Jimmy Olsen

Sorry I didn't get that part.

Or you could diaper Samantha up in the next chapter.

The comics version with the fishnet stockings would look interesting in a diaper.

I don't understand this post. Is it on the wrong thread?

I guess Rogue is a goth now?

How did she rise to the rank of captain without being housebroken?

Depending on the fandom and scenario you might get somebody to write it for free! I suggest your first step is posting it on the request thread.

She didn't know how long she lay there like that before something happened. She felt weight on top of the covers, and then something cold and sharp penetrating her ankle. She flinched from the sting, but afterwards she couldn't move at all. Something was rubbing and tickling the right side of her abdomen near her waistband. There were tingling feelings and slurping sounds. Were her vital organs being removed? Was she dying? Her bloodstream was filled with adrenaline and her heart was pumping like mad, but somehow she couldn't make a single conscious movement to defend herself. Her lungs were working faster and faster, but somehow she couldn't find the breath to scream. Suddenly she was freed. She let out a squeaky half-scream as she flailed around and fell out of bed. She stuck her hand where the thing had been working her body, and it felt wet with blood. She tore her way out of the twisted covers and turned on the light. There was no sign of a wound. Her organs were apparently intact. Her bladder was no longer hurting. Her panties were sopping and her legs were dripping, but it had nothing to do with blood. She sighed with relief. The night was over. She'd been dreaming. She was perfectly unharmed, aside from being soaking wet and stinking of ammonia. She gathered up the covers and collapsed into bed. She needed to give herself a few minutes to calm down, and then she'd figure out a plan for washing her bedclothes without revealing her accident. She didn't have time to recover before her bedroom door swung open and her little sister ran in. "Are you okay?!?" Hallie asked. "You made a funny noise." Then she noticed the dark spot on the covers. "Uh-oh! Wet bed!" "Keep it down!" Cassie whisper-shouted, but their mother had already heard. "Hallie, did you wet the bed?" asked a voice from the other room. "No, Cassie did," the young girl answered matter-of-factly. "That can't be true," the mother said as she walked into her older daughter's bedroom. She stopped and stared at the giant wet patch. Hallie ran out of the room, afraid that a scolding was about to happen. "I had a scary nightmare," the teenager explained, knowing there was no way out of admitting what she'd done. "I lost control, or something, I guess, when I was sleeping..." her voice got weaker and finally ceased. Just saying this out loud made it feel more humiliating. "Were you drinking at that party last night?" her mother demanded to know. "What? No!" "Drugs?" "What kind of drug makes you wet the bed?" Cassie asked as she rolled her eyes. "Well you must've been doing something unusual to your body. It's just not normal for a girl...for a woman your age to wet the bed." This hurt Cassie's feelings more than the accusations. "I didn't do anything weird," she said with a wavering voice. "I just..." "You just peed in your sleep." "Yes," she said, feeling more ashamed than ever. "It was because of a nightmare," she added in weak defense. Her mother was starting to feel sorry for her, so she eased up. "Well why don't you get cleaned up and strip your bed? I'll see if I can get the stains out." When she left the room, Hallie returned carrying a stuffed kangaroo. "You can have Josephine," she said. "She sleeps in your bed and keeps bad dreams away. I don't need her anymore now that I'm older." This unintentionally insulting gesture from her younger sister was the last straw that broke Cassie's composure. She started weeping like a little girl, because that was what she felt like.

Another succinct scene with a seasonal setting... The December day was wonderfully white but frightfully frigid. A lovely lady in fluffy fleece was ambling along the snowy streets. Her bulging bladder made her hurry hastily. A sudden surge of wicked wind made her spray her stockings. She swiftly scampered to deep drifts that blocked her body from everyone's eyesight. Surreptitiously spreading her limber legs she let the liquid flow freely. Her veiled voiding had regrettable repercussions. Strong steam from the warm water attracted attention to her disgraceful deed. The mortified maiden's face flushed ruby red.

The night before last I had a weird dream inspired by an old drabble that had recently received a new comment. Princess Peach was imprisoned in a metal cage hanging from the ceiling of a cavern above a bottomless chasm. I think she was wearing her golf outfit because I could see most of her legs. She was trembling and sweating. She sheepishly said, "I think it's time we discuss bathroom breaks." King Bowser (who was like 20 feet tall in this dream) was standing on a ledge of the chasm far below Peach's cage. "What was that? You'll have to speak up, princess." She closed her eyes and shouted, "Bathroom break!" Bowser trolled her. "Bathroom break? Don't mind if I do!" He whipped it out (which should've been impossible because he wasn't wearing anything) and roared with relief as a colossal torrent shot out of him and down the chasm. It flowed for a long time. Seeing and hearing that was torture for Princess Peach. She fell to her knees with her thighs pressed together but her legs splayed sideways (which would be painful if even anatomically possible) and let out several pained squeaks. Despite all the trouble she was having she didn't leak a single drop. That was where the dream ended, or at least the part I remember ended.

Those are quite some descriptions @Lapiiss!

On a cold December night a young woman sat on a porch with a nice view. She watched falling snow and neighborhood lights. She enjoyed the peacefulness of it all. Her bladder filled up but she wasn't ready to go inside. As a Christmas present to herself she indulged in a rare pleasure. She put an old blanket on the porch swing and sat there. She relaxed until she felt her lap getting warm. The warmth spread over her rump and down her thighs. She sipped steamy hot cocoa while sitting in steamy hot piss. Christmas was a wonderful time.

Unless I misunderstood, this thread is for desperation scenes without relief, so the stories posted here probably won't be continued.

Neat art! Interesting perspective. Why are they bullying her, though?

All of these are good, but I just absolutely love the sequence with the secretary!