This story will include nonchalant peeing, piss destruction/pee vandalism, public pee, naughty pee, golden showers

Chapter 1

The Introduction To MISS TEAM USA

(NEWS REPORT)

"Hello, everyone. I’m Martin Ainstein; welcome to Sportscenter. I’m coming to you live with some breaking news. Ashley Sanchez, an 18-year-old soccer star and captain of Women’s Team USA, is allowed to urinate anywhere she pleases. This news comes after the Mexican-American superstar wet herself in the Women’s World Cup 2023 Finals, where she was the night's hero.

After being down 4-0, she rallied the troops with her five goals, breaking all women’s World Cup goal records since she scored 18 goals in a single tournament. But all that came at a cost. She got a severe urinary tract infection; luckily, doctors confirmed it didn’t do any severe long-term damage. The president of FIFA released a statement today stating he has talked to country leaders about this rule change and has accepted it. Since Ashley is the most prominent face of any sport right now, she is the only female allowed this privilege and has earned it. Now onto other news...."

(Introduction)

The sun hits a beautiful, modest house as it hits a specific window, hitting a Latina beauty queen in the face. This is Ashley Sanchez as she moved the covers in her sleep, exposing her pale, nude form. Perky's perky teardrop 36DD cups stay firm with no sag to see, even in her sleep. Under that toned six-pack, as you keep going down, you see the bottom pair of lips tightly shut. Thick-toned thighs and her fat, firm ass to finish off her perfect body.

(Ashley POV)

"Mija (my daughter), wake up; you have to go to school today," my mother says as she bangs on my door. "One more hour," I groan. A couple of weeks ago, I was on top of the world, winning the Women’s World Cup with Alex Morgan and Megan Rapinoe. But I’m still just a simple 18-year-old high school student for my mom. I’m the best female soccer player in the world.

My mom barges in since I can hear the living room television. Telemundo Deportes (sports) is talking about me being allowed to pee anywhere I please. My mother slaps my ass hard, making it jiggle and fully waking me up. "OWWW!!! Mom, that hurts," I say as I rub my hot, fat cheek. "I’m just jealous you've got all the best features, and I’m flat as hell." My pouty-faced mother says as I move my curly blonde hair out of my face, showing my mom my green orbs.

I giggle at my mother's antics as I stand up, stretching and yawning. I luckily live in an area where soccer isn’t popular, since I wouldn’t know how to handle the paparazzi and fans on my way to school. I have terrible social anxiety, and some fans are creeps. I read all my Twitter DMs. As I open my closet, I grab my custom Nike tracksuit with my Team USA number and last name on the back. I put on a white sports bra under my tracksuit and windbreaker jacket. As I put on my signature Nike Air Force shoes, I walk out, grabbing my Nike backpack.

One of the many perks of being a soccer superstar is that many companies send you free stuff, hoping you’ll sign with them. As I try to walk into the restroom to pee before I leave, my mother stops me. "Aye, Senorita, a donde vas" (Hey Missy, where are you going?) "Unless you’re going number two, you're not using the toilet. You can pee anywhere, and if you decide on the bathroom, you are no longer allowed to waste water just for peeing. I connected some wet wipes to your backpack. You got taught to pee standing right, so use that skill." My mom gives me a forehead kiss and leaves to go back to watching her novels and lounging around talking to my dad.

As I’m about to walk out, I notice one of my dad’s house plants; it is a dwarf tree. I lower my Nike joggers, and I release my strong-smelling morning piss; it shoots forward. My strong stream rattles some leaves and hits the wall behind it, making a beautiful waterfall of golden water as I moan slightly due to relieving my aching bladder. As a soccer player, I’m used to holding it for long periods, making my bladder expand, and my pelvic floor muscles help with my power and aiming.

The tree is accepting my urine gratefully, drinking it all up; I can tell from the soil's dampness my arc begins to die down as I lean forward, making sure I empty all my bladder's apple juice. I get surprised as more pee emerges in a thick, forceful stream; my water jet drills a hole in the damped soil. My dad pats my back. “How are you doing, Ms. Team USA.” As the last drops fall, I get a wet wipe. I wipe myself and throw it in the bin next to the door. “I’m great, Daddy. I’ll see you I need to go to school before Mom blows a gasket.”