperate need back to some more bearable level. She tried to convince herself that her bladder was playing her up, irritated by the drug and not actually full, but she only had to feel her abdomen to know this was not true. There was a pronounced swelling to her normally flat stomach, and it really hurt where her tight skirt was pressing on it.
Her bladder was burstingly full, worse that when she had been trying to wait 24 hours, and she began to realise that she could be in real trouble. She had only been on her heel for five minutes and already she was frantic to pee, having to really fight to hold it back. She had never imagined that she would fill up so quickly, and suddenly wetting herself on the train became a frighteningly real possibility. She was squirming about again, this time to try and get heel of her shoe pressing right into her crutch, hard against her pee hole, bringing her need down to a controllable level. She joined hands under her knees and pulled up hard, pressing her heel harder into her and leaning forward, her whole body tensed with the effort of containing her pee. She closed her eyes and counted to 100, and succeeded in regaining enough control of her bladder to be able to sit up and pretend to read. She had intended to count to 200, then squeeze herself again, but before she reached 100 she was so close to wetting herself that she was doubling over again. She held the position for a 200 count this time, then sat up again, determined this time that she would make 200. By 100 she was shaking with desperation, and by 130 she was so frantic she was losing count, and worse, losing control.
As she doubled over again, grinding her shoe heel into her crutch with so much pressure it hurt, she almost let a spurt of pee leak out, or maybe she did leak a bit, she was in such a state she could not be sure what had happened. All this movement had pushed her skirt up almost round her waist, and it was only the book on her lap that was hiding her knickers. She hadn’t been on her heel for five minutes, and already her desperation was so much worse that she was on the brink of losing control.
They were still at least 15 minutes from Packton, and there was no possibility of her holding out just sitting on her heel. It was the last resort tactic now, blatantly holding her crutch, that was the only she hope she had of making it to Packton without wetting herself. If she kept the book on her lap, she could slide her hand under it and nobody would know what she was doing. This time there was no pretence of changing position casually. The second she was off her heel she was twisting her legs together and pushing her fingers into her crutch. Once again her tight skirt prevented her fingers reaching right between her legs, and by the time she had pulled it up far enough to get her fingers properly between her legs, it was easier to reach under the hem and press directly on her knickers. Her left hand was resting casually in her lap, hopefully covering what her right hand was doing. Even the few seconds between getting off her foot and getting her hand up were almost too much for her, and she was grinding her fingers against her crutch and crossing her legs just as hard as she could, trying to hold back her pee. She could not believe how desperate she was, when she had not even wanted to go twenty minutes earlier.
It was still more than 10 minutes to Packton, even if the train was on time, and if she got much worse she was afraid she might not make it. There was nothing more she could do now, if she could not keep her pee back by holding her crutch directly on her knickers, then nothing was going to keep it back. Except… if she used both hands to press her fingers right against her little pee hole, then surely, nothing could possible leak out. It might hurt, even more than her swollen abdomen did now, but that was better than the shame of wetting herself in front of all these people. She made a brief pretence of reading her book again, then put it on her lap, open, cover up, so it formed a sort of tent covering her hands jammed between her legs. The men in the carriage were finding it almost impossible not to stare at her, but Geraldine was beyond caring about that; if she didn’t hold her crutch they were going to have something else to stare at. For five minutes she thought she was going to be able to hold out, even though her bladder was still filling, she was just about able to hold her pee back.
She was pressing harder and harder against her crutch as she wanted to pee more and more desperately, determined that somehow she was going to make herself wait. She was telling herself that she just had to hold her pee, that big girls didn’t wet their knickers in public, particularly not All Day Girls, and not in a railway carriage with six strangers watching, and it was only a matter of will-power and strength, and she could wait. Fighting to hold back her pee, she was hardly bothered whether anyone else on the train could see what she was doing or not, the only thing that mattered to her was not peeing in her knickers. Her skirt was pulled up almost round her waist, with only the thin fabric of her knickers between her fingers and her pee hole, she was pressing so hard it seemed absolutely impossible that anything could ever leak out.
Legs twisted together as tightly as she could manage, leaning forward to help press between her legs, she was using both hands to hold herself, pressing so hard it felt as if her fingers were almost blocking the outlet of her bladder. And the pressure that was building in her poor bladder! It felt so swollen, and hurt so much, that she began to wonder if there really was a danger of it exploding like a balloon if she didn’t pee soon. This, she thought, had to be the absolute limit for any girl trying to hold her pee, it simply was not possible to do any more to hold it back. Nobody in the Champion Bladder contest had gone quite this far in trying to wait, and the most awful thing was that she had perhaps another ten minutes to hold out, with her bladder still filling and already she was using every ounce of her strength to hold out.
Another minute, she told herself, she had to last out, but she was wanting to go more, and she could not do any more to hold her pee back. She could feel herself losing control, somewhere inside her something was giving up the struggle, the pressure was just to great to bear any more, and however hard she pressed her bunched fingers into her crutch, she was afraid she was finally losing the battle. Suddenly she was wracked by a spasm of desperation that she simply could not control. She leaned forward, almost standing up, as she tried to press her fingers even harder into her crutch, determined that she would never give up, but something inside her was demanding she pee with such an intensity that she felt her bladder give way and let go a spurt of pee.
She pressed, pressed, pressed against her pee hole, determined that even if her bladder was leaking, nothing was going to escape her body, but suddenly it hurt so intensely between her legs that she had to ease up, and let the pee spurt in to her knickers, soak the little bit of fabric between her legs and trickle down her bum and onto her skirt. Almost out of her mind with desperation, Geraldine tried telling herself that she could not wet herself in public, that she simply had to hold it, and next time she let go like that she had to ignore the pain and simply force herself to keep the pee inside her, but the reality was that she simply could not control her bladder any more. The hard swollen bulge that was stretching the front of her skirt was proof enough that she was full to the absolute limit, and her bladder could not hold another drop of pee.
She had another ten minutes before they reached Packton, and during that time she could not prevent more pee leaking out and soaking the back of her skirt, and the train seat. She was still holding herself with both hands, determined not to give up without a fight, but the surges of desperation were too much to control. Her stomach hurt so much, and she wanted to pee so desperately that she didn’t want to suffer another second. Her body was begging her to give up the unequal fight, relax, and pee, to just let all that pent up liquid come pouring out, and to be comfortable again. It was only with the most supreme effort of will power that she forced herself to continue to try to hold on, to try and preserve some shred dignity and maybe hide that she was actually wetting her knickers, thought the whole carriage must have been aware that she was frantic for a pee.
When they finally reached Packton she remained sitting while the others got out, and not until most people had left the train did she make a move. There was a Ladies at the end of the platform, and gathering up her weekend bag, she was intending to run for it, but after two paces, the motion hurt her swollen bladder too much, and she was forced to walk, one hand jammed between her legs, biting her lip, with short, stiff-legged steps. Standing up, legs uncrossed, trying to walk as fast as she could, the urge to pee was far worse than sitting in the train, and quite uncontrollable. Pee was running down her legs as she walked, leaking past her fingers, soaking the front of her skirt where it was pressed into her crutch, Geraldine was hopelessly out of control, she simply could not stop peeing. She tried to run, or at least walk faster, anything to get to the relief and privacy of the Ladies, though she was beyond being able to take notice of whether anyone was noticing her plight.
When she finally made the loo, pulling her skirt up round her waist, and ripping her soaking knickers down, she let loose a torrent like Niagara Falls. She was always a forceful pisser, but had never gone with that much pressure before, and never had she gone on for so long, a never-ending stream, though the pressure had fallen to a more normal level. It was only as she was finishing that she remembered she ought to have timed herself, as she didn’t think she had ever peed so long before. She was in a mess. Her tiny knickers were soaked, the whole back of her skirt was soaked, the front was wet where she had been holding her crutch, her legs were wet all down the inside, and even her shoes and socks were wet. She wasn’t going to be able to clean up with the loo paper and tissues she had, the best she could do was to dry her legs and wring her skirt out enough to stop it dripping pee as she walked, and then tie her school blazer round her waist to cover the wet patches.
She knew she looked odd, walking about like that when it was far to cold a morning to be wearing just a white blouse. She had spent too long in the loo, and if she didn’t get to Elmdene quickly she would be missed at breakfast. Luckily there was a taxi waiting outside the station, and she begged the driver to hurry, directing him to the back of the school, where there was a gate leading to the adjacent sports fields. She pulled out her mobile and called Stephanie, another All Day Girl, telling her to be ready to open the gate as soon as she heard the taxi pull up. She was going to be late, by the time Stephanie let her in they should have been in breakfast, but she was going to have to go back to her room and change her skirt first. There wasn’t time to explain to Stephanie, other than to blurt out “I wet myself on the train, I’ve got to change my skirt, I’ll be down as soon as I can,” leaving her staring after her as she ran into the dormitory building and up to her room. There wasn’t time to clean up properly, just pull off her wet knickers and skirt, dry her legs, and pull on clean clothes, and a splash of perfume to hide the smell of pee.
She just managed to sneak into breakfast un-noticed, where Stephanie had already got her toast and coffee, and bolt the food down, while fending off Stephanie’s questioning looks as to why an All Day Girl would wet herself on a one hour train ride. Not only did she want time to wash her legs properly before classes started, but she was already wanting to pee again quite urgently, so she was out of breakfast as soon as she could. As they hurried back to the dormitory, she was at last able to tell Stephanie about the pill she had taken, the nightmare train journey, and to make her promise not to tell any of the other All Day Girls that she had actually wet herself on the train, before she had to run to the loo and let go another torrent of pee, her bladder full to bursting less that thirty minutes after her marathon pee at the station.
The diuretic still seemed to be working a maximum power, and by the end of assembly she was crossing her legs and trying to keep still until they were dismissed, when she fled to the loo before her first lesson. Luckily, Geraldine had two single period classes that morning, because before the first class finished she was sitting on her heel, desperate for another pee, trying to concentrate on the lesson while counting the minutes until she could get to the loo again. Before the bell went, she was pushing her fingers between her heel and her crutch, close to wetting herself again, and the second they were dismissed she was on her way to the loo. Running was forbidden, but she was the fastest walker in the school that morning, fighting to hold back her pee a few seconds more, until she was in the loo. The last ten yards she had to hold herself, regardless of who might see her, because if not, she would have wet her knickers again.
The second lesson was a repeat of the first, ending with another frantic rush to the loo, trying not to run but knowing that every second was vital, and because there were too many girls about to be able to hold her crutch, she simply could not prevent a leak into her knickers as she reached the loo door. She was composed enough to time both of these pees, 58 seconds and 55 seconds, longer than usual and both times her pee was blasting out with even more pressure that she normally had.
After break the drug was wearing off, so she was just able to survive the double period up to lunch time, not so frantic she had to hold her crutch, but still sitting on her heel for the last half hour, and her bladder hurting so much she could hardly walk. This time a 65 second pee showed just how full her bladder had been. Since most girls in her class knew that Geraldine was a girl who didn’t go to the loo very often, she had to excuse all these visits by saying she had caught a stomach bug over the weekend.
Several All Day Girls had seen her hurrying to the loo, as they were always on the look-out for such things, so she had to tell them about the diuretic she had taken, and promising to tell the full story at the next meeting. For an All Day Girl to have lost control and wet herself in public was a disgrace, but she knew that eventually she would have to admit this, if only to disprove their theory that you could always manage to wait if you had to.