Learning History

Hermione woke early the next morning, too excited to sleep. As she did every morning, she had to pee. But she didn’t get up to go to the toilet today. For a while, she lay there, stroking herself lightly through her pajama bottoms. Each stroke sent a tingle all the way through her—a hint of the pleasure to come. It was hard to decide what to try first: there were so many options, now that she was confident enough in her spellwork that she knew she could vanish the evidence of her release.
But to begin the day, she decided to keep things simple. Trusting that the others in the room were all still asleep, and hidden behind the curtains of her four poster bed, she sat up so that she was kneeling over her blankets, knees spread, feet tucked below her bum. Still stroking herself, she willed her muscles to let go. It took a moment, but then she felt the hot, tickling feeling of piss approaching its exit. She bore down, and a spurt hit her knickers, warmth spreading over her vulva and down to her ass. Thus far, nothing had leaked to the bed below her, and she paused to relish her almost invisible leak. Perhaps she could do this more often—let herself go about wetting ever so slightly and leaving the evidence only for her to know? She would keep that in mind.
As for now, she could no longer keep back the rest of the contents of her bladder, which was impatient to be let out. Sighing quietly, she felt a heavy stream begin to drench her lower half. It spattered on the bed, droplets flying back up to her already-wet legs; smaller streams dripped from the seat of her pajamas and onto her feet, a sensation she hadn’t known she’d enjoy. Her pee pooled beneath her, darker yellow than last night’s, due to the night of holding it in, and it soon spread to encompass both her knees, the indents of which created space for the piss to collect, and for her to admire its golden color, dark against the white sheets.
The release felt as good or better than she remembered from last night. The pleasure was such that she almost felt she could come just from this: from the feeling of peeing herself, letting go and letting the warmth envelop her cunt, here in secret, separated only by a single sheet of velvet drapery from the discover of her classmates.
Before she could finish her pee, she began to rub herself through her wet pajamas, and before she knew it, she was coming again: the last drops of piss spraying out of her unevenly as her muscles clenched and loosened through the orgasm. She doubled over, catching herself on her elbows as she gripped her crotch, feeling it pulse, still hot and wet, beneath her palm, as she let out a completely silence scream, overwhelmed by feeling.
When she was able, she sat back up and surveyed her mess. More than half of her bed was wet. She sat squelchily down in the midst of it, wiggling happily. Making sure she had a complete mental image of the yellowed sheets and her soaked legs, she finally waved her wand and made it all disappear.

It was hard to stay focused in classes that day, Even Ron commented on it.
At lunch, Ginny gave her an odd look, and Hermione came to, realizing that she’d been lost in contemplation of where to pee next.
“Did you say something? I’m sorry,” she said, looking around.
“Just wondering if you’d go to the library with me tonight,” Ginny said, still looking puzzled. “I have so much to do for Transfiguration tomorrow, and if you’d read over my essay or Charms I’d love you forever.”
“Of course,” said Hermione, resigning herself to wait to have more wet fun until later that night.

But in Potions that afternoon, it occurred to her that in the library with Ginny would be the perfect time to test out her idea of letting herself leak without anyone noticing, and without her having to vanish it straightaway.
So she made sure, once again, to drink plenty at dinner to prepare herself. Bidding goodbye to Harry and Ron, who were off for some extra Quidditch practice, she and Ginny walked together to the library, Hermione already feeling the effects of all her drinking. She hadn’t given herself her post-class, pre-dinner bathroom break, either: she wanted to be full, and she wanted to give herself little pockets of relief as the night went on. Another element that she was coming to find pleasurable was the wait, and the feeling of fullness: needing a wee, it seemed, felt almost as good as stroking her clit.
It was with relief that she sat down at a table in the library with Ginny; further relief that it was a fairly secluded table, far back into the shelves, where no one was likely to disturb them. She took up Ginny’s charms essay, and spent some minutes reading it through, before starting it again, this time, quill in hand, ready to make corrections and suggestions.
She glanced beside her. Ginny was immersed in her work, several books open before her, scribbling rapidly. Good. Quill in hand, trying to look as normal as possible, she focused on letting her bladder go, hoping she had the control to stop it before it all gushed out. It took some time, new as it was for her body to pee while not at a toilet, much less within view of another person. But there, she finally felt that warm feeling, and, ahh. Sweet release. Instantly, she felt a patch of heat between her legs, and she squeezed her thighs together, trying to cut off the flow before it became noticeable. But whether her bladder was simply too full, or her recent escapades had loosened her control, she couldn’t contain the rushing stream, and, horrified, she felt it flowing down her legs with an audible hiss.
At last, she regained control and was able to stop pissing herself. She tried to look under the table to see if any had reached the stone floor beneath her, but thankfully, she saw nothing. Still, her thighs were warm and wet: much more than the little trickle she’d intended to let out. She looked back up in some relief, only to find Ginny staring straight at her.
Hermione opened her mouth, but couldn’t find words.
“Hermione?” said Ginny.
“Mm?” Hermione said.
“Did you just wet yourself?”
Hermione bit her lip. There was no use lying. “A bit?” she said.
“Why didn’t you go to the loo?” Ginny said.
“Er—” How much to tell her? “—I thought I could hold it,” she settled on, “I wanted to finish reviewing your essay first.”
“That was silly,” Ginny said. “Let me see.”
To Hermione’s disbelief, Ginny, with a glance around to ensure they were alone, shifted closer to Hermione and pulled her legs apart.
Unfortunately, this was more than her bladder could stand. Before she could even warn Ginny, piss was flying out of her, soaking the cushion on the chair beneath her, making her bum warm and wet, hissing and splattering on the stone below, in a jet so strong it sprayed straight out of the crotch of Hermione’s trousers.
She gasped, both in horror at her inability to control her pee, and in irresistible pleasure at the release of the day’s worth of liquid, which was showing no signs of stopping.
Her eyes met Ginny’s, and Ginny smiled. “It’s alright,” she said, “just let go.”
So Hermione closed her eyes and gave in to the sensation, pissing herself fully, and entirely accidentally, right there in the corner of the library.