Chapter 12: Geraldine's Journey

By Paul Tester

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.  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 afternoon 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 20% 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 20 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 Oh 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 30 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.





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