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Kinktober 2022 Wet Edition, Days 15-21

Day 15: Omorashi

Today, Sienna the Eevee’s trainer took her on vacation. She had to get up very early to go to the airport, so early that she didn’t have to go potty yet. But she drank lots of water before leaving the house, and by the time they got to the airport, she was regretting not trying harder to make herself pee. Her need got worse and worse as she waited by his side in long lines to check bags and go through security. He noticed her desperation and took his grateful Eevee to the pokemon potty area. But Sienna has a shy bladder, and trying to relieve herself in public is very hard. She squatted and tried to relax, but with all the bustle of the busy airport, she just couldn’t make herself release.

She was reluctant to have another drink, but her trainer said getting dehydrated could make her get sick on the flight, and if she pushed her bladder to the point where desperation overcame her shy bladder before boarding, she’d feel better. She drank two full bowls of water. But even when she tried to go potty just before boarding time with her trainer holding her over a toilet in the men’s bathroom, she was so anxious her bladder muscles refused to let go.

Poor Sienna fidgeted all through board. She was so desperate she couldn’t sit still. But the flight was delayed, and sat on the tarmac for over an hour. They took off finally, but she had to wait in her trainer’s lap for what felt like forever. There was a little bathroom on the plane, and she was sure she would be unable to stop herself the moment she was over the potty. But with her trainer holding her precariously over the bowl, the suction noise made her scared she would fall in and be sucked out of the plane! She clawed her way into his arms and refused to try again, but she soon regretted her choice when the plane hit turbulence and the seat belt sign stayed on the entire five-hour flight. She squirmed and whimpered in his lap. Her poor bladder was so full it was painful, especially being jostled around.

Somehow, through sheer force of will not to have an accident on her trainer’s lap, but the little Eevee was in agony by the time the plane landed. Her belly was so distended that she could barely walk, and he carried his crying Pokemon off the flight.

Waiting for the baggage claim, she wanted so badly to just let it out even if she made a puddle on the horrible scratchy airport carpet. But she was so close. She’d almost made it. If she just held it in a little longer! All she had to do, she thought, was make it until they got outside.

But then, when the luggage returned, her trainer couldn’t carry her and her carrying cage and his suitcase and duffel bag at the same time. So he put her inside, and the taxi driver who was supposed to take them to the hotel was so impatient that he didn’t give him a chance to explain that he needed to take her potty.

Sienna kept trying, hoping that she could make it to the hotel, but a bump in the road was the last straw. The poor little Eevee’s bladder responded with an agonizing spasm, and she felt the towel under her become very warm and wet, then heard the hiss of liquid, and only then felt the release. She let out a yip of horror, then broke down in resigned sobs.

It was too late. She was having an accident. There was no hope of possibly stopping the flood now: her exhausted muscles trembled as it all came pouring out, rapidly saturating the towel. The puddle grew and grew and grew, until the poor pokemon was lying in a lake of her own urine. Her tail, hindquarters, and belly were completely soaked, and she knew she would have to sit in her own piss all the way to the hotel.

Day 16: Scat

Today is Scat Only, sorry! If you’re into that, you can check out the other version of this story.

(who’d have thought?)

Day 17: Sadomasochism

Today, Fox in Socks is having a bad day. Her master is angry at her for wetting the bed again, and he is being very mean to her. First thing in the morning, he spanked her with a wooden paddle until she yeeked in pain, and her bottom was so sore she couldn’t sit down. Then, he made her do obedience training, and kept ordering her to sit, so she had to do so anyway, and every time she yelped or whined she had to drink ten laps of water. He put a tight collar on her, and choked her with the leash until she puked it up, then made her drink even more.

All day, poor Fox in Socks just can’t do anything right. She is ordered to do the dishes, but she can’t because she is a fox and foxes don’t have hands. So her master jabs a blunt spoon between her paw pads very hard, and whaps her paws with a ruler until it hurts to walk. Then her master offers to take her for a walk. Even though she is sore, Fox is excited because she hasn’t gone in a walk in three days, but she wags her tail too much, so he pulls her tail, and then pinches and twists her fuzzy ears and yanks her whiskers for making too much noise.

Even when she gets to go on her walk, Fox’s suffering is not over yet. She has to walk in her socks, and her master pours sharp gravel in them before they leave, as well as making her wear a diaper even though she is desperate to pee.

They don’t go very far, but by the time she gets back, the poor vixen’s diaper is soaked. Her padding is sagging, and completely yellow. It was an accident, but her master yells at her for pissing herself on purpose, and when he changes her he wrings the sopping diaper out over her. Now she is all wet. But she gets herself in even more trouble for trying to shake herself off.

Her master ties her forelegs together with a tight belt, and puts a sharp gag in her mouth that digs into her gums. Soon Fox in Socks has her ass in the air and her chin on the ground, and she’s drooling all over the floor. Her vulpine vulva is dripping too, but instead of gently fingering his fox like a kind master, her master touches a shock collar to her. She spasms, and lets out a gurgly shriek. So he does it again. Not even a talking fox can complain about animal abuse with a gag in her mouth.

He takes off the gag, but when he takes off the belt he decides to hit her with it to punish her for drooling on the floor. But the naughty fox runs away with her tail between her legs. She runs to the couch, but she still reeks of fox urine so she is not allowed up there. When her master catches her, he hits her until she cries so hard she hiccups, then carries her outside. Outside is where dirty animals belong. He ties her leash to a stake, and she has to watch while he fills a hole with water and churns it up with a shovel until it’s a deep pit of thick, gloppy mud.

This, specifically, is where dirty animals belong. She refuses to go in because her socks would get dirty, so her master pulls all four socks off the struggling fox, and throws her into the mud. Before she can climb out, he grabs her and holds her down, forcing her head deep into the slime while he fingers her much too roughly.

Fox is now sockless, and completely covered in mud. All of her gorgeous red and white fur has been turned mucky brown. This fox needs a bath. She gets one before she comes inside, but her master scrubs her way too hard.

The vixen is dripping wet, and exhausted, and she remembers that she needed to pee again already. But it’s too late. She’s inside now, and won’t get another chance. And her master makes her drink a big bowl of water before letting her settle down for a nap.

She can’t sleep peacefully for long before the desperate twinging of her bladder wakes her up. She lies awake for a while, fidgeting and trembling, with her forepaw jammed between her hing legs. She rudely interrupts her master’s video games and begs to be let outside, or to be allowed a litterbox, or a toilet, or even a puppy pad.

But her master is angry that she interrupted him, so he comes up with a much crueler solution. First, he makes his fox wait another hour, until her bladder is so full she’s in pain. Then, he puts down an empty water bowl on the floor with her name on it.

She pouts, and whines. She knows that if she shows what a naughty fox she is by peeing in her own water bowl, she’ll face the natural consequences of that. But her master is unmoved. She waits longer, and longer, and longer, until spurts of hot shame start to leak out in her bed. Fox sprints to her bowl, squats, and releases a powerful stream of pent-up pee. The jet of amber liquid hits the metal bowl and splashes everywhere, even on her own fur, but she just can’t stop. She pees, and pees, and pees. The liquid in the bowl is rising, and foaming, but Amber just can’t stop the torrent from her bursting bladder until it overflows.

Her master watches disapprovingly, and calls her a bad fox. He points at the bowl and orders her to drink. She sniffs it, whines, and shakes her head. Bad fox. Pets do not get to refuse commands, even if that means drinking her own urine. She tries to slink away, but her master grabs her by the collar and drags her back. He forces her nose down into the bowl, and holds her there until she blows sad bubbles. Then he loosens his grip a little, but keeps a hold on her while the vixen sadly laps at the warm, salty, foxy fluid. It tastes terrible, and she can only choke half of it down.

So her master tells her to sit on her sore rump, and pours the rest over her head. Then he unzips his pants, and with a command of “stay,” he marks his fox. Fox winces as the powerful stream pours down on her head. He sprays her face and muzzle with the robust jet of piss, and tells her to open her mouth. She reluctantly complies, and soon finds herself gurgling helplessly, maw overflowing with piss despite her attempts to swallow.

What a forlorn, soggy fox. She’s still totally naked, and now she’s drenched in her master’s urine. She has to lick the filthy floor, then suck her master’s cock until her face is covered with ropes of sticky cum. While she’s doing that, he puts binder clips on her ears to pinch them.

Finally, she has been a good fox. But this poor, poor fox didn’t even get the chance to empty her bladder all the way. When her master notices her doing a potty dance, he laughs, and says she will be rewarded by getting her face washed after her facial. He carries her to the bathtub, but instead of turning the water on, he turns the fox upside-down. Then, he jabs a pencil eraser into her paws and into her crotch, and whacks her exposed backside with a ruler, until the vixen shrieks in pain and pees.

All over herself. On her face. In her mouth.

This has been a very hard day for Fox in Socks. Her paws, her ears, her tail and her rump are all very sore and bruised, and her fur is so saturated with piss that she starts to worry that her white tummy and chin will be stained yellow.

Sad fox. Fox needs a hug, and a real shower.

Day 18: Glory Hole

Today, the local adults-only zoo has unveiled the renovations to its new exhibit. A brand new bathroom has been opened next to the otter cage, with a glass wall between them containing numerous holes, at groin height for a human, and groin or head height for an otter. Otters are such slutty animals that even having orgies with each other in front of guests isn’t enough to keep them satisfied, and letting them interact with visitors through a glory hole is an excellent way to provide enrichment in their habitat.

This might seem unsafe, but this raft of otters are well-trained to be gentle, and only bite if asked. They nibble tenderly at the zoo members’ members, slurping lovingly with their tongues and slathering them with drool, and their little paws are quite nimble too.

The zoo’s only been open for two hours, and already there are several very messy mustelids pacing in front of the glass, waiting for another visitor. Their faces are plastered and spattered with sticky ropes of cum, and their fur is dripping wet. But they haven’t gone swimming the entire time. The answer to the mystery? Well, let’s just say the urinals haven’t gotten much use today.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You fidget as you watch the cute little otters excitedly clamoring at the glass. You've been making sure to stay hydrated as you tour the zoo, and your bladder’s about to explode.

“Sure,” says an indifferent looking zoo employee.

“It just seems... cruel.”

“They’re otters,” he says. “They’re used to getting wet. And if they didn’t enjoy it, they won’t stay here.”

“All right. I’ll try it.” You unzip, and shuffle up to the howl. The otters squeak, clamor, and scuffle.

“Girls, come on! Be nice and take turns!” the employee raps on the glass.

Two cute-looking otters separate from the mob and wait by the glass. You take a deep breath, and put your crotch up to it. You’re so desperate you want to just pee, but the otters have other ideas. As soon as the tiniest bit of your length pokes through, they start slurping excitedly at your pee hole, and you get hard almost instantly. From there, you’re a helpless prisoner of the two lutrine ladies as they lovingly slurp and fondle you and each other. Meanwhile, the others aren’t content to sit around and wait other. Two males are sucking each other off, and two of the females’ wrestling session ends when one gets the upper hand, and climbs on her friend’s face before releasing her bladder on her with a relieved squeak.

“God, there’s so much,” you say.

“Yeah, this species can hold over 14 fluid ounces of urine. That’s as much as the average human.”

Soon you’re too distracted to talk any more. You moan and press your head against the glass as the otters’ charms take their toil. Your hips buck forward instinctively, and you spasm and let out a breath. Spurt after spurt after spurt fills their waiting maws and spatters their faces.

But they’re not done with you yet. The larger of the pair smiles and bites down just enough to make you not want to pull back, then laps frenetically at your pee hole into the stimulation makes your bladder let go.

The two otters squeak with delight as a strong stream of yellow pee splashes all over them. They squabble for position, each showering their faces off under your stream, and letting it flood their mouths. You keep going for a long time, but they show no sign of losing interest, and they look so sad and soggy when you’re finally empty and they have to let you go.

They’re so cute! You decide to stay a while and watch as other zoogoers take their turn. But then at feeding time, disaster strikes. A woman marches into the bathroom carrying a bucket of fish, but when she opens the gate, she doesn’t realize the inner one was open too!

“God damnit!” She fumbles and drops the fish. Half the otters go for it, but several charge out the open gates, heading straight for you! You try to run, but you slip on the damp bathroom floor. The playful animals pile on top of you.

“Help!” you cry.

“Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you if you don’t make any sudden moves!” says the employee. “Just hold still, and they’ll get bored eventually.”

“Eventually?”

A particularly soggy otter climbs on top of you. She’s drank an obscene amount of piss in the time you’ve been watching. Her coat is drenched, and she reeks of animal musk and stale urine. She settles down with her crotch on your face and makes herself comfortable.

“Aww, I think she likes you!” says the zookeeper.

“Mmmf!” you complain through a mouthful of wet mustelid muff. Another one of the perverted animals has undone your zipper again and is slapping your schlong with her muscular rudder.

“Don’t be shy. She’s not gonna climb off ‘til she decides she’s done, so if you wanna help that process along!”

Cute as they are, otters taste terrible. Being soaked in human piss doesn’t improve it either. But you remain unaware of the real reason for the glass.

They’re not potty trained.

With a blissful shudder, the otter, whose bladder has be absolutely aching, lets go and pisses herself while you’re eating her out. A torrent of foul, musky mustelid urine gushes into your mouth. Despite her being well-hydrated it’s still very salty and bitter, though that’s to be expected when they’ve been drinking mostly human urine, and it’s going right through them. Your shirt becomes even more drenched as another of the creatures relieves herself on you. The one on your face keeps going and going and going forever, and as soon as she climbs off, another completely desperate and completely soaked otter climbs on and opens the floodgates. Meanwhile, another nearly gags herself on your dick, sloppily sucking until you fill her mouth and splatter her face with a huge load.

You should’ve have expected this before you came in here. It’s written on the plaque outside the exhibit, after all. They’re Pee and B J Otters.

Day 19: Inflation

Today is Scat Only, sorry! If you’re into that, you can check out the other version of this story.

Day 20: Double Penetration in two holes

Today is Scat Only, sorry! If you’re into that, you can check out the other version of this story.

Day 21: Size Difference

Today, Laila the anthro fennec vixen went for a hike with her human boyfriend, Eric. Even anthro fennecs are tiny. Laila only comes up to Eric’s belly button not counting the ears, had to take way more steps than the longer-legged man. Halfway back from the end of the trail, her little legs ached. And so did her bladder.

Despite her size, she carried the same size Camelbak bag in her backpack. As a desert animal she didn’t need anywhere near this much water, but she liked to stay hydrated. It was fun to get herself into desperate situations, miles from a bathroom. She’d “forgotten” to bring a funnel, which meant peeing in the woods was out of the question for her. She’d get it all over her pants.

Not for Eric, though. And despite seeing her potty dancing, he slyly asked her to follow him off the trail and “watch for bears,” knowing she’d do no such thing. She didn’t have the willpower not to watch with the utmost envy as he relieved himself. She whimpered and held her crotch, watching his strong stream spatter the ground and make a puddle in the dirt, and a small plant. Eric wasn’t the only one she envied, though. God, she wanted to be under that stream so badly. But this was a public place.

“I wish you’d brought a bottle,” she remarked, sipping on her camelbak hose and trying to imagine a salty taste. One day she was going to just buy one that she could fill with urine. “Such a shame to let that liquid go to waste.”

“This is a thirsty little flower. He’ll die if you don’t pee on him.”

“I’m a thirsty little flower,” Laila whined. “And I have to pee...”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t bring your funnel. Don’t you wish you could just pull down your pants and pee anywhere you wanted?”

What a jerk. She was getting him back for that. Once they were back on the trail, she waited a bit until he wouldn’t suspect anything, then started whining. “My legs are tiired! Can you give me a piggyback ride?”

“No. If you have an accident, it’ll get all over my backpack, and that’s where my spare clothes are.”

Damnit. Was she that obvious? She looked down at her stomach. Wow, her bladder was really swollen. Her pants felt so tight. Never mind, that was pretty obvious.

Laila was desperate by the time they made it to the trailhead. But she couldn’t use the outhouse there. She was too small for the seat. She’d have to make it... two hours home.

She laid down a tarp and towels in the car, sure she was going to have to either piss herself or have to rush into a gas station. She eyed the drinks in the cooler thirstily, but refused them. God, this was going to be a long ride. At least she only had to endure the bumpy dirt road at the start of it.

Soon Laila was in agony. If it weren’t for her revenge, she would have just let it out and rode home marinating in her own pee. Fuck, she’d pushed it too far. She started to worry. Being desperate in the car was fun, but she’d read that if they crashed her bladder could literally explode. At this point just hard braking might do it. She should just wet herself. She frantically checked Google Maps.

“Hey - Eric! There’s this nature trail at the next exit! Can we just take a little walk? No backpacks, just us.”

“I thought you were tired.”

“It’ll just be a little ways.”

Eric agreed. They got maybe a quarter mile out before Laila couldn’t take it anymore. She was having to keep her legs pressed together with every step. She fought the instinct to pull her pants down and squat, and instead begged to turn back.

“Never mind. I really am tired. So, how about that piggyback ride?”

“Oh, fine. You’re lucky you’re so light and easy to carry.”

The jostling of his footsteps was too much for the little fennec. She clung tightly to his shoulders, and with a dismayed whimper her not-so-little bladder reached its limit.

“Oh, God! Laila!”

“Sorry...” Laila giggled unapologetically. Oh, fuck this felt good! She was flooding her panties and khaki pants, a golden waterfall pouring down her boyfriend’s back.

Of course, her ‘accident’ wasn’t without its consequences. Eric changed into his spare clothes and cleaned himself up as best he could in the empty parking lot, but Laila had to ride the rest of the way home in her soggy pants. And the real punishment came when they got home. She had to wear his drenched t-shirt on her head, sniff it, and even lick it. Then, Eric removed his dry clothes and stood there expectantly.

“C’mere, naughty fox. You’re still thirsty, aren’t you?”

Yes she was. And his cock was almost at eye level. She nuzzled his member, which still smelled like fox pee because she’d soaked him that badly, and lifted it up with her snout.

Eric had made sure to drink plenty of fluids too, and his bladder had refilled over the ride him. Soon Laila was helping him aim the strong stream of warm, salty liquid all over her face, filling her mouth with the foaming river over and over. It spilled out and cascaded down her body, drenching her shirt and freshly wetting her pants.

It was a good thing she was so short, she thought. A normal-sized anthro would have to kneel to do this, and that wouldn’t be fun with tired legs.

And speaking of tired... her bladder felt uncomfortable already. She knew she should rest it, and avoid another long hold.

“This is really yellow,” she commented when his stream finally ran out. “I think you need to hydrate more.”

“It’s straw-colored, that’s medically recommended.”

“I said, I think you need to hydrate more. How about I help, as thanks for giving me a piggyback ride earlier?”

“Oh. Oh... yeah, you’re right. I am a little thirsty.”

“A thirsty little flower?”

“Yes. I’m a thirsty little flower.” He patted her sopping head, and lay down in the puddle on the floor. Laila pulled off her pants, and considered removing her panties as well, but decided against it.

“Well, fox urine’s got the electrolytes plants crave!”

That wasn’t a smart thing to say. His laughing fit meant she had to wait almost two minutes for him to recover.