Turbulence 3 & Live-STREAM (Patreon)

Solitary has spoken, and so they shall receive!  XD  In fact, this month was another tie between a continuation of the Turbulence images and last month's FloodTheInternet image!  Time to see how these two played out!
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Ivy dared not move for the longest time.  Her breathing was tense, and short.  She stared at the seat belt light, and her hands dug deep into the denim between between her tightly crossed legs.  Her situation had already been a dire emergency when her ass hovered so close to the seat of the tiny airplane toilet --- and that moment felt as if it had been an eternity ago.  Truthfully, she didn't care about the time, as her focus was set exclusively on the very conscious effort of keeping all that liquid torture inside of her body.  She'd already leaked twice, and that second one had left her teetering on the edge of failure.  

The need to urinate assailed her with animalistic rage.  Her body shifted at times without control as her brain --- drowned in the stress of concentrated need --- resorted to measures of pure instinct.  The sun had set, and her will had won for now --- but she knew that the end was fast-approaching.  Her bladder felt like a pumpkin, and she was constantly pulling back --- whatever that meant --- on it.  And she knew her kidneys were somehow finding more water to load into the overloaded pouch of muscle.  

Instinct drove her to unclip the latch on her purse.  It drove her to tear her pants and panties down in the very public cab.  It did not spare the items inside --- there was no time.

She peed.  Aiming for the purse, the jet was at first so strong that it missed, flew straight from her body, and crashed into the back of the seat ahead of her.  She angled what would be more aptly described as a beam of piss into the bag she dangled between her legs.

~~

The difficulty of the challenge she'd accepted went far beyond what she had expected --- to stream three hours of herself brimming with piss.  And her chat did not act mercifully.  Donation after donation, she was making a killing... but the challenges they gave her in exchange were equally murderous.  Thirty jumping-jacks at the hour mark was a kindness in comparison with what followed shortly thereafter.

Wearing a belt around her midsection a notch too tight for fifteen minutes...  Doing ten sit-ups... Being disallowed to cross her legs or touch herself for the last half hour...  

And now this: rub three ice-cubes on her belly until each had melted.  The first melted fairly quickly, but the moment it kissed her skin, it felt like lightning.  The second took longer, as her stomach was still cold from the first.  She traced circles with it, hoping the movement would dull it down faster.  But the undulating pressure of ice against her midsection caused her legs to kick and twist.  Why was this so hard?!  As dribbles of water from the melted ice rolled off onto her bed, they drew streaks of horrific cold with them.  

She took a moment before the last ice-cube to squeeze herself and wriggle.  The chat loved it.  Mostly, however, she wanted to warm her stomach back up so the last one would melt faster.  She needed it to, as the second had nearly made her lose control when it became so small that she lost her grip on it.

She wasn't ready.  But there wasn't a way to be ready in her current state.  But the chat kept reminding her --- it was time for that last ice-cube.  She took the last ice-cube in her hand, laid onto her back and spread her legs a bit so that there would be a clear view of her torture.  She really didn't want to pee herself in front of her fans...

As soon as the ice touched her freshly warmed skin, she knew it was over.  She felt a spurt, and she was certain that the spot would be visible on her panties...   But a glance at her footage in the screen revealed that the feeling must have been a mirage.  The next dash of urine... was not a mirage.  In fact, it had enough force to blast through her sponsor's panties...