(This is a newly completed story of mine, which I hope you'll enjoy. It does however contain pee desperation and wetting so if you have any objections to that, you may wish to give it a miss.) Adam and Barnaby turned the corner into Wentworth Street, location of the Community Centre with which they were both familiar, but today the local polling station. They'd originally intended to vote two hours earlier, upon returning from work, but had taken one look at the queue outside the polling station and thought better of it. Fortified by fish and chips at the Broadhurst Arms, washed down in Adam's case by diet coke and in Barnaby's by three pints of bitter, they were ready to try again. Neither could disguise their disappointment when they saw that the queue, far from diminishing, was even longer than it had been earlier, stretching almost the full length of suburban Wentworth Street. Shit! I don't fucking believe it, Barnaby hissed. Neither do I, rejoined Adam. Still if we're going to vote I think we're going to have to stick it out. They said this was a marginal and there's bound to be more interest at this one than last time. It's the last chance there'll be to get shot of Labour for another five years and we need a change. Oh yeah?, Barnaby retorted. "Change - the Lib Dems? In what sense does your wet party represent change? What with their soft policies on Europe and immigration oh, and proportional representation. Mucking about with voting system just to keep themselves in and the Tories out. I don't mean to be nasty but if you ask me they've not got much of a chance. Adam didn't care for his friend's tone and resolved to stick up for what he believed in. Well at least they've got more chance of getting elected than your lot. Your UKIP lot won't get more than a thousand or fifteen hundred votes here and I doubt they'll have a single MP. They've not exactly wiped the floor yet, have they? Not that I'm surprised. All your lot want is to get out of Europe. A one policy party is all they are. Even the Tories realised this country was better off in Europe than out and most people agreed with them when they had the referendum. Which was before you or I were born, Adam. We didn't get any say in it, did we? I wouldn't mind if it wasn't for all those fat cats in the European parliament, getting rich whilst tying the rest of us in red tape. Oh, and that's without mentioning that fucking villain's paradise called the European Human Rights Act. What did for me was Brown signing that treaty which Blair promised a referendum on that we never got. What, the Lisbon Treaty? Yes, the Lisbon Treaty. No one but the politicians seem to know what's in it and even some of them aren't really sure. The only thing that's sure about it is less power to Westminster and more to Brussels. Well, does that matter? Of course it bloody well matters. We might lose control of the army for a kick off. Can you imagine it? German generals in charge of our fucking troops. I don't think so! Adam rolled his eyes in disapproval. An elderly gentleman queueing in front of them turned to Barnaby and uttered a stern rebuke. Mind your language, lad! Sorry sir, he replied. Although they were slowly getting closer to the polling station, the queue remained a long one and Barnaby glanced anxiously at Adam, slipping his hand down to his crotch, as he did so. They'd been friends long enough for Adam to recognise and understand the signs. Full bladder, mate?, he ventured. Yeah, I need a major piss. Though so. Why didn't you go at the pub? Oh yeah? You'd never have let me live it down. You'd have been calling me Sergeant Weakbladder or something like it. Barnaby, that's not true. You've not been all day. Neither have you. True, but I can hold it. Having a dick the size of yours comes at a price. You can't expect to have a big cock and and a huge bladder as well. If you were average like me it would be different. You normally piss the minute we get in so it's hardly surprising you've gotta go now. Besides, what do you expect after three pints? Alright Adam, don't rub it in! I'm fucking bursting. Well why don't you nip back to the pub? I'll try and keep your place in queue. Adam, you've got to be kidding. I'm going to vote even if it means pissing myself. It's my first General Election and I don't intend missing out. Okay Barnaby, it's just a thought. You know the longest I ever went without pissing was sixteen hours. It was a family wedding and I was well ready for a piss when the time came. Hey, I wonder if your Aunt Anne got caught short when she came to vote? It's the sort of thing she'd do. I doubt it. Brian and Anne were going to vote at seven when the place opened and I overheard her pissing in the bathroom at six. She was pissing like a fucking racehorse as usual. I know she didn't go at bedtime and she'd not pissed all evening so I wasn't too surprised. It woke me up though. And gave you a hardon too I shouldn't wonder! Pity I missed it but I was still fast asleep then. Barnaby grabbed his crotch again, by now wearing a pained expression, and walking very gingerly. Adam, can we change the subject? What? Not bloody likely. I'm enjoying this too much, Sergeant Weakbladder.! It's not every day I get to see you squirm. Adam! What? I've started to piss myself. Can you stop it? I'll try. He didn't believe he'd do it, but Barnaby managed to close his urinary sphincter and stop the flow. Although he'd probably released less than a quarter of a pint, his trousers were noticeably wet. One of the disadvantages of having a cock as big as his was the near impossibility of finding comfortable briefs with the result that he invariably went commando. Without underpants to take the initial discharge, his trousers got wetter quicker than would otherwise have been the case. Still, things were starting to look up. It was getting dark but, after a long wait, they were finally at the polling station door. Barnaby could feel himself starting to lose control again as further spurts of pee shot out of his gigantic cock, wetting further his already wet trousers. Not waiting to get his ballot paper, Barnaby shot off to the gents toilets, unzipped his cock which had quit all attempts at holding back the tide, and peed hard for a good two minutes into the long metal urinal. The relief was unbelievable. Wet but relieved, he zipped his now stress free cock back into his trousers. Barnaby made his way back into the main hall and surveyed the scene. The main doors had closed and Adam stood at the back of the room, obviously having voted. There was something of a commotion going off, a dozen or so disaffected voters arguing and shouting at the poll clerk. Unsure of what the commotion was about, Barnaby approached the poll clerk and retrieved a rather damp voting card from his pocket. Can I please have a ballot paper? No. I'm sorry sir but it's just gone ten o'clock and by law you've got to have the ballot paper before ten if you're to vote. But I've just been for a piss. You know I was here before ten, for goodness sake. I'm sorry sir but you have to be issued with the ballot paper by ten o'clock. That's the law of the land. I don't make the rules but I have to enforce them. So you're saying I can't fucking vote then? That's correct sir. Look you're not the only that's missed out tonight. Turnout's been a lot higher than expected. If you'd come earlier you'd have stood a better chance. Barnaby looked angrily at the man. Do you know who I am? I'm the nephew of one of the candidates and I'll make sure he gets to hear about this. Wearily the poll clerk polished his spectacles. I know perfectly who you are young man. The fact remains I've got to shut up shop at ten and I can't make can't make any exceptions. Now I suggest you go home and let me get on with closing the polling station. Before he could reply, Adam grabbed his friend and whisked him towards the door. Come on, Barnaby. There's no point in arguing. We'd better do as the man says. Still angry and uncomfortable in his pee sodden trousers, Barnaby realised there was no point in arguing and followed Adam outside. There would no doubt be other future elections in which he could vote. The End.