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Found 4 results

  1. From the album: Spectre’s GMod Album

    These superhero costumes are really hard to take off. I don’t blame her for having an accident.

    © Spider-Man

  2. X-(Wo)Men school field trip! Follow an unlucky field trip with some classic X-men ladies and some surprise Marvel guest appearances as they realize this trip might not be accident free ( All characters are 18 years of age and above) It was just gone nine in the morning, and having breakfast half a mile off Interstate 95 was the strangest collection of people Ellie-Mae had ever seen. Seeing that she’d been working at Joe’s Diner for almost twenty years, that was saying quite something. Joe was her daddy, the old man who’d opened the place up back in the seventies- not that he was around to run it much anymore, a task that mostly fell to her. And the first piece of advice Joe had ever given his only daughter was that you have to get used to seeing some weirdfolk. Still, folk didn’t come much weirder than this, at least not in Ellie-Mae’s peaceful (if sometimes a little benign) life. They had arrived just before the hour, almost two dozen of them, almost all women, almost all looking very young. There were perhaps six adults. Ellie-Mae’s heart had sunk when she saw the flock of teenagers in tow. School field trips were the bane of her existence: the kids were, in her experience, raucous, obnoxious and rude. The teachers weren’t much better, and tended not to bother to keep the little bastards in check. And then there was the question of cooking up orders for a hungry class of over twenty. Not to mention that they rarely even tipped. Still, at least they weren’t a daily occurrence. At least once a week, Ellie-Mae thanked God that she lived between New York and DC, and not between LA and Vegas. But this group had subverted all of those expectations. They had come in perfectly politely, ordered as cordially as you like and then waited patiently for their food. There had been the usual smatterings of conversation, laugher and good-natured ribbing that she was accustomed to, but none of the irritating shrieking and playfighting she’d come to dread. Instead she had been more than happy to take their orders, which ranged from pancakes and waffles to full hot meals, and deliver the ticket to her head chef Toby in the kitchen. Such was their behavioural conspicuousness that Ellie-Mae might have forgotten all about them, if they had looked anything like your regular school trip. Instead, the group that occupied almost a quarter of her modest diner’s seats looked like something out of a Tim Burton movie (or perhaps, to be generous, something by Barry Sonnenfeld). The man who came in first was bald, with deep beetle’s eyes and sharp features. He was in a wheelchair, but not like any wheelchair Ellie-Mae had ever come across. It was more like a sci-fi movie prop than a real chair, at least to her eyes. He’d entered the place first, followed by a bizarre selection of grown women. There was an English brunette who talked like she was both a mastermind and an idiot, a tall blonde draped in snowy white with a rack to rival Ellie-Mae’s, a lady with a steely gaze and short, visciously spiked hair, a woman who looked like some wild human-phoenix, a redhead dressed in tight green and yellow. They walked like an incredibly small army, and it didn’t take a genius (which Ellie-Mae was not) to deduce that these were not your regular teachers. In fact, if she was to tell her truth, something about them gave her the creeps. If the adults were bizarre, oh, friends and neighbours, the kids were something else. The first thing Ellie-Mae noticed was a set of triplets. She’d worked this diner six days a week for darn near a thousand weeks, and yet she could count the number of sets of triplets she’d seen walk through those doors on one hand. They were a hell of a rarity, but these were something else entirely. This trio was perfectly identical and identically beautiful. Curves, blonde hair, all in the same outfits that showed off identical smooth bellies. If that wasn’t unnerving enough, Ellie-Mae couldn’t help but shiver the first time she heard them all talk in perfect synchronisation. She had no idea how they did it- years of practice, she supposed- but it was as if they were all speaking from the same brain. They were only the tip of the iceberg. The array of girls that followed the triplets was a cross between an algebra test and a fashion show on drugs. A small girl with a shaven head, built like a tractor, sat smouldering into her cup of coffee. If looks could kill, Ellie-Mae’s momma used to say, that girl would be a serial murderer. There was an African girl with a strong accent and eyes that danced like stars. A young Asian woman wearing half the rainbow and bright pink sunglasses sat beside another who looked every bit as serious as her neighbour was vibrant. There was a dark-haired girl who seemed to physically stretch every time she grabbed for the salt, which was impossibly far from her seat but which she reached with ease. As Ellie-Mae watched, a girl with a curly dark mane and a beanie hat was talking animatedly to a kid wearing something glowing beneath her t-shirt. Others, too many to keep track of, were littered around, tucking into their food and chatting like lifelong friends. Within an hour of arriving, the twenty-two of them had finished their breakfasts, paid a frankly enormous bill (courtesy of the bald man, who flashed his card like it was nothing) and left, stacking their plates and cutlery neatly behind them and leaving a generous tip. Ellie-Mae didn’t need to ask to know that they were going to DC. Her clientele almost always were. As she watched them piling back into the great white coach in the parking lot, Toby arrived over her shoulder. She instantly picked up on the worry in the reflection of his eyes on the window. “Bad news, Ellie-Mae,” he said in the voice of a man starting to panic. She turned to him. Bad news was not alien to her. “What is it?” “We’re gettin’ calls from customers from earlier this mornin’. Complaints. They say somethin’ was wrong with the food, and now they’re gettin’ sick, and they’re blamin’ us”. Ellie-Mae sighed a weary sigh, looked him straight in those worried eyes and spoke as clearly as possible. “Tell ‘em it’s nothing to do with us. They ain’t gonna prove anything, honey. For now, just try not to use anything that might be contaminated”. He nodded his understanding, then gestured towards the odd group getting back on the coach. “Those folks seemed nice,” he said, “shouldn’ we at least warn ‘em?” Ellie Mae put a hand on his shoulder. In those moments, Toby thought, she looked at least ten years older than her actual age, which was thirty-five. “You see that tip on the table, darlin’?”. He nodded again and swallowed. He had seen it, had eyed it like a vulture. It had to be at least fifty bucks. “You want to see them take that tip back?” Toby shook his head. He seemed to have forgotten how to use his words. “Well, then,” she told him, perfectly pleasantly, “you know the answer, don’t you?” He paused, then nodded once more. “Yes, ma’am,” he said finally, and retreated to the kitchen again. When she was left alone, Ellie-Mae turned back to the window and watched the last of the misfits climb back on the coach. They had a ramp for the man in the wheelchair, although he carried an air that suggested that he could simply fly up there if he wanted to. Toby was not wrong. She could go to them now… reach out to them… warn them. But she didn’t. She let it go, and very soon her mind was dreaming up exciting ways to spend that tip. Put it towards a trip, maybe, a vacation. She’d always wanted to see the Falls. They pulled away, heading southbound. Ellie-Mae never saw them again. ——————————————————————————————————————————— “Are we there yet?” Hope Summers groaned inwardly. She had only been at the X-Mansion for a few weeks, but already Jubilee had displayed an interesting knack for getting on her nerves. Just an hour or so into the coach trip to DC, the brightly-dressed girl was seriously beginning to irritate Hope. She had asked if they were there yet at least ten times, including no more than half an hour after they’d left New York. A few rows in front, Jemma Simmons poked her head around the back of her seat and looked patiently at Jubilee. “It’s a four hour drive, and we’ve been driving for an hour. When we’re there, you’ll know,” she explained. “How?” Jemma sighed. The adults were taking turns to answer the teenager’s questions, and this time she had pulled the short straw. “Just look for a bloody massive white building and US flags everywhere”. Hope didn’t know much about Jemma- none of the X-Men did, but she seemed nice enough. She was there as a representative from S.H.I.E.L.D., which was supposed to be a positive influence on the young women in the coach. Not to mention she had one of the biggest brains on the bus, and that was saying something considering the company she was in: Riri Williams, the Princess Shuri… and, of course, Professor Charles Xavier, the spearhead of the whole expedition. Well, Hope thought, expedition was a strong word. What it actually was was a school field trip. They were heading to Washington to be given a taste of what normal teenage life was like. Chances to try that didn’t come along often for Hope or her new classmates. These twenty-two strange people were crammed into the modern white coach, almost every seat filled. There hadn't been enough space on one trip for everyone Professor X wanted to take- not by a long shot. So he'd divided the students and chaperones into two groups, by gender. The male students and mentors would be going next week, but the next few days were all about these ladies. Hope's seatmate, Armor, was a quiet young woman who carried herself with dignity. She seemed respectable and Hope had no reason to distrust her, but then she wouldn't- she barely knew the girl. Privately, Hope felt she would have been better off sitting with someone chattier. Not that she wanted someone quite as chatty as Jubilee, who was sitting across the aisle from Hope. Beside Jubilee was Dazzler, and Armor had quietly told Hope that Dazzler and Jubilee made a perfect pair because both of them spent more time deciding what to wear than paying attention in class. Behind them, on the very back row, the three Stepford Cuckoos were sat in a tidy row, identical as ever. They had been seated at the back because it was the only place where they could all sit beside eachother. Hope wasn't even close to being used to them yet. But there were other things on Hope's mind at that moment. Primarily, she needed to pee. They had only left Joe's Diner on Interstate 95 a few minutes ago, and already Hope was regretting not using the restroom there. If someone else had gone, she would have tagged along, but the idea of making her group wait for her to go potty made Hope want to die of embarrassment. Now she was filling up fast, and there was no bathroom on the bus. She knew she wasn't the only one, either: the Cuckoos (with bladders that filled up at identical rates) had said bluntly that they also had to go, and someone in front was getting gassy, although whether they were student or teacher was impossible to tell. Hope shifted in her seat uncomfortably and looked down to distract herself. To her dismay, her eyes once again caught sight of her panty line, as hard as she tried to ignore how visible it had become. She checked the clock. 10:17. They'd be in Washington around lunchtime. There was no bathroom on the bus. Hope crossed her fingers that there would be a second rest stop. ———————————————————————————————————————————————————— Armor was starting to worry. This was nothing new for her. Partly, she was worried about herself. Armour was a creature of habit, and over the last years she had formed a habit of visiting the bathroom each morning, like clockwork. On the rare occasions she missed that sit on the toilet… well, the consequences could be disastrous. Today was one of those days, and now she sat, solemnly thinking about where this day could lead. There had been more than one occasion where Armor had seriously contemplated the possibility that she might not make it to the bathroom, and although she wasn’t quite at that stage yet, there was plenty of cause for concern judging by the heavy feeling in her bowels. But mostly she was worried about the Cuckoos. Predictably, they’d ordered the same meal at the diner, and around an hour later it seemed to be having an adverse effect. The other girls on the bus either didn’t know the Cuckoos or tended not to pay them much attention, and the adults were too far away to be any use, but Armor had never been able to just ignore them, especially if they were in trouble. Celeste, Mindy and Phoebe were nothing like other women, but there were still some similarities, and one of them was that they needed to use the bathroom just like everyone else. The trouble with the Cuckoos was that when one needed to go, they all did. When one released their bladder, they all did. And when one lost control, they all did. Armor didn’t even want to think about how a routine toilet visit would work in a day in the lives of the Stepford Cuckoos; she assumed their room back at the X-Mansion had three identical toilets lined up next to one another. But she had seen first hand what could happen when they couldn’t get to the bathroom in time. Triple the women meant triple the mess (not to mention triple the smell). It was starting to look like a real possibility that things could be going a similar direction on this coach trip. The Cuckoos were certainly weird, but one thing you couldn’t accuse them of being was ugly. Sitting there, lined up across the back seat, they looked as though someone had cloned a supermodel twice. Armor didn’t think of them in a sexual way, although she wasn’t exactly opposed to the female figure, but she still had to admit they were beautiful. As she looked them up and down, though, there was no way she couldn’t pick up on the signs of desperation that they were showing. The three girls, distinguishable today only by the colour of their hairbands, weren’t exactly shy about displaying their needs- or perhaps they just didn’t know how to keep it subtle. Armor knew these signs well because she’d seen all this before. She was the only one on the bus other than the Cuckoos who’d seen all this before, seeing as it sometimes felt like she was the only one who treated them as much more than some slightly creepy oddity. It always started with the fidgeting, squirming in the seat, failing to sit still to save their lives. Once that had begun, you only had to wait ten minutes before a well-placed sniff of the nose would be guaranteed to evidence the scent of new farts in the air. These triplets were gassy when they had to poop, and Armor knew that better than anyone. From there would be the rumbling in the belly, the whining… and, pretty soon, they would have three perfectly synchronised accidents. And the strangest thing was that they would keep it to themselves unless questioned. You had to ask them about it. Knowing that nobody else would, Armor decided to cut to the chase. “Guys, do you need to use the bathroom?” Armor asked carefully. She felt like a mom on a road trip. “Yes,” they each said in that bizarre unison. “We think we ate something bad at that diner," Phoebe added. Armor took in this information; the fact that they had to poop was no surprise, but the suggestion that the diner was the cause made Armor more than a little uneasy. She had already wrestled with the thought that the food there might have been behind her own gradually-growing need to poop, but didn't want to believe it. After all, if she had food poisoning, the situation was far more dire than she had guessed. "Yeah, well, I have a feeling you guys aren't the only ones," she said dryly, "do you think you can hold it?" All three shook their heads, and Celeste spoke. "Maybe for another half hour," she guessed. They wore the same uncomfortable expression, like they were hopeful of hanging on that long but didn't really believe they could do it. Armor realised that they were on the verge of a serious potty emergency on the back seat, and she had no desire whatsoever to be sitting five feet away when the triplets had simultaneous diarrhoea all over the bus. She had to take matters into her own hands. Shakily, she got to her feet and walked down the aisle of the moving bus, looking for the adult she felt most comfortable talking to about such things. "Hey, Jean," Armor said warily, "I think things are getting pretty bad on the bathroom front for the Cuckoos at the back. They say they ate something". Jean sighed in exasperation. "Our next rest stop is in less than two hours now. You can ask the Professor if it's okay to stop, but I wouldn't get your hopes up. They're adults now, not the little girls they were when we found them. I'm sure they can hold it". Something in Jean's voice made Armor suspect there was something she wasn't letting on, but she knew when to drop a subject. Instead, she walked back to her seat, dreading telling the three soon-to-be desperate girls behind her the bad news. ——————————————————————————————————————————————————————— By the time Philadelphia was over her right shoulder, even Kamala Khan realised that something was wrong. It wasn’t that she had to poop; that was ordinary. There was a heavy feeling in her bowels, true, and it was growing pretty steadily. But if Kamala freaked out every time she needed to take a dump then she’d spend several hours a day hyperventilating. No, what worried her was that she seemed to be far from the only one. Her seatmate, the sharp-minded girl they called Hawkeye, had already admitted that she needed to poop “pretty bad”, and across the aisle Shuri and Riri were nerdily evaluating the possible psychological rebuttals for a full bladder. There were surely others who needed to use the bathroom but who weren’t admitting it. After all, would someone like Ellie Phimister ever confess to a need to use the bathroom? They called her Negasonic Teenage Warhead, Kamala knew, and she couldn’t picture someone like her (or Laura Kinney, or Hope, or the ultra-serious Armor) putting their hands up and asking for a bathroom break. That was without even mentioning the adults, who were only human- well, kind of- and were bound to be feeling similar effects. Scariest of all, the Stepford Cuckoos seemed to be really struggling at the back. There were two rows between Kamala and the triplets, but she could crane her neck just enough to see through the cracks between the seats, and she wasn’t encouraged by what she saw. Every few minutes someone- usually Armor- clambered to the front of the bus to ask an adult for a rest stop for the Cuckoos. Kamala couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t look like Professor X was giving in yet. The drive was a tug-of-war between the stubbornness of the adults and the increasingly fervent pleas of Armor to get them off the bus. So far, it was a stalemate. It didn’t take long for things to come to a head. Even from Kamala’s seat, she heard it; a noise that she had never experienced before, and nor had many people probably ever. For a few seconds she couldn’t work out what she had even heard in the first place. Her brain could not decipher it. Then it hit her (and so did the smell): it had been three identically long, perfectly-timed farts being released at the exact same instant, lasting for several seconds and unmistakably wet. The farts sent shockwaves down the bus- first as everyone heard the incredible noise, then as the smell wafted around the vehicle. It was foul, and three times as pungent as an ordinary fart. The adults at the front must have heard it, too, because within seconds the air-conditioning was on, barely audible over the shocked chattering of the girls. Kamala could just about overhear the conversation the adults were having. “… she’s right, Professor, we’d better pull over at the next gas station. We don’t want any accidents…” it was a snippet of Jean Grey’s calm voice, logical as always. Kamala was only hearing bits and pieces of their speech over the conversation at the back, mostly between Jubilee and Dazzler. When the latter took a few seconds to breathe (a rare thing), Kamala caught a glimpse of Jemma Simmons’ lips at the front, and she could just about read them. “I wouldn’t mind a chance to use the loo either,” she was saying. A sudden loud voice made Kamala jump. It took her a moment to remember that this was no ordinary school field trip, and they weren’t on an ordinary coach. The loud voice belonged to Professor Charles Xavier himself, who must’ve had a tannoy button so he could speak to the students while driving. “Attention, everyone. We’ll be pulling into a rest stop in just under ten kilometres. We are on a tight schedule and we must be in Washington before 1 ‘o’ clock, so I ask you not to leave the coach unless absolutely necessary”. Kamala heard a chorus of groans. At the speed they were going ten kilometres wouldn’t even take ten minutes, but for some of the girls on the trip that would be a long ten minutes, particularly in the case of the Cuckoos- and those who had to smell their increasingly frequent farts. Kamala had to poop, but was getting off the bus absolutely necessary? She didn’t think she could justify that. So she resolved to stay and hold it until they got to DC. By some miracle, they made it to the exit without further incident. But as soon as they finally started to slow the coach down, Kamala could hear increasingly urgent voices at the back of the coach. She turned around and knelt on her seat, looking backwards- unsafe, she knew, but she didn’t care- and was met with a horrible sight. All three Cuckoos were standing up, looking much the worse for wear. Phoebe was clutching the headrest on Dazzler’s chair, Celeste was leaning over Hope and Mindy was suspended in the middle, holding onto Armor and Jubilee’s seats with a hand on each. Whether they were hanging on out of pain or for balance, it was impossible to tell. Armor was saying something over and over again. It took Kamala a few seconds of intent listening to realise that she was yelling we’re almost there. And she was right, a quick glance out of the window confirmed; they were coming to a stop just a few metres from a building clearly signposted Restrooms. But it looked like the fat lady had sung, and it was too late. "We can't hold it!" all three Stepford Cuckoos cried out at once, while the entire bus got to their feet, with the exception of Professor X, to turn and watch the disaster unfold. It was like watching a car crash. "What's happening back there?" the Professor demanded angrily. Beside him, Jean Grey was white in the face. She didn't take her eyes off the back of the bus as she replied. "The Cuckoos are pooping themselves," she said simply. ———————————————————————————————————————- The rush to get off the coach was like nothing America Chavez had ever seen. Professor X’s advice to stay on unless you needed the bathroom was being widely ignored; everyone wanted to be as far away from the vehicle as possible until the stench of the Cuckoo’s accident had cleared out. The problem was that the tight aisle forced them to file out one by one, patiently, and America thanked whatever Gods there may be that she wasn’t right at the back of the bus along with Armor and Dazzler. Fresh air rarely tasted as good to America as it did at that moment. Once everyone had congregated a safe distance from the coach, the Professor decided that they would need to hit the road again in no less than ten minutes, despite Negasonic Teenage Warhead’s insistence that the bus needed to be torched to destroy the smell. The three Cuckoos themselves were last down the steps, looking thoroughly embarrassed, a trio of identical messes bulging out behind them. They parted the crowd like the Red Sea and went straight for the bathroom to clean up as well as they could. With the source of the smell gone, the adults formulated a plan. It fell to poor Jemma Simmons to return to the bus, opening as many windows as possible with her nose firmly pinched shut in protection before scampering back to open air looking queasy. Meanwhile, Jean Grey was tasked with rummaging through the lower storage compartment in search of the Cuckoo’s luggage. She needed to find them spare clothes. The soiled trousers would likely be abandoned. “If you give them clothes that are different enough for us to tell them apart, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” America heard Rachel murmur as Jean passed by. The girls, by and large, were debating who should get a chance to use the gas station’s singular bathroom in the ten minutes the Professor had afforded them- if, that was, the Cuckoos got out in time. America stayed out of it. After all, she was Miss America. She’d faced far worse odds than holding it in for a two-hour drive. But for some of the others, pride would have to be swallowed. Jubilee didn’t seem to have much pride to begin with. She was standing right by the door, legs crossed, talking loudly to anyone who would listen about how she felt like she was “about to burst”. It was as if she had appointed herself next in line for the toilet, and nobody was in the mood to argue. As America watched, Hope Summers- the new girl- timidly approached Kate Bishop, the one they called Hawkeye. Even America, who didn’t always pay the Avengers much attention, knew that Kate wasn’t the real Hawkeye, not really. She’d heard Kate called a wannabe, although that sounded harsh. “Hey, Kate,” Hope began awkwardly, “you mind if I use the bathroom after Jubilee?” Kate, for her part, looked genuinely surprised. She raised an eyebrow and smiled a small, slightly confused smile. It was as if someone had just asked her if she had a tail. “Why would I mind?” she said, not unkindly. Hope turned a little red. “It’s just that I heard you say you had to poop back on the bus and I didn’t wanna get in your way”. Kate put a hand on Hope’s shoulder and winked. America thought she looked more than a little cocky- but then, seeing as she was eavesdropping into a private conversation, who was she to talk? “Hope,” Kate said confidently, “I’ll be fine. I’m Hawkeye!” Hope looked relieved. She thanked Kate politely, if with a tinge of embarrassment, and went to join Jubilee in the line. Seconds later, the Cuckoos came shuffling out, looking mortified. They were dressed in the spare clothes that Jean had slipped under the door, each carrying a plastic white bag filled with their ruined clothes that they were surely planning to dispose of as soon as possible. “Just in time!” Jubilee squealed, rushing past them and locking herself in. ———————————————————- Minutes later, Hope ambled past Jubilee and into the now-empty bathroom. She was already wrestling with her button before the door was locked, feeling an uncomfortable weight in her bowels that she knew needed to be emptied sooner rather than later. Once the lock was turned, the jeans came down. The toilet seat was cold and unwelcoming, and the room still smelt faintly of shit, but Hope was grateful to be sat down. At last, she relaxed her butthole, gave a gentle push... and nothing happened. Nothing was coming out. Hope frowned and squeezed again. No movement. She gripped the handrail beside the toilet and pushed once more, far harder this time, and for longer. Between her tight cheeks she detected the feeling of tiny movement, something firm and thick starting to slide towards the exit. But before long the straining became too difficult and she had to quit. The log was sucked back up towards its starting position with an unhappy tension. Hope groaned. Constipated again. This wasn't something that happened too rarely for her, partly because of her diet- although sometimes she suspected that the cause was mostly stress. If she didn't make the effort to poop every day, it could sometimes be almost a week between movements. And if she forgot to spend those twenty minutes or so on the toilet, there would be hell to pay. Once a log was stuck up there, getting it out was usually a slow and painful experience. Of course, other times it could decide to come out of its own accord- often at the worst possible moments, like whilst in a class or out shopping. She knew she couldn't stay there long. There was no time to be patient and coax out her load. So, reluctantly, Hope Summers pulled up her jeans and walked outside, flushing the toilet behind her to cover her tracks. She would just have to hope it could wait until later. —————————————————————————————————————— If pressed for an answer, Jean Grey would probably have said that the road trip hadn’t gotten off to the best of starts. Things had began innocuously enough. They had met at the gates at seven-thirty in the morning, just as planned. Jubilee had been told they would meet at seven-fifteen, so she ended up only arriving a few minutes after the rest of them. Those girls and women who lived or had slept in the X-Mansion had trudged down the steps and out towards the coach, while the outsiders like Kamala and Kate had joined them on foot or by taxi. Jean knew all this because she and the Professor had been the first to arrive, waiting patiently for the young women they were tasked with showing a little of the real world to. They’d pulled out onto the highway more or less on time and the first hour on the road had gone as smoothly as could be expected. Jean was more or less used to these expeditions by now. She’d never been keen on them, but the worst part was always the coach journeys. It made her feel like a common schoolteacher, stuck babysitting a load of rowdy kids, and she resented it. But she liked DC, so when Professor X had asked her to come along, she’d hesitantly agreed. By the time they reached Joe’s Diner off Interstate 95, a part of her was already starting to regret her participation. Most of the kids were ranging from moody and sullen to fairly quiet, but a few- Jubilee and Dazzler came to mind- were getting on her nerves with their constant squawking and bickering. And the other women weren’t exactly the best company, either. She liked Jemma, Rachel and Carol well enough, but they didn’t have much to talk about. At times like this, Jean missed Storm. At the Diner, things had started to go downhill. Or should that be shortly after they left the diner? Jean, knowing better than anyone on the trip what would happen if she didn’t, tried to remind the girls to use the bathroom before they took off, knowing they wouldn’t get another chance for several hours. Predictably, though, none of them seemed especially primed to listen, and they left without a single woman visiting the restroom to empty herself. Within- what was it, half an hour?- of their departure and return to the Interstate, that was clearly looking like a mistake. The Cuckoos were getting desperate and Jean had heard at least five or six others indicate that they had to go as well, including Jemma and Emma up the front. But the real reason Jean was so annoyed about this was that she, too, had fallen into the same trap. It had to have been the food from the diner- nothing else would explain so convincingly the events of the last hour or so. She was, undeniably now, gassy. Perhaps that was understating it: she was like a leaky can of compressed methane. Every minute or so she would feel an uncomfortable sensation in her gut that pushed, forced and refused to go away until, reluctantly, she lifted one butt cheek and allowed it to slip out of her. So far, the only small mercy was that the farts had mostly been silent, and as a result nobody on board seemed to have pinned them on her yet. Not that that made them smell any better! One of the things Jean dreaded most was gas after a big meal. She knew all too well how bad her farts tended to be on the nostrils, and felt very guilty when she saw how it was affecting poor Emma, who had always had highly sensitive nostrils. Still, it wouldn’t do to confess to her crimes. Better to let the other grown-ups assume that one of the kids was responsible, especially after the torture Jemma Simmons had had to go through to to scamper back onto the bus and open the windows after the Cuckoos’ accident. The Cuckoos themselves, for what it was worth, had done a fairly good job of cleaning themselves up and returned to the back of the bus to recover. “I really need a wee,” Jemma said suddenly. The other women looked up, almost dazed. It had been several minutes since any of them had spoken, each lost in their own thoughts as was inevitable at this stage of a long drive. The English woman blushed. “I’m not sure why I said that,” she continued, “but it’s just getting quite desperate. I was hoping to go at the last rest stop, but there was no time”. “We’re stopping again soon in an hour or so,” Emma said reassuringly. Jean thought that Jemma’s eyes suggested she was unsure if she could hold it for that hour, but the brunette was too shy to admit such weakness in front of some of the world’s most powerful mutants. Jean felt bad for the woman, but there was very little she could do about it. Instead, in order so as to not have to display any sympathy, she turned her attention to her left. Laura Kinney was sitting in the window seat beside Jean, although that fact would have been very easily forgotten throughout much of the journey. Laura was a loner, often the silent type, and seemed content to sit with her headphones in, listening to music that Jean could just about hear while gazing out of the window. Jean couldn’t actually see the east coast from their current position on Interstate 95, but knowing it wasn’t far away made her feel better. It felt like she wasn’t so far from New York after all. Almost without thinking, she let out another long, low fart, grateful once more that nobody around her could hear it. But, as she tried to settle down and get used to the relative quiet, she heard a whisper from behind. It was impossible to put a face to the voice, as it was so softly spoken, but the words were unmistakable. “If we don’t pull over soon, I’m gonna piss myself,” the girl was saying. ——————————————————————————————————————————————— Kate was ashamed to admit it, but hearing those words made her ears prick up. There was something so bizarrely exciting, almost arousing about it. Someone on the coach with her, and by the sounds of it someone nearby, was desperate to pee. If asked, Kate couldn’t tell you why she found the idea so enthralling, but she did. Her breath picked up the most undetectable amount as she asked herself in her head if she was sure of what she had heard. Yes, she was sure. There was no denying it. Someone on the coach had said those very words- If we don’t pull over soon, I’m gonna piss myself. Smiling privately, she turned her attention to detecting who it might be. The sentence had floated across the bus in a barely-audible whisper. Most girls, she was sure, wouldn’t even have heard of it. But she wasn’t most girls. She was Hawkeye, and that came with a certain sensory sharpness that she was proud of. It had certainly come from her left, across the aisle, which ruled out those girls in her column: Kamala, Armor, Hope, America and Kitty. But then, at the same time, she could assume that the whisper hadn’t come from an adult. It didn’t seem likely that Emma, Jean or any of the others would use such crass language, and Jemma would have used the word ‘wee’ instead of ‘piss’. Who did that leave? Not Laura Kinney, surely, because not even Laura would talk to Jean that way. Obviously not the Professor- even in a whisper, the voice had been unmistakably male. She leaned out ever so slightly into the aisle, the only way she could get any sort of view of the rest of the bus. Riri and Shuri were talking happily about something scientific that didn’t interest Kate. Neither of them were showing any signs of desperation or even discomfort. Possibly, they were just very good actors, but that seemed unlikely to her. It wasn’t the Cuckoos, either. Not only because they had just been for three identical shits, but because they had used the word “I”, and not “we”. Kate felt like a detective, working through the bus and eliminating all the possibilities to try and deduce the identity of the desperate passenger. She didn’t even really understand why she needed to know who it was. Would finding out make her more or less interested? There was no way of telling. Her next suspects were Jubilee and Dazzler, who were sitting one row behind Kate and on the other side of the aisle. Both had famously small bladders, but even Jubilee’s wasn’t that small- she’d been for a pee back at the rest stop not long ago, and although she drank a lot of soda, Jubilee couldn’t envision her being desperate again already. Then there was Dazzler- but if you’re Dazzler, why whisper? She wasn’t the type to be so secretive about her needs to use the bathroom, nor was she the type to swear. And who did that leave? Two people. The pair of seats opposite Kate and Kamala currently seated two girls. The first was Dani Moonstar, but Kate ruled her out almost immediately- there was no way Moonstar would talk in such a manner. And then, with only one person left on the bus who she hadn’t eliminated, there it was- Kate’s secret desperate whisperer. It made perfect sense, and Kate wondered if she hadn’t known all along which voice it had been that had pricked up her ears. Ellie. The one they called Negasonic Teenage Warhead. The more she replayed the words in her head, the more she believed that it had certainly been Ellie’s voice. Now, looking at her, there was no doubt in Kate’s mind. The girl looked furious, even more so than usual. There were no obvious outward signs of desperation- at least not to someone who didn’t know Ellie fairly well. But she was sitting with her legs crossed. Ellie never crossed her legs. Her expression wasn’t one of the usual smouldering anger that resided in her- it was one of concern, discomfort, perhaps even panic, which she was masking with that trademark frown. She was having a slow, whispered conversation with Moonstar, but it didn’t look to be going well. This time, Kate couldn’t hear what they were whispering about. Kate could have said something. Instead, she pulled on her sunglasses and watched, angling her face to make it look like her eyes were pointed in a different direction. She had never been the biggest fan of the Warhead. This was going to be fun. —————————————————————————————————————————— “No way am I going to tell them,” Ellie whispered bitterly. Dani groaned interiorly. Couldn’t Ellie see that she was trying to help? Ellie, sitting there with her viciously short hair and permanent bitch-face. Didn’t it occur to her that Dani might be on her side? “Then let me tell them. I’ll go up to the front and just let the Professor know it’s an emergency, I’m sure he won’t mind stopping for you”. “And have everyone know I couldn’t hold it? No chance,” Ellie snorted. In her fear, her worst qualities were shining through worse than ever. Dani supposed that it was hardly surprising that the girl had no clue how to talk to other human beings, but it didn’t make it any less infuriating. “Well, I guess you’ll have to hold it until the next stop like a big girl,” Dani snapped, losing her cool at last. At this, Ellie’s eyes went wide and her face paled a few shades. Underneath the tough girl persona came moments like these, when decisions had to be made. Her pride or her reputation. “I can’t,” she whispered in a voice so quiet that even Dani couldn’t make out the words. “What was that?” “I can’t hold it much longer. It’s too… bad”. She looked around their seating area desperately, blushing like a tomato, hoping ludicrously that some miraculous doorway to Narnia or something might appear. Instead, her eyes fell on a small, clear plastic bottle. —————————————————————————————————————————————- “Cover for me,” Dazzler heard from the row in front. Immediately, her interest was piqued. Granted, that didn’t take much, especially when Jubilee seemed to have finally run out of steam- she was currently on her phone with headphones in, listening to some crappy song or another- but there was something in Ellie’s tone that made Dazzler desperate to know what was going on. She shifted slightly and peered through the gap between the two headrests in front. Experience on this coach in the past told her that the two girls would not know she was watching unless they turned back and looked right at at her, which was unlikely- they had no reason to suspect she was observing, after all. The scene she discovered was a bizarre one. Ellie- the one they called Negasonic Teenage Warhead- was clutching a plastic bottle with about half a litre of water inside. Watching the water slosh around as the bus moved across a bumpy road reminded Dazzler of the fullness of her own bladder, which was only topped by a worrying need to take a dump. But she was fascinated by the unexpected development in front of her, so it wasn’t hard to put those urges to the back of her mind. “Are you crazy?” Moonstar hissed. Her jaw was dropped, as if she was completely in shock at the realisation she had just come to. Dazzler was a sharp-minded girl, in spite of what some people sometimes assumed, so it didn’t take her long to reach the same conclusion: Warhead was desperate to take a leak, and she intended to do it in that bottle. Ellie’s eyes gave Dazzler reason to believe that her mind would not be changed. “Bitch, you’d better cover for me,” she growled, “because if I don’t piss in this bottle in thirty seconds I’m gonna piss on you!” That shut Moonstar up. She swallowed, steeled herself and forced some normality back into her voice. “What do you need me to do?” she asked. “First, drink this,” Ellie ordered, unscrewing the blue plastic cap of the bottle and handing it to Dani. “And quickly!” “That’s, like, half a litre of water. No way am I downing this, I’ll pee my pants!” Dani protested. Something unexpected happened then: Ellie asked nicely. Whether it was some hidden kindness deep in her or just her desperation to empty her bladder, she changed her approach. “Dani, please. I need that bottle empty and I need it empty now”. Moonstar nodded nervously and drunk. Dazzler didn’t think that Dani was genuinely scared of Ellie- in fact, she privately felt that Moonstar would win any fight between them in about twenty seconds flat- but she seemed more thrown by the reality of the social situation she had been placed into. Dani gulped the water as fast as she could, but she was far from a big girl and it took a while for her to drain the bottle. “Ah, shit!” Ellie hissed, looking down at her crotch. Dazzler’s gaze followed and what she saw stunned her. Negasonic Teenage Warhead had leaked in her clothes. It wasn’t the biggest of wet patches, nor the most obvious, but Dazzler saw it. Once that image was in her mind, there was no getting it out. She would forever see Ellie now as the harass bitch who peed herself on a road trip. “I leaked a little, fucking hurry!” Dani, seeing the mini-accident, sped up her gulps and quickly the bottle was totally empty. “Now distract Kate and Kamala. They can’t see me doing this!” The two women were still talking as quietly as possible- Dazzler knew she was likely the only other person hearing this- but the urgency and panic in their voices was evident. Dani groaned quietly, said something about feeling sick from the water and turned towards Kate and Kamala, pointing out of their window and inventing something interesting to keep them occupied. Dazzler, for her part, had no intention of taking her eyes off of NTW. The muscly girl pushed herself a few inches off her seat for just a second using her legs, tore her sweatpants and underwear down to her knees and collapsed back on the chair again. The last thing Dazzler had expected when she got off the bus that morning was a birds-eye view of Ellie’s pussy, which was perfectly shaved, tucked in and more than a little red. Before her eyes, a crazy spurt shot out and splattered the cushion in front of her. That was the last that Ellie was prepared to allow before she shoved the bottle into place just below her bulging clit and finally let go. Dazzler got the impression that another few seconds would have spelt disaster for Ellie. The girl closed her eyes and sighed an almost girlish sigh of relief while the bottle began to fill up rapidly with the deepest yellow urine Dazzler had ever seen. There was something so odd, so intimate about seeing Ellie in this embarrassing, vulnerable position. She looked almost like a little girl, angling the bottle just right to remove any chance of people hearing as it filled up. By the time the heavy flow started to slow down into some irregular dribbles, Kamala and Kate were starting to lose interest in whatever Dani was saying to them. Sensing that her window for relief was almost up, Ellie clamped off the stream and hastily screwed the lid back on the bottle, which was almost full with golden liquid. Had she held it a few more minutes, the bottle may have overflowed. Dazzler, for a brief moment, considered revealing what she had seen to Ellie, but decided against it. Perhaps the knowledge of the tough girl’s naughty little secret could be a useful bargaining tool later on. ————————————————————————————————————— America Chavez was beyond relieved when they finally pulled up to the hotel in Washington. For one thing, she desperately needed the bathroom. For another, though, it was just a relief to be away from the rampant chaos of the bus. Throughout the drive things had only gotten worse. While the Cuckoos’ accidents had been the first real sign of trouble, it had been far from the end of the trouble. The closer they got to DC, the more frequent the sound of farts became, the stronger the smell of gas and urine grew. America had scarcely heard anything that wasn’t about peeing or pooping or farting in what felt like several hundred miles. For her part, Miss America hadn’t taken part in the rowdy conversations about who needed to go the worst, who was going to go the most when they got to the hotel, who might not even make it back to the hotel with dry pants. She wasn’t the type to make her private needs public. That didn’t make her unique- Laura, Ellie and Hope were among those also keeping themselves to themselves. And besides, there was no chance that she would lose control before getting to her room. She was a superhero, dammit. She did really have to pee, though. Even if she didn’t care to say it out loud, America had rarely been so desperate before. She’d never had an accident in her life- at least not a proper one, in her clothes like the Cuckoos’ had- but there had been more than one times when she had failed to reach the toilet in time, back in her younger days. On those occasions she’d found relief in a well-covered bush, a trash can, a water bottle. But she was an adult now, no longer vulnerable to such immaturity. Or at least, she was pretty sure that was the case. When the time finally came to get off the bus, several women begged Professor X to let them use the bathroom before picking up their luggage, but he hotly denied their request, explaining that he believed discipline and self-control was a crucial trait to develop. That meant that they were forced to wait around by the bus for their bags, most of them busting to pee, poop or both. America was still denying that her bladder was fit to burst, and nobody seemed to suspect a thing. Finally, they were checked in, and the women started heading off towards their respective hotel suites, which slept three to a room. The hotel was far from inexpensive; the Professor had pulled out all the stops for this trip. It was then that America learned that she was sharing a room with Kamala and Laura Kinney. This was fine with her- Kamala was a sweet kid with whom she got on well, while Laura didn’t speak much but didn’t rub America the wrong way. They were walking down a narrow corridor alongside the three girls who would be in the room next-door to theirs. Everyone else was in a different wing of the hotel, but Shuri, Riri and Kate were set to be America’s neighbours for the next few hours. Again, America had zero problems with this. Sometimes she found the trio a little cocky, but in an endearing way rather than an irritating one. It wasn’t long before the conversation inevitably turned to their bathroom needs, and this time America felt compelled to allow it, perhaps because she preferred the company she was in now. “I have to pee so bad,” said Shuri, squeezing her legs tight together as she walked, “I haven’t been since last night”. “Last night?” cried Kamala, “How are you doing that? I could never hold it in that long!” Shuri shrugged. “I’m barely holding it at all. I feel like I’m going to burst. Can I please use the toilet first when we get into the room?” “Uh, there might be a problem with that,” Kate said, “I really gotta take a dump. I don’t want to risk crapping my pants while you’re having a piss”. “Fine, we’ll figure it out when we get there,” Shuri decided. “Uh, guys?” Laura asked timidly. It was the first time timidness had ever crept into her voice, as far as America had ever heard. “On that subject, can I pee first when we get there? I’m pretty desperate”. “Sorry, Laura, I’m kind of in the same boat as Kate,” Kamala confessed sheepishly. “How bad?” “It’s turtleheading,” she said. “Okay, fine, maybe you can go first. America?” America looked up, surprised to be drawn into the chat. “Yeah?” “Do you have to go?” “Oh… not too bad,” she lied, “I’ll be fine”. "Okay, cool, because I don't think three desperate girls in one toilet goes very well," Kamala pointed out, "I'll do a deal with you, Laura. If you let me poop first, I'll wipe standing up so you can pee right after". Laura thought about this for a second, and then relented. "I'm not thrilled about it, but I really don't wanna piss myself today, so you have yourself a deal". At last, they reached rooms 478 and 480. Shuri, Riri and Kate took one last look at the other three girls before opening their door hurriedly. "Well, good luck," Shuri said. By now she was so desperate that one hand was between her thighs, gripping her pussy tightly. "Good luck," America repeated, following her new roommates inside. Before their front door had even closed, it was chaos. Kamala rushed straight for the bathroom, yanked down her jeans and underwear and made a beeline for the toilet. As America rounded the corner into the bathroom, she got an unexpected view of Kamala's tight little butt as she waddled across the tile floor. There was a clear shape of Kamala's turd poking far out of her backside. She hadn't been kidding about being desperate. In front of America's unbelieving eyes, the log started to slide further and further towards escape. ————————————————————————————————————————————————————- “Hurry up! Could you GO any slower?” Jubilee was charging down the corridor towards her new fourth-floor room, knowing that she only had minutes to get inside before something seriously humiliating happened. She had been for a pee back at the gas station, true, but that had been hours ago now and Jubilee drunk plenty of soda. She had been busting by the time they passed the city borders and the first leaks had began before they’d parked. Now, feeling her control slip away for good, she couldn’t get to the bathroom quickly enough. In front of her, Dazzler didn’t seem to get the message. She was waltzing along at a snail’s pace, stopping to take in every painting, sculpture and point of interest they passed. It was one of the most expensive hotels in the city, so the walls were appropriately adjourned with pricey pieces of memorabilia and photographs of some of the most famous faces to have stayed there in the past. At one point they came across a collection of signed vinyl records from popular musicians of the hotel’s history and an overawed Dazzler slowed so much that Jubilee would have happily pinned the girl down and relived herself onto her face. But, although the hotel had papered over the cracks with money and materialistic displays, it was an old building and heart and the corridors were narrow. Far too narrow, Jubilee bemoaned, to overtake anyone while pulling a suitcase behind her. Meanwhile, Ellie trailed the pack. She was to be the final member of their trio in the shared bedroom throughout the trip, although nobody was quite sure why. Perhaps the Professor had thought that the contrast between Ellie and the more upbeat girls might bring out the best in them... or maybe he just wanted to punish them with each other, like in that show Jubilee had seen about the afterlife. Possibly that was a bit extreme. Ellie looked as miserable as usual. In fact, it was remarkably rare for the girl to crack a smile, let alone be nice to anyone. In a way Jubilee felt sorry for her: the tough-girl act wasn’t so effective when you lived in a mansion of people who could probably kick your ass, but she had to commend Ellie for trying. Today, though, as they walked down that corridor in an insane trio, Jubilee was inclined to suspect that there was some other reason behind her foul mood. It didn’t take long for her to find out what it was. “Get your ass in gear, Dazzler, I gotta take a shit,” she groaned, shooting daggers at the girl leading the line. “Yeah, and I still have to pee real bad. I think I’m leaking a little”. It said a lot about how desperate Ellie was that she didn’t berate Jubilee for saying that. “Yeah, I have to poop too, but we’re almost there,” Dazzler called nonchalantly over her shoulder, “I’m sure you can hold it another minute... look, four-hundred-thirty-seven, four-hundred-thirty-nine...” “I can count, bitch,” Ellie spat, “doesn’t mean I have a magic asshole. Hurry up,” she ordered. Jubilee doubted that Ellie would beat Dazzler in a fight, especially in her current condition, but the other girl didn’t seem in the mood for the hassle, because she picked up the pace. Within a minute or so they were in sight of the door. As the only one not focusing all her energy on making it to the toilet, Dazzler was in charge of using the key to scan them in. “Okay, listen up,” Ellie snarled, and it took Jubilee a second to realise she was being addressed. “When we get in there, I’m first in the bathroom”. Jubilee wasn’t confrontational by nature, but something about the presumptuous way Ellie was giving out orders pissed her off. Besides, she really needed to use the toilet first. If she had to wait for Ellie… well, she wasn’t convinced she’d be able to hold it in. “Who put you in charge of the bathroom rota?” she asked, keeping the cool in her voice even though she was angry and panicking underneath. Dazzler was taking an unreasonably long time to figure out how to open the door. “I did,” Ellie was trying to keep up her angry, dangerous persona while clutching the cheeks of her ass closed with both hands. It was a strange contrast, Jubilee thought. “You only have to piss, you can hold that in for a couple minutes”. “Actually, I can’t,” Jubilee corrected. It wasn’t an exaggeration, either. The last of her control was slipping. “Well, tough. I’m going first,” Ellie said as Dazzler finally got the door open. Ellie was halfway to the toilet when a snap decision had to be made. Jubilee could feel her pussy quivering with the effort of holding it in. She simply couldn’t afford to wait any longer. “Sorry, NTW,” she said with a cocky air that was more confident than she felt, “This toilet’s first come, first serve”. She closed her eyes and sent a blast flying across the bathroom. It whistled past Ellie and hit the wall just behind her- exactly where Jubilee had aimed it. The short-haired girl went flying, landing with a heavy thud on the floor a few metres away. By the time she realised what was happening, Jubilee was already tearing her panties down and collapsing onto the toilet in exhausted relief. There would be hell to pay for this later, both from the Professor and from Ellie, but for now all she could think about was how good it felt to take a piss in a real toilet. It quickly became clear, though, that her attack on Ellie- however deserved- had had an unintended side-effect. There was a foul smell in the air. “Jubilee!” Dazzler called, pointing at the floored girl’s backside, “Ellie’s shitting her pants!” ———————————————————————————————————— “Kamala! You’re pooping!” cried America, not knowing what else to do. “I know!” Kamala said, clasping at both asscheeks with one hand on each. No matter how much she tried to squeeze them together, the log was still emerging, brown and knobbly. Laura was staring at it like she’d never seen a turd in her life. She had one hand between her thighs, clasping hard, but her desperation seemed to be forgotten thanks to the accident that Kamala Khan was in the middle of. “I’m trying to stop it!” Kamala yelled, although they all knew that it was no good. Seconds before the log made an escape- Laura knew that it was about to splatter on the floor, probably coating a huge patch of ground- Kamala planted her tight butt on the toilet seat. Laura didn’t miss a beat- didn’t WANT to miss a beat- as the titanic turd stretched and expanded Kamala’s hole and slid into the toilet water. There was something bizarrely hypnotic about the sight of her shit sliding out of her until it was slipping smoothly in the water without so much as a splash. For Laura’s part, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen such a big poop. She barely even noticed the fact that she was getting her first ever look at Kamala’s naked pussy, which was hairy and untucked. It only got more dramatic when her bladder gave way as well, and the sight of the log falling was obscured by a waterfall of yellow-tinged piss. Laura felt her own bladder convulse at the sight of it, desperate to have release like Kamala was, but totally unable to let it go because she was still standing in her jeans. “Oh, fuck!” Kamala groaned, absorbed in the pleasure of the thick turd sliding out of her ass, “that feels so good!” “Hurry, Kam,” Laura said hurriedly. It wasn’t like her to talk to the other girls, especially in a way that displayed weakness, “I think I’m gonna piss myself!” 4 “The shower!” America yelled, pointing towards the pristine luxury bath, “pee in there!” “Oh, shit, I think I might have to!” Laura moaned. She shuffled towards the bath, holding her pussy in one hand, and ripped her jeans off as soon as she got there. “Do it!” Kamala said, still being stretched out by the humongous log that was slipping slowly out of her anus. Laura gave America a brief, unintentional glimpse of her naked ass and a tiny sighting of her cunt before she whirled around and perched on the edge of the bath only seconds before she burst. All three girls in the room were well aware of the noise of Laura’s piss loudly hitting the bath’s empty surface, hissing mechanically on the white material. She swore aloud in relief. “Ah, shit, that makes me need to go even worse!” America said finally. After so long pretending, she had given up hiding the fact that she had to use the toilet, and she had to use it soon. She was going to be living with these girls for several nights, they were going to see her on the toilet, she might as well get used to it. By now she was openly holding herself underneath her jeans. The others could clearly see her hand reaching below her waistband, kneading her bare crotch. She didn’t care. As long as she could hold it in, that was all that mattered. “Kamala, how long do you need?” “I’m sorry, America, it won’t stop coming out! I think this is one of the biggest poops I’ve ever done!” the girl groaned. “America, come pee with me!” Laura said suddenly. She was sitting there, bare-thighed and pussy exposed, pissing a fierce jet into the bathtub. America didn’t have much of a choice. She felt a spurt of hot piss in her knickers and that was it. She rushed towards the bath, sliding her jeans and underwear down just enough, and sat down beside Laura. She made it just in time. As soon as she was seated, her body just let go. Piss gushed out of her knackered vagina, rushing down and merging with Laura’s stream as it flowed towards the plughole. “Oh shit,” Laura said suddenly, “I think I need a poop as well!” “Just do it,” America told her, “no point holding it any longer, you’re already peeing”. “Fuck, you’re right,” Laura admitted. She knew it was too late to turn back now. “It’s coming out, I can’t stop it”. Despite herself, even though she knew it was wrong, and possibly even creepy, America couldn’t help stealing a glance of Laura’s ass. There she saw it: a long, thick turd dangling there. As America watched, transfixed, it broke off and landed flat in the tub. It was immediately swamped with the piss of the two women. Laura’s pussy was rounded and full. “Fuck, Kamala, how big are your shits?” Laura said, looking on in mild admiration as the girl on the toilet’s huge log finally fell out and landed in the toilet. “Huge,” Kamala confessed, red in the face despite her obvious relief, “every time I poop I do one huge log and never any more”. “Huge? That’s bigger than huge!” Laura protested. “Is that normal for you?” “Yeah, pretty much,” Kamala blushed, “I’ve always done big ones”. “That’s incredible,” Laura said, awed, “don’t flush yet. I wanna see how big it is when I’m done pissing”. “I mean, sure,” Kamala said awkwardly, wiping her browned butt with some toilet paper, “but I’m sorry about the smell...” “Girl, forget about it,” America said, “We’re all making some nasty smells tonight”. ————————————————————— Armor was never the type to pass gas unless she absolutely couldn’t hold it in any longer, but something about the monster fart she was currently trying to restrain made her think that her streak was going to come to and end. It was an incredibly painful cramp sweeping her belly, trying to force the hot air out of her butt, but she absolutely refused to give in and let it out. She just couldn’t do that in front of the others- especially not now they were her roommates for the next few days. Hope was marching down the hallway towards their room, not talking to anyone. She was clearly in desperate need of a toilet. The thing with Hope was that she didn’t like to admit such things to anyone, least of all her peers in the X-Mansion. The problem with that was that she wasn’t particularly good at hiding it anyway. When she really needed to go, her shoulders tensed up, she walked with a stiff waddle that signified a need to let something out of her ass and she lost even the little interest she already had in talking to the people around her. True, she’d only been there a few weeks but Armor already knew all these things about her. Armor liked to think she was good at reading people. At that precise moment in time, though, Armor wasn’t thinking about reading people. Like hope, she was just thinking about getting to the toilet, and soon. The urgency with which both her bladder and bowels were throbbing could no longer be ignored, and it was clear that this was her body’s way of telling her she had a matter of minutes to get to the bathroom. She had been far too proud to use the restrooms on either of their rest stops, first at the diner and then after the Cuckoos’ shit themselves, and of course she would never dare ask the Professor to stop off somewhere so she could look for a toilet, or at least a place to squat. That was one thing she had in common with Hope. She also had it in common with Dani Moonstar, who was set to be the third member of their room. If Armor was bursting and Hope was urgent, then Dani was absolutely desperate to use the nearest toilet she could find. She walked with one hand between her legs, gripping her pussy, and would mutter under her breath that she had to “pee so bad” every few seconds. It was like the woman had completely taken leave of her senses thanks to the sheer power of her need to take a leak. “You okay, Dani?” Armor felt compelled to ask. It was strange, almost, how Armor could be so desperate to pee and to poop but still feel more concerned for Dani than she was for herself. It was a testament, maybe, to how urgently Dani clearly had to go. “No,” Dani said simply, “I really have to pee, and that’s bad enough, but I need a poop as well”. “Me too,” Hope said, “I feel like I weight sixty pounds extra”. “I thought you went at that gas station?” Armor asked inquisitively. Hope let out a sardonic laugh. “I wish,” she said, “I sat there and pushed but I couldn’t go. Now it’s decided it wants out”. “Ah, I hate when that happens,” Armor said sympathetically, “so we all need to pee and poop?” “Looks like it,” Dani said, “but good news- this is our room!” “Thank fuck for that,” Hope muttered. Dani slid the key in the lock, waited… and the light flashed red. “What?” Dani gasped. “It’s not letting me in!” “Are you serious?” “Would I joke about this?” “Let me try,” Hope said, snatching the key off of Dani. That was when it happened. The fart that Armor had been valiantly holding back for so long finally made an escape, and it wasn’t alone. It came out wet, slimy even, splattering the inside of her tight-huggingunderwear and staining the skin of her buttcheeks. “Okay, I just sharted,” she said, starting to panic, not believing what she was saying even as the words came out of her mouth, “Dani, I need you to go to reception and get another key, before I completely crap my pants”. Admitting her need stung, but she had no choice; she was that desperate. But there was no response from Moonstar. “Dani?” she repeated, looking up. Moonstar was looking at her with sad, almost apologetic eyes, and immediately Armor understood. There was a dark, wet patch growing rapidly around Dani’s crotch, spreading up towards her waist and down to her knees in long, finger-like rivulets. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled, “I couldn’t hold it anymore…” Armor's stomach cramped painfully once again. She had no idea what she had eaten, exactly, but it hadn't agreed with her one bit. She heard the queasy rumbles it made, felt it constrict her bowels... and then, finally, she lost the fight. The rest of her hot, mushy poop began to pour out of her, joining the residue from the fart in her underwear. But her noisy accident couldn't be contained, and it started to trickle out of her panties and down her thighs, unbothered by tight leggings. "Guys, I've got it!" Hope yelled, pushing the door open. No sooner had she stepped into the room, though, than something stopped her dead in her tracks. She dropped the keys and both hands flew to her stomach, where they clutched it protectively. "Oh, fuck," she groaned, "we're too late. I'm having an accident!" Hope was blocking the corridor, and Armor and Dani were both still soiling themselves, so they could do nothing but watch as a long, thick sausage pushed out and formed a tent in Hope's pants. For some reason, the sight of the bulge completely robbed Armor of all bladder control, and she felt her pussy go wet and hot, the fabric soaked through within seconds. Hope wasn't done yet. "Shit, it's pushing the pee out, too!" She whirled around and Armor saw that she was not lying; like Armor, Hope was wetting herself while she pooped. It seemed that even in clothes it was hard to do one without the other. "Oh, screw it," Dani said, "these clothes are ruined, and I really have to poop still, so I'm just gonna let go". Armor grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her into the bedroom, where she closed the door behind them. There, the three women simply gave up, all of them losing control at both ends. "We were so close, too," Hope pointed out, farting loudly. "Alright," Armor said as she started to finish up, "who's first in the shower?" —————————————————————————————————————————————— “Come on, Shuri, you have to let me go first,” Kate pleaded, “I can feel it poking out of my asshole, for God’s sake”. “Sorry, but I don’t exactly want to ruin my clothes either,” Shuri pointed out. “We need to make a decision, or I’ll wet my pants right here and now”. “I have an idea,” Riri said quietly. The others turned and looked at the girl they called Ironheart. In their desperation, they had quite forgotten she was there. “Go on,” Shuri prompted, openly potty-dancing on the spot. “Well, if you really can’t hold it…” “We can’t!” Kate said hurriedly, “what’s the plan?” “Shuri, you’re tallest, sit at the back of the toilet and spread your legs”. “Wha-“ “Just do it!” Riri snapped, “It’s the only way you both stay dry and clean, so do it”. Shuri was in no state to argue. She slid her trousers all the way off, leaving them and her underwear in a defeated heap on the floor. Both Kate and Riri were getting their first view of Shuri’s bare ass and pussy, but neither could afford to think about it too much. She seated herself on the toilet, right towards the back, and Riri spotted the glisten of leaks dribbling down the Wakandan girl’s labia. “Don’t pee yet, Shuri! You have to hold it a bit longer! We need to know that it fits,” she ordered. “I’m trying to hold it!” Shuri cried out, “Kate, hurry up!” She smacked the seat in front of her in frustration, indicating that she wanted Kate to take a seat. Hawkeye was in no position to argue, and she waded across the room while stripping off her bottom half entirely. It was a tight squeeze, but Kate managed to fit in position so that both her ass and Shuri’s pussy were pointing down into the toilet bowl. “Okay, perfect,” Riri said, a director on set, “now let go!” They both let go, neither in any position to do otherwise. Riri flicked the light on so she could see where she was walking better, but that gave her an unobstructed look at what was happening on the toilet. She saw a lengthy, girthy log dangling halfway out of Kate. Shuri's forceful pee was striking the protruding turd and spraying in every direction off of it. Riri's own need to go was only made worse by seeing the others get some relief, but she had to hold it a little longer. That was, until her attention was snapped back to the present by Kate's panicked voice. "Oh shit, I'm gonna pee too! It'll go all over the floor!" Riri started to worry then, seeing the first few drops of pee squeeze out of Kate’s aching pussy. She had to think fast- out of the corner of her eye she spied an empty glass on the shelf over the sink, the kind hotels leave to let guests get a drink of water in the night. Rushing over to it, she started explaining the plan to Kate. “I’m going give you this,” she said, “pee into it, and every time it gets full, tip it backwards so it goes into the toilet. Got it?” “Yes, just hurry!” “Okay, here you go”. Riri handed Kate the glass and she barely got it into position before her bladder released. The volume of pee that gushed out of that girl was quite astounding to Riri, given that Hawkeye stood at only around five-five and didn’t seem to have much space in her for a big bladder. She was still pooping as this went on. “Ew, Shuri, you’re peeing on my butt!” “Sorry!” Shuri wailed, trying to readjust her position and finding that she could not, “it’s coming out so fast, I can’t help it!” Finally, Riri had had enough. Listening to them talk about their needs proved a step too far. She unbuttoned her jeans, stepped out of them and looked at the girls on the toilet apologetically. “Sorry about this,” she said with sincerity, climbing into the bath. Once safely there, she spread her legs and let go, not caring that both girls were staring at the hot stream pouring from her pussy and landing between her bare feet. The spray from the pee splashed bouncily over her toes and ran hot beneath her heels. “I couldn’t hold it any longer,” she explained, “but you’d better hurry up, because I have to shit as well, and I’m not doing that in the bath”. ———————————————— Carol Danvers woke up with a bowling-ball weight in her abdomen. Her eyes opened groggily, sliding a hand between the sheets, which had been silkily smooth the previous day but were now crinkled and dampened with sweat. She pulled her arm in close, where it cupped her breast, feeling a hard nipple protruding from the firm shape. Her nipples only ever got hard for one of two reasons, and it was certainly not cold in the room. In fact, it had gotten so hot the previous night that she had stripped down to her panties, leaving everything else in a heap beside the bed. Modesty wasn’t a concern for Carol; she was proud of her body and didn’t care who saw it, as long as it was none of the kids. She slipped that hand away from her chest, and realise that her usually-flat belly was bulging and hard as rock. Her fingers skipped lightly past it and slid beneath the waistband of her underwear. There she found a bald pussy, which felt warm, slightly wet. Carol was used to kicking off her days by masturbating. Something told her that wouldn’t be appropriate in this context. Besides, she really had to pee, so even if she wasn’t sharing a hotel room with two women she barely knew she probably wouldn’t have been able to hold on, even through a quick wank. Instead, she climbed out of bed and headed limply to the en-suite bathroom. There she found Jemma Simmons sat on the toilet, already fully dressed other than the obvious fact that her smart trousers and surprisingly girlish pink panties were around her ankles. She looked totally unfazed to see Carol walk in wearing almost nothing. “Good morning,” Jemma said sweetly, “I won’t be long”. “Okay, that’s good,” Carol said with a wry smile, “because I feel like I”m gonna burst”. She was acutely aware of the sound of Jemma’s pee tinkling against the porcelain. When it was done, the British woman grabbed some paper and began to wipe carefully. “You should’ve seen the mess Emma left in here this morning. The woman doesn’t flush! You wouldn’t’ve known there was water in the bowl at all…” —————————————————————— “Kitty, wake up,” came a soft voice, “breakfast is in ten minutes”. Kitty Pryde’s eyelids fluttered open, her mind taking a few seconds to remember for certain just where she was. Then it came to her: she was in DC, on the trip, four hours from home. She blinked once. Instinct told her immediately that something wasn’t right. Kitty rolled over onto her back, and that was when she felt it. Her pyjama bottoms were wet against her legs, not cold but certainly not warm either… and there was something squishy beneath the hairless cheeks of her butt. Breath catching, Kitty scrambled up into a half-sitting position, feeling whatever it was smudge against her butt as she moved. The next thing she was aware of was Jean Grey sitting up on the bed beside her, fully clothed, already looking like she’d been awake for several minutes. It was fortunate that Kitty was a fast thinker, because even in her pure shock she managed to formulate a believable response. “Okay, just let me wake up, I’ll be there in a second”. “I need to pee,” Jean said, “but when I get back I want you ready for breakfast”. She stood and went into the bathroom, out of sight. There was no sign of Rachel, their other roommate. Cautiously, quickly, Kitty lifted her duvet just a little. Even in the darkness beneath the sheet, the huge wet patch on her bed was obvious. A quick sniff confirmed her other suspicion: she had wet and messed the bed, for the first time in her life, and it smelt awful. She was hasty to pull the sheets tight shut again, hoping to keep the smell out. Before she knew it, Jean was back. The older woman tutted at Kitty when she saw that she was still in bed. “What’s up?” The gears in Kitty’s head whirred frantically, grasping for a lie, any lie. Anything would be less embarrassing than admitting she had shit the bed. She couldn’t say she felt ill, either, in case Jean decided to stay and take care of her. Kitty only had perhaps ten seconds to think, and then she knew she could put off responding no longer. She said the only thing she could think of that would work. “Actually, Jean,” she said in a low voice, “I was kind of hoping for some… you know, privacy, this morning”. Jean looked at her, confused, so Kitty feigned embarrassment and kept elaborating. “I had a lot of… let’s just say interesting dreams last night”. That was all it took; Jean nodded and gave her a wink. “Say no more,” she told Kitty, “I’ll tell Rachel to go straight down to breakfast. Meet us there when you’re… well, finished”. “Thanks, Jean,” Kitty said with a forced smile, watching the redheaded woman turn to leave. “There’s a wand in my bag if you need it… Oh, and try and keep it down, these walls are thin,” Jean teased. “Hey, I’m not that loud!” Kitty said indignantly. For a brief moment she genuinely forgot she was sat in a pile of her own shit. Then the door shut behind Jean and her attention turned to trying to figure out how on earth she was going to get away with this. ———————————————————————————————————————————————— Shuri sat at the small desk beneath their room’s flatscreen TV, watching the morning news with interest. It was turned down to mute volume, with the too-slow subtitles on, so as not to wake her roommates. Riri and Kate were still sleeping like babies on beds in opposite sides of the room. Meanwhile, Shuri’s vacated bed was already neatly made and tidied. She’d woken up half an hour ago, peed, showered and was now sipping hot coffee from a plain hotel mug in front of the TV. Shuri was all about early mornings. It appeared that her new roomies were more into their lie-ins. As she watched, Riri farted softly in her sleep. Kate tossed over slightly, muttering something about an arrow. Shuri couldn’t help smiling. She looked up at the screen again, checking the time in the corner. It was only ten minutes until breakfast. She had hoped to let the two wake up naturally, but that didn’t seem like an option anymore. If she didn’t get them up and out of bed, they wouldn’t eat that morning. So Shuri set down the steaming mug, walked to the curtains that covered most of one wall and yanked them open all at once. Almost instantly, the scene changed completely. The once-dim room was flooded with harsh sunlight, and even Shuri’s eyes had trouble adjusting. Both her roommates groaned in near-unison at the sudden change in lighting. “Morning, sleepyheads,” Shuri grinned, aware she was enjoying this a little too much, “Rise and shine”. “Why’d you do that?” Kate cried, her throat still clogged and groggy. Riri, almost on autopilot, threw the sheets off herself and got up. “God, I have to pee so bad,” she groaned, limping towards the bathroom. She wore only an oversized t-shirt that barely covered her butt. “Sorry,” Shuri said with a guilty smile, “but breakfast is in ten minutes. “Hurry up in there, I need to use the bathroom before we leave,” Kate called to the disappearing Riri. Then she lowered her voice again and looked back to Shuri. “How long have you been up?” “At least half an hour,” Shuri said. She thought nothing of it. This was normal for her back in Wakanda. “You’re cute eje you sleep,” she teased, and Kate went cherry-red. “On a trip with Carol Danvers and America Chavez, I didn’t think you’d be the person calling me cute...” ———————————— Jubilee loved the shower. It was her happy place, a chance to be alone and enjoy the peace. By nature, she was usually a sociable creature. She liked being around people, talking to them, enjoying their company. But the shower was her breaktime. It was the few minutes every day when she could just think, when the pressures of performing the character that was herself. Even on the toilet she would usually get her phone out, scroll social media, message people. It was rare for Jubilee to have a waking moment where she could simply… be Jubilee. She stood there, soaking it all up, letting the water run through her hair, around her shoulders, down her thighs. Jubilee liked her shower water steaming hot, so hot that most people would be scalded by the pure fierceness. Once, Magma had begrudgingly admitted that she hadn’t realised normal people could stand such heat. To Jubilee, though, the hot water was what really made her feel clean. There was nothing better than the feeling of turning off the flow, standing alone and naked in a silent bathroom and watching her nipples go hard and big in the mirror while her body adjusted to the sudden coolness. Until then, she’d lather her skin with soap and her hair with shampoo, enjoying the pleasant slipperiness of the water mixing and mingling with the liquid toiletries and the soap and the pee around her toes before it gurgled down the drain. She always pissed in the shower. It wasn’t something she thought about; it just happened, like sneezing or farting after a big meal. Jubilee was famous for her long showers, although nobody bar her knew why. Those ten minutes or so were often the only chances she got to pleasure herself, what with her early starts and late nights that gave her little time alone in bed. Finishing in the shower was easy for her. It was as if the heat and the running sensations of the water just stimulated her that extra bit to bring herself to a crescendo quicker than most women would ever find possible. On this morning, she needed it worse than ever. She hadn’t slept too well, and had been eagerly awaiting a chance to hop in and make herself come. But just as her shampoo was in place, as her fingers finally found their favourite place between her legs, a knock came on the door. She tensed up- it could be anyone. She couldn’t hear their room’s front door open and close over the roar of the shower, only the bathroom door. It was an immense relief when Dazzler called her name. “Come in,” Jubilee replied, not minding the company despite the intimacy of the situation. Dazzler hurried into the room completely naked, collapsed onto the toilet and began noisily evacuating her bowels. Even over the blurred fogginess of the glass between the shower and the rest of the room, Jubilee saw the relief in her eyes. “Thanks, Jubilee,” the other girl said, “I tried to hold it until you were out but my stomach was cramping so bad”. “Don’t worry about it,” she replied. Now she knew it was only Dazzler she was seriously considering resuming her wanking session- after all, she was fairly sure she couldn’t be caught through the glazed glass. Her fingers started circling her clitoris again as if they had a life of their own. “Ooh, I thought I wasn’t gonna make it for a second there”. She was still shitting loudly, her small breasts heaving with each push. “Breakfast’s in ten minutes, you’d better hurry up”. “Oh, don’t worry,” Jubilee had to raise her voice to be heard over the shower, “I’m the master of getting dressed fast”. —————————————————— Dani groaned in frustration, holding the ruined panties up to the sunlight for the first time. They had been through the washing machine twice, but it was time to accept it: they’d never be the same again. Although the smell of shit was almost entirely gone, what remained was the dull odour of plain detergent, and the colour was unlikely to ever return to usual. She supposed she could dye them, but that seemed like hiding the truth from herself. They would have to be relegated to lounging-around panties from now on, to wear under sweatpants or a comfy gown when she wasn’t expecting company. In a very real sense, she knew she should probably have felt fortunate that they were still even wearable at all. The load that she had ended up dropping in them the previous day had been one of the biggest she could remember doing, and one of the wettest too. When she’d peeled them off and left them on the bathroom floor to join the others in the shower, she had silently felt that they needed throwing out. They’d been skidmarked to death, each stain several millimetres thick, half the fabric saturated brown. But her accident had been nothing compared to Armor’s, and those knickers had needed tossing in the trash. She’d needed help getting them off, such was the severity of the liquid shit she had inadvertently done in her clothes. The backs of her thighs had been painted brown, and it had taken a quarter of an hour in the shower to confirm that she was completely clean. Dani knew this because she’d had to use a sponge and flannel to wipe some of it off herself. Behind her, Hope was just getting up. They knew they didn’t have long before breakfast, but that hadn’t stopped the trio from sleeping in anyway. After the exhausting efforts of holding in their poops the day before, coupled with the mental strain of losing control at the final hurdle, none of them were in the mood to get up early. “Morning!” And now, drenched in this new spell of sunlight, they’d finally been forced to drag themselves out of bed and get to breakfast. None of them suspected just how many of their fellow students had had equally embarrassing accidents, and they would probably never know. Armor slipped out of bed looking like she could quite happily kill someone. Her hair, for once, was messy and unkempt. She was butt-naked. The previous night, they’d done their best to sleep in modest clothing, but the room had been so hot and clammy. It had been Armor herself who broke the ice, suggesting that they all just get comfortable and strip down to help keep cool. Dani was surprised to find herself gazing intently at Armor’s flat chest, hard little nipples, totally bald pussy. She didn’t know what was making her want to look. Then she was gone, vanished into the bathroom, the door shut and locked. A few seconds later, the muffled sound of pee hitting the bowl floated past Dani’s ears. It sounded like Armor had been desperate. ————————————————————————— “Kamala, can I come in?” Kamala jumped at the sound of the voice on the other side of the door, not expecting any company at this hour. She had been sitting on the toilet when she heard it. As often happened, she’d woken up early with a familiar urge to empty her bowels and, taking advantage of the fact that her two roommates were still in bed, snuck off to the en suite to take one of her monster dumps. Now America’s voice was calling out to her, and Kamala realised she had been caught short: she was naked, having not expected anyone else to be awake before she got back to her bed. The only clothes on her person were her black panties, which were pulled down around her ankles. “Why? Are you okay?” Kamala asked awkwardly. “No!” America said, and now Kamala heard it: the intensity in her voice, the urgency that hid in her tones. “I’m naked,” Kamala warned. She couldn’t help the uneasy sound of her words, but she knew that she was going to have to let America in, if it was an emergency. “I don’t care, I just need to come in, now”. “Okay, come on in,” Kamala called. There was a long, girthy poop halfway out of Kamala at that moment, stuck stubbornly in place. The door opened and America rushed in, wearing a baggy hoodie and some panties. “Hey, I’m sorry to burst in on you like this, but I really have to go,” America explained, dancing on the spot, “how long will you be?” “Sorry, I need a while still,” Kamala said guiltily, “I’m… you know…” “Pooping? Oh my gosh, I’m sorry,” America said, looking mortified, “I know this is really bad, but would you mind if I use the bath again?” “Go ahead, be my guest,” Kamala waved an arm towards the bath, “when you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go, right?” America was already seated on the edge of the bath with her panties around her ankles before Kamala had finished talking. “Oh, thank you,” she sighed. The sudden roar of her piss on the bath surface was deafening. “If you hadn’t said yes, I would’ve pissed my panties, I’m sure of it”. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m no prude, huh? Anyway, it’s my fault for taking so long to have a poop”. Kamala realised suddenly that her hands were subconsciously covering herself up, with an arm on her boobs and a palm covering her hairy pussy. America nodded in the direction of her body. “I’m a lesbian, Kamala, not a pervert,” she said with a relaxing smile. Kamala felt almost stupid for being so worried. She removed her arms and returned the smile. Showing her bare body to the other girl was freeing, and slightly exciting. “And besides, you have nothing to be ashamed of”. “I don’t?” As Kamala asked the question, that long turd finally slipped out and hit the toilet water with a heavy splash. “No, you don’t,” America laughed, “believe me, I’ve seen lots of boobs, and yours are some of the best”. Kamala genuinely brightened up at hearing this. “Thanks,” she said, “I always prefer my downstairs bits shaven but the hair grows so fast, it’s not worth the effort”. “Nothing wrong with a hairy pussy, girl,” America assured her. She asked for some toilet paper to wipe herself with, which Kamala handed her. “It doesn’t make it any harder to eat, trust me”. ———————————————————— Breakfast was an extravagant affair, and America expected no less from such an expensive hotel. The women in the travelling party were treated to a private area of the restaurant, complete with an enormous white table the shape of a circle big enough to park a Jeep on top of. The Professor was not in attendance- he had some secretive meeting to attend, America had heard- but there were twenty-one chairs lined up neatly around the table in preparation for their arrival. Despite her worries about being late, only the five adult women were already seated and eating breakfast when America finally got downstairs with her two roommates. Laura was in a foul mood; she’d had a bad stomach and hadn’t really managed to sleep at all. Kamala, on the other hand, was looking decidedly cheery after her chat with America in the bathroom. They were all a little surprised to see Kitty’s seat empty despite the presence of her two roommates, but when they asked Jean explained that Kitty was on a phone call to a friend. America and her roommates headed to the hefty buffet, which offered more or less every breakfast you could think of: cooked meats, pastries, fruit, cereal, pancakes, waffles, toast. There was also a bar serving fruit juices, water, milk and hot drinks. None of the three girls were accustomed to such a vast array of food, so they all stacked up with little bits of almost everything, not considering for a moment that they might find themselves regretting that decision later on. America’s plate, in particular, was huge, which she attributed to a relative lack of food the previous day. She wasn’t a big girl, but she had always been slightly curvier than a lot of her peers, and she liked herself that way. They were just beginning to tuck in when Shuri, Riri and Kate trudged into the room, all but the former looking groggy, rubbing their eyes and yawning. The trio were followed by the Stepford Cuckoos, still not saying much of anything. America supposed they were still embarrassed by their accident the previous day on the bus. By the time they returned to the table with their plates loaded, America had barely made a dent on her big meal. The inevitable small talk began in earnest. “Sleep well?” she asked nobody in particular, aiming her words roughly in Shuri’s direction. “Very well, thank you,” Shuri said courteously, “as for these two…” she jerked her head towards her two roomies and America laughed. “Not morning people?” “You could say that,” Kate said with a yawn. She was one of the few who had opted for a small breakfast: a bowl of cereal, a banana and a mug of steaming-hot coffee. “I was up and down all night peeing, too”. America guessed from Shuri’s raised eyebrow that this was news to her. “Us too,” the Cuckoos chanted. It was one of the first things America had heard them say since their accident. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering how the triplets talked to each other when they were alone, or if they even did. Her thoughts, though, were interrupted by the arrival of Jubilee and Dazzler, radiant as always and looking very much like they’d been awake for hours. Both were dressed in skimpy white outfits that looked almost like they’d been planned together, but were probably actually coincidentally resembling. Negasonic Teenage Warhead, who America refused to call anything but Ellie for the sake of sanity, steamed in after them. Her face was even darker and angrier than usual. Kitty arrived next, her face red, and slipped quietly into the waiting seat between Rachel and Jean. America thought that she looked a bit like the teacher’s pet at school sitting and eating lunch at the staff table, which in a way wasn’t far from the truth. She liked Kitty, though, so she let it slide. When the brunette took her seat, America thought she saw Jean shoot her a wink, although that could’ve been her imagination. “How was your call, Kitty?” Laura said. America couldn’t tell if the girl was being genuine in her question or if she also suspected that something else was at play. Kitty just blushed. “Good, thanks,” she said quietly, and said no more. Before Laura could push any further, anyway, the final three seats were filled by the arrival of Armor, Hope and Dani Moonstar. America was particularly happy to see the latter- Armor could be a bit too serious sometimes and Hope was the quiet new girl, but Dani was easy to talk to and easy to get along with. She took the seat next to America when she’d collected her food, which was a typically healthy selection of fruit. She leaned into America’s ear and whispered something as subtly as possible. “You know I can see your panties, right?” America looked down and gasped, realising that she’d been caught out. Her panty line was clearly visible through her jean shorts, clear as day for anyone who looked closely enough. Why had Dani been looking that closely? It was a good question, but not one America exactly had the time to answer. She could only hope that nobody else had noticed and endeavour to change before they left the hotel. Their trip today was to a local museum, one of the biggest in the country, although she couldn’t remember the name at that moment. The last thing America wanted was to parade around with her underwear on show all day. “Shit, sorry,” America whispered back, “that’s embarrassing”. Dani simply smiled. “Don’t be sorry on my account,” she said, “you’re not the only one. Armor’s got the worst VPL this morning I think I’ve ever seen”. Without even thinking about it, America instinctively tried to get a glimpse of Armor’s butt, and was disappointed to find that she couldn’t see it from where she was sitting. “Seriously?” “Yeah, and Laura’s got one too, didn’t you notice?” “Laura? How do you see this stuff?” “Oh, I don’t know,” Dani blushed, perhaps realising she’d said too much, “I just pick up on those kinds of things”. America smirked. “And I thought I was the one famous for staring at women’s asses”. ————————————————————————— Shuri knew at the time that she was eating too much, but she didn’t care. After a fairly small breakfast the day before, followed by a nonexistent lunch and a modest dinner, she was starving by the time she got down in the morning and seeing the buffet only made it harder to resist. She piled her plate high and returned to the table, knowing she’d probably run out of time long before finishing the meal. She and Riri had been in a near-constant state of conversation since the trip began, and they continued that trend at the table over breakfast. They had never met before, having come from two completely different worlds, but they’d hit it off right away. With so much in common it would be nearly impossible not to. For one thing, and most obviously, they were both child geniuses, far and away more intelligent than any of their peers, and with brains that maybe only one person on the trip could come close to. Considering that that person was off at some meeting, there wasn’t a lot of high-intellect conversation to be found outside of each other. But there was more than that: they had the same sense of humour, the same kind of music on their playlists and the same taste in boys… and girls. Shuri wasn’t attracted to Riri, or at least she didn’t think so, but she enjoyed talking to her about who was cute, who had a nice butt, who they’d do if they had to pick. At breakfast they were having a sort of hyper-coded debate about their tablemates, all in a way that nobody else would ever be able to figure out. As she chewed down a mouthful of scrambled egg, Shuri caught Riri’s eyes. The girl gave her a cheeky smile and nodded subtly twice: first in the direction of Dazzler, then at Ellie. Shuri considered it for just a moment, then jerked her head to indicate that she preferred Ellie. Riri’s eyebrows shot up and she looked at Shuri with genuine surprise, to which Shuri just shrugged and mouthed the words “my type”. Then it was her turn. She gestured secretively at Jean, then Carol. Riri didn’t hesitate in selecting Carol, and Shuri smiled and nodded her agreement. They agreed on that, at least. Jean was hot, but Carol was hot. “So, do you think anyone else had an… um… interesting time after check-in yesterday?” Riri asked, keeping her voice down so as not to be overheard. Shuri looked around the room, trying to consider who would be the most likely ones to have had an accident. It didn’t take long to spot her target. “Jubilee,” she said, “that girl has a tiny bladder. No way did she hold it all the way to the room, she was bursting by the time we got off the bus”. “Maybe,” Riri agreed, “but I was thinking more about Ellie”. “Ellie? Why?” “Underneath the tough girl act, I think she’s got a weak stomach,” she speculated. “Ah, I see what you mean,” Shuri conceded, “did you see her panties when she came in? They’re so obvious”. “I didn’t, but they can’t be worse than Laura’s. I’ll check next time she stands up,’ Riri said with a wink. Their conversation was cut short by Jean Grey speaking up to grab everyone’s attention. “Okay, guys, we have to get going now. We’ll meet in the lobby in twenty minutes to head to the museum”. She put her knife and fork down on her plate and got to her feet. “And if anyone’s late, I’ll fucking kill you”. ———————————————————————————————— They stood there, this strange collection of mutants and heroes and spies, in the cavernous entrance hall of the museum. Where their hotel boasted photographs of famous people, these walls were ordained with ancient paintings, huge canvases that stretched in some cases for longer than the average bedroom. In between, dotted around the perimeter, were glass display cases containing artefacts, valuable items or animal bones. Nothing could come close to the centrepiece which dominated the scene, a towering, near-complete dinosaur skeleton that almost reached the ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a room straight out of a movie, complete with chequered floors and grand staircases leading into the other rooms of the museum. Such was the size of the place that Professor X’s party had agreed to split into groups, so as to minimise the attention that they would attract to themselves. Most of the girls were relatively capable of blending into a public setting, seeing as they were still human despite all the quirks, but the Cuckoos alone were enough to turn heads. Jubilee on her own wasn’t too eye-catching, despite her extravagant dress sense, but Jubilee and Ellie? Or what about Shuri and Riri, walking around chatting at a million miles an hour about things no normal teenager would ever come close to understanding? No, it was far safer to sit up. That way they’d have a chance of looking like an ordinary school trip… so long as everyone behaved and the Cuckoos didn’t speak. Ellie wasn’t exactly happy with the group into which she had been placed, but she could grudgingly admit that it could’ve been worse. Jean Grey was her designated chaperone, a term she resented, although she supposed that wasn’t too bad- as far as the adults went, at least Jean was somewhat normal and not as obnoxious as some of the others. Then there was Laura, who wasn’t much of a conversationalist, which suited Ellie just fine. Kitty Pryde walked slightly behind the rest of the group, looking distracted. The most important thing was that she didn’t have to be anywhere near Jubilee or Dazzler; she never wanted to look either of those bitches in the eye again if she could help it. They were instructed to head to the left of the museum first, quickly finding themselves in a room cluttered with Egyptian exhibits. Early on, Ellie started looking for an excuse to sneak off and use the bathroom. This was easier said than done for her, given that she’d rather die than admit to Jean that she had to go. The last thing she wanted was the redheaded woman thinking Ellie was just a baby, just another kid. And only babies got themselves into situations where they had to go. That was what had burned so much about what had happened the day before- she had done something that, until it was her with her pants full, she’d thought only little kids ever did. So she kept it quiet, kept it to herself, and moved through the exhibits with a sense of dull boredom which she didn’t even try particularly hard to hide. The one thing all of this group had in common is that they weren’t particularly interested in the museum- not even Jean, who was supposed to be setting a good example. Ellie thought she might perk up a bit when they got to the violent stuff- swords and chains and torture equipment- but for now she was just bored. Bored and, though she would never admit it, in dire need of a restroom. This had come as a huge surprise when she’d first realised she had to go- Ellie almost never needed to poop two days in a row. She knew the culprit was the big breakfast she’d eaten, but that had been unavoidable; she’d barely eaten the day before and a day of walking around on unfed legs wasn’t appealing, even to a fairly skinny young person like her. That begged another question, though: she wasn’t the only one who’d eaten a lot at breakfast. Surely, that meant she wouldn’t be the only one who had to use the bathroom soon. If others had to poop too, it would be perfect. She could use their writhing and childish squirming and noise as cover for herself to sneak away, take a much-needed shit and then get back to the group before anyone realised that she’d been gone to do the exact same thing as everyone else. Ellie knew that they knew that she pooped. She just preferred it if they didn’t know when or where, although it was hard to explain exactly why. As the others stared with a half-hearted attempt at interest at a sarcophagus up against one of the walls, Ellie slotted in between Kitty and Jean, who immediately stopped whatever whispered conversation they were having. They pretended they hadn't been talking, of course, but Ellie wasn't an idiot. She had half a mind to tell them to keep going; whatever they were on about, she certainly wasn't going to care enough to listen. While her group looked at the Egyptian coffin, Ellie pretended to follow suit. Instead, she was examining her reflection carefully, sure something was up. It took her a while to spot it, but when she did she wanted to throw up. Her underwear was clearly visible under those pants, protruding obviously like two rings around the thighs. She swore under her breath and stepped back. If she stayed out of sight, behind the others, perhaps nobody would notice... unless they already had. But Ellie knew that she had other things to worry about. That poop of hers was only going to get more urgent, and already she was fairly desperate to relieve herself. Not yet, though. Not until she could find a time to do it without making it abundantly clear that she had to go. It would have to wait. She sturdied herself, clenched her cheeks and took a deep breath. ————————————————————————————————————————————— They were surrounded by some of the oldest manmade objects in the world, but Dani only had eyes for one thing, and it was all natural. America Chavez’s ass was totally mesmerising her. She couldn’t figure out why, but following the girl around the museum, she couldn't look away from it. It looked so enticing, bulging out beneath her pants like a peach, almost begging Dani to just reach out and give it a squeeze. This kind of barely-suppressed arousal wasn't like Dani, or at least, not exactly. She'd had a good idea for a long time now that she wasn't totally straight, but this was the first time she'd actively lusted after a girl- a friend, no less. Whether it was the conversation at the table or just the fact that she hadn't gotten much relief in the downstairs region lately, something had got Dani seriously turned on. Most of the blame surely had to go to America's body, which was slowly driving Dani insane with lust. She had just the perfect amount of curve for Dani's tastes, and her curly black hair excited Dani with the way it bounced off her shoulders when she walked. It was getting harder and harder not to say something as the day went on. The hornier she grew, the more her inhibitions seemed to sink into a pit of depravity. She was sorely tempted to reach out and squeeze that booty, or perhaps just a playful spank. Or maybe she should start off more subtly, by siding up next to her and putting an arm round her shoulder. However she did it, she was growing increasingly sure that she wanted to make a move on America- and unless she was misreading the signals, America would be open to such an advance. They'd been talking ever since breakfast, and at times it had felt like more than a casual chat. At times Dani was sure she was being flirted with. Girls didn't talk that way to people they weren't interested in- did they? Despite Dani's inexperience, by the time they had split up into groups, she was fairly confident that they were into each other. The trouble, of course, was that they weren't the only women in the group. Their chaperone for the day, Carol, was something of an expert in life as a lesbian, and on an ordinary day neither Dani nor America would have turned their nose up at a chance to talk to her about their experiences. Today, though, they were far too enthralled with each other. That left Carol to talk mostly to Kamala, the other girl there, who was good enough company on her own. Kamala also had the distinction of being the only person to really pay much attention to any of the exhibits on offer. She was wandering from object to object, case to case, leaning over the boundary ropes and gazing geekily at every bit of history she could find. The others trudged behind, Carol weary, Dani and America playing that game of theirs where they pretended not to notice the simmering sexual tension. Finally Dani could ignore it no more. As the other three stood in front of a tapestry depicting the Battle of Hastings, she stepped lightly behind the girl they called Miss America and, summoning up all the nerve she still had, slipped a hand onto the small of her back. America didn't seem surprised by the contact. She turned her head just enough and gave Dani a small but gorgeous smile. The look in her eyes said everything- Dani had not been mistaken. The feelings were mutual. When Carol and Kamala eventually moved onto the next exhibit, the latter gawking excitedly at the information sign, Dani and America hung back, in no hurry at all to go anywhere. "You're welcome to move that hand a little lower," America teased, smiling at the other girl. Dani laughed a little, hoping the nerves didn't show through. "I don't have the guts," she said, "otherwise I'd have just started squeezing it hours ago". "Why, thank you! I would not have minded that one bit". "Really?" Dani almost couldn't believe the conversation they were having. "Really. I can't pretend I haven't been stealing a few glances in your direction, too," America said, giving her a playful wink. This turned Dani on to no end, and she knew right away that she just had to press for more details. She asked America to tell her what she meant. "Well, that top you're wearing shows just a tiny bit less cleavage than I'd like," she admitted. "A tiny bit?" "A lot. It makes me want to just rip that fabric right off you". "If we were in a hotel room and not a crowded museum, I think I'd be up for that," Dani said sadly. America looked disappointed, too: it was as if she'd almost let herself forget that they were in a public place, and that privacy was hard to come by. But then- Dani had an idea. It was a crazy one, and deeply risky, but she was beginning to feel more and more like didn't have a choice. Talking to America like this was driving her body absolutely wild. She couldn't carry on this way all day. With a second of concentration as she walked, she confirmed that her pussy was growing hot and damp just from the conversation alone. The arousal removed everything in her brain that would usually have screamed at her not to tell anyone this, and she leaned into America's ear. "I'm wet," she whispered simply. America's eyes widened, but then she looked back at Dani with tightly-shut lips and nodded. "Me too. I can't do this all day. I need to get some relief". "Yeah, so do I," Dani purred, growing more and more horny by the second now, "reckon we can sneak off? There's plenty of bathrooms in this place". "Bathrooms?" America said, raising an eyebrow but looking intrigued nonetheless, "well, I hope you're not a moaner". ————————————————————————————————————— Shuri had been to dozens of museums before, but never while needing a shit this badly. She was absolutely baffled by it. Yes, she may have eaten a lot at breakfast, but she’d pooped the night before. Shuri never went to the bathroom for a poop more than once every two days unless she was ill, and judging by the lack of cramps and sweats she was certainly not ill. There must have been something else… something she ate at breakfast that wanted out. She glanced around at the rest of her touring group, wondering if any of them might be in the same situation. Good luck getting them to admit it, she thought bitterly. Shuri was not a slut; she knew when to keep her mouth shut, especially when it came to bathroom urges. But she’d been landed with a bunch of prudes. No chance any of them would talk to her about it- at least none of the other kids. Armor walked in front of her, fascinated by the museum, mouth shut and eyes focused. She was far too obsessed with honour to ever admit that she had to use the bathroom even though Shuri had seen how much she’d eaten at breakfast and could guess that she probably did have to go. The other teen in the group was Hope, still the new girl, still not too willing to open up to anyone in matters both simple and intimate. Shuri enjoyed the museum, of course, but the truth was that intellectually she was out of its league. Most of the specimens on display here were nothing special by Wakandan standards, and certainly elementary by Shuri standards. She spent an awful lot of her time making sure she was dumbing herself down enough so as not to appear rude and snobbish to the other kids. When she was in full Shuri mode, the only other woman on the bus who came close to keeping up to her was Riri, and if she was being honest even Riri wasn’t particularly close, as bright as she was. It was a shame that that didn’t mean she didn’t have bathroom urges like everyone else, Shuri reflected as she walked through an Aztec exhibition. She desperately needed to get to the toilet as soon as possible if she wanted to keep these panties clean. It was too embarrassing to admit, especially when she knew there was no Kamala or Jubilee around to gossip about how bad she had to go with. The only chance of decent conversation around was Jemma Simmons, the chaperone. Shuri still wasn’t totally sure about her, but she knew that she was better than being stuck with some of the other adults. Jemma was comfortably the smartest of all the women there- it wasn’t even close, to be honest- and at least she had a sense of humour. She also knew that Jemma had no issues admitting when she needed to use the bathroom, which was a bonus. It meant Shuri would have someone to talk to. And what’s more, she knew she’d have to start talking fairly quickly. Her bowels weren’t playing games anymore, pressuring her with an almost aggressive level of urgency, warning her that they weren’t going to wait around before emptying themselves whether she was ready or not. Shuri could practically feel the log pushing at the inside of her tight hole, looking to force a route out. Behind was what felt like small explosion of violent poop, and she was starting to seriously consider the possibility that she’d fail to hold on to that bit. It had been a long time since she had had to fart so badly, and Shuri (although she was) didn’t need to be a genius to guess that there was more than just gas pushing out. They walked forward through a mix of trees both real and fake, model Aztecs, artificial pyramids and rivers. It was by far the most immersive Shuri had seen in any of America, surrounding her at all angles with scenery and information. That was only a small distraction from what was going on inside her bowels, though. The enormous model volcano in the centre of the room proved a little too tempting for Shuri’s tortured butt, which wanted to erupt just as it did despite her clenching. The accident- if you could call it that- happened at the worst possible time. They’d all been gathered around a scale model of an Aztec pyramid, looking at great interest with the details carved out along the sides. Shuri hoped she was doing a good job of faking her fascination, because all she could really think of was how bad she had to poop. Soon, they’d be at the bathrooms, surely. She hadn’t seen one for the last three exhibits, and there had to be somewhere for one to relieve themselves somewhere. Otherwise, where was a girl meant to go when she had to go? That was when it happened. As Shuri straightened up to follow the rest of the group to the next exhibit, a fart slipped out that went far beyond the usual wetness and heaviness of a usual fart. Instantly, she gasped: shock coursed through her body as she wondered if she could possibly be mistaken about what she’d just felt. A slight readjustment of her position told her that there had been no mistake: she had sharted, and badly. The others heard the noise. At once, all three heads snapped in her direction, looking in curious surprise at the woman who had just let one rip in the middle of a museum. Her mind being sharp as it was, Shuri knew she needed to capitalise on that. For all they knew, she’d just farted. There was no good reason for them to suspect that it had been any more than that. “Oops, sorry,” she said sheepishly, giving them what she hoped was a convincing smile, “must’ve been something I ate”. The other women looked a little shocked to hear such an unladylike noise come from such a small woman, but otherwise seemed happy to let it slip. Shuri breathed a sigh of relief. She was okay... for now. Well, at least on the social front. Secret or no secret, the fact remained that Shuri had still sharted in her underwear, and she simply couldn’t afford to give the away. That meant getting away from the group as fast as she could. She looked around, gingerly feeling the seat of her pants as she did so. They sagged slightly with the weight of what had come out, which was certainly the most generous shart Shuri had ever done. She could feel it rubbing against her buttcheeks as she moved, sticking conspicuously to her skin. “Hey, Jemma,” she said, trying to keep the worry from her voice, “is it okay if I go and use the bathroom quickly?” Jemma blinked; she looked more than a little surprised to be being asked for permission for something so obvious. “Of course,” Jemma said, “If you wait ten minutes I’ll come with you”. No, Shuri decided instantly, that was not going to do. She couldn’t wait around until for ten minutes- not if she wanted to keep her underwear clean and dry. Yet she couldn’t think of an acceptable lie that someone as smart as Jemma would fool for in that short space of time, and so she did something that was becoming almost rare for her: tell the truth. “It can’t wait, Jemma,” she said cautiously, “I really need to go”. Jemma took one good look at Shuri and saw that she wasn’t joking. The Wakandan girl was visibly desperate, squirming where she stood. “Okay, go,” Jemma allowed, “I’ll go for a wee later”. Shuri turned, grateful, and rushed off to the nearest bathroom with shit in her pants. —————————————————— If asked, Kitty Pryde would have told you that her day was not going especially well. The worst of it had been her accident that morning. For the life of her, Kitty couldn’t begin to figure out what had caused her to wet and mess herself in her sleep. The only possible explanation that came to mind was some late after-effect from food poisoning at the diner- perhaps the same thing that had hit the Cuckoos on the bus. That didn’t solve the mystery of what had caused her bladder to give way, though... or why she hadn’t woken up until long after the poop had escaped. She kept thinking back to how it had felt to wake up sitting in a squishy pile of her own making, the way the mess had rubbed on her bare skin. Kitty could remember the awful smell all too well, the salty coolness of the pee coating everything, the horrible shock of realising what had happened. She’d gotten away with it- barely. When Jean had gone, Kitty had stripped the bed, thankful for the mattress protector that the hotel had put in place. She’d bundled up the sheets, soiled clothes tucked secretively inside, and put on a hotel gown to sneak them down to the laundry room, where she was promised by a sympathetic member of staff that they would be washed and discreetly returned to the room as soon as possible. From there, Kitty had made a beeline back to the room, stripped naked and taken the world’s quickest shower. She’d been down to breakfast before Jean had gotten suspicious. Jean. That was the other problem. She’s told Jean she’d been masturbating because that seemed preferable to admitting she’d ruined the sheets, but by the time they’d seen a few rooms of the museum she was starting to wonder if telling the truth might’ve been better. It was like Jean had made it her personal mission to embarrass her, constantly making little digs and comments and asking her things like who the lucky guy she’d been thinking about was. Ellie and Laura, the other girls in the group, had no idea what was going on. They kept looking at Jean like she was mad, but the redheaded woman didn’t seem to care. She found the whole thing hilarious. Kitty was stuck walking around the museum with a permanently red face from blushing. To make matters worse, she needed to pee again. That, at least, made sense; Kitty had drunk plenty of orange juice at breakfast, hoping to stay hydrated on another fairly hot day. She was regretting that now, trudging around the art gallery with a bladder like a water balloon. It ached uncomfortably, but she didn’t dare ask Jean to let her run off to the bathroom. The last thing she needed was more reason for Jean to tease her today. They ran into Emma’s group as midday drew nearer, who seemed to be having a much better time than Kitty was. Dazzler and Jubilee were laughing and riffing off eachother as usual, and even Kate had a smile on her face. The only one who didn’t look like she was enjoying herself was Emma, who was walking in what looked like an uncomfortable limp and wearing a grim expression. Perversely, Kitty wondered if maybe the White Queen needed to do something brown. "Long time, no see," Jean said dryly when the two met, "or at least, it feels like a long time". Emma rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it," she said, "have you seen the Roman display yet?" Jean shook her head. "Not yet". "I envy you," Emma said, "I miss the time in my life when I hadn't had to sit through that". "Oh, it's not too bad," Jubilee smiled, giving Kitty's shoulder a reassuring but unwelcome squeeze, "Dazzler and I don't really pay much attention to the museum stuff, anyway. We play games". Kitty wasn't in the mood for a conversation with the world's most over-exuberant superhero, but behind her Laura's interest seemed piqued. "What kind of games?" she asked. "Oh, just the usual stuff," Jubilee said, "kid's games, mostly. Would You Rather, Never Have I Ever, Truth or Dare..." "Hey, Kitty," Laura asked, sounding rejuvenated, "you in? It has to be better than what we've done so far". Kitty sighed. On one hand, she wasn't much feeling talkative that morning, after the exhaustion of her accident and the desperate cover-up. Having said that, Laura had a point: it did sound far more fun than the dreary monotony of the morning up to now. She looked up and nodded. "Sure, I'm in. Wanna ask Ellie?" Kitty did not particularly want to invite Ellie, but felt it was only polite to ask. She thought it was a safe question; games like Truth or Dare were probably not up Ellie's street, after all. But she was left surprised when the girl accepted the offer immediately. "If I have to look at another painting I'm gonna kill someone," she said miserably. And so they split, Jean's group continuing towards the now-notorious Roman exhibit while Emma's three girls slipped off into the gallery Kitty had just left. Kitty still had to pee, but she wasn't thinking about that; her mind was on Emma Frost. The White Queen had been carrying herself in a way Kitty found all too familiar. Maybe she was wrong, of course, but Kitty still thought that Emma was showing some telltale signs of needing to poop. Well, Kitty, she thought, at least you might not be the only one. Somehow, the thought wasn’t comforting. ——————————— Emma felt the fart come out, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. It wasn’t the first she’d failed to hold in that morning, just the longest. It rippled past the sensitive skin of her tight hole and out into thick white fabric that covered her cheeks. In that moment she was eternally grateful for the loud noise of the museum. Had they been in a quiet area, a fart that noisy would surely have been heard by the kids she was responsible for, and that wouldn’t do at all. Instead, she got away with it, hoping that the smell wasn’t as obvious to the students as it was to her. She could pick up on the strong, earthy scent almost right away. If anyone around breathed through their nose right now she would surely be caught. She waited, nervous... but nobody seemed to notice. “Emma, can we hit the bathrooms soon? I gotta pee,” Jubilee said, talking loudly over the music. She didn’t care that everyone in a ten-metre radius could surely hear. I wish, kid, Emma thought. But she was the adult here. She had a duty to set a good example. Not only that, but she was a mutant. One of the most powerful in the world, or so she liked to believe. She simply couldn’t be seen waddling around museums in the middle of DC, desperately rushing to the bathroom to take a dump. Emma knew she had to remain composed, stay elegant and… well, in control. “Sorry, Jubilee,” she said with honest sympathy, “we have a tight schedule here. Professor X was clear that we can’t deviate from his timetable. We’re meeting the others for lunch here- they should get here any minute now- and then we’re heading to the natural history department”. Privately, Emma hoped that she would find time to sneak to the bathrooms somewhere in that tight ‘schedule’, but she wasn’t optimistic. Professor X created his plans with meticulous detail, she knew, and was unlikely to have left a spare few minutes in there. Emma knew that she wouldn’t need long, not when she was desperate; she’d planned it out in her head, fantasising about relief. One minute to reach the bathroom, which was just down the hall. If there was a stall free without a wait, she’d only need twenty seconds or so to lock herself in and get her panties around her ankles. She knew the logs would slide out easily, as they always did when she was bursting to go, so that would take maybe another minute. If she peed while she was pooping, she wouldn’t need any extra time for that, either. Then thirty seconds to wipe properly, ten to make sure it all flushed first try, thirty to wash her hands and another minute to get back to the group. If her plan worked, she could take a shit in more or less five minutes, before anyone had really noticed she was gone. And yet… she knew that was just a fantasy. She didn’t have the nerve to sneak off for a poo. If anyone saw her, deduced what she was doing, the humiliation would be too much. So she resolved to hold it for as long as she possibly could. If things got too desperate, well… she supposed she could feign some emergency, like a phone call from a family member or a bout of sickness. Anything was better than her pupils seeing her desperate to go. Emma was pulled from that train of thought by the sudden arrival of Jean Grey’s group around the corner. As this was the designated meeting point for lunch, she’d been waiting in full knowledge that the rest of the kids and adults would soon be turning up to meet them, and wasn’t surprised to see Phoenix rock up with a decidedly bored-looking group: Kitty Pryde, Ellie and Laura. The kids merged together to discuss whatever it was that kids liked to talk about, while Emma and Jean converged for a more adult conversation. "How's it going?" Jean asked, brushing her long hair back away from her face to speak. "Not well," Emma admitted, "I really need to use the bathroom". "Well, go!" Jean urged, "we'll cover for you!" "I can't," Emma hissed, "the Professor made the rules extremely clear. And besides, I can't set a bad example for the kids. Jean snorted. "Oh, please," she said, "you're only human. Nobody is going to think less of you if you need to pee". Emma shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "It's not a pee," she confessed. That threw Jean off, but only for a second. "Oh," she said, "well, that's fine, too. Just go for a shit, you'll be back before anyone notices". Before Emma could answer, more groups rounded the corner: Jemma and her group, followed closely by Carol with hers. Emma groaned loudly. "Fuck, I can't go now. Everyone will know where I'm going," she complained, "shit, it feels like it's poking out". Jean looked at her with disdain, as if she was disappointed by her lack of nerve. "Fine, suit yourself," Jean told her, "but if you don't make it, that's on you". "I'll take that risk," Emma said, faking confidence. Deep down, though, she wasn't feeling confident at all. ———————————————————————————————————— They snuck down the hallway, just the two of them, America almost dragging Dani by the wrist in search of somewhere private to slip into. She couldn’t help glancing around every few feet, scared of being spotted by someone who would recognise them, but they seemed to be in the clear for now. America was dripping wet. The thought alone of what they were about to do was enough to drive her wild with lust. She hadn’t had sex in a long time, and her body had responded altogether more strongly than she could ever have anticipated to the promise of some intimacy. Beneath that was a problem: she needed to shit. She’d realised no more than half an hour ago, when her flirting with Dani was already well underway. By then it was too late to excuse herself to use the bathroom; that would risk killing the mood between her and her potential lay. No, she knew, she had to hold it. There’d be time to poop afterwards. But for now… it wasn’t half uncomfortable, and she could only hope that no farts would slip out at… well, inappropriate times. Behind her Dani was breathing heavily, her face flushed, chest rising and falling fast. She looked just as excited as America was to get America’s tight shorts off. Beneath the denim, her panty line was still clearly visible, teasing her like mad. America came to a stop just outside of what looked like a cracked-open janitor’s closet. She peered inside, verified that it was empty and yanked Dani in, shutting the door behind her. The small room was dimly lit by a single electric lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, but she didn’t care. It was bright enough to see what (and who) she was doing, and that was all America cared about. At that point, she was horny enough to consider having sex in a mud bath if it meant getting some relief. The sexual tension inside that tiny space was incredible. Immediately, she started looking for something to block the door with. “This is better than a bathroom,” she explained, “more private”. “That makes sense, but-“ Dani was cut off by America’s cry of triumph when she found a broom handle that was the perfect length to jam the door. There was no way someone could get in now, at least not without giving the two girls plenty of warning. America could feel the heat in her crotch like fire. As soon as the door was barricaded, she turned, took Dani in her arms and kissed her. It was a passionate, burning kiss that melted into something raw, animalistic. Dani kissed her back, a moan escaping into America’s mouth. They both needed this, but a grumble in America’s stomach reminded her that she needed something else, too. Not now, she told herself, have to wait. She was still more desperate to come than to poop… for now. Off came America’s jacket, then her top, her bra. Dani was on her in a flash, sucking, licking, exploring. Even while dealing with the growing, now painful urge to go to the bathroom, America couldn’t help moaning in pleasure while Dani kissed her bare breasts. She pushed back, wanting to give Dani the same sensations that she had been feeling herself. Forcefully, almost aggressively, she moved Dani up against one wall of the closet and got on her knees, expertly unbuttoning those jeans and sliding them down around her ankles. She got a glimpse of the girl’s pink panties, but not for long; in an instant they were gone, too, disappearing in the mass of fabric on the floor. Dani’s pussy was exposed suddenly, hairless except for a neatly trimmed triangle above the slit. America wasted no time in getting to work; she was simply too horny to wait. She tried to begin patiently, licking and teasing the insides of her thighs, but lust took over and before long she was eating her friend out wildly, shoving her tongue in every crevice and crack. The taste was sublime- juices of arousal, sweat and the slightest tang of urine. America lapped up every inch of it, until- “Stop!” Dani cried suddenly. America pulled away, horrified. What had she done? “Oh, God,” she blurted out, “I’m sorry, I just go so horny, and-“ “No, it’s not that!” Dani said, eager to correct America’s wrong assumption, “I desperately need a shit! I thought I could hold it so we could fuck but I was wrong,” she wailed. Every part of her body looked tense, and now America could see that it wasn’t from arousal; now she’d said it, this was clearly the posture of someone who needed the toilet badly. She felt immensely relieved: not only because she now knew that she wasn’t the only one with a log forcing itself out, but because Dani wasn’t protesting against America’s approaches. “So what I’m doing is fine?” “Yes, it feels amazing, but I’m bursting. I’m sorry,” she said, stroking America’s hair apologetically. That changed everything. America relaxed again, switching right back into seductive mode. She was far too aroused to care that they were both in desperate situations. “I don’t mind,” she said, dropping her voice to a sexy whisper, “I have to poop real bad, too”. She sent another long lick up Dani’s pussy, ending in a circle around her clit. The girl whimpered and shuddered- and then a fart escaped, unexpected but not unpredictable. It was a low, splattering sound, and America could tell just from the sound that it was wet. She was so close to Dani’s asshole that she felt the gust of air. The smell filled her nostrils, and she was shocked to realise that it wasn’t a turn off at all. In fact, it almost made her want Dani even more. One trembling hand reached up and began probing with an index finger at Dani’s entrance. “America, please,” Dani said, “I need this just as much as you do but I’m gonna shit on the floor if you don’t let me go”. Finally, America relented, disappointed. Her body was screaming out for her to take Dani there and then, but she knew that it wouldn’t be consensual. She stood slowly, allowing Dani to pull up her jeans and panties. The girl was locked in a full-on pee dance by that point, although perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a poo dance, looking every bit as desperate as America felt. “Thanks,” Dani said, “how bad do you have to go?” America hooked her bra back on, starting to replace her top. “I’m fucking desperate,” she admitted. Dani was panicking now, clutching her butthole with both hands. “Oh, God, please hurry- it’s coming out!” America threw her jacket over her shoulders, removed the broom in front of the door and turned the handle. It didn’t budge. Someone had locked the door with them inside. “It’s locked!” America yelled, kicking the door in blind frustration. She began to wrestle with the handle, pulling and grunting. “Please get it open, I can’t hold it any longer!” “Me neither, but it’s not-“ she booted the door again, “- opening!” “Oh, fuck, America, fuck, it’s happening,” Dani moaned. The sheer defeat in her voice made America stop what she was doing and look up at her friend, who stood frozen on the spot. “Please hold it, Dani,” America pleaded, “if you have an accident I will too, I just know it”. Dani shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s too late,” she said, “I’m shitting myself right now”. And she was, too. In the sudden silence, America could hear the soft crackling sound of Dani losing control, of what sounded like a thick snake slipping out of her tight ass. The smell hit next, overwhelmingly strong and fresh. That was all it took to ruin America’s hopes of holding it in any longer. “Fuck, so am I,” America said honestly. She could feel now what Dani was feeling- her tight ring being forced open by the sheer width of the log she’d kept in for so long. Her panties were still soaked with juices, but now they were turning brown at the back as she messed herself completely. The first log broke off and nestled in her underwear, rubbing and squishing against her ass. There was more to come, she knew, and her exhausted muscles couldn’t stop it. “I can’t stop it,” Dani whined, still bouncing on the spot in an effort to stem the flow. America just took a step towards the other girl and pulled her into a comforting hug. She could feel the weight of her mess sagging in her panties. “Just let it all out, Dani,” she said, “we’ll clean up later”. ————————————————————————————————————————— Over at the students’ tables, things weren’t going much better. Most of the students needed to pee, poop or both after hours of trudging around with no bathroom breaks- none more so than Kamala Khan, who was reaching the point of no return. Her bowels were in a terrible state, stuffed with shit as a consequence of her enormous breakfast, and her bladder wasn’t much better. She’d taken a dump just that morning, so it was a mystery to Kamala why she needed to go so badly just a few hours later. But it wasn’t the why that was important, just the what: if she didn’t get to a toilet soon she wasn’t going to make it in time. And yet… something still held her back, stopping her from just getting up and going. What was it? Fear? Fear of what, of showing weakness? To who? The teachers? The students? One of those. Kamala herself wasn’t completely sure, but something was stopping her from swallowing her pride and going. She may have been stretchy, flexible, but that didn’t seem to extend to her organs, because she felt like both bladder and bowels were stretched to their very limits. It was Jubilee, of all people, who picked up on Kamala’s situation. This was especially ironic; partly because Jubilee herself seemed almost equally desperate, but partly because she’d have expected Jubilee to be one of the last people to be thinking about someone other than herself. “Kamala, are you okay? You look… a little distracted,” she said, shimmying a tad closer on the canteen bench. “I could say the same about you,” Kamala pointed out. She hadn’t meant for it to sound rude, but the discomfort she was in contorted her tone into something a little more aggressive than intended. “Sorry, that was harsh,” she said. “No, you’re right!” Jubilee said brightly, “I really have to pee. I’ve been holding it in all morning. Looks like you do too”. “I wish it was all it was,” Kamala said. “Oh, you have to go number two, too?” Jubilee asked. She laughed a little. “Two too. Get it?” “Yeah, it’s kind of an emergency,” Kamala said, shifting in her seat. As she moved an unexpected fart slipped out, making her blush deeply. Jubilee made something of a show of sniffing the air, making it painfully obvious that she had heard, despite Kamala's desperate hopes that it'd been quiet enough to go ignored. "Wow! Smells like you really do have to go," she said loudly, winking at Kamala. She had a point, too; the fart did smell powerful and undeniably like shit. Kamala could only imagine what was going on down there in her butt. It must have been that the gas from the fart was passing around the giant log she could feel inside of her, growing scented with the dirty particles of her poop. Jubilee hadn't been quiet, and Dazzler joined in the conversation. "Go where?" she asked. "To the bathroom," Jubilee informed her, "Kamala really has to poop and I need to go tinkle as well". "Me too, I'm desperate," Dazzler said, apparently eager to talk to someone about it, "I feel like I'm gonna explode any second now". "Are we talking about needing the bathroom?" This time it was Kitty interrupting, "because I really gotta go as well". "Should we all just get up and go?" Kamala asked, unsure if that was the only course of action left at this point. Kitty glanced over at the teachers' table and shook her head. "No chance," she said, "all of the adults are still sitting down. We can't go off on our own to use the bathroom, you know they won't trust us. And besides, do you want them thinking we can't hold it?" "But I really can't hold it," Kamala moaned, reaching around to feel her backside, checking to make sure she wasn't poking out. The motion of lifting up one cheek was enough to make a foul, loud fart escape again. This time almost all the students heard it and turned to look. "In a second, they'll come and ask us if anyone needs the restroom," Kitty predicted, "then we can go. Until then, though, let's just play it cool". "Easy for you to say, you don't have a turd halfway out of your ass," Kamala grumbled. Kitty looked at her curiously, lifted her butt just a tiny amount and let out a long fart of her own, this one sounding almost deliberate. "Who says I don't?" she said. —————————————————————————— Dani cracked the cupboard open just enough to stick her head out and look both ways. The corridor was still packed with guests, walking both ways along the cramped space, searching for something to interest them in the dreariness of the museum. None of them seemed to have any clue that there were two teenage girls standing in the closet with heavy loads in the underwear. They had decided that they had to make a break for it for two reasons. Firstly there was the fact that the group was scheduled for lunch around now and would surely notice they were gone. They’d already decided on what they hoped would be a valid excuse: America would claim that she’d had a nosebleed and that Dani had gone to take care of her. As America had had nosebleeds in the past, and Dani was caring by nature, they hoped that this would be bought by the adults. Dani was only glad that Professor X wasn’t there, because she was sure he would see right through the lie. The second reason for their decision to make a run for it was the smell. Only after both girls had finished their accidents and the adrenaline from holding it and almost having sex had worn off did they realise just how overpowering the smell of shit became when it belonged to two desperate women trapped in a small, poorly ventilated closet. It was beginning to make both women feel sick- and so they had to just take action. Initially they’d been holed up in there waiting for some better plan to form, but time had run out. They needed to clean the shit from their skin and discard of their panties. “Okay, no time like the present,” Dani whispered. She swung the door open and the pair walked out. Their theory was simple: if they left nonchalantly, acting as if noting was even wrong, they might just get away with it. After all, nobody tended to pay attention to two teenage girls who acted as if they weren’t worth paying attention to. Pretending as if nothing was wrong, she waddled out with forced normality, sliding easily into the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Right behind her walked America, holding the back of her underwear as if she was worried that her mess would slip up. Mercifully, nobody seemed to notice the bulge when they moved between the closet and the bathroom. When they finally got into the toilet, both girls slipped into the same stall, hoping beyond hope that nobody would catch them sharing. “Can I go first?” America whispered, fidgeting without subtlety, and Dani nodded. The dark-haired girl looked desperate. As she sat on the toilet and unloaded a torrent of pee, a jealous Dani looked down at the other girl’s underwear. It was dirty. A thick, brown stain spread across the fabric, in places several centimetres deep. It caked her thighs, her pubic hair. Deep down, Dani knew that that was the fate that soon awaited her- if she could hold onto her own pee. “Hurry up, America, I feel like I’m gonna piss myself,” Dani moaned, squeeing her pussy for emphasis. Whether it was down to the adrenaline or the horniness, she’d started talking about the kind of thing that would usually inspire no publicity in her whatsoever. She did have to pee, partly because she’d been so caught up in the need to get a very different kind of relief. “What if I don’t hurry?” America asked, sticking out her tongue as she finished her pee and started to use toilet paper to wipe out the poop from her underwear. “Then you’ll regret it,” Dani promised, “a lot”. ————————————————————————————————————————————— “I have to be honest, guys, I don’t know how much longer I can hold it,” Kamala groaned, rubbing her stomach in a vague attempt at comforting herself. “You’re not the only one who’s desperate to go,” Kitty said, “just wait a little longer, I guarantee the teachers will ask us in a second”. “I still don’t understand why we can’t just ask them for permission to go,” Kamala grumbled. “I see what Kitty’s saying,” Jubilee said, “We don’t want the teachers to know that we can’t hold it. It’s stupid, but I get it”. “Thanks?” Kitty said unconvincingly. “Urgh, I really have to pee as well”. They were in a conversation of their own at this point, everyone else around the canteen tables engaged in some other conversation. Kamala envied anyone who was able to think about anything other than needing to poop at that moment. She was close to exploding, and she knew that would have disastrous consequences for both the day and her underwear. “Okay, we’ll do it your way,” she agreed reluctantly, “but if they don’t mention it in five minutes I’m going to go”. “Kamala, believe me, if they don’t mention it in five minutes I’m going to crap myself,” Kitty said. The scent of her farts had well and truly filled the room now. Kamala was sure that people on the other end of room would be able to smell their gas, but she couldn’t help it. Her body simply kept forcing out more and more, needing to relieve some of the pressure whether she wanted to or not. Jubilee gazed almost longingly at the teacher’s table, watching them all talking. “I wonder if any of them have to go too?” —— Armor felt dishonorable for even admitting it silently, to herself, but she was in deep trouble. Her bladder was filled almost to capacity thanks to the water she'd downed on the way around the museum, and yet she truly had no idea when their next bathroom break could possibly be. She'd been surprised not to be offered one along with the rest of the teenagers earlier in the day. Professor X's planning was immaculate, usually, but today he'd missed one crucial detail. He'd forgotten that a trip to a busy museum on a hot day with almost two dozen women was almost guaranteed to lead to some full bladders and squirmy girls. The Professor himself may not have been there, but his fellow teachers seemed determined to stick to the tight schedule he'd put together. Jean Grey in particular was a strong devotee of his, and somehow Armor couldn't envision her being happy to deviate from the Professor's wished by adding an unscheduled bathroom break into the mix. On a smaller scale that wouldn't even be a problem. Today, though, it was a recipe for disaster. Sixteen teenage girls all needing the toilet at the same time could mean a delay of twenty minutes or more, especially as some of tehm were bound to need to shit as well as pee. That was without mentioning the Cuckoos, and who knew how that was supposed to work here. All Armor knew was that she hoped they were offered a bathroom break sometime soon. She knew well that Kamala, Kitty and Jubilee, at the very least, had to use the toilet and there were bound to be others. if they were too proud to ask for a chance to go, then Armor was certainly not going to be the one to crack. She was better than that. And so Armor crossed her legs and resolved to hold on... for as long as she could, at least. —- “I think we need to talk about yesterday,” said Kate. Riri looked up, with an expression that seemed genuinely confused. It was as if she had no idea what had happened yesterday that Kate could possibly be referring to. Shuri, on the other hand, blushed and looked away. Kate knew instantly that Shuri had been thinking about it, too. “What about last night?” Riri said. “The toilet thing. We saw each other half naked. Shuri peed on my butt,” Kate reminded her. “So? It was an emergency. Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Riri said with a shrug. Kate looked down at her lap, as if unsure what to say. For a long while she said nothing. Then: “I just think it’s weird that we haven’t mentioned it since it happened”. “Why?” Kate’s hands were fiddling with each other now. “Because I can’t really stop thinking about it,” she confessed at last. Shuri’s eyes went wide, and she put a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Me too,” she said, sounding relieved, “but I can’t figure out why”. They looked to Riri, who really didn’t see what the fuss was about. “I’m not surprised you found it a significant experience. The rush of relief from finally peeing, the mild flavour of sexual pleasure that we all know usually accompanies a desperate piss, the intimacy of sharing the experience with two other girls of your age who are- if we’re honest- quite attractive, and of course the thrill of seeing their vaginas and butts. It’s perfectly natural that you feel strongly about it”. “I guess that makes sense,” Kate said, seemingly happier now she’d been offered an explanation. “Thinking about it does make me need to pee right now, though”. “I’ve been needing to pee all morning,” Shuri agreed, “I’m really hoping we get a bathroom break soon”. —- “Okay, I think we might have gotten away with it,” Dani whispered, almost unable to believe their luck. “What do you mean?” “Well, we must have been gone at least half an hour or so, and yet I haven’t got any text messages, any emails, nothing. Surely if they’d noticed we’d snuck off someone would have asked where we were?” America checked her phone, too. “You’re right,” she conceded, “Riri or someone would’ve been messaging me by now if they were worried”. “And we’ve gotten away with it in a different way, too- the smell”. "I know!" America beamed, "I thought it would be terrible, but it seems to have gone away in the end. I don't think they'll ever guess that we snuck into a broom cupboard to have hot lesbian sex and then both shit ourselves". "You think?" Dani said, laughing. "Although, the broom cupboard idea was going well for us before the accident. Maybe we should look for another and go for round two..." —— Ellie was finally forced to stop lying to herself once and for all: she was absolutely dying for a shit. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, no matter how many other things she tried to concentrate on, it all kept coming back down to her bowels. They were tortured, stretched to the limits, ready to give in and unload a hot, stinking mess into her underwear. Even the games she’d started with her group- which she hoped would continue after lunch- had done little to distract her after a little while, when the urge to go got too strong. Now she was barely getting away with letting out small, soft, silent farts every thirty seconds or so. It was the only thing she had in her power that could potentially limit any damages- after all, if she was letting some of the pressure out it could slow down the inevitable explosion. Of course, that carried with it the risk of some serious sharting, but it was a risk Ellie knew she had to take. She was very aware that as soon as she saw the toilet she’d need to be quick. Looking at toilets tended to have that effect on her when she was desperate. Just a glance at the porcelain throne had her body deciding it was time to let go, whether she was seated or not. Having such a childish habit was not exactly befitting of someone with the name Negasonic Teenage Warhead, so she kept it hidden. But she knew that she’d need to have her jeans and underwear around her ankles pretty much as soon as that stall door opened. She prayed there wouldn’t be a line. Ellie didn’t think she could handle a line, not a big one, not if she had to stand up. Squirming would help, and clutching her ass might help, but she was reluctant to do those things in front of the other girls. Deep down, Ellie knew that there might come a point where fighting was the only way to keep her underwear clean. —————————————————————————— "We have to call a bathroom break, Jean," Emma Frost begged, "if we don't, I don't know how much longer I can hold it in", Jean looked around. Emma was right, ultimately: there was no other way around it. The only option was to announce an unscheduled bathroom break so that students and teachers alike could use the toilet. It deviated hugely from the Professor's schedule, of course, but somehow she thought that he might find that preferable to a load of teenage girls wetting and maybe even messing themselves in the middle of the busiest museum in the state. Jean headed to the students' tables to announce the change in schedule, followed closely by the rest of the adults. She had to go badly by then, too, but was as determined as ever not to show it. She couldn't display any weakness in front of the pupils. Every step put an extra ounce of pressure on her already-stretched bladder, almost as if daring her to let any out. She reached the tables and immediately realised that she'd underestimated the situation badly. The first thing that hit Jean was the smell- it wasn't just a fart scent but a mix of scents from what she guessed were at least four different people, judging by how potent it was. The invisible cloud hung in the air menacingly. A closer look at the students she was supposed to be caring for told her that some of them were visibly desperate. Jubilee sat, barely even trying to hide it, one hand jammed between her legs and the other tapping the table fervently. Kitty Pryde had an intense expression on her face that Jean had rarely seen before, looking almost as though she was straining to hold something inside of her, while Kamala Khan shuffled and fidgeted awkwardly, staring into space. All of the women at the table looked around when Jane arrived, praying for the good news Kitty had promised. Even Ellie, who usually wouldn't be seen dead paying much attention to a teacher, couldn't hide the expectant hope in her expression. "Okay, everyone," Jean said, "it looks as though the bathroom situation is getting pretty bad for some of you, so we're going to take a break now. After lunch we'll just have to rush through some of the museum to make up for lost time". None of the students seemed particularly upset about missing some of the exhibits; even the ones who had enjoyed the museum so far, like Kamala, were far too occupied thinking about their bodily needs. Jean sighed inwardly. This was the part of the job she'd always been somewhat uncomfortable with, always been a little off the pace of. She was good at teaching kids. She wasn't good at looking after them. But things were expected of her, so she took a breath and carried on. "Now, I know some of you might need to... well, poop. But I need to ask you to be as quick as you can. We can't take more than ten minutes, okay?" Riri spoke up then, frowning. "How are..." she counted with her hands, deciding not to point out the obvious absence of Dani and America. If Jean had noticed, then she would do whatever she wanted about it. If she hadn't noticed, that was her problem anyway. "... fourteen young women supposed to use a bathroom that probably only has a few stalls in ten minutes?" "Well, you'd better figure it out," Jean said, irritated, "we don't have any longer than that. You'd better get going- oh, but as we're short on time, I'd appreciate it if you only go if it's an emergency. We'll have another bathroom break before we leave, in three hours. If you think you can hold it until then, please try". Her efforts, though, quickly proved to be to no avail. As one, all fourteen girls stood and started to make a beeline for the restroom, which was off in an alcove at one end of the room. Over her shoulder she saw the other four teachers joining the crowd. She shook her head in disbelief. "All of you?" Nobody replied. They almost all looked visible close to having an accident, so Jean supposed she couldn't be too surprised. The few who weren't showing outward signs of needing to go- Armor, Laura, Ellie- were the types who would probably hide it out of pride. Jean's bladder was still outrageously full. She sighed and shook her head in contempt. "Fine," she said, "what difference does one more make?" And with that, she followed her group, feeling her pussy ache with the effort of clenching itself closed to keep the pee in. Jean was the last to arrive at the bathroom, where the news couldn't have been worse. Plastered on the door was a white paper sign that said "Out of order- we apologise for any inconvenience". Jean felt like joining in the groans and complaints that rose up throughout the students. Not only would walking all the way to the next closest bathroom add some precious time onto their break, but walking on a full bladder wouldn't be fun either. She caught the eye of a nearby staff member, who was wearing orange overalls and a name tag. "Hey, excuse me," she said, "where's the nearest working bathroom?" "Sorry, ma'am, there's a plumbing issue. We can't let anyone in any of the bathrooms until we're sure they'll flush properly. Hygiene reasons". Emma heard this, and arrived on the scene with a panicked look on her face. "We can't not go," she said, "we need to use this bathroom right now. Some of the kids are going to have accidents". The man shook his head. "The only thing I can offer you is to let you use the port-a-potty out back. It's emergencies only, but judging by the look of some of your students, I think this counts as emergency, don't you?" —————————————————————— "This is ridiculous". "Can I go in front of you?" "If she doesn't hurry I'm gonna pee my pants". "Oh, God, I have to go so bad". "This had better speed up soon". Shuri stood at the back of the line, eyes closed, trying to block out the whining and complaining to her right. It wasn't going well. She leant against the cold brick, feeling the cool through the clothes on her back, battling the aching fullness of her bladder. Now they were standing still- or at least, most of them were- it had become a little easier, but every breath still sent a powerful reminder of how badly she needed to go. They were lined up outside, in what looked like a halted construction site around the back of the museum. it was a long queue. At one end stood Shuri, who had been the slowest person there, having been forced to stop and tie her shoes. Ordinarily some loose laces wouldn't have been a problem, but at that moment in time she suspected- no, she knew- that a trip and fall would spell the end of her hold. There was no way her bursting bladder would survive the impact. So she'd turned up later than even the teachers. Hell, by the time she'd got to the back of the line, even Dani and America had returned to the group. They said nothing of where they had been, but Shuri thought that the red of their cheeks told a much fuller story than their absent words. On the other end was a single-stall, plastic blue toilet, into which Jubilee was currently peeing her brains out. She hadn't been shy about it, either: no sooner had the port-a-potty door locked than those closest to it had heard her loud sighs and moans of relief as she emptied her bladder with the ferocity of a hosepipe. Poor Kate, who had been right beside the port-a-potty at the time, had been so tortured by Jubilee's relief that she'd had to hold her crotch just to ensure that she didn't have an accident. Between those two- the desperate Shuri and the rapidly pissing Jubilee- stood no fewer than twenty women. Towards the front of the queue were the Stepford Cuckoos, each squirming identically; Ellie, who was leaning against the wall in a way that made Shuri suspect she was trying to use it to help prevent pooping herself, and Kamala Khan, who was so desperate at that point that she didn't even mind loudly complaining about it to those around her. At the back of the queue, barely in front of Shuri, were Dani and America, Armor and Dazzler, Emma and Jemma and Rachel. The rest of the pack stood somewhere in the middle of the line. Shuri was in a tough spot. If one in two women needed to poop as well as pee, and pooping took twice as long as peeing, and peeing took an average of one minute per woman, she would have to wait for around half an hour before she could finally use the bathroom. She didn't think she could wait for half an hour. It was true that she could ask those in front of her to cut in, as she'd just heard Dazzler do, but Shuri simply felt too proud for that. And besides, if someone let her go in front only to have an accident... she'd never stop feeling the guilt. So instead she stood, leant back and waited, trying and failing to think about absolutely anything else in the world. "Shuri," a voice said. She opened one eye and looked around, where Shuri was surprised to see Jemma Simmons addressing her directly. Jemma looked like she was busting for a wee, but also genuinely concerned for the Wakandan Princess. "Are you okay?" Shuri thought for a second, then shook her head. "I feel like I'm not going to make it," she confessed. "Me neither," Jemma said, 'I'll try, but I'm already desperate. But if we can't wait that long..." she leaned in towards Shuri. Her eyes glimmered. "I think I have a plan". ———————————————————————————————————————— Carol watched enviously as Jubilee slipped out of the port-a-potty, a relieved expression plastered all over her smug little face. She’d have given anything to be in Jubilee’s shoes at that very moment, anything to be feeling relieved and empty rather than uncomfortable and seriously worried that she might be about to deposit a load in her underwear. She knew this was not a particularly teacher-like sentiment to hold, but she didn’t much care. After all, she wasn’t a teacher, and if Professor X didn’t like that then he shouldn’t have invited her. The jealously of Jubilee’s recent release was rapidly replaced by another emotion: concern. Next in line were the three Stepford Cuckoos, each looking in serious trouble. All three of the girls had their hands buried in their crotches, grasping on tightly as if afraid to let go. In her own desperation, Carol hadn’t considered what might happen when they reached the front of the queue, and it seemed that none of the other adults had thought it through either. Now, though, she realised that, as the closest adult there, it was going to be her job to figure out how three psychically linked women were supposed to use one tiny cubicle at the same time. She stepped out of line, looking towards the trio, who were at that point practically dancing with desperation. “Hey, Cuckoos. How does this work?” she asked, genuinely unsure what might happen. She had never even met these bizarre specimens until the previous morning, but on the bus she’d witnessed first hand the fact that they couldn’t just go one at a time. When the brain sent the signal to the body to let go, it sent a signal to all three bodies- because there was only one brain, Carol realised, feeling more than a little confused by it all. “We all have to go simultaneously,” they chimed, grabbing their crotches in unison and squeezing, “it’s impossible to relieve ourselves independently”. “Okay, that’s kind of what I thought,” Carol said. She reassessed the situation. “How the fuck do these three survive?” she muttered under her breath. “Carol, we don’t have time for this,” Ellie spat. She was trying to play it tough, as per usual. It looked as though she wanted to give off the impression that she was simply concerned for the other girls in the line, but Carol knew better: the girl was obviously desperate to go herself and, judging by the way her butt was squished up against the wall, she wasn’t far from an accident herself. But Ellie did have a point when she said that they didn’t have time to spare. Jubilee and the Cuckoos were just four out of almost two dozen, and those at the back of the line looked doomed to wet themselves if she didn’t make a decision fast. “Okay, you three, it’s not ideal but we don’t have much choice. If one of you uses the bathroom, the other two are gonna have to squat outside and go on the floor”. The triplets looked far from thrilled with this solution, but Carol knew they weren’t really in a position to argue. “I’m sorry, kids, but it’s all we’ve got”. Still grabbing herself, Mindy swung open the door of the port-a-potty (sending a punch of poop-smell into the air outside) and stepped inside, locking it behind her. Her two sisters took their places on either side. “Hurry up, you stupid bitches!” Ellie yelled. She seemed to be reaching the end of her tether. “Go now, Cuckoos, and make it quick!” Carol yelled. As one, Phoebe and Celeste (and, although they couldn’t see her, Mindy too) unbuttoned their jeans and slid them down to their knees. Then, almost like an afterthought, the underwear followed suit and the two girls outside squatted, huddled so close to the wall of the cubicle that Carol was sure they could hear their sister in there. Unlike most of the group, the Cuckoos didn’t seem especially shy about revealing their bodies in front of the other women. All they seemed concerned about was that they weren’t going to be punished for urinating outside, in public. The permission from Carol was all they’d needed and, fortunately, there were no strangers outside to see what was happening. At that moment Carol felt incredibly glad that the man from the museum had gone back inside after he’d shown them where the port-a-potty was. She hadn’t intended to, but Carol was treated to an unexpectedly clear view of Phoebe Cuckoo’s naked bottom half as she squatted over the tarmac. The girl’s butt was pale and almost flawlessly smooth, her pussy a dark little triangle between slim thighs. She either didn’t know or, more likely, didn’t care that Carol was inadvertently staring at her most private area. Within a moment of the girls taking their squatting positions, a bright golden jet of pee shot out of her slit and began to pound the hot ground below. Such was the force that it seemed to almost be bouncing off of the stone, splashing across far enough to probably spray their shoes. Neither Phoebe nor Celeste seemed to care one bit about that; their eyes were closed and they wore identical expressions of blissful relief. Carol had never heard three genetically identical girls moaning in relief at the same time before, and she doubted that her ears would ever bare witness to something quite so bizarre again. But just as she was thinking that there was nothing left that could surprise her, Ellie Phimister did just that. “Fuck this!” she shouted. Carol turned her head towards the girl long since known as Negasonic Teenage Warhead and her jaw dropped. Ellie was wrestling with the button on her jeans, face red, cheeks puffed out. Carol wanted to stop her, to tell her not to do it, but before she could react Ellie’s zipper was already down. Seeing the Cuckoos get relief, it appeared, had been too much for her. The short-haired girl staggered into the shady spot beside Phoebe and squatted down before half of the women in the line had realised what was happening. “Ellie, no!” Carol cried, knowing already that it was too late. Between Ellie’s legs, beneath a surprisingly clean-shaven and girlish vagina, was emerging a thick, brown snake that had grown long enough to hit the ground before she had even started to push. Ellie looked around at the other women, furious. “Don’t you dare look!”, she threatened. It was no good; everyone was staring as the girl who proclaimed to be tougher than any of them relieved herself on the floor. It wasn’t long before the first log broke off and something more started to fall out of her. This time, though, the shit was looser, messier, and escaped more quickly to splatter on the ground between her thighs. The truth was that Carol desperately wanted to squat down beside Ellie and unload a sausage of her own, but she knew that she’d been in trouble too deep to escape if she did. So instead she ignored the urgency in her bowels and turned to the rest of the students. “If anyone thinks about doing the same thing, they’ll be walking back to New York!” she ordered. Deep down, a part of her thought that getting some relief might be worth the walk. ————————————————————————————————————— Shuri could do nothing but watch on in sheer horror as her personal nightmare unfolded before her eyes. It had been hard enough battling her bulging bladder already, feeling the weight of a morning of pee begging her to let it out. Now, though, she was being forced to watch as the Cuckoos and Ellie got relief on the floor just a few metres away? To see them not only empty their bladders but, in one case, their bowels as well? Was she really expected to keep holding herself while Ellie took a huge crap on the floor? No, it was too much. She felt her abdomen contract in a sudden spasm and a leak seeped from her pussy to wet the front of her underwear. Her eyes went wide with shock. She could feel the pee dribbling down her thigh. Time ticking away like sand slipping through the cracks, she turned to Jemma and whispered in an urgent tone. “What’s your plan? I have to get out of here, now”. “Me too,” Jemma whispered back. She looked around nervously. “We need a distraction”. Shuri took one glance around the group and raised an eyebrow at Jemma. Everyone but them was gaping at the spectacle- and the mess- that the Cuckoos and Ellie were making. Phoebe’s pee had run off in a river longer than the average Wakandan man. “I think they’re already distracted enough, let’s go!” she hissed, taking Jemma by the wrist. She dragged her away, around the corner and out of sight, leaving behind a chorus of panicked, angry or just plain desperate voices. Once they were safely away from the eyes of any of the other teachers, Jemma started explaining her plan. The English woman was walking strangely, seemingly unable to feign normality anymore under the weight of her urgent need. “We need to get back to the cafeteria before we go anywhere else”. “The cafeteria? Why?” Shuri was confused. She was surely only moments away from pissing herself and didn’t understand why Jemma wanted them to go somewhere where they most certainly couldn’t get relief. “They have napkins at the cutlery bar, we need some of those to wipe with”. “Napkins!” Shuri growled, “I’ve already started peeing in my panties and you’re talking about napkins?” “Do you want to be walking around with a soaking wet pussy all day?” Jemma snapped. The combination of desperation-induced anxiety and the need to keep their voices down was leading to one of the quietest arguments she’d ever had. And yet Jemma did have a point. They needed something to wipe with, if they wanted to avoid the risk of a nasty rash. “And besides,” she continued, turning red, “I don’t just need a wee. I’m busting for a poo as well”. This was news to Shuri, although she supposed it did go some way towards explaining the stale fart smell in the air. “Shit, well in that case we’d better hurry up”. The cafeteria was quieter than it had been last time they were in there, which had only been twenty minutes ago but felt like hours. They snuck through like criminals on the run, trying to get in and out before they had any accidents, not so quickly as to arouse suspicion. Jemma reached for the napkins and grabbed four, paused, then took three more for good measure. “Okay, we’ve got the napkins, where now?” Shuri asked, practically dancing in urgency. Jemma turned to her, still keeping her voice low. “There’s an alleyway around the side of the museum,” she said, “I saw it on Google Maps this morning. If we can sneak down there, there has to be some bins or something we can duck behind”. Shuri’s bladder had never felt so painful. Every step threatened to make her burst. “How far?” she croaked. “If we can get out through the main entrance it’s just around the corner”. Somehow, despite the most intense desperation she’d ever experienced, they made it to the main hall without any accidents, although Shuri couldn’t stop a handful more hot leaks squirting into her underwear. That was when her body decided to crank it up to eleven. Past the towering dinosaur skeleton, just the busy arches of the entrance, she finally froze up and could move no more. They were standing at the very top of the enormous stone staircase that led up the the entrance, back in the open air. Dozens of people were flowing in and out of the museum on either side of the pair, cultivating a sickening sense of claustrophobia that strangled her bladder. Shuri felt sure that the next step would be the last she took in dry jeans. “Shuri, come on, we need to go,” Jemma said, trying to tug her along, “I think I’m touching cloth here!” Shuri shook her head numbly. “You go,” she moaned, “I can’t move any more”. The biggest leak yet sprayed from her tight pussy. She looked down. It had created a wet spot over her crotch. “You have to try,” Jemma hissed. Her resolve was failing, though. She was too desperate to wait around for Shuri. Slowly, resignedly, the Wakandan girl reached down and unbuttoned her jeans. A final, last-ditch effort to move somewhere even slightly quieter was met with the answer she’d expected- she simply couldn’t take another step. Her muscles were failing. A few more seconds and they would be gone. Shuri couldn’t believe what she was about to be forced to do. She pushed her jeans down, down her thighs towards the knees, but left her pink panties up. Hot urine began to spill from her pussy before she’d even had time to squat, saturating her underwear in seconds and spraying her denim on the way down. The rest of it started soaking the stone floor, pushing out in a river that flowed down the steps in front of her. Already, almost everyone within a hundred feet was staring. People backed away in disgust, some laughed, some pointed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jemma turn and hobble away. Shuri couldn’t bring herself to care as she stood at the top of the steps, pissing through her panties. She had made the decision not to lower her underwear in an attempt to keep her privates and butt away from prying eyes, but now she saw that her efforts had been in vein; the soaked material was growing transparent, leaving the shape of her dark pussy lips clearly visible to anyone close enough. The relief felt orgasmic, but the humiliation overpowered it. As she watched, people as far as ten steps down were forced to leap out of the way of the golden waterfall gushing from between her legs. There had to be a hundred people watching. One of them, she realised with a terrifying suddenness, was a security guard, dressed head to toe in navy blue. He was charging up the steps, looking furious. He doesn’t understand, she thought. He doesn’t realise I had no choice. He thinks I’m some kind of criminal. On an otherwise clear, hot day, the dark patterns of her pee-stains contrasted heavily with the solid light grey of the steps. He was getting closer. If she didn’t get moving soon she’d be caught, and then what? Thrown in jail? That thought was enough to get Shuri moving. Fighting with everything she had, she clenched off the flow early, pulled up her jeans and ran without bothering to button them back up. ——————————————————————————— Jemma left Shuri behind, knowing there was nothing she could do to help the poor girl now. In a way, she felt guilty. Shuri would probably have made it to the alleyway had Jemma not insisted on their little detour to the cafeteria, but she knew that she couldn’t afford to go for a poo without bringing something to wipe with. The smell- and the risk of infection- was just too high. And now she had other things to worry about, namely the thick turd that was starting to poke through her anus and look for a way out. She hurried down the steps, away from the unfolding implosion that was Shuri's life, already checking eagerly for any signs of the alleyway she'd seen on the internet earlier that day. It took her a few moments to spot it- not long, but long enough to allow the poop to slip out a few more millimetres. She groaned while her bowels protested angrily. Jemma headed straight for the opening, happy at least that the crowd were too occupied with watching Shuri peeing to see her slip in. There, she ducked down behind a big dumpster that stood at one side. She couldn't remember ever getting her clothes off so quickly, even before sex; they were around her ankles in a second. But it had been a little too late. As she squatted there, feeling her bum being stretched to what she had assumed were impossible proportions, she realised that a small nugget of poop no bigger than a rabbit dropping had broken off and nestled in her pants just before she'd got them down. Gingerly, she picked a piece of tissue out of her bag and picked it up, dropping it with the rest of the growing pile she was creating- Her bag. She'd had tissues in there- of course! Jemma resolved not to mention this to Shuri. It might be better if she didn't find out. Instead, she tucked the packet back into the bag and kept focusing on pushing out the rest of her emergency poop. Up to that point she'd been too desperate at that end to think about the other, but now the pee came, sprinkling and showering the pile of mess on the ground. It felt almost too good. The idea that she might relieve her desperation in private, without being heard or seen by any of the students, hadn't even occurred to her, let alone the idea that she might only lose a tiny bit in her underwear. Now she was there, her body shook with the pleasure of relief. And was that- no, it couldn't be, surely- was she starting to feel horny? Yes, a timid brush of her lips with two fingers confirmed: they weren't just wet with pee. The pleasurable, almost sexual sensation of relief, coupled with the feeling of her bumhole being stretched out as if in anal sex, must have turned her on. Jemma knew then that she'd have to make a decision quickly. Her body was not the kind to give up easily, and if she didn't take care of herself now she knew she'd stay aroused until she got that kind of relief. And there was no telling when the next opportunity for a quick wank might come along. On the other hand, if she got caught... Ah, screw it, she thought, starting to rub in circles around her clit with those same two fingers. She was pushed for time, so the last few logs of her poo were still sliding out slowly as she masturbated. She'd never experimented with that before, but it felt incredible, being stimulated at both ends at the same time. Her eyes closed, her breathing picked up quickly, and before too long she felt close to orgasm already. Until- She heard footsteps. Those deep eyes flew open, her body freezing up in fear. For a second she couldn't breathe. Shuri was standing there. Her jeans were soaked in piss. "Holy shit," she said quietly —————— Laura Kinney had seen plenty of weird shit during her short time on earth, but very little of it had come close to being as bizarre as what was happening before her eyes now. If she didn’t trust her vision as completely as she did, she may not have even believed it was really there at all. Every woman in a twenty-metre radius (which comprised of almost the entire touring group) could see Phoebe Cuckoo’s pussy in far more detail than they could ever have wanted, a bald little thing that was hosing down the gravel with forceful jets of piss. On the other side of the port-a-potty, her sister was doing the same, although her distance afforded her a little more modesty. It had been surely more than a minute since they had started urinating right there out in the open, apparently too desperate to care who saw, and only now were those cascading streams finally beginning to die down. After a few seconds, they simply stood and replaced their clothes without bothering to wipe. Mindy emerged from the port-a-potty and almost immediately Laura noticed an impossible-to-miss wet spot on the crotch of her jeans. It appeared that her siblings had let go- or rather, lost control- before she was ready, and the result had been that she hadn’t quite maddest in time. Laura could only guess that she’d got stuck fiddling with a button or zipper when her bladder had simply given up in unison with her two sisters. And there, in the middle of it all, the crowning jewel amongst sheer insanity, was Ellie Phimister, still unloading one of the biggest dumps that Laura had ever seen. In her squatting position, the mess that she’d been unable to hold in and been forced to deposit on the floor was piling up so high that it threatened to brush against the girl’s pussy. She’d peed on it, too, and the dirtied urine ran across the floor in a brown-and-gold river. She looked mortified beyond words, but underneath the embarrassment it wasn’t hard to detect the joy of reliving herself in her expression. And oh, how Laura wanted that same relief. She was absolutely desperate for a shit of her own, feeling bloated and heavy and almost unable to walk without letting out a series of farts that grew gradually stinkier as the minutes passed. You didn’t need to be a doctor to tell Laura that she didn’t have long at all before she lost control and went in her pants. Throughout her entire life, she’d only needed to go this desperately twice, and both times had ended with her filling her underwear- not that she’d ever admit that to anyone. The first of those occasions had been many years ago, when she’d been a far younger woman. The second, though, had only been a few weeks before the trip to DC. After a particularly long day of studying at the X-Mansion, her stomach had cramped up on the way to her bedroom. She’d known right away that she had food poisoning and, not willing to risk waiting in the lines for the shared bathrooms, had headed to her living space in an effort to make it somewhere private where she could shit her brains out for as long and as loudly she needed to. Instead, she’d gotten halfway up the stairs before a liquid volcano of shit had erupted into her panties. No sooner had Mindy left the port-a-potty than Emma Frost rushed in, pushing ahead of several people in line. Nobody was in much of a mood too scold her for her queue-jumping; the White Queen looked too far gone to even have a conversation about it, clutching her arse with both hands as she waddled in. Not only could Laura still see the woman’s panty line visible through her jeans, but she was fairly confident she could see a bulge in the seat where she was already starting to mess herself, too. With Emma out the way, Laura started to wonder who was the most desperate to go out of the remaining women. She thought that she herself was a particularly good nominee. However, there were still two women in the group who looked somehow more in need of a bathroom than she felt, which was an impressive feat in itself. They were both near the front of the queue, talking in hushed but still audible voices about how bad they had to go: Kamala Khan and Carol Danvers. ——————————————————————— “When was the last time you had to go this bad?” Carol asked, hoping that conversation would distract them but finding herself hopelessly unable to think of any topic other than poop. Kamala gave her a curious look; for a second it was like she was remembering something, some long-gone ghost. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, the mist in her eyes was gone. “Last year,” Kamala said, “I was at the fair with some friends from school”. “What happened?” “We were in line for an hour for this ride. You know the ones that spin you around in a circle real fast?” Carol nodded. “It was one of those. And I don’t like them much anyway, to be honest. But my friends kind of dragged me on. If I’d known how long the line was gonna be, I’d have gone before we joined it. It was one of those lines where once you’re in you can’t get out without pushing past a hundred people, y’know?” “Yeah,” Carol said with a laugh, “I’ve made that mistake before”. “So, anyway, the whole line I had to poop so frickin’ bad. Like, it was awful. I was cramping up and letting out these little silent farts every time I thought I could get away with it. I still don’t know how nobody knew it was me, it smelt terrible”. “I’ve been doing that for the last ten minutes,” Carol admitted, “Oh, man, I gotta shit so much. I don’t know how I haven’t lost it and crapped my pants already”. “Me neither, I think it might be poking out,” moaned Kamala. “Carry on talking, I think your story might be the only thing distracting me enough to keep me sane”. Kamala nodded vigorously. “Well, farting’s not so bad today, ‘cause everyone else needs to go too, right? Only, back at the fair I was the only one. But I really thought I could hold it until we got off the ride”. “You shit yourself on the ride?” Carol said, looking like she was trying to suppress a smile. “Bingo,” Kamala said bitterly, “but in my defence, I almost made it. I was clenching my cheeks so hard, and I thought I could manage. But as soon as the ride started to slow down at the end, I just lost it. It filled my panties and then some”. “What did you do?” “Apologise a lot to the poor guy who had to clean it up,” she said, and they both cracked up. But her face turned dark and serious once again and a hand snuck behind her to check out the state of her underwear. Carol straightened up, realising what had happened. “Did you shart?” she guessed. “Worse,” Kamala said, looking pale, “it’s started sliding out. I can’t stop it!” “Oh, man, I think I’m the same,” Carol groaned. She wasn’t just saying it to make the younger woman feel better, either: she could feel her exhausted anus stretching and expanding despite every effort she was making to hold it back. “If we don’t make it, then I don’t want you to feel embarrassed”. “I will, though. Hell, I already do”. “But why?” Carol said reassuringly, “we’re all women here. We’re friends, right?” Kamala blushed. She looked as though she might cry, were she not so desperate to go. “I guess it’s just hard for me to see it that way. You’re like my hero, Carol. You’re Captain Marvel. It’s… it’s strange to go from seeing you like a Goddess to having a conversation with you about shitting”. Carol smiled at her then, and suddenly she was starting to feel better. The self-consciousness around Carol was slowly stripping away over the course of the trip. Now they’d seen each other at their most vulnerable. “You’re not so bad yourself, kid,” Carol said. The emotion of the moment was tainted somewhat by a loud, wet fart from Carol. Normally this would’ve been funny, but the fear in Carol’s eyes told her that this time it was no laughing matter. The blonde woman went to the port-a-potty into which Emma Frost sounded like she was unloading an entire swamp and bashed on the door with a clenched fist. “Emma, how long are you gonna be? There’s a lot of accidents about to happen out here,” she demanded. Emma’s muffled voice didn’t give the answer they were after. “I’m not even nearly done, sorry,” she called, followed by a strained grunting noise and another mushy splatter. Carol turned back to Kamala, defeated. “Sorry, kid, looks like I’m not gonna make it,” she confessed. Kamala sighed, holding her stomach. “Me neither,” she said. She was hit by a sudden cramp. “In fact, I think I’m already going”. “Serious?” “Yeah, it’s coming out,” she groaned, closing her eyes. The smell hit Carol then, and it triggered something in her body that robbed her of that final bit of control. “Oh, shit, me too”. “Really?” “Yeah, I can’t stop it!”’ And she wasn’t lying, either. Kamala could only watch as her personal hero started to fill her own pants with shit. ———————————————————————————————————————————————— Armor didn’t even want to think about what was happening not ten feet from her. She couldn’t afford to think about it. With every moment that passed, her tortured anus gave way to another few millimetres of the solid brown monster that was inevitably slipping out of her, out of control, into her tight panties that she could still see through her jeans. This was an unmitigated disaster. Jubilee empty but powerless to help. The Cuckoos empty, but two of them looking at facing legal action if CCTV footage was ever examined. Ellie likewise facing possibly even more serious scrutiny for both indecent exposure and defecating on private property. Jemma and Shuri gone, God knows where. America and Dani barely back from a disappearing act of their own, pretending that they hadn’t snuck off to get handsy, presumably in some closet somewhere in the museum. Emma Frost locked in the only available toilet, shitting her brains out and showing no signs of being ready to come out any time soon. Almost every woman she hadn’t checked off in her head was either desperate, about to soil themselves or- potentially- already in the process of doing it. And she was in the last category. Armor, who had long since liked to think of herself as one of the strongest young mutants in the entire school, was slowly but surely messing herself. There was no honour in this. And yet she couldn’t stop it- in no more than maybe two minutes the log would no longer be a part of her. Instead it would be sagging down her panties with what she didn’t doubt would be an extraordinary weight. Armor’s loads, more often than not, were huge. She couldn’t let it break off into her underwear. She knew what she had to do. “Cover for me,” she told America, who was dancing on the spot with the effort of holding in her pee, “I have to get out of here”. America looked at her, nodded once and wished her good luck, but Armor barely heard before she had already gone. There was only one place she could go, only one thing she could do. She’d only just gotten around the corner when she heard quick footsteps behind her. A glance over her left shoulder told her who it was: Dazzler. The blonde girl had a heavily bloated belly and a pained expression, but was moving surprisingly fast. “Where do you think you’re going?” Armor asked, more harshly than she’d intended. “I heard what you said. I’m about to poop myself. If you’re going somewhere, I want in”. Armor sighed. “I don’t have this great plan. It’s probably not even going to work, but I can’t stay there and mess myself without trying”. “So where are we going?” “Same place any girl goes when she’s got to poop,” Armor said. “The bathroom? But they aren’t flushing!” “Yep. Some poor bastard’s going to have to clean up when we’re done,” she said grimly. “That’s gross,” Dazzler groaned. “What choice do we have?” “You have a point- urgh!” The urgh was forced by a particularly vicious cramp that gurgled loudly enough for even Armor to hear. “So we’re going to trash a toilet?” “We’re going to trash a toilet,” Armor agreed. “And this one looks as good as any,” she said, pushing through a nearby wooden door and ignoring the out of order sign. “But it’s a men’s bathroom!” “There aren’t gonna be any men in here,” Armor pointed out, “but there is some bad news”. “Oh, shit,” Dazzler said when she saw the room. Armor hadn’t heard her swear much before, but at that moment she had a good reason. The bathroom only had one toilet stall. Other than that, it was all sinks and urinals. Not wanting to waste a second longer, Armor headed for the stall. She could feel the poop slipping out of the tight grasp of her asscheeks. As she’d expected, there was no water in the bowl. She couldn’t think about that now- it was now or never. Armor unbuttoned her jeans, unable to believe what desperation had driven her to do. But before she could sit down, Dazzler pulled up beside her, also getting undressed from the waist down. “Please let me go first, Armor,” she pleaded. Red cheeks, wide eyes, sweating on the forehead- no doubt, she was desperate. She whirled around unexpectedly, showing Armor her bare bum, and used her hands to spread her cheeks apart. One of the thickest logs Armor had ever seen was poking several inches out of the tight pink hole. “It’s coming right now”. Armor had half a mind to tell Dazzler to back off, that this had been her idea and that she was in a similar state herself. But her honour prevented her from doing that. So she stepped aside, allowing the other girl to sit down. When Dazzler was seated, the noise of her explosion was like nothing either girl had ever heard before. Armor slid her jeans and panties down around her ankles and stood with her legs wide apart. She didn’t care how close up Dazzler could see her pussy when she stood that way. She didn’t think she’d be able to hold it in long enough for the other girl to finish, and she wasn’t going to risk getting her underwear dirty again. ——————————————————————————————————— Kate didn’t usually believe in self-pity, but she couldn’t help cursing her luck, standing there trying not to piss herself. Of course she was the one Jean had asked to move back in line, to let some of the “more desperate” students and teachers go first. And of course she’d said yes, too noble to turn Jean down- or maybe too scared of her. Not many of the people on that trip gave Kate cause for fear- Ellie certainly didn’t, or Laura, despite the tough-girl personas- but Jean was among them. So she’d agreed, relented, moved almost to the back of the line while the Cuckoos and Ellie and countless others either got relief or escaped somewhere to try. Jean Grey, for her part, still had control of her bodily functions, but she seemed completely out of control of the group she was supposedly in charge of. While Professor X commanded all of the students effortlessly, Jean didn’t appear to have any ability to keep them in the same place, much less keep them calm. America and Dani may have only just rejoined the group, but several others had disappeared in the last few moments, including Jemma- who was supposed to be one of the adults, after all. Kate could understand their panic, of course. She was bursting to go, unsure how much longer it would be before the wet patch in her underwear soaked through and became a wet patch on the front of her jeans. Surely it wouldn’t be long. But that didn’t explain why she was almost the only one expected to keep a level head. Everyone else was free to panic, abandon the group or (if Ellie’s little display was any indication) apparently take a steaming hot shit on the floor. It didn’t seem remotely fair. Now, one of the people she’d thought was the least likely to lose control was in the process of doing exactly that. From where she was standing, Kate could clearly see the bulge growing almost impossibly large in the back of Carol Danvers’ pants. It must’ve been so difficult for Captain Marvel to stand there messing herself, knowing that she could simply fly to the nearest bathroom if not for their need to keep a low profile. What could only make it worse was the presence of Carol’s long-time idol, standing a few metres away and doing exactly the same thing. They both looked horrified, mortified. The smell was overwhelming from both of them, although Kate suspected that that was partly the fault of Ellie, who’s dump still hadn’t been cleaned or covered up. The women were simply avoiding it. Emma Frost, only just finishing up taking a loud crap in the port-a-potty a few metres away, was another obvious culprit. Kate, after her bathroom exploits the previous night and that morning, hadn’t needed to poop. Or, at least, she hadn’t thought she’d needed to poop until suddenly she was surrounded by women who were either pooping or bursting to poop. Suddenly, triggered by the sounds, sights and smells of their experiences all around her, her bowels seemed to decide that they wanted emptying. The only benefit of what was going on in such a terribly public place was that nobody noticed, or minded, that she was starting to fart without spending much time worrying about if anyone else could hear it. It just felt good to remove some of the pressure. The main concern was still her bladder, though- even before she finally started to lose control. Feeling her breath shorten, her chest tighten up, she turned to the nearest authority figure she trusted to actually give her some kind of answer. Those options weren’t great. Jean had lost all semblance of order, Emma was pooping, Jemma had gone without telling anyone, taking Shuri along for the ride and Carol was a little busy taking a crap in her pants. That left Rachel Summers, whose usual sense of dry humour had completely vanished. She stood pale-faced, squirming so subtly that only someone looking closely would notice. “Rachel, I’m wetting myself,” she pleaded, “you have to help. Like, right now”. Rachel looked down at her, her eyes a mix of empathy and worry. “I don’t think I can hold it much longer, either,” she said earnestly, “I can’t believe the Professor scheduled us these tiny bathroom breaks, it was never going to work”. “I think men just don’t understand that women need more time to- ooh!” The ooh came from the hot squirt of pee that had just escaped her and wet her crotch. This time, she didn’t need to look down to know that it had soaked all the way through to the front of her jeans. If she removed the hands that were squeezing tight, she knew everyone could see. “I wish I could help you, Kate, I’m sorry,” Rachel said. Her eyes widened slightly and she gasped. “Although- if it’s really an emergency- there might be something I can do…” ————————————————————————————————— “Dazzler, I need you to hurry up,” Armor demanded, feeling her cheeks being forced apart. “I’m going as fast as I can!” came the pained reply, as the girl on the toilet tried her best to hurry up the vast volume of crap that was flowing out of her without any signs of letting off any time soon. “There’s so much!” “Then get up! You’ve had your turn, you can hold in the rest while I go!” “I’m trying!” she grunted with the effort of pushing once more, trying to speed up the process. All it achieved was an additional loud fart that rang out in the near-empty room. Trying wasn’t good enough for Armor. She was trying, too- trying everything she could to stop the monster turd inside her from slipping out, but to no avail. She knew she only had one more option, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. “Screw this, I can’t hold it,” she spat, turning her back on the helpless Dazzler, “I’m gonna have to go in the sink. We can clean it up later. Or not, who even cares at this point?” Before she could get to the sink, though, she was hit by the kind of cramp that she knew even she couldn’t withstand. The girl with the usually iron bowels had finally had enough. She froze up, legs spread open in mid-stride, waddling due to the jeans that were around her ankles, restricting her movement. There was just time for one sudden, terrible thought before she finally lost control: Dazzler, still sitting on the toilet behind her, had a perfect view of her ass as the cheeks parted. There was nothing she could do about it now. It was too late. She was having an accident. ————————————————————————— Dazzler could only watch when she realised what was happening. She was immobilised, too, just as Armor was- the difference was that she was sat down on the toilet, where the damage she could do was limited. Armor wasn’t so lucky. It was like watching a car crash. There was no taking her eyes off it, no matter how much she knew she should. Armor’s whole back and shoulders heaved in a hitching, desperate sob. Her slim, toned buttcheeks opened up a little more, as much as she imagined they could possibly go, exposing a pert, pink hole surrounded with wrinkled skin. And there- right in the centre- was the poop, just beginning to crown, finally escaping the realms of Armor’s incredible self-restraint. Before her eyes it grew, from a few millimetres to a few inches, snaking out thick and hot until eventually it was long enough to dangle like a tail. Whatever Armor ate, it had to contain something that held her loads together, because this monster of a log stayed in one piece until eventually it started growing thinner and- finally- fell off to land with a heavy thud at her feet. Some of it, the end that had emerged first, landed in her underwear and coiled there, while most ended up on the floor. She wasn’t done there, either; a second piece didn’t hesitate to start forming, stretching out that tight hole as soon as it had contracted, threatening to tear it with the sheer width of the thing. Armor made the mistake of reaching back with one hand to try and hold her butt closed and the shit pressed out into her hand. In an instant she realised what had happened and pulled her arm away with a yelp, but it was too late- Dazzler could see the brown stain on her palm. She turned back around to the girl on the toilet, flashing her pussy once again. Her eyes were wide and panicked. “Dazzler, move- now”. Before she had finished the three-word-sentence the second log had fallen out and landed atop the other one. “I don’t want to be insensitive,” Dazzler said, feeling more poop emerge from her own butt and splash into the bowl, “but it looks like it’s too late”. “No, you idiot,” Armor snarled, “I need a fucking piss, right now. Get up”. Dazzler had never heard the girl use such language, so she knew it had to be something serious. But she knew she couldn’t get up without pooping on the floor, and she knew it would do them no good to have two separate loads on the bathroom floor. And besides, to sit there and let it out felt incredible. “I can’t,” she said simply, “I’m sorry”. Armor’s eyes suddenly narrowed and she headed for the toilet. “Well, you’d better spread your legs, then,” she said. ————————————————————————————————— In a lifetime of battles, missions and deadly encounters, Jean Grey had never felt so helpless. She’d fought and killed, won and lost, loved and hated… how typical, then, that the thing that finally stumped her essentially amounted to a gaggle of teenagers on a school field trip. She simply had no idea what to do. The biggest problem, for the time being at least, was the smell. They may have been outside, in an area that couldn’t be more ventilated, but still the air hung heavy with the scent of the shit of at least half a dozen women. It was only made more pungent by the farts that seemed to come every few seconds now, and the pee left on the floor by two thirds of the humiliated wrecks that this trip had turned the Cuckoos into. Their mess, along with the disgusting pile Ellie had left on the floor, the accidents of Carol and Kamala and the many loads that had been deposited into that poor port-a-potty, formed that one terrible odour. Jean knew that she should be concerned that four of their party had vanished into thin air without telling her, three of them students, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. If anything, she was grateful that they weren’t there: at least this way the line was smaller and the farts were slightly less constant. It might have been easier for Jean to focus were she not desperate for the toilet herself. Instead, she had to go worse than she’d ever had to go, and for what? Pride? In her head, she hated herself for not seeing this coming. The girls had been right. The Professor was a genius, and a wise man, but in his masculinity he’d been too short-sighted to forsee that his strict approach to bathroom break scheduling simply wouldn’t work with over twenty women. Even if the restrooms around the museum had been open (and a sneaking suspicion in her mind suggested that perhaps that was where Armor and Dazzler had gone), he was expecting all of them to hold it from nine in the morning until early afternoon. He just didn’t understand that they didn’t get to pick and choose the timing of their urges like that. When a girl’s gotta go, she’s gotta go, Jean thought wryly. And even then, it was a near-guarantee that almost all of them would be pretty bursting by the time his carefully allotted ten minutes rolled around. How could he think that that would be enough time for all of them? No, it had always been a stupid plan. He didn’t come up with many stupid plans, but Jean shouldn’t have been so blind as to not see that this was one of them. She should have gone against his word. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and she should’ve known that it was for the best on this occasion. Instead she’d pig-headedly insisted that they do as he wished, even though he wasn’t here and had no reason to ever find out, and look where it had landed them. Look where it had landed her. There she stood, getting surer by the second that she was about to shit herself for the first time in her adult life. Try as she might, Jean couldn’t see any other way for this to end. If Emma came out right now, and Jean pushed into next in line, perhaps she’d make it. But that just wasn’t an option. She was supposed to be the leader of this day out… and, more importantly, a role model for the younger women she was in charge of. Pushing through for selfish reasons was a terrible example to set. No, she’d have to hold on as long as she could and only use the bathroom once she was sure that it wouldn’t cause any accidents for anyone else. And that was the trouble. She could feel the log stretching out between her cheeks, hard and knobbly as they often were, and it felt like it was still moving. No matter how hard she clenched, her tight hole couldn’t get enough friction to slow the turd to a stop. Her stomach ached terribly, and although she hated to admit it Jean had reached the point of no return. She was going to have an accident. The only comfort- if you could even call it that- was the presence of Hope Summers by her side. As the new girl, Jean knew she had to pay extra attention to making sure Hope was okay, and she saw a lot of herself in the young redhead. She was the only one left who hadn’t run off somewhere, gotten completely lost in their own desperation, found some way to relieve herself or gone off in their own little conversation. Jean quietly appreciated the company, although she felt bad for Hope, who looked like she was just as bursting as Jean. “You okay, Hope?” Jean asked, knowing the answer was no but thinking it was probably polite to ask anyway. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it, Jean,” came the inevitable response. The girl was blushing furiously, clearly embarrassed to admit that she was on the verge of filling her panties to a teacher. But there was no need to be embarrassed at all- at least, not to Jean’s mind. “There’s no shame in not making it, kid,” she said honestly, “a lot of people haven’t, and I’m guessing a few more will have accidents too before this is over. Hell, I’m pretty sure I’m about to be one of ‘em”. That seemed to change Hope’s demeanour. She looked surprised. “Really?” Jean wasn’t usually one for opening up to such a degree, but she realised that she had an opportunity to make the whole ordeal a lot easier on Hope if she was honest. “I’ve never had to poop this bad before,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper, “it’s already poking out”. “Mine too!” Hope hissed back, jiggling around in a clear attempt to hold it. Her breasts bounced frantically when she moved. “If Emma doesn’t hurry, I’m gonna need new underwear”. ——————————————————————————————— “Anything, Rachel, whatever it is,” Kate moaned, “just tell me, I’ll do whatever it takes”. Rachel looked the poor girl in front of her up and down. She knew that what she was considering was plain wrong. It would be wrong even if she was just one of the students, but she was supposed to be there as a teacher, a chaperone. To suggest what she was about to suggest was completely unethical, not to mention gross, and was sure to land her in a lot of hot water with the Professor if he ever found out. And yet… was it really more unethical than letting someone wet themselves? Someone barely older than a kid, too, who was asking her for help. Rachel wasn’t sure she’d be able to live with herself if she just watched as this young woman humiliated herself. She wasn’t like Jean. She couldn’t just stand by and let it happen. There had already been plenty of humiliation around them, but Rachel had been powerless to do anything about that. Everyone knew that Jean was at the top of the chain of command, with herself and Jemma at the bottom. What had happened to Ellie and the Cuckoos and Kamala was up to Jean to intervene in. This here was completely Rachel’s responsibility now. She was the one Kate had asked for help, possibly because Kate knew Rachel was the most likely to do something, and now she was the one who would have to feel guilty if she declined to do anything. It was a bad idea. But Rachel knew she had to try. “Okay, come with me. Around this corner,” she said, hardly able to believe what she was about to do. It broke so many rules, not to mention several laws. “You don’t get it!” Kate whined, “I’m not gonna make it to the bathroom. No way. No chance”. “You don’t have to make it to the bathroom,” Rachel hissed impatiently, “you just have to make it out of Jean’s sight. She’d kill me if she saw what we’re gonna do”. And it was a case of what they were going to do, Rachel realised at once, not a case of what Kate was going to do. She was sure that watching Kate get relief while still denying it to herself would be impossible. Either both of them pissed, or neither of them did. She shot a glance at Jean, who was in some sort of conversation with Hope Summers. Their voices were too low to make out the words, but to Rachel’s inexpert eyes, both women looked almost as close to an accident as she felt. They were certainly not about to notice when Rachel and Kate snuck around the corner. A few of the other women saw them go, but with the amount of girls who had already deserted the queue, they barely even took a second look anymore. When they were safely out of sight, Rachel slung her backpack off of her left shoulder and set it on the ground. Bending down to unzip it was torture on her already-full bladder, constricting it like a balloon being squeezed. Kate was groaning and dancing in desperation in the corner of Rachel’s eye. “Hurry, Rachel,” she said, “it’s coming out”. Not deterred, Rachel drew from the bag a half-full, clear plastic water bottle. With trembling hands, she unscrewed the lid and handed it to Kate. “Piss in this,” she ordered. Kate sounded shocked. “How am I supposed to aim into this tiny hole?” “Figure it out,” Rachel said. She was running out of time before she lost control, and bending over wasn’t helping. At the bottom of her bag she found the second bottle, the one the students in her group had been sharing, and opened it. “Why can’t we just pee on the floor?” “No!” Rachel commanded, “we’ll definitely get caught, it will stain the gravel for hours”. “Can I at least pour the water out onto the ground?” Kate said, shifting from foot to foot. “Definitely not, it will look like a pee stain. You have to drink the water”. “There’s no room in my bladder for one more drop, Rachel, I’m serious”. Rachel sighed. She could certainly empathise with that. But what else could they do? “Watch this,” she said. She unbuttoned her jeans and slid them, along with her underwear, down to her knees. It restricted the movement of her legs massively, but that didn’t matter. The space between those smooth thighs was big enough to fit the bottle beneath her dark, hairy pussy. She chugged the water still in the bottle, knowing she needed to move quickly. It was hard not to feel the leak- just a few drops, but enough- dribble from her cunt and land in her panties a foot below. As soon as she was done drinking, making much-needed space in the bottle, she hastened to shove the bottle between her legs, lining up the hole as best she could with her urethra moments before she lost control completely and started gushing hot piss like a geyser. “You have to be quick, or the extra water will make you piss yourself,” she warned Kate. Hawkeye looked more than a little unsure, but the way she was dancing like a child told Rachel that the kid had no choice. She had already lowered her pants like Rachel, and started gulping down the water in her bottle, but she was doing a worse job of controlling her leaks than Rachel- which she supposed was understandable given the age difference. “Hurry!” Rachel yelled, watching a plethora of pee shooting out and soaking the girl’s panties. Finally, she finished the water and moved the bottle into position, but just a split second too late. Her aim was off slightly, and the stream hit the rim of the bottle, spraying every which way. Rachel felt some thin drops splatter against the back of her hand, but this wasn’t a good time to be squeamish. Like Rachel, Kate managed after a moment or two to get the bottle tucked snugly underneath her clit, and there was something satisfying about seeing the bottle fill up with golden liquid at lightning speed when Kate had her aim sorted. Rachel couldn’t see the pee in her own bottle yet, but she could feel the slightly pleasant way it was warming her hand. When she was sure that they weren’t going to leave any evidence on the ground, she couldn’t help joining in Kate’s moans of relief. The two voices harmonised into one sound of guilty pleasure. For a few seconds it looked dangerously like Kate’s bottle could overflow, but her stream started to die just a few centimetres shy of the top of the bottle. For her own part, Rachel felt herself run out of wee just in time, a huge relief at the end of the longest and largest piss she could ever remember doing. “Holy shit,” Kate said eventually, breaking the silence that had been filled with only moans and the hissing of pee, “that feels so much better!” “Holy shit,” Rachel breathed, “I can’t believe we’ve just done that”. Kate took the bottle cap back and started screwing hers on. “I guess these have to go back in the bag,” she asked. “Yeah, so make sure you seal it tight. We can’t have that spilling”. ——————————————————————— It was carnage. The moment Emma Frost finally emerged from the bathroom, letting out the foulest smell Jean had ever experienced, Kitty Pryde sprinted into the cubicle and didn't even bother closing the door before she yanked down her jeans and let rip. Although Jean couldn't see Kitty from that angle, she could certainly hear the sheer volume of the explosion of poo that splattered against the bowl. It sounded like Kitty had been as busting as Jean felt. She moaned openly in relief, not caring who heard, and kept expelling what seemed like an endless stream of liquid poop. As she was going, Riri Williams finally snapped. The generally-tough girl had had enough, and her tortured bladder couldn't hold out for a second longer. "I'm sorry, Jean, it's coming out!" she wailed, forcing her tight jeans around her ankles. She squatted and, despite her better instincts as a teacher, Jean's eyes were drawn to the girl's perfectly neat sex even before it exploded in a mess of steaming pee. A practical river grew quickly between her legs and ran parallel to the ones the Cuckoos had made just ten minutes or so ago. Jean was too desperate to care. Kitty, thankfully, was nowhere near as long as Emma had been in the bathroom. She emerged with her pants still around her ankles, clutching a hefty handful of toilet paper. It was nice of her to wipe standing up and save someone else some time, Jean thought, but they were lucky nobody else was out there. Jean was next in line... and yet, as a mentor, she couldn't deny Hope relief. "Go, Hope," she insisted. The girl didn't waste time arguing and hurried into the port-a-potty. Jean knew that, by letting Hope go first, she was condemning herself to doom. The accelerating escape of her monster turd was almost complete. She clenched her ass as hard as she could, focused every minute bit of her power on keeping it inside her, but she knew it was no good. You couldn't win against nature, and Jean knew that all too well. She could feel it edging further and further out of her, forming a bulge in the back of her jeans. It felt unbelievably thick, and heavy too. No matter what Jean did, no matter how hard she pushed back, her need to shit was stronger. When a girl's gotta go... Only when the thickest part of the log was already out of her, and holding it back became completely impossible, did Jean finally resign herself to her fate. She didn't realise at the time how many of her pupils were staring at her, unable to believe that this strong, powerful woman was having an accident in front of them. All she could think about was how shameful and how pleasurable it felt to finaolly have it out of her, the biggest poop she'd ever done. It broke off and nestled there warmly in her underwear, loose enough to squash around. Before she could think about it for too long, America Chavez rushed forwards to take the place of the exiting Hope in the port-a-potty. Seconds before she closed the door, Dani called out her name. The poor girl looked utterly desperate. "America, I'm about to piss myself," she said. Not wanting to waste time thinking, America beckoned her over, grabbed her arm and pulled Dani into the cubicle. Jean had no idea what to make of it as the door locked behind them. ----------------------------------------------------------- "Okay, don't argue, just do what I say," America ordered. She knew what had to be done, and it wasn't going to be pretty. But part of her was almost excited. She pulled down her panties and sat on the toilet, immediately releasing a powerful stream. It was cramped in there, and from her seat America found it easy to unbutton and lower Dani's jeans, despite the girl's squirming. "I'm seriously about to lose it-" Dani was cut off by the shock of a sudden feeling- it was America's mouth on her pussy. Ordinarily it would have felt amazing, but now she was lost. "What's going on?" "Pee in my mouth," America said simply. "Ew! No, I'm not going to do that!" Dani cried. But America knew that she wanted to, knew that she NEEDED to. Dani didn't have any choice. Clearly, she was at the end of her tether. With a flat tongue, America licked Dani once on the clit, and that was all it took. She started to lose control of her bladder into America's open mouth, as America was still pissing harder than she'd ever done before. Dani moaned in disbelieving relief, knowing how badly she needed this. A glimpse down at the top of America's curly hair almost made her want to come. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- While America and Dani took extreme measures, Laura Kinney was outside with a shit in her pants. She'd done everything she could to delay the inevitable, but it had been a few seconds too long. She wanted to cry, even safe in the knowledge that she was in the majority by not making it to the bathroom in time. She looked back at Jean, who seemed shellshocked by the afternoon's events. Everyone was looking to her for what to do next. The whole group was either missing, humiliated or in soiled clothing. Some were all three. "Okay," Jean said eventually, "trip's cancelled. Everyone try and contact the rest of the group, and let's make a beeline back to the hotel. I think we could all do with a hot shower". —————————————————————————————————————————————————— It was barely bright outside by the time Jean arrived on the bus, shutting the door behind her. Already seated were the array of tired and unenthusiastic women, peppered throughout the vehicle, not looking forward to the prospect of another five hours driving back to New York. It had been two days since their borderline-illegal exploits in and around the museum, and although they'd managed to get out of there before any policemen showed up, Jean had decided that it would probably be smart if the group of them lay low for a while and then got out of DC. The woman herself was the last person to get to the coach, having checked out of the hotel on behalf of her entire party. It was a responsibility that would usually have fallen to the Professor, but he had been called away on some urgent business of his own; although nobody knew the details, it seemed to involve Storm, David Haller and something to do with Wade Wilson in a strip club. That left Jean in charge- although, had he seen how she'd frozen up in the museum crisis, he might have thought twice before entrusting her with the job. That also left her driving the bus, seeing as nobody else had a license to do so. She gave the girls a short speech about behaving that she knew none of them would really listen to, asked them all to double check that none of them needed the bathroom before they left, and then pulled away to head to the highway as fast as possible. None of them fancied a stop at Joe's Diner on the way, even thought they technically still couldn't prove that it had been that place which had given the Cuckoos' that case of food poisoning. The Cuckoos, this time, were right near the front of the coach. The reasoning was simple: the adults had deduced that, after messing themselves simultaneously and pissing outside in public, they were the ones who really needed keeping an eye on. Mindy, Phoebe and Celeste insisted that they had taken extra care to empty their bladders and bowels that morning, but Jean didn't trust them regardless. She didn't want to stop off more than once between DC and the X-Mansion. The Cuckoos seemed to be the most likely candidates to cause a delay, should their bladders fill up once again. In the front two rows of seats were the rest of the adults. Emma Frost, Rachel Summers, Carol Danvers and Jemma Simmons hadn't talked openly about what had happened at the museum. All of them had some idea that Jemma had pooped in an alleyway and that Rachel had had some misadventure involving a bottle, but the specifics were hazy, and they were all happy keeping it that way. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them. Asking questions would only embarrass everyone, particularly Carol, who had publicly crapped herself in front of most of the kids and some adults, too. Three of the only girls who seemed totally unfazed by the events of the trip were Kate Bishop, Riri Williams and Shuri. The three had become inseparable over those few days, bonding together over sharp minds, a shared sense of rebelliousness and just a dash of girlish humour. They looked as if the humiliation of the museum was the furthest thing from their minds as they chatted happily about science, the Avengers and a billion other things nobody else could really keep up with. Today, Shuri wore her hair piled on top of her head in a flawless Wakandan style. Another unlikely friendship that had formed was that between Kamala and Kitty Pryde. They'd barely spoken until the incident in the museum cafeteria, when both had tried their best to go as long as possible without giving in and asking for a bathroom break to unload their aching bowels. Since then, though, a spark seemed to have formed between them, and they'd spent plenty of time together while Jean had them all hiding out in the hotel. It helped, too, that they had shared in the embarrassing experience of messing themselves at some point or another, like several other girls. Towards the back of the coach sat three stoney-faced, silent girls, barely speaking to one another. Laura Kinney looked as though she wanted nothing more than to pretend that the last few days of her life had never happened. Hope Summers was in a worse state; it was as though the girl was rethinking her whole decision to come to the X-Mansion in the first place. Then there was Armor, still ashamed at how she had dishonoured herself by using the out-of-order museum bathrooms, feeling terrible sympathy for whatever poor staff member had had to clean up that stinky mess. Her partner in crime, Dazzler, didn't look like she felt guilty at all. She didn't even seem to remember that Armor had peed through- well, mostly on- her thighs while trying to minimise the damage. Instead, she was talking happily to Jubilee, as usual, the only two girls on the coach who found each other particularly easy to talk to. They were the perfect fit, each of them more than happy to talk about boys, sex and music for as long as they could without ever getting close to growing bored. They'd taken their favoured seats near to the back. "Shoot, I already have to pee," said Dani Moonstar, shifting irritably in her seat. Beside her, America smiled. "Me too. Betcha I can hold it longer than you". "No way," Dani gasped, "I can hold it the whole way back to New York". "You're on," America said, "Ellie, you in?" Across the aisle, Ellie looked up. "In what?" "We're having a holding contest, interested?" Ellie thought about the offer for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Ah, what the hell. Nothing better to do on this trip anyway". She didn't think she had to mention that she already needed a shit. ——————————————————————— They were barely an hour into the journey when the problems began. Despite the best efforts of the three girls in the impromptu holding contest, each was becoming increasingly aware that keeping their pee in for the full duration of the long journey home would be more than just a small challenge. It didn't take a genius to work out that five hours and three young bladders didn't usually add up to a bone dry drive. "Okay," admitted America with a sheepish smile, "I kind of already have to pee". Dani couldn't help feeling relieved. Despite her best efforts, she was also already feeling the impact of her bladder filling rapidly up. She'd done what she could to ignore it, and yet now America had mentioned it, she knew it was quickly going to become urgent. "I think I do too," said Dani, deliberately underplaying it so as not to encourage the competition, "but I can hold it for, like, ages still right now". Perhaps unavoidably, she'd already started to feel a bloated fullness in her small bladder. Though she'd never admit it to Ellie or even America, just hearing about pee was often enough to make her really desperate. Ellie sat firmly on the other end of the social scale. Unlike the others, who (unbeknownst to her) had already benefitted from the unexplainable positives of talking about their desperation, Ellie didn't want to give them even the slightest sign of needing a wee until it was absolutely necessary. To show them that she had to go would surely be nothing more than accepting defeat, and she felt like she couldn't dream of such a thing unless the only alternative was pissing herself. People had always been hard on Ellie- and she'd gotten past that by holding herself to even higher standards, never allowing so much as a slip in self control, not even admitting publicly when she had to use the bathroom unless it was an absolute emergency. And even then she'd usually opt for something less 'watershed', resorting instead to using visual hints such as squirming or wiggling to alert the adults around her that she needed to visit a bathroom. Usually it would work. On rare occasions, though, clueless teachers or other grown-ups would completely forget that even tougher students such as Ellie would often need to respond to nature's call. It was only natural, after all. The trouble with Ellie, of course, was her tendency to forget legal and logistical problems when faced with a desperate situation. Sometimes, when they really had to use the bathroom, her toughly-trained friends could simply forget where the nearest one was and instead wet or even mess themselves. To them it wasn't usually a big deal. To Ellie, it had been just as normal- that was, until she'd moved to the X-Mansion, when she'd finally understood why sex and bathroom activities were kept so private. Sharing such things tended to end in some serious distractions, making student work far harder. And yet, as was well-known to almost everyone who'd ever met Ellie, she would rather die than admit such things as wetting herself to family and friends. To her, it was a sign of weakness, something to be ashamed of rather than embraced. She couldn't imagine what her old peers would say if they saw her now, just an hour into a holding contest and already feeling the pressure. Ellie wasn't used to her bladder or bowels putting this kind of pressure on her so soon. So, while Dani and America talked openly about their needs, Ellie kept to herself. ——————————————————————————— They weren't even halfway through the journey, but Dani was beginning to seriously doubt that she could make it home. It was worse than that- she wasn't even sure if she could hold onto the growing quantity of pee inside her until their rest stop. Jean wasn't telling them exactly where or when that would be, only that she fully intended to make it their one and only delay during the last stretch of a trip that couldn't be over soon enough. None of the girls were in any mood to argue- partly because they knew that arguing with Jean was fruitless, and partly because all of them wanted to be back at the X-Mansion just as much as she did. Anywhere where they couldn't wet, soil or publicly embarrass themselves had to be better than DC. Nobody felt more strongly about that ethos than Dani Moonstar herself, who had her own ulterior motives for eagerly anticipating a return to her own bed. Of course she wanted to put the disastrous events of the week behind her, like everyone else- but there was something more to it, too. After their meeting in the port-a-potty, opportunities to be alone with the enigmatic America Chavez had been few and far between. They had managed no more than a few private, whispered conversations while nobody else was standing too close. Sneaking off for a quickie was out of the question- Jean had her eye on them and they both knew everyone suspected the real reason for their absence in the museum, although none of them would ever prove it. Still, though, what little chats they had managed had been extremely promising- not to mention arousing- for Dani. America had told Dani about some of the things she wanted to experiment with when they got back to New York, which included some incredibly kinky stuff. Until meeting America, Dani had never thought of herself as a particularly raunchy woman. She'd usually preferred to stick to the vanilla- vaginal, anal, oral. The holy trinity. But now, it was like this exotic woman was opening all sorts of new doors for her, introducing her to so many concepts that Dani had never even heard of but was desperate to try. Something about the sparkle in America's eye when she asked Dani if she'd be interested in BDSM had convinced Dani that she was very interested indeed. The one thing they hadn't talked about, at least in terms of sex and sexuality, was what had happened between the two of them in the port-a-potty at the museum. The official party line- that is, the thing they were telling anyone who asked- was that they had both managed to fit on the toilet at the same time and pee simultaneously into the temporary bowl. It was clear- at least to Dani's mind- that almost nobody believed this story. For one thing, half the group had been in that port-a-potty at one point or another, and all of them were perfectly aware of exactly how small the seat was. There was no way that two adult women could fit on one seat at the same time and Dani knew it. So they knew they were lying- but, realistically, how many people were ever gonna guess what had really happened? And even if they did, who would be brave enough to accuse two powerful mutants of such a thing? Jemma Simmons knew. Dani didn't know how Jemma knew, or even how Dani knew that Jemma knew, but she was sure that the English woman, at least, knew exactly what had happened in there. She hadn't openly acknowledged it, perhaps understanding that some things were best left unsaid... but something in Jemma's eyes and the way she spoke to Dani made it abundantly clear that she knew what they had done. Dani had pissed in America's mouth, and America had swallowed. There was absolutely no chance of sugar-coating it, of twisting the words to make it sound better. America had drunk Dani's pee. Still, Dani had no idea how to feel about it. On one hand, it was totally gross, taboo and had to be kept a secret at all cost. And yet, America had been right when she'd said that Dani needed it. She really had been left with very little choice, so bursting had her bladder been to empty. Until America had suggested it, Dani would never have guessed that the only solution would be peeing into America's mouth, so that had at least rescued her jeans. The weirdest part was that Dani had actually enjoyed it. Maybe it was just the feeling of relief... but Dani knew deep down that there was more to it than that. She'd gotten real pleasure out of the feeling of America's lips and tongue on her pussy, the way she licked her on the clit to encourage her to let go of her bladder. And, in some way that she both understood and didn't, she'd enjoyed the power it had given her, loved the way that America had become so subservient. But had America enjoyed it, too? Dani thought so. She hadn't asked- they still hadn't addressed that particular desperate, kinky adventure yet. It was just a hunch. They'd need to explore further with that next time they got a chance. Dani made a mental note to ask America about that kink. Buried deep, a perverse part of Dani thought that she wouldn't mind the chance to piss in America's mouth right there and then. She was already growing in genuine desperate need of a toilet, and with no rest stop in sight things were getting urgent. She had done her best to avoid any visible sign of desperation, knowing that America and Ellie would notice straight away, but that wasn't possible for long. After a while it reached the point where Dani had no choice but to cross her legs. As she'd expected, her competitors picked up on the shift almost instantly. "What's up, Dani, starting to really need to go?" America asked. Dani looked at her and rolled her eyes. "No, I just like the way my legs weight uncomfortably on each other. Of course I really need to go, we've been driving for hours". "Fine, I seriously have to pee too," America admitted, "I just didn't want to be the first one to say it. What about you, Ellie?" Ellie opened her mouth, ready to reflexively deny it, and then changed her mind. It was like Ellie was growing, changing in a way. A few days ago she would staunchly have refused to even entertain the idea that she might need the bathroom. Now, though, she didn't see the point in hiding it. "Yeah, I guess," she said gruffly, "I shouldn't have had that god damn soda earlier". "Tell me about it," Dani agreed. She sighed internally. They could still be a long while away from the next rest stop. And any thoughts about having kinky fun with America were simple fantasies- there was nowhere private on the bus to go. If they could hold it until they were back in the privacy of their own bedrooms, then maybe things might get interesting, but Dani doubted that that would happen. She already had to go badly, and it didn't seem likely that she could hang on much longer. ——————————————————————————————————— Kamala Khan couldn’t figure out how she had gotten herself into this situation again. Sure, it was true that she’d never been the best in the world at self-control. Ever since she had been a little girl, desperate toilet incidents were a common part of her life, both liquid and solid. Usually that meant a quick dash to the bathroom as soon as one was available, sometimes some close calls and- occasionally- an accident on those rare days when she couldn’t quite make it in time. One of the most humiliating moments of her life had happened on a bus very much like this one, on the way back from a school trip when she was in the middle of her teenage years. On that day she’d done her very best to hold in the ocean of pee that was trying to force itself out of her. On a long drive in heavy traffic, hot sun beating on the roof like a tanning salon, she’d been far from the only kid in the class who’d resorted to gulping down water in an effort to stay hydrated. With an hour left in the journey she’d realised how bad an idea that had been. Things had gotten so bad that Kamala, who usually preferred to keep her bathroom habits to herself as much as possible, had had to waddle unsteadily to the front of the bus to ask the teachers for a rest stop. One look at the squirming girl had convinced even their strictest of teachers that she was in urgent need of a break at the next gas station. It had been too late, though; despite Kamala’s best efforts to hold it, she’d wet herself in front of the whole class just five minutes away. That had been humiliating enough. This time, surrounded by women who’d all had at least one accident that week, she thought it might be more bearable, if only slightly. The trouble wasn’t that she was desperate for the toilet. The trouble was that it was the third time in a few days. First had come her near-accident in the hotel, then she’d messed herself in front of Carol, and now this… an urgent need to poop once again, still surrounded by two dozen more women, but this time she didn’t seem to be just another one of the pack. This time, as far as she could tell, she was one of the only ones who really had to go. And, to make matters even worse, she had to piss as well. Kamala bit her lip as she tried to think up a game plan. If she’d only needed to pee, fine, she was sure she could keep her bladder clenched shut until Jean pulled over somewhere. But her butt muscles had never been quite so strong, and this felt like one of those dumps that wouldn’t wait around for long once it decided it wanted out. She’d tried to go that morning- of course she had- but utter constipation, coupled with a tight schedule, had forced her to give up. Her assumption then had been that she’d have at least a few hours before the need to go reared its ugly head. Instead, she’d been less than an hour into the bus journey when a rumbling in her belly and a sudden bout of gas had told her that she had to go soon. What worried Kamala from that moment on wasn’t the idea that she might not be able to hold on. It was the thought of how messy things might get if she lost control. Her turds had always been huge, and she was wearing extremely tight jeans. Call it poor planning on her part, maybe, but she could afford to mess herself even less now than usual. If anything escaped her ass on that journey, it was sure to squash and spread throughout her underwear and stain her legs. The smell would be a huge problem, too. All she could think to do was clench her cheeks, cross her legs and hope it never came to that. ———————————————————————————————————————- "Okay, Riri, your go," said Kate. Riri Williams paused to think, and Shuri shifted slightly in her seat, hoping nobody would notice. She was starting to feel the unmistakable pangs of an incoming need to take a dump. It was brewing inside her like a potion, waiting to be released. "Never have I ever pooped outdoors," Riri said eventually. Shuri took a reluctant sip of her drink- lemonade and weak blackcurrant cordial. Kate didn't. They weren't playing with alcohol, of course (Jean would never allow it), but it was still better than doing nothing during the long bus trip home. At least, that had been Shuri's reasoning when she'd agreed to play the game. At the time, life had been simple; her bowels had been empty, her bladder relaxed, and the only concern she'd had in the world was how she was going to occupy her mind for the next five hours. Now, deep into their strange version of Never Have I Ever, she was starting to see the flaw in the plan. Sipping that lemonade every thirty seconds or so wasn't only getting her desperate to pee: she was starting to have to go out the other end too. The only small comfort- if you could even call it that- was that she didn't think she was the only one suffering from such a predicament. Over the last hour or so, Shuri had noticed some subtle signs from Riri that she might be in need of a bathroom break, too. Being an observant girl, the Wakandan princess rarely missed such things, and she didn't have much doubt that the way Riri was squirming was more than just restlessness. No, the child genius had to go to the toilet. The only questions were what for, how soon, and how badly. Meanwhile, at the other end of the bus, Shuri's polar opposite was encountering a spookily similar problem. While Shuri was a young African princess with no power other than her mind, Carol Danvers just happened to be a white adult woman, and one of the strongest beings in the universe. Now, though, she didn't exactly feel strong. She hadn't felt especially strong since the humbling moment a few days into the trip when she had messed herself in front of several other girls, including Kamala. Now, she faced a similar problem- but instead of needing to poop, her bladder ached. The memory of the accident outside the port-a-potty still haunted Carol... and yet, in a weird way, she couldn't get it out of her head. She supposed that the part that really stuck with her was the way that her ass had expanded, stretched out to let the massive poop through. It had felt so embarrassing and yet so relieving to be robbed of the power to control her own bowels. Something about the way she'd been forced to just accept it and feel it happen, while the others watched, refused to leave Carol alone. It was like a spell. She looked around at her fellow adults, hping that perhaps she could at least find some solitude in the idea that she wasn't the only one babyish enough to find herself needing to use the toilet yet again. Which one of them was the most likely to have to go? Jemma? The English girl certainly seemed to be very accident-prone. Or maybe it was Emma. If Emma had evacuated her bowels more quickly at the museum, then far fewer panties would have ended up ruined. Carol couldn't bring herself to hate Emma for it, though. She knew how it felt. A few seats behind Carol, another girl was fighting a silent war between her mind and her body. Armor knew that asking to stop off so that she could use a bathroom would dishonour herself in front of so many of her peers. And yet her body was telling her that she needed to find a toilet fairly soon if she wanted to avoid another mortifying toilet-related incident. She needed to pee, and badly. She supposed it was down to the orange juice she'd guzzled down at breakfast, not foreseeing that the bus would leave before she'd have a chance to pee. It didn't help that her seat mate, Hope Summers, seemed to be struggling just as much. The new girl was crossing her legs unnaturally, refusing to say a word and staring out of the window with the expression of a woman who was focusing on nothing but not wetting her pants. Armor wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that it was okay, that they both really had to go. Maybe that way the two of them could start some sort of dialogue and find comfort in their shared experience. But Armor didn't know how to word that. She didn't know that Jubilee was struggling even worse just a few metres away. The Asian-born girl had been one of the lucky few who had at least managed to survive the trip so far without any poop-related incidents, but that seemed to be coming to an end now. She felt an ache in her bowels that she knew wouldn't be held back until they reached New York. Weirdly, something was holding her back from admitting this side of her to Dazzler. Jubilee never had any issues with openly confessing her need to pee. But poop was different. All of this created a bigger issue that would have to be dealt with sharpish: Jubilee had to fart. It was bubbling up inside of her, pushing against her tight exit insistently. Only when she knew that she couldn't hold it any longer did she finally relent. Praying that the release would be silent and not too smelly, Jubilee raised her right butt cheek just the tiniest amount. She barely had to push. Almost the instant she stopped holding back, a hot, sour fart escaped her tight hole, flowing into those expensive jeans. It felt amazing to let it go. —————————————————— Carol Danvers had always had sharp instincts, and today her instincts were telling her that they were unlikely to get back to New York without some sort of disaster. For one thing, she needed to poop. That was the first clue. If she had to go already, then it was guaranteed that plenty of the younger, smaller women would be in the same situation. She knew that the sensible course of action would be to check on the students- and since none of her fellow adults seemed to care, the responsibility looked like it was going to fall to her. First on her tour was Armor. The Asian girl seemed to be one of the few girls who Carol could trust to do her own thing, rarely needing assistance from the adults- and she had some serious powers to boot. Nevertheless, Carol thought it best to ask her, just to cover all bases. "Hey, Armor, how are you doing?" she asked awkwardly, not really knowing how to approach it without seeming like she was babysitting. "I'm fine, thank you Carol," Armor replied, as sincere and serious as always. Carol respected that, although she sometimes wished the girl would lighten up. Still, she knew that she'd have more luck with the next lady on her list- Jubilee. The other Asian-American on the bus didn't seem to have any issues admitting when she had to use the bathroom, and Carol wasn't surprised to hear what she did. "Yeah, I kind of have to go now," Jubilee said, "but it's not, like, urgent, if you get what I'm saying". Carol got exactly what Jubilee was saying because she felt exactly the same. She'd hoped that the girl would disclose whether she had to poop or just pee, but so far, no such luck. "Uh, to be honest, I gotta pee pretty bad," Kate Bishop said when Carol asked her. "I didn't realise how fast it was gonna creep up on me, but I guess I'm stuck with it". Carol could see quite plainly that Kate had to go. It was obvious in the way she sat, the way she crossed her legs and squirmed ever so slightly, hoping that nobody would notice. She was a pretty girl, if Carol was honest, and if she'd been a few years older she might even be sexy. But either way, she needed to find a bathroom. Near her sat Shuri, who Carol moved onto next, trying to stay respectfully quiet so as not to make the private conversations public. "Hey, Shuri," she said, looking for a way to stop it from sounding like she was talking down to these adult women, "how's the, uh, bathroom situation going?" Shuri looked around uncomfortably. That, in truth, told Carol all she needed to know, but nonetheless she waited for the answer out of politeness. "Not bad, thanks," Shuri said eventually, in a less-than-convincing tone, "I'm sure I can hold it until the next stop". "Okay, cool," Carol told her. Next up was Hope Summers, and Carol knew that getting a straight answer out of her would be like getting lemon juice out of a stone. But Carol Danvers was never one to balk at a challenge. She wasn't even going to bother asking Ellie or Laura, but Hope intrigued her. "Um, I'm fine, thanks," Hope said uncomfortably when asked, "why do you ask?" "It's just something I'm asking everyone," Carol said earnestly, "we don't want a repeat of the last bus trip, you know?" "Yeah, I guess so". Carol didn't think that 'because I really need to use the bathroom' would be a helpful answer, so she moved on. Luckily, Riri Williams was more forthcoming. "Uh, yeah, since you're asking," said the kid they called Ironheart, "I have to pee, but it's fine. We're doing a... I guess it's a contest. See who can hold it longest". "Is that a good idea?" Carol asked, frowning. She'd had no idea any of the kids were holding it for fun. To her, it sounded risky. "Nah, it's fine," Riri insisted, "we all have pretty big bladders, so I'm sure we'll make it back to the X-Mansion". Something about Riri's eyes made Carol think she wasn't actually sure, but she left it. At last, she could put off chatting to the Cuckoos no longer. They creeped Carol out, and their (to say the least) unusual toilet habits made her feel like a teacher, but they were still human. "How are you girls doing? Need a rest stop soon?" she asked. "Yes, we'd appreciate that," said the trio in unison, "we feel that we'll need to use the bathroom fairly soon if we want to avoid any more embarrassing accidents". "Okay, I'll bear that in mind," Carol told them, moving away, "just hang in there for now, and tell me if anything changes". Finally, she reached Kamala, the girl she'd been most looking forward to checking in on. Opportunities to chat with her had been limited since their shared accident at the museum, but Carol knew that now was the time to bury that hatchet. "Hey, Kamala," she said, "I was just wondering... do you need to go to the bathroom or anything?" Predictably, Kamala blushed. "Uh, maybe a little," she confessed, "but it's not a big deal. Why? Are we stopping somewhere?" The hopefulness in her voice betrayed her. Clearly, the girl had to go. "Maybe," Carol said, "I'll try and ask". She headed back towards the front of the bus, thinking increasingly of asking Jean for a stop so that she and the girls could use the bathroom. Carol had to poop. There wasn't much point in continuing to deny it, and now she was sure that she wasn't the only one. Maybe a break somewhere would be the perfect thing to refresh them... and avoid any dirty underwear. As she walked, a small fart slipped out. Carol, sure that nobody could possibly have heard it, carried on moving. She could only hope that the stubborn Jean Grey would stop somewhere. ———————————————————————————————————————————— Armor had no idea if Carol had believed her when she'd claimed to be fine, but she didn't really care. The truth was that she was in desperate need of a fart. But it wasn't going to be that easy- letting it out without anyone hearing (or smelling) sounded like it could prove challenging. Still, what other choice did she have? Her bowels felt like a pressure cooker: either she let out some air or it would force itself out, more violently than she'd like. So Armor, as subtly as she could, raised one cheek and silently let it rip. Just a few seats away, Kamala Khan was in the same hotseat. She needed to go a fair bit more than she'd let on to Carol, and knew that soon she'd pay the price for not speaking up more honestly. Already, she'd lost control a bit, unable to hold onto the first few farts that had made the seat vibrate and caused a stink in the air. But nobody seemed to have heard, and that was all she really cared about. Kamala felt the next one cooking up inside of her, pushing to be free. She was pushing her luck. If she had to use the bathroom, it was nothing compared to how Ellie felt. The girl had to piss, and badly. She had tried every position in the book, crossing her legs this way and that, and to no avail. Her bladder still ached and groaned with every bump in the road, her pussy quivering, and she knew that a leak before they got back was almost an inevitability. That was the best case scenario, too. If Jean didn't hurry up and put her foot down, Ellie was facing the horrible prospect of still yet another very public accident. Jubilee was still struggling, too, at the other end of the bathroom spectrum. While Ellie was worrying about soaking her underwear, Jubilee had to fight to keep in something far more solid. She'd already lost the battle to contain her gas, and couldn't stop releasing tiny farts that she constantly worried might turn wet at any moment. Her belly cramped, highlighting just how much poop was in her, fighting to get out. She was starting to doubt her chances of making it to the bathroom already- the urge had come on suddenly and didn't seem to be getting anything but worse. Riri Williams, meanwhile, was loving it. She knew now, from overhearing Carol's quiet conversations with the other kids, that most of them had to use the bathroom too, but she seemed to be the only one enjoying it. Even Shuri and Kate, who were holding with her, were starting to look worried. She knew her own bladder well and knew that she still had a while before the urge became overpowering, as long as she didn't drink too many fluids in the near future. It was, for now, a comfortable, pleasant ache in her belly, like having a dildo inside her. But at the front of the bus, it was the adults who were starting to encounter problems of their own, none more so than Jemma Simmons. The British girl needed a poo, and it wasn't just a casual urge, either. She could feel the thickness of it inside of her, threatening to poke out. She was dreading the moment that she knew would come- the sharp, heavy downwards movement, the stretch of her bum as the tip emerged. But she was too shy to warn Jean, or even Carol. Instead she looked out the window and held it. ————————————————————————————————————————————— Well over halfway through the journey, Jemma was in trouble. She'd assumed that Jean Grey would have found somewhere to pull over and let the students stretch their legs- and empty their bodies- by now, but the driver was showing no signs of having any intention to do that. They simply kept driving, like criminals fleeing over state borders. And, Jemma supposed, many of them were. Indecent exposure was a crime, after all. Ellie, Shuri, two of the Cuckoos and at least a few others had committed that crime. And Jemma had sinned more than anyone else there- public masturbation. Sure, nobody had actually caught her doing it. That was something between a miracle and a reward. She still couldn't explain how she'd gotten so aroused in that moment, and had tried not to think about it in the days since. All she knew was that it had been a hefty slice of luck and she didn't want to question it any more than she had to. Any police officer, security guard or member of the public could have spotted her. Pooping outside had been bad enough, although she'd been desperate. Wanking in an alleyway would cost her her job. Then, of course, there had been the bus drive to DC at the start of the whole sorry trip. That was hard to explain, too, because she'd barely drunk anything throughout the journey and yet she'd grown desperate to pee well before they reached their destination. Jemma wasn't exactly accident-prone, but she had no bladder of steel, either. Getting in toilet-related emergencies was no strange feat for her. But three times in four days? That was highly unusual. Even the day before at the hotel she'd almost wet the bed after waking up with a bladder that felt like stone. And she'd ended up here, back on the bus, desperate to go yet again. She'd only been able to watch as Carol had gotten shakily to her feet, holding the backs of the seats to stay steady, and walked down the aisle, asking almost all of the students how they were coping. A small, childlike part of the back of her brain wanted Carol to come and ask Jemma if she had to go. She didn't know if she'd have said yes or not. Usually she preferred being able to talk to someone when she needed the bathroom badly, but she was worried that the other women on the trip might look down on her if she showed signs of weakness too often. A familiar urge rumbled inside of Jemma, and she knew right away that she was going to have to fart. It wasn't negotiable- her body did that sometimes, threatened to erupt if she didn't let one go soon. So, hoping that everyone else was too distracted to notice, she quietly lifted one cheek and pushed it out as gently as she possibly could. It flowed free, and within seconds she could smell it. It was too strong. Luckily, before she could gauge whether anyone had heard or smelt her deed, Rachel Summers caught her eye. Rachel and Jemma had barely interacted throughout the whole trip, but she seemed nice enough- more approachable, certainly, than any of the other adults there. "Are you okay, Jemma?" Rachel asked, looking genuinely interested. Jemma just forced a smile, not wanting to cause any fuss. "Yes, thank you," she said, "you?" "Oh, I'm fine," Rachel said, "just have to pee a little. Still, I'm hoping Jean will find somewhere to pull over soon. I think some of the kids could use it". Jemma certainly counted herself among those who would appreciate somewhere discreet to relieve herself- a bathroom, ideally, rather than an alleyway in the middle of one of America's busiest cities like last time. She wasn't sure how long she had before she started to lose her control, but she knew it was unlikely to be very long. Her muscles had never been the best at clenching tightly back there. Outside the window, she saw a sign that bought her neither relief nor concern- 150km to New York City. That was just about what she'd expected. She doubted she'd make that. —————————————————————————————————————————————47,000/54000 Right at the front of the bus, behind only Jean in the driving seat, Emma Frost was in the middle of a secret crisis. Nobody would've guessed by looking at her, but the White Queen was dying to piss. She sat with her thighs pressed tightly together, feeling the curvy flesh rubbing against itself through black tights so thin that they did nothing at all to hide her panty line. Squeezing her legs shut only did the smallest amount to help her hold it in. Emma knew that it was only a matter of time before the first leak came, and once it did... well, the consequences could be catastrophic. Her cheeks still burned with the memory of what had happened behind the museum. That surprised Emma: she wasn't generally too shy about her bathroom habits, but something about that incident had been more embarrassing than she was used to. Well, not something- maybe 'a lot of things' would've been a more accurate summary. She'd been squirming, grabbing her butt, on the verge of tears, and all in front of the students. These younger, less powerful women had seen her acting like a child, and so had her fellow teachers. The worst part of it all, though, had to be what had happened when she'd finally gotten inside the port-a-potty. She'd barely made it; the underwear she'd been wearing had ended up in the bin, too soiled by skidmarks to be salvageable. And the poop had just kept on coming. As a rule, Emma's shits were big, but that desperate dump outside the museum had been in a different league to anything she'd ever squeezed out of her tight hole before. The first log had been predictably huge, smacking the hollow plastic below with a heavy thud. Then had come another, smaller one, and a third, long and snaking. Usually she'd be finished after that, but the rich hotel food had clearly done something to her digestive system, because she couldn't seem to stop. It had poured from her like lava, seeping and sliding between her cheeks, refusing to let up. The smell had quickly become so overpowering that she'd had to hold her nose shut. It had already been bad before she entered, mainly due to Jubilee's careless aim when she had been pissing before, but Emma's poop was something else entirely. It was bad enough that she'd pushed in front of the rest of the queue to get into the toilet in the first place- not that she'd had much choice, she'd been losing control completely at that point- but now she was taking far too long to come out. Emma hated herself for knowing that at least one of the women outside would have had an accident by the time she emerged, unable to hold it while the White Queen herself unleashed one of the biggest shits of all time. And then, of course, there had been the lack of toilet paper left. That was what sealed the fate for her underwear. She scanned the bus. Ordinarily it would have comforted her to know that many of the other passengers were also desperate to go- although she doubted many were as desperate as her- but today it only made her feel worse. It meant that when they reached a bathroom, whether that was a gas station or the X-Mansion, there was inevitably going to be a queue to use it. And she couldn't, in good conscience, position herself near the front of that line. Not after what had happened last time. She couldn't be responsible for any more accidents. And yet- there it was. The moment she'd known would come arrived quickly, suddenly and without fanfare. Emma did her best not to betray any surprise on her face as a bead of pee formed, growing pregnant on her thick labia, before slipping off and wetting the front of her panties. She didn't know what to do except squeeze her legs that extra bit tighter, praying that the first leak would be the last and yet knowing deep down that that would be impossible. There was only one thing for it- she was going to have to ask Jean to pull over. The problem was that walking in a shaky bus while bursting to pee was a risky venture and she didn't feel up to it at all. The chances of her losing control while trying to persuade Jean to stop seemed incredibly high. She was going to have to convince someone to ask for her, and Carol Danvers seemed the perfect candidate. Emma took a deep breath and switched as seamlessly as she could into her 'everything is fine' mode. "Hey, Carol, do you think we'll stop off soon? I kinda have to pee," she said, feeling a bit ashamed by how much she was understating it. Still, she had to keep her tone light and conversational, so as not to make anyone suspicious. In the cramped bus, all the adults could surely hear every word, not to mention a few of the kids. The Stepford Cuckoos were sitting silently, unhappy that Mindy and Phoebe were sat together while Celeste slumped across the aisle on her own. Emma wasn't sure about talking so candidly with them in hearing range, but she was running out of options. "I hope so," Carol replied, looking tired, "I gotta take a crap soon, I'm stinking the place up right now". Emma laughed nervously. "I'm at least grateful I don't have to poop, too. It's getting kind of serious, though, do you think you could ask Jean to stop?" Carol raised an eyebrow. "Me? You know her way better than I do, maybe you should ask". "Oh, no, Jean's pissed at me right now," Emma lied, hoping it would prove a believable excuse, "I think you should do it. She's soft on you after she saw how nice you were to Kamala". That part, at least, was true. "Okay," Carol said, getting to her feet and letting out a heavy fart, "I'll ask. But I'm not promising anything". —————————————————————————— Carol Danvers had always been a gassy woman. In a way, she supposed everyone was plenty gassy, but most people she knew would rather die than admit it- especially ladies. In complete contrast to this self-conscious ethos, Carol didn't often care who heard her farting... or who smelt it, either. And they were certain to smell it. That was one guarantee: when Carol let them rip, everyone nearby knew about it, even if they didn't always know exactly who the culprit was. She was notorious amongst friends, family and other superheroes for her pungent odours. There was no smoke without fire, though, and Carol knew that better than anyone. Sure as anything, her increasingly powerful farts were a sign that she would need to find a toilet to sit on as soon as possible. She didn't need reminding of what always happened if she couldn't make it to the bathroom in time. After all, it had only been a few days since that had last happened. Now her ass was starting to open and she was fast losing faith in her own ability to keep it shut until she was safely positioned on a white seat with water beneath it. She knew that Emma was right. It was essential that they get Jean to pull over, otherwise Carol and quite a few of the others on board weren't going to make it. No matter how much she'd enjoyed, in the weirdest possible way, the feeling of going in her underwear outside the museum- the feeling of her asshole opening up to let it out, the way it had filled her panties, hot and heavy- Carol had no desire whatsoever for a repeat showing, and especially not if it was going to be in front of the students again. So she made her way to the front of the bus, where Jean sat behind the wheel, eyes firmly on the road. She hadn't been herself since what had happened at the museum. While most of the women seemed determined to put those events behind them, Jean looked as though it had affected her on a far more personal level. Although she'd barely spoken to anyone in the time since, preferring to stay in her room and work while everyone else explored the enormous hotel, it was clear from the short conversations she'd had with others that Jean felt like she'd let down her students and herself, and was mortified to have lost control in front of the people she was supposed to be in charge of. Carol thought she could understand that. Still, it was with a considerable amount of trepidation that she slowly approached the woman they called Phoenix. Carol was confident that she could beat Jean in a fight without breaking too much of a sweat (unless the other woman somehow took her by surprise), but this wasn't a fight, this was a conversation. And Carol found conversations far harder than fights. Pissing Jean off wouldn't help anyone. "Hey, Jean," she began, trying to sound casual just as Emma had done to her only a few moments ago. "Hi, Carol," Jean replied, perfectly amicably, without taking her gaze away from the freeway, "what's up?" Carol swallowed. "Well," she began, I wanted to ask you if there was any chance you might consider... stopping for a bathroom break soon? I've been talking to the students and I think a lot of them could really use it". She realised a little too late that she was probably coming across as too defensive. It was a little embarrassing, and Carol knew it. There she was, an adult woman (and possibly the most powerful adult woman in the universe), asking another adult woman if they could stop off so she could poop. Carol hadn't been entirely sure what kind of response she was going to get, but she definitely didn't expect the answer that reality provided. "Yeah, sure," Jean said, "I really have to pee, to be honest with you. I'll pull over at the next stop". Frowning, Carol tried to process this. That was what she'd been worried about? Jean agreeing immediately, and even admitting her own need to go, had not been what she'd anticipated whatsoever. "It's just that we don't want another repeat of what happened on Tuesday," Carol pointed out. Jean allowed herself a small smile "Carol, I said I'll stop. Learn to take yes for an answer". "Sorry," Carol said, "I just..." "Thought I might say no?" Jean shook her head. "I may want to get back to the mansion as soon as possible, but twenty minutes won't do us any harm". "I guess that's true," Carol said, "I don't know if all the students would have made it home without a rest, to tell you the truth". "But that's not the whole truth, is it?" "What do you mean?" Jean looked over her shoulder, meeting Carol's eyes for the first time. "You have to go, too, don't you?" Carol paused, feeling more than a tad humiliated, but decided to shrug it off and act cool. "You're good. How did you know?" "The fart-smell," Jean said candidly, "it smells worse than if you'd already shit your pants". "Oh, shit, sorry," Carol muttered. "Nah, it's fine. Mine are almost as bad. God, I have to piss," Jean said, and only then did Carol notice the way her thighs bounced slightly on the seat. "You gonna make it?" "I think so," Jean said, turning back to the road, "I hope so". ————————————————————— She left Carol at the wheel for a few moments, grateful for the coach’s autodrive mode. The smell of Carol’s farts still filled the air, worse than ever. Even as Jean walked away, she thought she heard another one slip out, muffled by the leather Captain Marvel was sitting on. Jean wondered wryly if she would come back to the warm seat. Carol wasn’t legally, technically allowed to drive the bus, but it was only going to be for a minute or two and if anything happened no cops or insurance companies would prove that it hadn’t been Jean driving at the time. She supposed she could have just asked Carol to make the announcement, but Jean wanted to remind everyone that she was still in charge of this trip. She needed to assert control. There she stood, at the front of the vehicle, looking down the aisle at almost two dozen expectant faces. The conversations from front to back quietened almost immediately when the students saw her there- even Ellie hushed at the sight of Jean’s unexpected arrival. Since nobody bar Rachel and Kitty had really talked to her in days, they knew that her appearance meant she had news. “Uh, shouldn’t you be driving the bus?” asked Jubilee, looking concerned. Jean ignored the comment, unsure if the girl was being serious or not. “Okay, guys, I have an announcement. We’re going to stop off at the next rest stop, which should be in a few kilometres. So if any of you need the bathroom or anything, just remember that you only have to hang on a little while longer”. Her words seem to bring great relief to most of the students- not the kind of relief they were hoping for, she knew that, but surely still better than nothing. For a few, though, she could tell that even then they were wondering if they could hold it until the gas stop. In particular, it looked like Kamala Khan and America Chavez seemed concerned. Still, nothing she could do about it now. Jean had committed to stopping off at the next possible opportunity and that was that. She couldn’t exactly make the bus go any faster than it already was. So she returned to the driver’s seat, hoping that everyone would get off dry. It looked as though the gas station was no more than a few minutes away by the time Jean was back behind the wheel. Her need to pee was approaching the stage where she could feel a leak getting closer if they didn’t get there soon. Already, she was dreading the inevitable moment when she’d have to walk down the steps off the coach and to the nearest bathroom. By then the ache in her bladder would be terrible and walking more than a few metres was bound to be a torturous affair, and she’d be fortunate to make it to the toilet seat without losing at least a bit of it in her underwear. The only comfort was knowing that she wasn’t the only one close to an accident. ——————————————————————— Jubilee was among those girls who wasn’t sure that the rest stop would do her any good. As much as Jean’s decision to take a break somewhere near a bathroom was great news for most of her classmates, all Jubilee could think about was whether or not she’d even be able to hold in the poop that was bubbling inside of her for long enough to reach the shitter. Those worries were only compounded when she felt an unstoppable fart bubbling up inside of her. It built and churned, rumbled and grumbled, growing quicker than she’d ever experienced before. Jubilee did everything in her power to hold the fart back, keeping her buttcheeks tightly clenched, but it was no good. No amount of psychological willpower in the world could stop this monster of a fart from escaping. She knew even before it happened that it was going to be a noisy one. There was no point pretending it wasn’t happening and, hoping to get ahead of things, she instinctively opened her mouth to warn her fellow students. “Guys, I’m gonna fart now, sorry,” she said awkwardly, “I can’t hold it. I’m sorry if it stinks”. She barely managed to get the word stinks out in time before it happened. The fart erupted, as noisy and unsubtle as she’d feared, drawing the eyes of almost every girl in the bus. Jubilee could see other students peering at her from every angle, craning their necks to get a look at whoever had just produced the loudest fart any of them had heard all week- and that was saying something. What she hadn’t expected was that it was more than just a fart. It came out wet and warm, and immediately Jubilee froze in a blind panic. This was something that had happened to her just once before in her life, and that had been in bed when nobody was there to witness it. This time, it was very much public and very much impossible to hide. Jubilee had sharted. ——————————————————————————————————————— Little did she know that just a few seats away, her little accident was having an adverse affect on young Kamala Khan. She was there, legs crossed, resisting- barely- the urge to grab her bum and squeeze it shut. The mega turd inside of her felt no more than a few centimetres away from making an early appearance. They were in a race against the clock, she knew. Either they reached the potty in the next few minutes, or she filled her panties with a load so big it would make sitting down a health hazard. But hearing Jubilee fart so wetly made her need to expel gas even worse, and she knew that she couldn’t wait any longer to let out a fart of her own. Kamala could only pray that hers would be only gas. ———————————————————————————————————— They may have finally reached the gas station, but America Chavez was no closer to her relief. Her bladder had rarely been fuller, stretching out and pushing against her seatbelt uncomfortably. And yet she knew that she could not empty it into the toilets that were now just a few hundred feet away, no matter how badly she wanted to. Knowing how easy it would be to step off the bus, waltz into the bathroom and let it all out made holding in the gallons of pee so much harder. But she never lost a contest and she didn't want to start now. "Just to be clear, we're not peeing, right?" Dani Moonstar asked uncertainly, "I mean, we're going to keep the contest up all the way back to NYC". America had a grim expression on her face as she answered. "That's right. I'm not giving up yet. Ellie, what about you?" Ellie glanced up. She looked far from thrilled. America wasn't used to seeing her like this- distracted and distant. It looked like the tough chick had barely noticed they were slowing down, so preoccupied was she with her own desperation. But, like America, she was no quitter, so she agreed. And there was another reason for her concern, one that neither of her two competitors had any idea about- Ellie wasn't just bursting to pee. She had been feeling a poop coming on for almost the whole journey, but didn't see the point in saying anything. After what had happened at the museum, she didn't want them thinking that she got in this kind of situation regularly. By the time she was desperate, it was just too late to bring it up without making things weird. And she didn't want them thinking they had such a big advantage. Before she realised what was going on, though, the bus had stopped moving for the first time since they'd left the hotel earlier that morning. Almost immediately, she was greeted by a chorus of unbuckling seatbelts and students climbing to their feet as quickly as they could get away with. Ellie undid her seatbelt, too, even though she had no intention at all of getting up. She was only undoing it as a way to reduce some of the pressure digging against her bladder- and bowels- if she possibly could. She noticed Dani and America do the same, but neither joined the rest of the bus in heading straight for the bathrooms outside. Carol Danvers hung back for just a few seconds, shooting the trio a curious look. "Aren't you guys gonna use the toilets while we're here?" she asked, even while having to squirm on the spot to help herself keep the poop held back. "Nah," Dani said, trying to sound nonchalant, "we don't really want to wait in line. We can hold it until we get back to New York". Clearly, Carol was in no fit state to argue, because she accepted the explanation despite being visibly desperate. When she was safely out of earshot, and there wasn't a living soul left on the bus other than the three of them, Dani finally summoned up the nerve to say something that had been on her mind for a long time. "Um, guys," she began, swallowing nervously and looking from one of them to the other, "there's something I should say. I kind of... don't just have to pee," she finished. "Oh shit, girl, nor do I," America said, sounding almost relieved to not be the only one, "I've had to poop for a while now. Ellie, what about you?" They both looked eagerly at the third girl. Internally, Ellie was conflicted. She knew that she shouldn't feel ashamed to admit that she had to go, especially not now that the others had revealed themselves to be in similar positions. And yet something made her keep her mouth shut. Force of habit, maybe, or perhaps there was still some pride left in her that even shitting on the floor in front of the whole school hadn't knocked out. "Nah, I'm fine," she lied eventually, "I just gotta piss like a racehorse". They seemed to buy that, which was a relief. "So, you think you're gonna win?" Dani asked her, almost teasingly. "I know I'm gonna win," Ellie shot back, "regardless of whether you two losers have to take a crap or not. I've got a bladder like a waterproof tank". "That's not what it looked like the other day," muttered America, and it was a sign maybe of how desperate to pee Ellie secretly was that she let the snide comment go. "Well, I'd be surprised if you can hold on longer than me, my control is almost perfect," Dani said. America knew that to be untrue, as well, but she didn't say anything. Before anyone could say any more, a loud noise rumbled out around the carriage, something that none of them had seen coming. It took a few seconds for Dani to identify it, because it was unlike anything she'd heard before- a fart, but an incredibly loud, deep, almost wet one. She knew it wasn't her, and she doubted someone as pretty as America could fart like that. A look at Ellie Phimister's beet-red face confirmed that she was the culprit, and one who looked very thankful that she lost control of her gas while the bus was empty. Dani's eyes lit up. This made things interesting. "So, you don't have to poop, huh?" she said, smiling like a shark. ——————————————————————— By the time the bus finally came to a stop, Shuri was possibly more desperate to go than she had ever been before. She couldn't remember a time when she'd felt so close to pooping in her pants, anyway. The thick shape of the log was starting to stretch out her asshole, threatening to slip out and form a tent that she knew would be unhideable at any second. Her farts, while still silent, had grown the kind of silent that she found extremely worrying. Rather than being simply muffled by choice, they had the gassy, suppressed tones of an oncoming shit. It was like the noise was being blocked by a plug of poop. Which, when she thought about it, she supposed was exactly what was happening. Despite sitting relatively near the back, Shuri was one of the first people off the bus, with Riri and Kate not far behind. She was determined to make dash for the nearest available toilet, and could only hope that there wouldn't be a line. If she was delayed by too long, well... there was going to be some serious washing to do if she was ever going to be able to wear this underwear again. As she walked, she could feel the way she was almost waddling like a penguin- or a kid- to keep her buttcheeks closed while moving. It was like she was balancing on a knife's edge, trying to find the hotspot between being dying for a poo while also knowing she had to keep on going forward if she wanted any chance of making it. It had been no more than a few days since she'd pissed openly on the street, dozens of people seeing her bare butt and pissing pussy. She knew that she couldn't risk it again, and next time she'd have no choice but to go in her underwear. But she really liked the pink undies she had on today and didn't want to see them in the garbage, so instead Shuri kept on walking, clenching as hard as she could. It was bad news, though. Despite her best efforts, by the time Shuri had reached the bathrooms there was already a line forming, full of those who had both left the bus before her and been able to walk quickly than she could due to her necessity to waddle and slow down whenever she felt a tiny bit of poop start to slide out. She saw Dazzler there, as well as Jean Grey, Laura and a few others. Riri Williams had overtaken her on the way and joined the queue first. There was only one stall for women at the moderately small gas station, and suddenly Shuri got the terrible feeling that a repeat of what had happened at the museum was on the cards. She was shifting uncomfortably, simply hoping that the journey wasn't about to end in her shitting her pants. In that moment she could think of nothing else. Fortunately- and she was waiting for a stroke of fortune- the lady in the bathroom hurried out soon after they arrived and Dazzler rushed in, clutching her pussy tightly. For just a few painfully brilliant moments, Shuri thought it would really be that easy. There hadn’t been the car breakdown or traffic that she’d dreaded might get in the way of her and her need to shit. It was only when Dazzler returned from the bathroom already that she realised something was up. There was know way Dazzler could have entered the cubicle, done her business and left in such a short space of time. Instantly Shuri’s heart sank. Was the bathroom blocked? There were only a few possible explanations for a girl coming out of a toile while clearly in desperate need of on. “I can’t do my business in there!” Dazzler cried. ‘Why not? Is it blocked?” Shuri asked eagerly, hoping that whatever was wrong wouldn’t stop her poop from landing safely in the toilet bowl. “It’s so gross,” she groaned, “poop all up and down the walls, basically”. This was a great relief to Shuri. She had never been shy about using the dirty public restrooms when they were the only option, but as she’d gotten older she’d come to appreciate that even the stinkiest of bathrooms was usually doing the one thing that really mattered- functioning. Dazzler didn't seem to share that principle. Even though her hand was still clamped firmly between her thighs, it looked as though she would prefer to have an accident than use that toilet. Shuri thought she could almost understand why, but still it didn't quite add up. Her thought process was interrupted violently by a wet fart, that spattered the insides of the pants of her jeans and made her feel instantly dirty. She knew she was running out of time. —————————————————————————————————————— Dazzler knew now exactly how her roommates had truly felt on the way to the hotel room at the start of the trip. She’d been desperate for a pee before, plenty of times- of course she had. But none of those times could compare to the sheer panic she was experiencing at that moment when she realised that there was no way she could possibly bring herself to use that bathroom. It was simply far too dirty in there, and no matter how bad she needed to go, every instinct she had had ingrained in her since early childhood was screaming at her that she couldn’t go anywhere near that rusty, poop-flecked bowl. Even at the museum, when she’d approached the verge of shitting her panties, had been easier endless uncomfortable than this. She would take emptying herself into a bone-dry toilet while being pissed on by Armor and sensing the overwhelming scent of both their crap over what she was feeling now any day of the week. At least when she really had to poop she knew that the worst that could happen was having to change out of one outfit and into one of her many others. If she wet herself now, though, the flooding around her feet would be unimaginable. It made her dread to think about it, how everyone would laugh, how strangers would look at her in disgust, how disappointed the teachers would be in her. Dazzler had long since known that wearing white all the time had certain downsides. The biggest one was this: any accidents, even if she came onto her period unexpectedly, would surely show up like a firework in the sky. There would be absolutely no hiding a stain on these jeans. Her shame would be there for all the world to see. And yet the only way she could keep her full bladder full seemed to be to keep one hand jammed into her crotch. That was how bad it had become in a fairly short space of time: Dazzler was no longer confident that she would be able to keep holding it in if she dared remove her hand, even for a second or two. Cupped and gripped tightly in her palm, her pussy didn't feel like the pussy she was used to, the one she checked out in the mirror when she showered or while she was taking a dump. It didn't feel like the pussy of a young woman. Right now it felt plump, sweaty and aching, like it belonged to a much older lady who had some kind of bladder problem bought on by age. Just squeezing it made her feel degraded, and she had sudden, crazy visions of herself in middle-age, overcome with a sudden desperate urge to pee while out shopping, or perhaps at an appointment. She could see herself squirming and blushing just as she was now, trying to ignore the judgemental eyes that refused to leave her alone. She could see it ending- just as she knew deep down this day was going to end- in her wearing soaking wet trousers that clung to her skin and turned from hot to cold within seconds, leaving that unmistakable pee-smell in the air and a puddle on the floor. She knew that she wasn't going to make it. That was something that Dazzler accepted with an alarming ease. From the moment she turned her back on that filthy toilet she knew that she would have an accident as the consequence for her decision, but she resigned herself to it. Either way, she had to at least try to make it to the potty on time. She had to try. By that point the lines were so blurred that it was almost impossible for Dazzler to know if she had leaked or if it was just the clammy, sweaty mess that her pussy had been reduced to by a combination of hot clothing, a tight grip and the stress of keeping the muscles clenched for such a long time. Perhaps it was both. For some reason, she was acutely aware that her nipples were hard as rock. Maybe that was a natural reaction to holding herself down there- the brain assumed she was masturbating in some way and reacted accordingly. Or maybe she was subconsciously already anticipating the orgasmic relief that would come when she eventually emptied out her busting bladder, even if that was into her clothes. Either way, though, Dazzler didn't think it would be long before the wetness seeped out into her jeans- whatever it was. —————————————————————————————— Kamala looked on at the queue in front of her with dread in her heart. It was surely too long. At the front was Laura Kinney, hand jammed in her crotch, followed by Jean Grey, who looked very much like she desperately wanted to follow suit. Shuri stood next in line, holding her buttcheeks closed, and Kate Bishop was behind in a bad state. Then, and only then, it would finally be Kamala’s turn. She estimated that her chances of being able to hold it that long were between zero and nothing. Dazzler seemed to have abandoned the idea of using the toilet and was instead squirming hopelessly nearby. There was no telling if that meant the toilet was absolutely filthy or if Dazzler was just a huge prude- she didn’t know the girl well enough to be sure. That was worrying enough in itself for Kamala, who knew she wouldn’t be able to use the bathroom if it was really dirty in there. A bit of roughness didn’t put her off public bathrooms, but she’d never been able to stomach the truly gross ones. Riri Williams had jogged in, sweat on her brow, as soon as Dazzler had vacated the area. Ironheart didn’t seem to mind emptying herself in a messy toilet. For her part, Kamala knew that she was only getting closer and closer to losing control. That thick log that had been barely poking out just minutes ago was now long enough to form a visible, protruding bulge in her backside. When she knew nobody was looking, she had brushed against it with the fingers of one sweaty hand. It was firm, unmoving… and starting to smell. Already she knew that when it was all out it would be enormous. Already she knew that her underwear was going to need tossing in the nearest garbage can whether she made it or not. If anyone got too close to her they were certain to sniff out the start of her accident. Then would come the looking around to see who the culprit was, the realisation that it was more than just a bad fart… and then, no doubt, someone would spot the bulge in the back of her pants and know what was happening before she could do anything about it. Riri emerged mercifully quickly, only for Laura Kinney to take her place in the cubicle. A barely-visible dark streak on the floor behind where Laura had walked suggested that the girl hadn’t quite made it in time, but Kamala assumed her jeans would stay mostly dry nonetheless. Time seemed to be going by in slow-motion. She looked around at the line that had stretched for yards behind her. In the bus, watching eagerly through the window, she saw the flat faces of America, Dani and Ellie. There was no time to wonder why all three had stayed behind, despite the fact that Kamala knew for certain that they all needed to use the restroom pretty urgently. There was no way she could’ve not overheard them going on about it from her nearby seat on the bus. Then, behind, she saw a whole cast of worried faces. Some had to poop, some had to pee and some needed to do both. Some were only mildly desperate while a few looked like they were in full-fledged emergencies. Armor was right at the back of the line; Kamala could only guess that her honour had compelled her to let everyone else go in front. She wondered if Armor's honor might cost her a pair of underwear for the second time in the trip. Then there were the Stepford Cuckoos, each looking identically desperate to urinate, grabbing their crotches in unison. There was Kitty, Rachel, Emma Frost and a busting-looking Jemma Simmons. Closer to Kamala stood Jubilee, smelling of raw farts, Carol Danvers and, finally, Hope Summers, who was probably the only girl there who didn't seem to need the toilet at all. Kamala wasn't sure why Hope was so far up in the line if she wasn't visibly desperate. It seemed more than a little selfish to her- while Hope was in the bathroom, any of the others behind could probably have an accident waiting. Bizarrely, suddenly, she noticed an obvious panty line just below the girl's waist. Kamala thought about bringing it up, but thought better of it. Another stomach cramp seized her suddenly and she barely managed to fight back the urge to bear down and squeeze out a snake into her pants. She knew that she couldn't hold much longer. But two shitty accidents in four days? Even for Kamala Khan, that seemed like too much. She had to do her best to keep it in, no matter what. Silently, she cursed her powers for not extending to her bowels. ———————————————————————————————————— 53.2k No more than a couple of hours ago, Jemma Simmons would have said that taking a desperate dump in a public alleyway had probably been the most embarrassing moment of her life. Now, only a few days after that very crime was committed, she would’ve given anything for a chance to do it again without being caught. There was one just a few yards away. She couldn’t help herself from eyeing it up like some sort of animal, some addict who kept sneaking a glance at a nearby bottle of booze. It would be so easy to sneak off there, to feel the liberation of her jeans sliding down her thighs, the way they’d bunch around her ankles. Jemma could already picture herself squatting down, feeling the thick, long snake squeeze out of her and coil below her bum. Oh, it really would be easy... if she could only sneak away without anyone spotting her. Unfortunately that was about as likely as growing wings and flying to a toilet. Unless she could make some kind of distraction, that was. And it was surely possible to do so- after all, she was a clever woman. The cleverest on the trip, if you ignored Shuri and Riri. There had to be some way she could avert the eyes of the other women. Trigger some kind of small fire? Not from this far away, no... she could hardly throw a molotov. She’d heard, on more than one occasion, about a woman somewhere in Manhattan who could manipulate light waves to make herself invisible to the naked eye. Now, wouldn’t that be a hell of a power to have right about now? Jemma could simply flip it on, slink away into the shadows and do her business out of sight. But she had no control over the laws of physics at all, and she didn’t know if this invisible woman even existed anyway. It was just as likely that she was no more than an urban legend. It didn’t stop Jemma from fantasising about it, though. The trouble was that, as had always been the case, thinking about pooping only made her have to go even worse. Being a biologist, she was no stranger to how that worked- the physical side of it, at least. Memories and thoughts associated with defecating would often trigger the anus into relaxing reflexively. She glanced at the rest of the line. It was almost impossible to tell who needed to go the most. The Cuckoos? Perhaps, but Jemma didn't reckon anyone could need the loo any more than she did at that very moment. If she grew any more desperate than she already was at that point, an accident would probably be inevitable and swift. Even worse, she needed a wee. That wasn't a surprise, either; two had always been accompanied by one in her body, whether it was a casual morning trip to the toilet or a desperate dancing explosion in her jeans. Jubilee turned around to Jemma then. The girl probably had the best case for being the only person there who needed to take a crap even more urgently than Jemma did. Her palms were sweaty from being pressed up against her jeans, and she'd been jigging on the spot like a mad person for the entire time since they got off the bus. Her farts had mingled in the air with Jemma's until it wasn't possible to tell who was responsible for which smell anymore. Jemma thought she had spotted a tiny brown patch on the seat of her pants in a brief second when she'd had to move one hand to give her pussy an urgent squeeze, but she couldn't be sure. This was the first time she'd seen Jubilee need to go out of that end, and she felt nothing but sympathy for the younger woman. "How are you doing?" she asked awkwardly, seeing the irony in attempting to be the helpful adult while simultaneously being in just as bad a situation herself. Jubilee wasn't one to sugar-coat things. "Terrible," she said, "I feel like I'm gonna shit out a bottle of Pepsi, and I don't mean a small one". "Oh, God, I'm the same," said Jemma, "I'm absolutely busting for a poo. I'm really not sure how much longer I can keep it in me". "I keep thinking how nice it would feel to just go behind that dumpster," Jubilee said, and Jemma's eyes went wide. "Same!" she cried, "I just wish I could get away with it. I'm desperate to fart too". "Oh, man, me too," Jubilee agreed, "I will if you will?" "Yes please," Jemma said, letting out a huge and rumbling one that everyone at the gas station surely heard. Jubilee almost matched it with one of her own. "I really hope I make it," Jubilee said, "I haven't pooped myself since I was little". "Me neither," lied Jemma, "but there's a first time for everything". ———————————————————————————— Armor was no stranger to the view from the back of a bathroom line, but that didn’t mean she liked it much. She was almost always the one who volunteered to go last, the one who waited the longest even when she suspected that she could not wait long enough. From here she saw everyone else- everyone, that was, except for the trio who had decided, for some insane reason, to stay on the bus behind her. She wondered how they must be doing. Their choice was their business, but it seemed simply crazy to Armor. She knew better than anyone that there were plenty of valid reasons to turn down a toilet that was available- she’d used plenty of them herself, usually related to honour. No matter how hard she tried, though, she didn’t see how any of them could be applicable here, to Dani, Ellie and America. Everyone else was desperate and she knew for a fact that the three women still seated were too. But Armor couldn’t really afford to ease any time thinking about such things. Instead she was focusing as much of her energy as possible on trying to keep her underwear clean. And dry, too, she supposed- any loss of bowel control would almost definitely lead to a flow out the other end, knowing how her body worked down there. Her stomach cramped painfully, almost begging her to give in and try to push it all out. Farts were leaking out of her like water through a sieve, the first firm log inching ever closer to her exit, and still Armor resisted. She knew that the chances of her making it to the toilet in time were slim, but she refused to give in. She was a warrior, and warriors did not give up. Instead she did the only thing she could think to do- clench her bottom as tightly as possible and pray that that would be enough. It was like a battle between her thick turd and her tired muscles. Ordinarily Armor would never even consider holding herself with her hands, but the knowledge that nobody was behind her made her a little more receptive to the idea. After all, if nobody could see her dishonour herself, was she truly being dishonourable? And at what point did dishonour become acceptable if it was simply for the preservation of a greater honour, anyway? Before she could answer the latest of the many philosophical questions she encountered in her day-to-day life, Amor was distracted by a commotion ahead, somewhere towards the middle of the line of squirming women. People were moving closer, bunching up around a single lone figure, forming some kind of circular audience. Armor couldn't help being drawn towards them, wanting to know what was going on even though part of her knew that it was probably something that should be left to happen in private. If it was what she thought it was, and it had been happening to her, Armor knew that she certainly wouldn't want anyone to be watching. Sure enough, in the middle of the huddle stood Jubilee. She was shitting her pants. There was no other way of putting it, and within the first two seconds of arriving on this horrific scene Armor picked up five that confirmed exactly what was going on beyond any doubt. The first thing that hit her, before she'd even been able to see over the shoulders of the other women, was the smell. It was more than just the scent of a regular fart- this was earthier, more prominent. It was undeniably the smell of poop, and there was never smoke without fire. There was a tinge of sweetness to it, too, as if it had come from someone who ate a sugary diet. That certainly seemed to fit Jubilee's bill. Secondly she noticed the expressions on the faces of those watching. Armor had always been good at reading expressions, and here she could pick up a cocktail of conflicting emotions- shock, yes, but also disgust, sympathy, fear. What was the fear for? Were they scared that they might be looking at their own imminent fate? Yes, perhaps. Then Armor saw it, and her suspicions were confirmed: to an extent, in some way or another, all of them had wondered who would be the first to have an accident, if anyone did. Now they had their answer. The tent in the back of Jubilee's pants left little to the imagination. It was a huge, protruding shape that pointed out of her arse like she'd grown a tail. Jubilee never wore loose-fitting pants, either. For the log to remain firm under the the pressure of the tight material, it must've been firm, thick... and desperate beyond belief. The other expression, and the one that really mattered, was Jubilee's herself. In her eyes, Jubilee didn't have to look for long to detect the hot shame, the panic, the exhaustion of trying to hold it for so long. There was something else there, too, something Jubilee surely wouldn't ever admit she was feeling in that moment: relief. If she squinted, Armor thought that they could almost be mistaken for the eyes of someone who was taking a huge poo on the toilet, letting the relief flow through them and take over their entire being. It was like she'd forgotten that it was happening inside her pants, in public. And, if there had been any doubt at all that Jubilee was, indeed, having an accident, then the piss that began to cascade down her front removed it. It was exactly as Armor had expected. You couldn't have one accident without the other. The hissing of pee onto the floor mixed with the crackling, gassy farts from her butt into one humiliating noise. Armor turned away. She couldn't bring herself to watch for even a second longer- it was too painful. It made her need to go even worse... perhaps too bad. And if Armor lost control, she wanted to do it without the whole class staring. —————————————————————————————————————————————— Jubilee's horrible- and very public- humiliation was exactly the distraction Dazzler had been waiting for. She was at her limits, and all she'd needed was some sort of diversion that allowed her to escape unnoticed to a private area. She couldn't use that toilet, no matter how desperate she was. Having an accident would be preferable- that much hadn't changed for Dazzler. But she'd held out a slim hope that maybe, just maybe, there would be another way. It was starting to look like the chance would never come, or at least it would come too late if it did. But this was perfect. Jubilee had all eyes on her. It wasn't that Dazzler didn't feel bad for Jubilee- of course she did. It was just that she had only a matter of seconds before she wet herself, and even less time before people stopped paying Jubilee all their attention. If she waited that long it would be too late. She needed to grab this opportunity to sneak away while she could. But where to go? Her panties were already damp. She couldn't afford to let her jeans suffer the same fate. Suddenly, she spotted her salvation and started to move. ———————————————————— Armor seized the distraction just as quickly as Dazzler had done. She had a decision to make. It was time to face the facts- she wasn't going to make it. That left her with two choices: the dishonourable path or the humiliating one. She couldn't use the ground as a toilet. Her ethics strictly ruled out that option. Which meant she was surely going to end up going in her underwear. Armor had the choice, then, between messing herself while her friends and teachers watched, or doing it the most dignified possible semblance of privacy. There would still be the embarrassing aftermath, the smell, the way it squished against the skin of her butt... but at least nobody would see her committing the shameful act itself. In the end the choice seemed fairly obvious to Armor, and she made up her mind quickly. Backing a few steps away from the scene poor Jubilee was making, she closed her eyes and started to push. Instantly her bowels began to evacuate. But they weren't emptying, as she'd expected, a solid mass. This was far wetter, far looser- she couldn't do this here! Armor tried to stop the flow and found that she couldn't. ——————————————————————- Jean, for the second time in four days, found herself utterly powerless to stop the chaotic lunacy unfolding around her. She might be able to focus on her duties as a teacher if she didn't have to piss so badly. But she did. So she couldn't. Jubilee was barely finished messing her panties when it ramped up a notch. She spotted Dazzler scampering off somewhere, presumably to wet herself in peace. Jean had no quarrels with that- nothing she could do about it, anyway, even if she wanted to. Not unless she used her powers. And she had no intention of unleashing her abilities on the students. Behind the group stood Armor, her head bowed low, shame in her eyes. It didn't take Jean long to guess what must have happened. She felt bad for the kid but suspected that she would only be one of many once this was over. A perverse part of her brain wondered who would be next and she got her answer almost right away. The Stepford Cuckoos were standing with sheepish looks on their faces, three identical puddles forming below the six feet. They had finally reached the point of no return again. She felt a hand on her arm and whirled around, having no idea who might be there to ask for her help. Kamala Khan was the one gazing up at her, one hand clutching her bottom. The arm she'd used to alert Jean quickly returned to Kamala's crotch, where her fingertips were probably meeting at the gooch. "Jean, I can't hold it," Kamala said, tears starting to form in her eyes. Jean didn't know what to say. She'd failed these kids again, led them all to humiliation for the second time that week. It was her fault that Kamala was suffering, she knew. So all that Jean could think to do was hold the girl close and offer her encouragement as she pooped her pants. "It's okay, Kamala," she said slowly, trying to soothe her, "let it all out. It's not your fault". Over Kamala's sobbing shoulders she saw the bulge begin to form. She wasn't surprised, either, when she felt a familiar wetness on her crotch. Kamala was surely pissing on Jean, but she didn't mind. "Accidents happen, Kamala," she said, "you can let it go". "Oh, God," the girl sighed, "I'm sorry, I'm peeing on you," she said. "No, it's alright," Jean told her, "I think I'm peeing too". She hadn't realised it until she'd said it, but now she thought about it Jean knew she was right. She was losing control of her bladder thanks to the stimulation of Kamala's pee on her pussy, and now they were both wetting themselves, hugging tightly and waiting for it to be over. Sharing the experience somehow made it a little bit less awful. She looked down at Kamala's bulge and wondered how such a small girl could do such a huge shit. The thought almost made her laugh. There was still carnage unfolding around them, but Jean didn't want to think about that until she was ready. It could wait a couple more minutes, after all. —————————————————————————— Carol was surrounded by chaos, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was bizarre. For most of her life, she had lived in perpetual control, almost always able to win any battle or struggle she encountered. She'd even been able to put up a fight against the Titan Thanos, for a while. Not many enemies stood a chance when she got going. She was known and feared across most of the universe, an oncoming storm, a force to take down all others. She could destroy planets if she ever wanted to, and without really breaking a sweat. Here, though she was totally powerless. How ironic it was that something as small and simple as a bathroom line had given way to one of the most calamitous moments of her entire life. Not only that, but it had happened twice in a few days. She didn't know what to do, and that terrified her. It was almost impossible to know how things had unravelled this quickly. A few hours ago they'd been happily setting off. Now, almost all of the nineteen women in her vicinity were either soiling themselves, about to soil themselves or already had soiled themselves. Carol herself was in the second category. She knew that there was no avoiding it now, unless she got some incredible luck or- and this was an idea that crossed her mind- cut the line like Emma Frost had done. Selfishness wasn't really Carol's motto, but perhaps just this once she could get away with it. After all, she really liked these panties, and they weren't exactly cheap to replace. Messing them would be more trouble than she could be bothered to sort out. She knew, though, that doing it wasn't the problem. The problem would be living with it afterwards. Even if she was going to cut in line, that would require holding it at least until Laura Kinney came out of the bathroom, and Carol wasn't sure she had it in her. She knew the feeling all too well of being right on the verge of losing control- she'd had that same feeling just a few days earlier. It was like her tight hole was starting to stretch and flex, anticipating that very soon it would need to open itself and let something pass through. Once her body started that process, her brain could usually do very little about it. Her Captain Marvel suit was built with that in mind, and accidents in that weren't a problem, but here? In civilian clothing? That wasn't going to go well. And the worst thing for Carol was that she had no idea what kind of accident it was going to be. Hard and firm? Loose and squishy? Diarrhoea? Would there be lots of small pieces or just one big chunk, like Kamala? That information would probably prove useful, but there was no way to plan ahead until it had already started coming out. Judging by the feeling in her stomach, she guessed that- whatever it was- it was going to be a big one. And it was coming soon. That was beyond any real doubt. Not knowing what else to do, Carol started to stagger towards the bathroom, more out of blind optimism than anything. She knew there was a chance that she might be able to make it- a long shot, but a chance nonetheless. And whenever there was a chance, Carol Danvers would give it a go. She didn't shy away from a challenge. Why, though, did this challenge feel so much more difficult than taking on an army? It started coming out as she walked. Carol, powerless to stop it, kept moving, determined to at least get close before she filled her panties. It was strange, in a way; she wasn't used to walking past people who needed her help. It wasn't very 'superhero' of her to just ignore them and focus on nothing but her own needs- especially when most of them were young women who could seriously do with her assistance. The problem was that she knew that any pause would incite a full-on accident. Except she was already having one. Try as hard as she might to hold it all back, her butthole had finally had enough. It was opening. As Carol marched towards the bathroom, seeing the door creak open and Laura Kinney's head poke out, she almost allowed herself to hope. The stall was empty and soon she would be too. Even as she started to grow a tail, Carol kept believing that she might make it there in time. She pushed on, trying to slow down the escape of her log, trying to pretend it wasn't smearing across her cheeks as she swung her legs. Only when she felt the first piece break off into her panties did she finally accept that it had happened. She was shitting herself, and although she desperately wanted to lock herself in the stall and do whatever she could to minimise the damage, she knew that that would be nothing short of awful behaviour. Someone else was more deserving of that toilet- someone who might still be able to make it. So she stopped in her tracks and allowed her tortured bowels to finally empty. It almost felt good. That was the strangest part. As it slid and stretched out of her, an insane part of Carol wanted to close her eyes and moan. She could smell it already, even after just the first few seconds of letting go. The first log was fallowed by another, thinner but longer, and then another smaller piece. Each fell with a light little thud to sit in her underwear, heavy and hanging. Behind her, she heard the total carnage that was developing. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the bus, Dani Moonstar's wide-eyed face watching in shock through the window. Carol couldn't move until she was empty, so she bore down and pushed. —————————————————————————————————————————— 57k Jemma knew she was done for the moment she moment Jubilee started to lose control. The sounds, sights, smells... it was all too much to take. Watching the girl empty herself made her bowels crave relief of their own, and now the urge was too strong for her to bear much longer. She estimated that she had no more than thirty seconds before she really began to mess herself. Nobody was looking her way. That thought popped into her head and she couldn't send it away again, no matter how hard she tried. Everyone was too focused on their own shit, literally in most cases. Either they were panicking about oncoming accidents, or they were watching someone else do the same. The only person who didn't seem concerned was Hope Summers, still standing calmly and observing the massacre of incontinence that was engulfing her. Jemma still didn't get why Hope was in the line at all, but there was no time to worry about that now. Instead she turned and eyed the alleyway she'd fantasised about with Jubilee not two minutes earlier. If she got caught, it could end her career. But nobody was likely to notice, surely? She took a deep breath. Time was running out for Jemma to make her decision. —————————————————————————————————————————— Shuri shit herself with surprising ease. She'd expected a long, hard battle with her bowels, culminating in a drawn-out expulsion of the incredible amount of poop that was currently blocking her up. What she got, though, was far more simple and far less dramatic: one second she had to shit, and twenty seconds later she didn't. It all simply exploded from her tight ring at once, bursting out and spilling hotly into her panties. They filled up like a sponge, absorbing the loose mess, one wet log after the other. Nothing she was trying was working anymore- clenching, holding with her hands, pushing it back... nothing could stop the accident that was finally happening. All Shuri could do was stand there, still, and feel it sloshing out of her. She became aware somehow of a trickle of brown liquid dribbling down the back of one of her hairless thighs. It was warm. The smell was something else; it was unbearable, as powerful as animal shit. And yet Shuri found herself struggling to care. The fact that everyone else around her was soiling themselves made it hard to feel too embarrassed at that moment- especially contrasting against the pleasure the relief was bringing. —————————————————————————————————————————— Kate couldn't hold on a second longer. She knew it was go now or go in her pants, and she didn't fancy the second option. The line- or what little was left of the line- was far too long ahead of her. She couldn't make it to the bathroom. All she could do was find somewhere to relieve herself that nobody would spot her entering. It wasn't hard to find: a small opening between two nearby buildings, only partly blocked by a huge dumpster. One hand stuck in her crotch out of necessity, she dashed forwards and darted into the alley. She'd expected to be alone there, but that had been a misconception- as she quickly came to find out. There were two other people in the alleyway with her. One was Dazzler. She had wet herself. She stood there, legs wide open, still watching in dismay as the last of her piss dribbled out through the crotch of her jeans and joined the pool around her feet. The wet patch was enormous, doing nothing to help hide a clear panty line. The other person there, and by far the more shocking to see, was Jemma Simmons. The scientist was squatting over the ground, jeans and panties pulled down around her ankles. The first thing Kate saw was the woman's bush, just about covering a tidy pussy that was streaming pee steadily. From her angle Kate could also see Jemma's bare bum, pale and smooth. A long, thick turd was sliding out from between the cheeks, so long that already it had almost hit the ground. Jemma didn't notice Kate's arrival. Her eyes were closed and she was almost moaning, lost in the bliss of finally pooping. In a strange flash of random detail, Kate realised that Jemma's nipples were hard beneath her thin top. Kate hadn't even realised that she was peeing in her pants. The pure shock of seeing Dazzler in sodden underwear, Jemma's naked pussy and the long shit she was depositing had totally ruined Kate's ability to hold in her own pee, and only when she heard it splashing onto the ground below her did she finally notice that she was having an accident. All she could think to do was let it happen, knowing now that once the underwear was ruined, there wasn't much point stopping herself. She might as well go all the way. —————————————————————————————————————————— Kitty Pryde prided herself on her moral values, but they all went out the window when she felt her shit starting to poke out. She had to get on that toilet, and soon. So, hoping nobody would spot her, she did one thing she thought she'd never do- use her powers to phase into the bathroom. Emma Frost was on the loo, but it was clear from a glance that she hadn't made it. There was a fat log on the floor a few feet from the bowl, presumably where Emma had lost control just before sitting down. Kitty couldn't afford to care about that. "Kitty, what the fuck?" Emma shrieked, covering her pussy with both hands as she kept going. But Kitty was already unbuttoning her jeans. "Sorry, I couldn't hold it any longer," she said. Down came the jeans and- with the precision of only a truly desperate girl- she hopped up onto the bathroom sink in one movement. "Kitty, no. You're not shitting in there," ordered Emma. "I'm sorry, Emma, it's already happening," Kitty moaned. And it was- almost as soon as she'd sat down, the poop had started coming. "I couldn't stop it even if I wanted to now". ——————————————————————————————————————————— Hope Summers felt as though she was watching some kind of war film. Soldiers were dropping like flies around her, more or less out of control. Every time she looked around, someone else had lost the battle with their bladder or bowels, and the smell in the air was only growing thicker and more out of control with each passing moment. Even Jean Grey, who she'd always seen as the strongest and most strong-willed of them all, had given up. As she watched on, the Dark Phoenix was filling her pants while hugging young Kamala Khan. It wasn't exactly what Hope had expected. She didn't need to go at all. In fact, Hope was fairly sure that she couldn't squeeze anything out even if she tried for half an hour. The urge that she'd experienced while perched at the back of the bus earlier in the drive had totally vanished. The real reason she was queuing up was simple: she'd felt horny, and hadn't fancied a whole four-hour trip without getting any relief. Her plan had been to sneak off to the gas station toilets for a quick wank, but that was tricky when all of your classmates were having accidents around you. Instead she was simply there, in the heart of the chaos, wondering how on earth they were supposed to clean all of this up. —————————————————————————————— Emma watched in horror as Kitty emptied herself noisily, violently into the bathroom sink. It was too late now- not even her powers would be able to undo what had just been done. You'd need Stephen Strange to stop Kitty from yanking down her underwear and hopping up there. And soon they would be faced with the stark reality of an impossible task: getting away with it. There was no chance of cleaning it up. Emma already had a pretty good idea of what happened when a poop of such magnitude was bombed down onto a basin meant for nothing more strenuous than a quick hand-wash. They couldn't just wipe the surfaces clean, nor could they unclog the drain once it got in there. And that was without even mentioning the smell. While Emma began the difficult task of wiping herself- easier said than done after something quite so wet and loose- she looked at Kitty. The girl, it was clear, hadn't even begun yet to think about cleanup. She was only focused on the relief she was getting at that exact moment, on how good it felt to finally use the toilet. Emma knew that feeling well, so she let her be. For now. —————————————————————————————— "Oh, uh, hi, Kate," Dazzler said nervously. They stood facing each other, now both in identically sodden pants. It would be like a mirror image if not for the vastly different heights and builds of the two. "Didn't make it either, huh?" "I would've, if not for the shock of seeing you two here," Kate grumbled. That wasn't entirely true; Kate knew that there was always a good chance she would wet herself before getting her fidgety buttons undone anyway. But she didn't feel like mentioning that now. "Um, guys," Jemma said, having to pause mid-sentence to let out a groan as she pushed, "do you think you could... not mention that you saw my bits to Jean?" Her pussy, gleaming with pee, was still on full display. Kate could see that her nipples were still like shards of glass beneath her top. "I'll keep it quiet," Kate agreed reluctantly, "but I'm jealous that you didn't ruin your underwear too". "Oh, I think I did," said Jemma, "I was poking out pretty badly back there". ———————————————————————————————— "Oh, my God, I'm gonna fucking piss myself," Ellie hissed, fanning her legs violently. It wasn't the first time she'd said that in the last few minutes. While Dani and America watched the mess outside unravel, Ellie couldn't care less. She was focusing on one thing and one thing only: holding on to the litres of pee that were filling her up. "Smells like you're more likely to shit your pants to me," America said, not looking away from the window. Ellie just frowned. "It can be both," she growled. The odours that her arse had been producing were more pungent than ever now: she was farting every few seconds, and America was pretty sure they weren't just dry anymore. Not that she was fairing much better. Where she knelt up on one seat to get a good view, her hand was beneath the waistband of her shorts, squeezing her bare pussy directly, skin-on-skin. She didn't fancy admitting that it was already somewhat wet. The first leak had sprinkled against her palm a few moments before Ellie's outburst. The only thing stopping her from giving up and going was the sense that her competitors needed to go even more badly than she did. If she could just hold on the longest, she would win the contest. And that would be perfect material to tease Dani with in bed later. And maybe Ellie too. If they could convince her. ————————————————————————————— Rachel was leaking uncontrollably. No matter how hard she tried, physically and mentally, to stem the flow, she’d plummeted into a stage of squirting hopelessly every few seconds. Her ability to hold it had completely disappeared, and a glance down at her pussy confirmed that her crotch was soaked. Somewhere, at some point, the squirting turned into a single, continuous stream. —————————————————————————————— Kamala had never been so glad to see the golden arches of McDonalds as the coach pulled up outside. She'd thought, after filling her panties for the second time in a few days, that all she wanted was to get home and take a long, hot shower. But almost as soon as she'd thrown out her soiled clothes, wiped herself down as best she could with wet wipes from Jemma's bag and pulled on a fresh pair of jeans, she realised how hungry she was. They'd hoped to get back to the X-Mansion in time for lunch, but after much deliberation Jean had decided that that wasn't going to be possible thanks to the delay that they'd incurred at the gas station, where what should've been a simple, ten-minute stop turned into a mess of desperation, accidents, throwing clothes out and getting cleaned up that had ended up taking up more than an hour of their day. So she'd reluctantly agreed that they could stop off somewhere for fast food so long as someone phoned ahead to tell the Professor they would be late. Nobody thought it was a good idea to explain the reason behind their huge delay, though. They filed out of the coach one by one, each immensely relieved to find themselves back in fresh air. They'd done their best to open every window as much as possible, but the smell of poop still lingered there. None of them had set foot inside the vehicle before cleaning up as thoroughly as was possible without a shower, which was testament to how bad some of the accidents had been. The smell was on their skin now, and Kamala knew she was worse than most. But she suspected that Ellie's regular, unstoppable farts were contributing more than anything else. The inside of the restaurant looked much like almost every other McDonalds in America- at least, the ones Kamala had seen before. A gleaming mass of red, yellow and white, this was what kids called a dream and architects called a nightmare. Kamala, for her part, didn't think she'd care if the room was painted electric pink. All she could think about was finally getting some food inside her. She knew that, for once, she was safe from consequences- by the time anything she ate here was ready to come out, she would have long since been at home and near her toilet. The women split up to queue around the electronic terminals and order food. Kamala found herself in line behind the Stepford Cuckoos and Shuri. She was interested to see whether the Cuckoos ordered three identical meals, and didn't know whether or not to be surprised when they did. However, she certainly was surprised to see that they bought three large Diet Cokes. With the limited bladder control they'd displayed so far, Kamala wasn't sure that was smart. Then there was Shuri, who looked a little ridiculous in torn denim shorts which she'd been forced to wear by virtue of them being the only bottoms she still had that hadn't been pooped in at some point on the trip. Kamala went through a familiar process every time she ordered fast food- first she would tell herself to be good, not get too much and make sure she didn't order more than she could handle. Then she would start adding little bonuses, small things that didn't cost a lot. Finally, at some point she would simply snap and decide to go for it, ending up with five or six more things than she needed. That was how it unfolded as she stood there at the terminal. She grabbed her receipt and wondered over to the waiting area that had formed from the women of the group over in one corner. They were more or less the only people in the restaurant, so she could rest easy in the knowledge that she only had to wait for her classmates and teachers to get their food before hers arrived. There wasn't much in the way of conversation, with almost everyone being too tired and shaken up from the gas stop incident to be feeling talkative. The only exception, as ever, was Dazzler and Jubilee. Kamala knew exactly how everyone felt. She could remember so clearly the sensation of standing there and knowing that she was about to mess herself. The way her asshole had stretched out, so determined that it overwhelmed one of the first instincts she'd ever been taught, was imprinted in her brain. Memories of the pungent smell, of the feeling of her poop sliding out and squishing up against her bare cheeks... they weren't going away in a hurry. She remembered the way she'd wet her pants without even realising because the poop coming out had made her muscles give up. Afterwards, she'd had to walk around with full panties for almost ten minutes. That was how long it took for things to calm down and Jean to figure out a solution. Those ten minutes had been some of the most uncomfortable of her life. The pee quickly grew cold but her monster poop stayed warm until she finally got to peel off her jeans and dump the mess into the toilet unceremoniously. Now she stood there, in a McDonalds, surrounded by people who were, just like her, remembering the humiliating thing that had happened to them just over an hour ago. Looking around the group, hoping to find someone to talk to, something caught Kamala's eye. Something she'd forgotten about completely until that point. America Chavez was standing there, just a few metres away. And she was still crossing her legs. ———————————————————————————————— For the life of her, Dani Moonstar couldn’t figure out how she was still holding on. As they watched the world go by through the windows of the coach, there was no doubt in her mind that this was the most she’d ever needed the toilet. It was more desperate than their arrival at the hotel, more urgent than the disaster at the museum. And yet somehow she was hanging on still. It didn’t make much sense to her- the limit she thought she had had long since been surpassed, but she hadn’t lost control yet. Was it a case of her competitiveness spurring her on, pushing her to places she didn’t realise she could go? That was possible. She desperately didn’t want to lose the contest. And somehow, Ellie and America were still in the game. America. She was another reason why Dani wanted to hang in as long as she could. She wanted to impress the girl, who was sitting beside her, utterly unable to stay still. Dani wasn’t faring much better herself, squirming like a lunatic, but she couldn’t think of a good way to tell who was closer to breaking. She supposed she could just ask, but she didn’t trust America to give her an honest answer. Too much was on the line. Or perhaps she was still hanging in there because her body knew how close they were to relief. She recognised their surroundings quite well at that point- they were surely only a few minutes away from the X-Mansion, where she could retreat to her bedroom, probably with America, and keep holding until one or both of them burst in beautiful, wonderful privacy. And maybe Ellie could come too. Maybe. If she wanted to, and if America was okay with it. Dani didn’t think she’d mind that one bit. The girl was a bitch, but she was a hot bitch, and she had a decent side to her if she was in the right mood. The question, then, was whether they would make it there on time. There were so many different possible scenarios floating around her head at that point. She could wet her pants without losing control of her bowels, or she could do both. The same applied to both America and Ellie. One outcome that seemed unlikely was of all three of them getting to the safety of a bedroom without at least one of them losing control of at least one function. Dani looked from left to right, wondering who it might be. Ellie was tough, but she did have her limits. Back at the gas station, and again at the McDonalds, Ellie had told them both that she was on the verge of losing control. Both times, Dani had thought that the girl they called Negasonic Teenage Warhead was about to poop her pants, piss them or both. And both times she had survived. Dani wasn’t sure how that was possible, but she had two theories: either Ellie was exaggerating how bad she had to go as some kind of psychological trick, or she had just never pushed herself this far before and hadn’t known how much she could hold until now. Which would mean… Which would mean that she might have been able to hold on for longer at the museum, had she just tried a little harder. None of the women who had seen Ellie squatting down and curling a huge poop onto the floor were likely to forget it in a hurry, but what if it could have been avoided? After all, she was now proving that she had bowels of steel in her. Dani felt another wave of desperation approach, and in anticipation she snaked a hand down and grabbed her pussy tight through her jeans. It had been easier to hold her cunt directly, but with all these people in the bus there was no way she could still get away with that. She’d have to make do with the old-fashioned way. It wasn’t as effective as she’d have liked. The farting was another problem. It was incessant now, completely out of her control, her ass more like a sieve that could do nothing to stop the gas from flowing through. And the smell was atrocious. She was sure, now, that the other girls had picked up on what was going on. For one thing, Dani, America and Ellie were the only people who hadn't used the bathroom (either properly, in their pants or in an alley somewhere) at the rest stop. For another, they all clearly had to take a dump badly, judging by the volume of farts that continued to slip out. Only a few had guessed the specifics of the contest- they were sure that Jemma knew, but Shuri and Dazzler both seemed suspicious too. It didn't matter too much. A look out of the window confirmed what Dani had been waiting for for hours: they were home. The bus was puling up at last outside of the towering shape of the X-Mansion, just a short walk from the door. When they finally came to a stop, Jean stood up and addressed the group from the front of the bus. "Okay, guys, make sure you have all your litter with you before you get off, and remember to grab your bags from the luggage compartment. Remember, we're back in class tomorrow, so don't stay up too late". Nobody was listening, least of all Dani. She turned to America with a glimmer in her eye. "Come with me," she said. It wasn't a request. "Want to invite Ellie?" America asked. Dani nodded and turned to the girl, who looked more than a little ill. "Ellie, we're going to my room. You coming?" "Sure," Ellie said, "beats shitting myself in public". ———————————————————————————————— Jemma watched them go with a mixture of bemusement, concern and admiration. She wasn't sure how many of the other teachers had figured out what the trio was planning, if any- for all Jemma knew, she was the only one. And part of her, as it was prone to do in such situations, wondered if maybe she had a duty to report it to Jean. After all, if she was right about what the three girls were about to do, the implications both legal and hygienic could grow rather serious- not to mention how it might impact them emotionally should things go wrong. Then again... they might not go wrong. And, all things considered, who was she to intrude on the privacy of what amounted to three legally consenting adults? It was hardly her business, whether it all went smoothly for them or not. So she decided to do nothing. It was only fair to let them have their fun, let them fall for themselves if that was what was meant to be. At the end of the day, Jemma told herself while she pushed the concern aside, this wasn't even her actual job. The kids could look after themselves. So the only thing she felt when she watched Dani, America and Ellie scamper back to Dani's room was amazement that they were still holding on. Of the twenty-two women in the travelling party, these were the only three that had managed to go the whole journey- which had ended up spanning over six hours- without using the bathroom once. Jemma briefly considered the possibility that they had cheated somehow. Maybe they'd nipped into the toilets at the McDonalds when she wasn't looking? But surely that wasn't feasible. Or what if they had gone on the bus, into a cup or a bottle? Would they dare? Jemma couldn’t afford to care either way. She had a much more pressing need to attend to: for the last part of the coach journey home, she’d badly needed a wee. She supposed that she shouldn’t be too surprised- it was almost inevitable given how much coke she’d had with her lunch, but she’d hugely miscalculated how long she had before she got desperate. Now, as she climbed down from the bus to get her luggage, every step weighed heavily on her bladder. There was already an uncomfortable volume of pee sloshing around in her bladder, and she knew it wouldn't wait around for too long before she needed to get to a bathroom. Being one of the only adults, Jemma felt it was only appropriate that she should let the pupils off the coach first so that they could get back to their rooms. By the time she finally touched ground, the seventeen kids were already dispersing in every which direction. None had made it as far, though, as Dani, America and Ellie, who were already disappearing in the direction of the dormitories. A lot of the students were going to the cafeteria to catch up with their male friends, who'd be going on the same trip next week, and more still were going towards the bathrooms. That was certainly going to be Jemma's first destination. She had a bladder to empty. She headed off, without even taking the time to explain to the other mentors where she was going, following a gaggle of kids that included Shuri and Kate, among others. The closer she got to the toilet, the more and more her need picked up. It was classic bathroom psychology; already Jemma could feel her holding muscles start to grow weaker and more tired as she walked. When she turned into the corridor on which the closest women's toilets sat, however, she was met with the last thing she wanted to see: a queue had already formed outside the door. There was Shuri and Kate, as she'd expected, but that wasn't all. The Cuckoos, Kamala and Armor had already hopped in line, along with several girls Jemma couldn't put a name to. It was easy to forget, after several days living in rooms with en-suite bathrooms, that one of the starker realities of school life was unveiling itself in front of her eyes: there was always a queue. But Jemma didn't know the school well enough to know where the nearest alternative bathroom was, or whether the line there could be even longer. She didn't fancy the risk nor the discomfort of wondering around the busy mansion for who-knows-how-long, so she knew that she only had one option- she'd have to join the line, and hope that it moved fast enough. Already, that was becoming a concern, though. Her desperation was rapidly creeping up, her pee getting closer by the minute to starting to leak out of her. And there were eight people in line to go first. This was going to be a long wait. —————————————————————————————————— Kate Bishop was in trouble. Again. Except this time it was worse than the bus stop, or the museum. Needing to pee was one thing. She had to pee all the time, and so did almost all of her female friends. When a girl’s gotta go, she gotta go, Kate liked to say. And sure, she hadn’t made it to the bathroom in time back at the gas station. She’d given her jeans a right soaking, but so had almost everyone else. No big deal in the end. And as for the museum queue, well, that had worked out just fine too- she’d gotten the thrill of going in a bottle and barely a drop had spilled on her clothes. But fast food always went right through a girl as petite as Kate, and she knew that she should’ve guessed when she stuffed it down that she would need to visit the bathroom for something much heavier than just a pee before too long. Nature called and Kate was being ordered to answer. The problem was that it seemed like half a dozen women had felt the call of nature at the same time as her, and from what she had heard- whispers from passers-by, mainly- the whole school was just as busy. Even the incident at the hotel had been less embarrassing than this, because she had made it onto the toilet in time, and only two people had seen, both of which she had befriended that same day. Now, stuck in a queue for the X-Mansion’s most popular ladies’ room, she was seriously doubting if she could hold it long enough to get some relief. At least, not relief in the way that her mother had taught her. She was determined, though, not to let on that she had to go number two if she could help it. She didn’t need people knowing that about her. It was one thing for Armor to deduce that Kate needed to empty her bowels, because over the course of the previous few days she’d witnessed Armor mess her panties and take a dump in a dry toilet before pissing on Dazzler’s bare legs- at least, that was the version of the story Dazzler told, although Armor refused to talk about exactly what had happened in there. So she didn’t mind Armor knowing. But there were other people here, now, people who had no idea of the shared experiences the women on the trip had had. None of them knew that, at one point or another, they’d almost all seen every one of the others have an accident (or go to the toilet somewhere outrageously inappropriate, as Ellie had done on the gravel beside the port-a-potty). They wouldn’t understand. And she’d probably have to see a lot of them again in the future, seeing as it looked like they were stuck with this next-generation-of-superheroes thing. Kate did not need any of her potential future teammates knowing that, at that moment when she was standing there just minutes after getting off the bus, she really had to take a shit. That was information she would prefer to keep to herself. The trouble was that Kate quickly found out that hiding a need to poop was far more difficult than she’d originally anticipated, particularly when it was a need as desperate as hers was. She grew more and more paranoid that something would give her away, be it the odours that were drifting out from her bottom no matter how incessantly she tried to keep her buttcheeks clenched closed, or the gurgling in her stomach that she was convinced was audible for miles around. When Shuri, who was just in front of her in the line, had turned around and asked if she was okay, Kate had lied to her face. She’d told the Wakandan that she was fine, just bursting to pee. There was no telling if Shuri believed the fib or not- you never could tell with geniuses- but her friend dropped it either way. Kate felt bad lying to someone as nice as Shuri, but she was worried someone might overhear if she started talking about needing to poop. The giveaway came when the strongest wave of desperation yet hit her. She bent over at the hips slightly and gasped involuntarily at the feeling of the log starting to emerge from her tight ring. She could feel it starting to turtlehead out, trying to force itself into her underwear, but she just about got it under control before an accident happened. Shuri spun around at the sound of the gasp and looked at her. “Are you okay?” she asked, looking worried. “Yeah, it’s okay,” said Kate, “I just… might’ve leaked a little bit”. Shuri glanced down at Kate’s crotch (in her imagination, Kate’s clothes had very much been off when Shuri first glanced at her crotch) and raised a suspicious eyebrow. “It looks dry to me,” she said. Kate knew then that she had been caught out. There was no point lying to someone as smart as Shuri, especially not after they started to foster suspicions. So she dropped her voice to a whisper, leaned forward and said: “I meant leaking out of the other end”. ————————————————————————————————— Laura Kinney took one brief look at the line outside the main women’s bathroom and decided that it wasn’t an option. With the §full feeling in her bladder, she estimated that the chances of her being able to hang on until it was her turn were close to zero. A more confident girl might had gone anyway and asked others if she could cut in front of them, but Laura had never been the type to do something so… well, so desperate. She far preferred to keep these things as private as she could. And besides, the line was too much of a risk anyway. That left her with one other option, which was also risky but in a very different way. If she could make it up to the dormitories, there would be a far more private toilet waiting for her to use as long and as loudly as she wanted. Which was great, because the more time passed the more she started to suspected that it wasn’t just her bowels that demanded emptying. She felt although she had to poop as well. And she didn’t want to do that in the main bathroom, especially not if there were going to be people waiting on her to come outside. She could think of few things more embarrassing than someone having an accident because she was too busy shitting her brains out. So, instead, Laura carried on through the school. This one was a risk, too, of course. The difference was that she knew she could at least hold on until she was fairly close to the bathrooms, which would be a life-saver on the social side of things. If she had an accident- if she couldn’t quite reach the toilet on time- then at least there wouldn’t be very many people around to witness her shame. If she was lucky, there might be nobody there at all, which certainly wasn’t an impossibility at this time of day. She scolded herself for already thinking as though she was certain to wet herself. The fight was far from over yet, and Laura had never been the type to give up early. And yet, her whole attitude towards accidents had changed drastically during the course of the trip. She’d used to think of pissing one’s pants as something that happened very rarely, to only a few other women, and messing them as something that was even more uncommon. Since they had left for DC a few days before, Laura had witnessed countless people failing to make it, and now she understood that it was a normal part of life for a lot of women. At another time, that might make her feel better about the stilted, squirming way she was walking, but today it only made her wish that she wasn’t among them. It took all of her self-control not to simply grab her pussy and hold herself while she walked. Oh, that would make it so much easier, to have a physical barrier blocking the piss from coming out. She’d learned from experience several times that a hand couldn’t keep in a desperate one forever, but it was guaranteed to at least buy her some time as she strived to avoid a humiliating moment. The trouble was that, though the corridor she was marching down at that point was deserted, knowing her luck someone would round the corner and see her the moment her palm touched the fabric of her jeans. So no, that wasn’t an option. Instead she had to rely on three things: tight thighs, mental distraction and speed. The trouble with trying to get to a bathroom when you urgently need one is that walking fast usually only makes things far worse, and Laura was finding that out all too well here. The more she picked up the pace, the more she felt that it was likely she was about to leak or worse. When she slowed down and he steps become less aggressive, she felt as though progress was far too slow and there was next to no chance she would make it in time if she didn’t get faster. There was no winning. So in the end she went for the first option, powering along with her arms swinging like pendulums. Her bladder, at that point, was desperately full. She didn’t think it could take another drop- if she so much as swallowed some saliva she felt as though the whole thing would simply burst. It struck fear into her in a way that she hadn’t felt in a while. At the hotel, she’d technically made it on time. At the gas station, the story was the same- despite some minor leaks, she’d been one of the very few to stay dry. And at the museum, sure, she’d shit her pants, but nobody had been paying much attention to her either before, during or after, and nobody would tell anyone. This situation was very different, because someone who wasn’t on the trip could spot her at any moment, and then there was no telling who they might spread the news to. She had a brief, scary thought about Pixie spotting her. There was no chance that girl could ever keep a secret. The silver lining was that she was at the door to the dormitory, and not a second too soon. She felt as though another minutes delay would be the end for her chances of staying dry, which meant her only hope was that there were no further holdups between here and the wonderful white of the toilet seat. Unable to stop herself from dancing on the spot, Laura grabbed the doorknob and turned. —————————————————————————————————————————————— Riri Williams had been one of the first girls off the bus when it finally pulled up outside the X-Mansion, for one simple reason. She'd pushed through the gaggle of girls trying to grab their luggage and ventured forward towards the building, not bothering with her bags: those could wait until later. They had to wait until later. She had something far more urgent that she needed to do first. She strode as fast as she dared through the archway doors and headed down the corridor towards the dormitories. Being one of the few women on the trip who didn't live in the X-Mansion, she was at something of a disadvantage on this front. She didn't know her way around the building as well as most did, and to make matters worse she had no bedroom to go to. The problem was that there was no chance at all of her waiting in a queue for the bathroom, and even less chance of her getting back to her actual home in time, so her only real hope was to try and find an unlocked, empty dormitory upstairs where she could relieve herself in peace. That wouldn't have been so much of an issue if she only had to pee, but there was more to it than that- a poop, created by the fast food she'd so thoughtlessly eaten, was brewing up quickly. It had the feeling to it of one of those shits that didn't wait around once it started cooking, and wouldn't be easy to clean out of her jeans if she had to. So Riri knew she had to find a bathroom sooner rather than later- hence the trip to the bedrooms. Walking at a speed far too quick to ever be considered natural, she chanced a glance over her shoulder and didn't like what she saw- Laura Kinney was coming just a few yards behind her, head down. Riri wasn't sure if Laura had noticed her presence there, but she didn't like the increased competition. Riri picked up the pace, hoping to pull away from the moody girl before they were forced to interact. She felt a far slip out as she walked and ignored it. Nobody was near enough to hear what had been a thankfully quiet one, and soon she'd be too far away to smell it at all. All she could afford to focus on was getting to the bathrooms. She only knew where they were from word of mouth, and if her information was wrong, she could be in deep trouble. But, from what she'd heard... The staircase that she’d been told led up to the bedrooms was exactly where Riri had expected to find it, and she began her grateful ascent with ease. It wasn’t easy climbing steep steps with such pressure in her bowels, but Riri knew that it would have been far more difficult had they arrived twenty minutes later. She had to go bad, but not bad enough that she was worried about the prospect of not making it- not yet, at least. At the top began a row of wooden doors that looked somewhere between a cheap hotel and a boarding school. Her hope was that nobody would be in their rooms at that time of day, with classes still going on for the rest of the school who hadn’t been on the trip. And surely not everyone locked their bedroom door every time they left? Well, whoever lived behind the first door certainly did. She twisted the knob and nothing happened, so she dutifully moved on to the next. This was far more successful, and the door clicked and swung open right away. Riri wondered into the room, which was totally silent. As she had expected, it was empty. More than a little messy, sure, but Riri didn’t care about that. She was there for one thing and one thing only- the bathroom. Already undoing her jeans’ button in anticipation, she headed into the ensuite, not bothering to lock the door behind her. The feeling of sliding her jeans and underwear down to her ankles in one go was wonderful. Almost right away, Riri felt the heavy log inside her start to slide towards the exit, probing and stretching her hole, ready to let it slip out of her. She sighed in relief, closed her eyes slowly and smiled at the warm pleasure of it all. Then, seconds later, with a turd already poking out- The bedroom door started to open. Panicking, Riri jolted into life, trying to reach over and push the bathroom door closed to give her some privacy while she could think of an excuse. It was too far away. She realised then that she had already started peeing without realising. Riri tried to suck the log back in, but it was too far gone. She looked up from her seat at the toilet to see Laura Kinney standing there, shock plastered on her face. —————————————————————————————————————————————————-- For Kamala, finding herself desperately needing the toilet wasn’t even worth bothering to pretend to be surprised about any more. She reckoned she was only a few more times away from totally losing count of how many urgent moments she’d had that week when she’d thought she might not make it. And more often than not she had been right. And now she was there again, trapped in a near-identical situation. It was like being right back at the museum, or the gas stop just earlier that day. Had it really been only a few hours ago that she’d completely filled her panties? It felt like far longer. She’d grown used to being in a long line for the bathroom over the course of the trip. This line was just as long, but almost totally ungoverned by adults in power, and there was nobody there this time to hold Kamala and comfort her if she failed to hang on long enough. The only comfort, if you could call it that, was that she at least didn’t have to poop at this point in time. She’d had two humiliating moments in which she’d unloaded one of her notorious monster turds into her panties already. The last thing she needed was for it to happen yet again, but in an even more public setting. So she was grateful, if only a little, that all she had inside her at that point was what felt lie an enormous amount of piss. The trouble was that only having to piss made holding the piss even more difficult than if she had to do both. Her bladder was suddenly all she had to think about. So, as she often did in times when she really had to go, Kamala took a look around at her surroundings, hoping to find something to distract her. This, she would acknowledge if asked later on that day, was a terrible, awful mistake. The first person she saw was Armor, and that did nothing except discourage her. Armor was looking like Kamala had never seen her before- had never even imagined her. The girl who prided herself on dignity and honour seemed to have been stripped completely of both things. Her hand, smooth and clean, was grasping her pussy so tightly that Kamala thought it must surely hurt. She looked as though she was convinced she would piss herself were she to let go. It was almost painful for Kamala just to look at, but for a moment she couldn’t take her eyes away from it. It was like watching a car crash. Armor was bent over at the waist slightly, knees locked tight together, shaking. She looked every bit like a cartoon parody of a girl who was dying to take a leak. If Armor looked strange, she was nothing compared to the Stepford Cuckoos. The three girls, dressed identically as always, had wet themselves at the gas station. Kamala had been so caught up in her own desperation that she hadn’t even noticed until she’d spotted them peeling off their wet clothes in the barely-secluded spot behind the bus later on. She was almost weirdly fascinated by the way that they all seemed to lose control simultaneously. There was something kind of cool about the idea. At the same time, though, she could only imagine ho inconvenient it had to be for the triplets. There had to have been so many times where they hadn’t quite made it, and of course the mess would be three times the size if it was a number one and three times the stink if it was a number two. Kamala knew she wasn’t likely to forget in a hurry how bad it had smelt when the trio had messed themselves from food poisoning right at the beginning of the trip. She understood that accidents happened and that they usually stunk, because she had had plenty of them herself, but three at once? It was a nightmare. Then there was Shuri who, to her credit, seemed to be handling things better than anyone else in the line. Kamala wasn't sure if that was because she didn't need to go too badly or if it was her natural Wakandan regency kicking in. She had no real knowledge about how royals were viewed and expected to behave over there, but she could guess that the Princess of Wakanda was discouraged from openly squirming about and complaining when she had to use the bathroom. Then again, that wouldn't explain why she had so often spotted the girl holding her pussy or even her ass throughout the week as a holding mechanism. Perhaps it was related to the fact that they were back at the school now, and it was harder to get away with acting obviously desperate. She was talking animatedly to Kate Bishop, who looked to be in a very bad way indeed. It was clear to Kamala just from a glance that the girl really had to take a dump, but she didn't take just a glance- she watched for several minutes. Over that time period, Kate switched from the frantic, bouncing movements of someone who really has to go to the slow, painfully cautious patterns of a person who is genuinely afraid of messing themselves if they move too much. And was that- Kamala wasn't sure if she was imagining things- was there a tiny bulge on the seat of Kate's pants? By the time they had been in the line for five minutes, it had moved forward by just two people. Kamala looked around to check that nobody was looking her way- they weren’t- and reached down to give her crotch a quick squeeze. The throughput needed to pick up, for all of their sakes. —————————————————————————————————————————- Few girls were as happy to see the bus pull up outside of the X-Mansion as Hope Summers- and needing the bathroom had nothing to do with it. Earlier that day, when they'd been heading to the gas station, she'd allowed herself to get... carried away, sexually speaking. Long before the wheels had stopped turning, Hope had already started fantasising about the naughty things she would do in the service station bathroom. She'd gotten excited- wet, even- and then been denied by the disastrous accidents of almost all of her classmates. Now, back home, she could finally look forward to a very different kind of relief. Her pussy ached with the need to be touched. She told it to be patient. It wouldn't have to wait much longer. But she had no intention of pleasuring herself in her own bedroom. There, the walls were too thin, the doors too prone to being knocked on. No, this time she wanted to be guaranteed of some peace and quiet. And she had the perfect place in mind: somewhere nobody would dare to interrupt her, which was always empty at this time of day and was never locked. To get there, she would have to walk past the student dormitories. As she walked past one door, though, a noise persuaded her to stop for a moment. She knew it as Dani Moonstar's room. And it sounded like... Hope put an ear to the wood. Moaning. Yep, there was no question about it, Dani was getting off in there. And who could blame her? She was probably horny as hell, same as a lot of the women after days in a hotel room. Hope could certainly relate. Losing patience, she pushed on, up the stairs and into the empty staff dormitories. Checking both ways to make sure she wouldn't be spotted, Hope turned the handle and slipped into Jean Grey's room. —————————————————————————————————————————— Jean left the office feeling several pounds lighter. She had finally dropped off the keys to the coach and wouldn't have to worry about keeping them in her pocket for some time now- if ever again. She certainly wouldn't be saying yes to another trip like that one in a hurry. So her mood as she walked away from the office where they were kept was one of relief- but that meant the time was ripe for her to get some relief of a very different kind. Since not long after her bus-stop accident, she'd been cooking up a pretty big piss, and now it wanted out. Her body wasn't shy about letting her know, either. This was the thing she'd been looking forward to the most: a chance to use her own private toilet, knowing she wouldn't be interrupted or rushed. On her own loo nobody would dare tell her she had to come and sort out a fight or help park a coach or something stupid. She could simply take her time- maybe take a poop, too, if she still needed one, put on some music or read a magazine. All she had to do first was reach her room- and not a second too soon, either, because now she knew relief was close, boy was it pressing down on her. She was always surprised with how much more desperate she seemed to grow once a toilet was within reach. It was nothing she couldn't hold in, but her pace picked up and there was more of a spring in her step by the time she started to climb the second flight of stairs towards her bedroom. Her heart raced with the excitement of being back. A naughty idea flashed through her mind then- maybe she could treat herself to something after she was empty, lock her bedroom door for once and get one of the adult channels up. That would be nice. But first she needed to pee. ———————————————————————————————————————————— Rachel was annoyed but not surprised when she realised that she'd lost her room key again. It seemed to happen all the time at that point: she was a genius half the time and the ditziest woman alive the other half. There seemed to be no logical explanation for it. Later she would get a replacement, but there was something else she had to do first, something that couldn't wait. Her bowels reminded her every few minutes with a sharp cramp, or maybe an involuntary fart. And she didn't much fancy the long queues outside the communal bathrooms, so she would have to head to the dormitories, to the one room she knew wouldn't be locked- Jean's. Still farting, she headed up the stairs, hoping that nothing more than gas would slip out before she reached her destination. ———————————————————————————————————————————— It was a routine Hope had practiced so many times that she did it automatically. The only difference today, in her view, was that she was doing it in a teacher’s bedroom- but really, who would ever find out? As soon as the door closed behind her, down came the jeans, and she assumed what had always been her favourite masturbatory position- on the toilet, legs spread, bottoms around her ankles. Usually she would get naked, but that seemed like pushing her luck here. If there was a mirror in which she could see herself doing it, that was a bonus. She started stroking slowly at first, allowing herself to get into the rhythm of it, closing her eyes when it started to really feel good. But no sooner had she settled in than- The door swung open and a woman appeared in the doorway. Hope moved her hand away, but it was too late: the figure had seen her touching herself, could still see the way her hands glistened with pussy juices. But it wasn’t Jean Grey. “Okay, we can talk about this later,” said Rachel, “but right now I really gotta take a dump”. —————————————————————————————————————————————- 200- losing control 100- continuing The three of them stumbled into Dani's room like they only had minutes left to live. First in was Dani herself, one hand grabbing her crotch so tightly that it looked as though she would never let go. Following her, barely able to walk normally, came America Chavez, the front of her jeans already slightly stained with wetness. Then, taking up the rear, Ellie staggered in, followed by the heavy smell of the countless farts she'd been unable to hold in on the way. They snuck in like criminals, Dani closing and locking the door the second Ellie was inside. "Okay, let's do this," said America, "and quickly, 'cos I can't hold it much longer". Dani was already peeling her top off over her head. Her forehead, armpits and back were sweating- whether that was from arousal or desperation was anyone's guess. She threw the tee-shirt onto the carpet, revealing a neat little red bra. The whole time, Dani couldn't stop squirming where she stood, dancing with the intense urgency of a girl who knew that stopping for even a few seconds would spell the end of her. "Me neither," Dani agreed, "I don't know how I'm still holding on-“ But she couldn't finish her sentence. Eyeing those partly-exposed breasts, Ellie moved over to Dani and started to kiss her. America was almost as shocked as Dani was- not that Ellie was into chicks, that was hardly even a surprise, but that she was being so forward. For a girl who usually liked to smoulder in reserved grumpiness, she had plenty of passion in her when she thought someone deserved it. And America couldn't deny that it was pretty hot to see. Just watching from a few feet away, she couldn't help wanting to get involved. And the pressure in her bladder and her bowels suggested that she couldn't afford to wait around for long. "Holy shit, I'm gonna crap my pants any minute now," Ellie groaned into Dani's mouth. Even as they made out, she was using one hand to hold her cheeks closed. America found that hot, too, although she couldn't quite figure out why. It was as though seeing this tough girl in such a vulnerable position was letting America view her in a totally different way. It made her want a piece of the action. Never one to deny herself what she wanted, America started to move in on the pair, unbuttoning her blouse as she went. Within seconds it was off, landing in a heap not far from Dani’s. As she moved, another far slipped out, wetter and more forceful than before. But America didn’t care. There were far more important things for her to worry about now. Like getting Dani Moonstar on her back on the bed, ASAP. It was almost a shame to break up the fiery kiss unfolding before her, but she was bored of waiting. With so much force that she almost surprised herself, America grabbed Dani and broke her away from Negasonic Teenage Warhead. She spun her in one swift motion and pushed her down onto the four-poster bed, where the girl laughed in surprise. America was on her in a flash, one knee each side of her skinny torso, pinning her down. She reached with one arm behind Dani's back and quickly unhooked that bra, flinging it aside without a second thought. She didn't know or care where it landed- all she could think about were Dani's breasts, which were bouncing freely on her chest. Behind her, Ellie had started to follow their lead, the last of the girls to take her top out of the equation. Her chest was flatter than the others, more masculine, but still offered more than enough to keep Dani and America happy. She crept up behind America and undid her bra just as America had undone Dani's, taking the girl by surprise. Then, before she could react, Ellie reached around and found one heavy boob with her hand. She held it and squeezed tightly, eliciting a moan from America's lips. "Get these jeans off of me!" Dani groaned, "I'm gonna shit myself!" America obediently started to unbutton Dani's trousers, but it was too late. Dani had waited as long as she could, and it hadn't been long enough. All three girls could hear the way her bowels started to empty themselves into her underwear, see the bulge forming between her legs. "Oh God, you're making me need to crap my pants too," America said- but rather than do anything to avoid an accident, she just leaned down and kissed Dani hard. Ellie, still dancing where she stood, only watched on as both girls messed themselves heavily. In that moment Ellie felt so much at once: arousla, of course, was the prevailing emotion. She couldn’t remember being this turned on at any other point in her life. Then again, sex had been mostly a solo venture for her up until that day. Not confident of what she was doing, Ellie had preferred to stick to what she knew- usually alone, beneath the sheets at night when she was about to sleep. For whatever reason, though, something about these two women on this specific day in these particular circumstances just made her want to get her hands dirty. And with the way things were going that could well prove to be more than a metaphor before too long. She had never touched another woman’s breast before, and she’d liked what she’d experienced when America’s had weighed down on her palm. The memory of how her erect nipple had dug into the flesh was still fresh. Then there was surprise that she was still holding on. Watching Dani and America shit themselves was turning her on, and she still couldn’t quite figure out why, but more to the point it was making Ellie wonder how on earth they had lost control before her. Ever since the gas station where most of the group had had accidents, it had seemed clear that Ellie was comfortably the most urgently in need of the toilet out of the trio who were still holding. Somehow, though, she’d outlasted both of them. The only explanations were that either they had been better at masking their desperation than she, or the act of starting to make out on the bed had caused their muscles to relax and give in. If it was the former then Ellie would have to worry about that later. Usually she prided herself on her poker face when she had to go to the bathroom, and it was extremely rare for anyone else around her to even suspect that that was the case. If these two relative softies were better at playing it straight than she was, then she would have to do some serious reevaluation. The desperation reigned over her, now dominating every single thought and every movement she dared to make. One wrong step could spell the end for her and her underwear, one misplaced foot would likely send the enormous volume of poop inside her rushing out uncontrollably. She could only move slowly and as carefully as was humanly possible. There was no doubt in her mind that this was by far the worst she’d ever needed to go, and the horrific smell her ass had created was a testimony to that. That said, it was impossible to tell now which scents were hers and which had been created by the two messy girls on the bed next to her. But the overwhelming urge in her brain was not to bend over and push it all out. It was to join in the fun. Ellie had spent enough time watching and waiting, and now she wanted her turn. She unbuttoned her jeans, moving on instinct now, and let them fall to her ankles. While the other two girls were in their own world, Ellie stepped out of them and made a move towards Dani and America. “Room for me?” she asked, doing her best to be as seductive as possible while barely holding in her shit. Almost immediately, Dani moved aside to welcome her onto the bed, making room for Ellie to lie down so that they could become a threesome. Threesome. Even the word made Ellie shudder with anticipation. America rearranged her legs so that she was suddenly towering over both of them, one knee between Ellie’s thighs and the other between Dani’s. From her new position, Ellie got the perfect view of America’s rack. It was more tempting than she’d expected to simply reach up and start toying with one of them. As if she could read minds, America bent down, angling her chest so that one heavy breast dangled agonisingly close to Ellie’s mouth. “Suck on this,” she ordered. Ellie was all too happy to oblige, and more surprised than anything by the taste of the girl’s nipple. She must have been doing it right, because she heard America moan unabashedly. Then: “Sorry for what I’m about to do,” she added. Before Ellie had time to work out what she meant, she felt something wet and warm on her thigh. She could just about see it from her position: America’s crotch turning dark, pee cascading out of her with surprising force and soaking the bottom halves of both Dani and Ellie, who couldn’t help wondering if her oral was what had made America lose control of her bladder. At that point she couldn’t find it in herself to even much care. Her bladder had had enough, and after several hours at what felt like the brink of her breaking point, the feeling of America losing control on her finally tipped Ellie over the edge. As the taller girl unleashed her stream onto the others, Ellie finally gave up the fight with her body and felt the warmth start to appear between her legs. She closed her eyes and groaned in the pleasure of the relief- at first, neither of the other girls realised what was going on. To them, she was moaning from sexual pleasure. But Dani must’ve felt the growing puddle seeping on the bed, because suddenly her hand was on Ellie’s crotch, feeling as if to check that Ellie really was having an accident right there and then. “Fuck, Ellie, that’s hot,” came Dani’s strained voice. Ellie didn’t know if pissing on Dani’s palm was considered rude or not, but she couldn’t stop either way. “Makes me need to shit even worse,” Ellie managed to say. That was true; as her front muscles released, their counterparts at the back wanted to relax as well. She was just barely clinging onto her control over them. It wasn’t until then, at that very moment, that she’d even registered the simple fact that she didn’t need to anymore. Tired from hours of clenching herself closed, her brain had gone into automatic mode, and she’d never even considered that keeping it inside her was no longer even necessary. “Let it out, Ellie, you might as well,” America said. She was still pissing herself all over the other two girls. Ellie could only think of one thing to say. “Oh, fuck,” she cried out, feeling herself finally lose control. It was remarkable, really, the sensation of her tight ring opening up after all the hours she’d put into keeping it as tightly shut as she could. The juxtaposition between her determined squeezing and this, this sudden acceptance of her fate, left nothing to be desired. It was louder than she could’ve predicted, audible even over the hiss of pee and the sounds of moaning, harmonising with the three voices. “It’s happening”. She almost didn’t dare to inhale through her nose, but in the end Ellie couldn’t help herself. She’d never smelt anything like it; the pee, poop and sweat of three people all mingling together into one odour that filled the entire room. A brief thought flashed through her brain: it was going to take Dani a long time to air this place out once they were done. Although, judging by the sounds of sheer bliss that she was making beside Ellie, it didn’t seem like she minded. Now that the initial shock of starting to mess herself had passed, Ellie snapped back to her senses and looked up. America’s boobs were still dangling over her like forbidden fruit, and she wanted more. Her mouth rose up automatically to meet that erect nipple and she took it between her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, there was no mistaking the sight of Dani’s hand reaching inside America’s panties, which Ellie could only suspect were wet from more than just piss. That did it; the last of Ellie's self-control evaporated and she plunged her hand beneath the waistband of her panties, hungry to please herself. She found her clitoris almost instantly and started to rub with a ferocity that surprised even herself. It was a strange feeling- she was far from used to touching herself while she was so wet. Her fingers slipped and slid more easily than she knew how to handle, and without realising she was coming dangerously close to contact with the mess that was still filling her underwear. "I think I'll do that," came Dani's voice, shortly followed by the feeling of hand touching hand inside Ellie's panties. Dani had joined her there, pushing Ellie aside. There was barely room for both hands in the tight space, but Ellie was more than happy to withdraw and let Dani do the work- after all, she seemed like something of an expert on the matter. Even in underwear that was both totally filled and utterly soaked, it took Dani no more than two seconds to find Ellie's clit and get to work. She couldn't help it, then: she had to throw her head back and moan, abandoning America's boobs temporarily to get lost in her own pleasure. Nonetheless, Ellie didn't doubt that she would get back to the other girl soon enough. For now, though, she wanted Dani to make her come. Only then did she finally feel as though she had nothing left to push out. The sounds around her of hissing and farting had ceased at last. That could only mean one thing: the holding contest was over. Ellie had won, it seemed, but she couldn’t have cared much less if she’d tried at that moment. All she wanted to do was lose herself between the sheets with these two women. Maybe twice, if they could. ————————————————————————————————————— Even Kamala Khan could tell that the situation was dire. And situational awareness had never been her strong point. If she had been a casual observer, maybe a student at the school just passing through, perhaps she wouldn’t have been able to notice all of the things that were so strange. She might not have paid much attention to how crowded the hallway was, considering that it tended to be quieter at this time of day. Of course, not being a student, Kamala wasn’t to know that. She sometimes wondered how differently her life would have turned out if she had grown up as a future X-Man. What if she’d gained her powers earlier- say, ten or fifteen years ago? Professor X had eyes and ears everywhere, and growing up just across the river, he would surely have learned about her quickly. Could he have persuaded her parents to let her come to the school? Would they be given much choice? Kamala still wasn't clear on the details of how some of the young mutants had ended up under the watch of the Professor, but she very much doubted her conservative family would exactly be thrilled to discover her abnormalities. Had her life taken that path, there was one thing she knew for certain: she would know where she could find a damn toilet around here that didn't have a queue longer than a Pirates of the Caribbean movie. She'd be up in a dormitory at that very moment, pissing her brains out into a bowl that nobody else was waiting to use. That caused another thought to flash across her mind: why were Armor and the Cuckoos in the line at all? The only explanation she could think of made her shudder: they didn't think they would make it back to their rooms. And if Armor thought she was too desperate to walk for another few minutes, well, that didn't bode well for Kamala. She was fairly certain that the Japanese girl had a stronger will than most. If she wasn't so invested in the situation, Kamala might not have picked up on some of the signs of desperation that the girls in the corridor were displaying. Historically, she wasn't the most observant of girls, especially when it came to empathy. It wasn't that she didn't care; she simply didn't notice. So she might not have identified the way some girls were bending knees, squeezing thighs together or glancing around nervously as symptoms of a desperately full bladder or bowels. But she understood all those things because she was living them. She had been living them, in truth, for big parts of the last few days. She saw the way some of the girls were leaning against the wall and knew from experience that it was because they wanted to keep their butts closed rather than just to rest their legs. She watched the Cuckoos stand with closed thighs and remembered how hers had been shut at the museum. Of course, that wasn't to say that all of the girls were being subtle in showing their urgency; in fact, quite the opposite was true in several cases. Shuri had one hand grabbing her crotch, dancing in place with all the nuance of a fireworks display. Kamala had to admire her brashness- after all, she was a Princess, and one who would in all likelihood never have to return to the mansion again. The looks Shuri was getting from some of the people in the corridor, boys and girls alike, would have been enough to make Kamala die of embarrassment, but the Wakandan seemed to take it all in her stride. her attitude seemed to be to hold at all costs. Beside her, Kate Bishop looked even worse off. Kamala felt bad for Kate, who was clearly trying to hide the fact that she needed to do a lot more than just pee. A novice holder might not have been able to tell that the girl they called Hawkeye was also itching to take a shit, but Kamala knew right away. She had been forced into that awkward, bent-over posture three times that week. She knew it perfectly well. But throughout all of that, while Kamala was mercilessly picking through the girls and pointing out their clear desperation in her head, she couldn't hide the fact that she may well have been more in need of the bathroom than any of them. She'd had poop accidents- well, now she'd had a lot of them- but she couldn't remember a time where she'd had to pee this badly and not ended up wetting her pants. Her breaking point was fast approaching once again, like concrete rising up to meet someone falling from a tall building, and soon it would smack her in the face. Her bladder felt painfully full. Her urethra was already backed up with pee, ready to create a miniature flood in her underwear if she allowed it the opportunity, which she had no intention of doing until she had no other choice whatsoever. Still, Kamala felt fairly sure that that wouldn't be very long. Unable to resist the temptation anymore, she squeezed her pussy in a mirror image of Shuri. Like the Wakandan Princess, she wouldn't need to look most of these people in the eye ever again. All that mattered now was staying dry. ————————————————————————— "What the fuck?" Laura cried, eyes wide open. She had on the expression of a girl who was finding it impossible to process what she was seeing. One hand rested on the doorframe as if she was leaning her weight on it for support, knees weakened by shock. Riri realised something then: Laura was squirming. Did she need to go too? If so, how badly? Riri felt fairly confident that she'd seen enough desperate girls over the week to be able to identify one when it was in front of her, and unless she was very much mistaken, Laura Kinney fit the bill. Her thighs were bunched together as if held in place by magnets, both knees locked tight. And there was something about the way her hips were moving, not swaying in a way that made any natural sense but jerking around like she was riding a bull. Then, to seal the deal, that familiar glint of raw panic in her eyes, the look of an animal caught in a trap and looking for an escape. There was no doubt about it- this chick needed to get on a toilet, and soon. The trouble was that Riri was already sitting on it. "What are you doing in my bathroom?" Laura demanded. Even in this state, when she was clearly in urgent need of a long, hard piss, she still managed to slip into her tough girl role without breaking a sweat. For the first time, Riri considered the possibility that the aforementioned tough girl act might not be an act at all. "I'm sorry!" Riri blurted out at last, not really sure of what else to say, "I was so desperate and the lines are too long! I didn't think anyone would come in while I was in here!" Reading Laura's expression was a challenge even for Riri. Mixed up in that melting pot of emotions was still shock, but now there was anger, disgust, indignation... and still, dominating her face, a powerful sense of desperation. "Well, get the fuck off my toilet then, before I piss myself!" Riri swallowed. It hadn't been a request, but this was an order she couldn't follow at that moment in time. She'd never been an order-following type, but at that moment in time she would've happily gotten off and stepped aside for Laura if that had been an option. But it wasn't. That thick, hard log was still dangling halfway out of Riri's ass, and it was totally stuck. She could feel it there, stretching her out but refusing to budge even half an inch. She was trapped on the seat until it was out of here. Constipation wasn't a stranger to Riri, but it seemed to have a knack of turning up at the worst possible times when it visited. "I can't! It's stuck halfway out of me," Riri tried to explan, knowing just how bad she was looking, sounding and smelling in that moment. Laura did something then that she never expected. The girl took another step into her own bathroom and approached Riri uneasily. It was as though she wasn't sure she could trust her. And, as someone who had largely modelled herself on Tony Stark, Riri's personal opinion was that you were doing something wrong if you didn't have a good portion of the world mistrusting you. So she brushed it aside. Her legs were naturally spread open when she pooped, because she thought it helped open up the pipes. And for some reason- perhaps out of fear of further annoying Laura0 she didn't shut her thighs when Laura took a peek behind them. The view seemed to verify Riri's claim that she most certainly was stuck mid-dump, but that did nothing to help Laura, who still couldn't stop bouncing and dancing where she stood. "Could you maybe- ah, shit- could you maybe stand up and try and keep it there for a second?" Laura asked. "Are you crazy? No way! It would break off and go everywhere!" Laura's eyes grew even wider- something Riri hadn't known was possible- and a hand shot towards her crotch. "Fuck," she whispered, "I'm pissing myself. Push that shit out now!" Feeling guilty, Riri bore down with all her strength, closing her eyes, scrunching up her face to focus everything she had on getting the turd out. But she knew even then that it was too late. The sound of liquid splattering on the floor told her that she had to open her eyes again, and when she did it was to the sight of a Laura who was pissing herself. Her jeans were soaked at the front and the pee just kept coming, seeping right through the denim on the way to the tiled floor. Riri felt incredibly guilty. She was responsible for Laura's accident this time, something that she had never expected to happen, and now she would surely have to help clean up. ——————————————————————————————————————————— "Oh shit, I can't hold it anymore," Kate groaned. Right away, Kamala's ears pricked up. In spite of her rapidly worsening state- and proximity to an accident of her own- she couldn't help overhearing. Part of her almost got excited and another part of her hated herself for even allowing that to happen. She shouldn't be feeling any sort of happiness over someone she considered a friend being on the verge of humiliating themselves in a busy corridor. But the selfish part of Kamala- the part she usually tried to subdue- knew it would be less embarrassing for her if Kate pooped herself first. Hell, if Hawkeye shit herself, nobody would even notice how desperate to piss Kamala had grown. And she had grown desperate, of that there was no doubt. She couldn't stop kneading her pussy, pressing harder than she ever had before to try and hold back the tidal wave of pee waiting inside. A terrible thought crossed her mind- if Kate couldn't make it, and messed herself (which sounded like it was about to happen), there were two possibilities. The first one, and the one that Kamala was holding out for, was that Kate would run off- or be led off- somewhere else, away from prying eyes, so that she could clean up. Maybe one of the girls who lived here would let her shower in their room and borrow some spare, fresh clothes. Quite who would lead her away wasn't something Kamala could think about, because none of the girls in the line looked to be in any fit state to walk anywhere. They'd have to cross that bridge when they came to it. If they came to it. The other possibility, which filled Kamala's heart with dread, was that Kate would rush into the bathroom as soon as the door next opened. Kamala could relate to that urge- she'd pooped herself enough times to know that when the shit hits the fan (or, in this case, the cotton), all a girl wants to do is get somewhere where she can't be seen as soon as possible. This wasn't a good option for Kamala at that moment in time. Not only would it mean someone pushing in front of her in the queue, but Kate would surely take a long time in the stall, which would hold up throughput even worse. She couldn't afford any delays. Kamala at least had the decency to feel more than a little bad for eavesdropping. After all, she wasn't that kind of girl- was she? The trouble was that in such close proximity, when she was on edge, it was hard to not hear Kate's hushed but frightened tones. She may have thought that she was only talking to Shuri, but Kamala was getting almost every detail. It didn't feel right. So she decided to join the two girls. If she was going to be a part of the conversation, it was better that they were at least aware of it. But she only needed one glance at Kate to know that the situation at her end was even more dire than she'd expected. Judging from the strained, worried tones of Kate's usually perky, optimistic voice, Kamala could tell that things were serious. Undeterred, she stepped over to the two girls. Shuri didn't look much better than her friend, legs locked together, one hand rubbing a bladder bulge that was even clearer than the lines of her panties beneath her bottoms. "Guys, I'm not gonna make it," Kate said grimly. Kamala wanted to hug her then- she easily could've from where she was standing, which was just one of the advantages of having arms that could stretch across a room. But she didn't dare put any pressure on her own bladder. All she could offer was verbal comfort. "You'll make it," Kamala said, trying to sound certain and reassuring. The truth was that she was already feeling quite confident that the girl wasn't going to do any such thing. "No, I won't," Kate gasped. She was clutching her belly with one hand, the other dangling by her butt as if she really wanted to squeeze it closed but knew she would be spotted. "How do you know?" Shuri asked, exasperated. The Wakandan Princess wasn't one for giving up early, something Kamala could relate to. But for the first time she could remember all week, Kamala felt like she'd heard a question that she knew the answer to and Shuri didn't. She could smell it. Kate looked Shuri right in the eyes. Her own were gleaming with the beginnings of tears. "Because it's coming out right now, Shuri," she whispered, hoping beyond hope that nobody other than the three of them could hear, "I'm shitting myself". Even if nobody could hear her words, someone around the crowded corridor was bound to pick up on the low rasping sound that Kamala could suddenly detect. There was no doubt in her mind what was causing it. She wanted to look, for whatever gross, perverted reason, but her better instincts told her that staring would only upset Kate further. So she looked instead at the girl herself. Shuri put one awkward hand on Kate's left shoulder, and Kamala did the same on the right, but they couldn't stop what was already in motion. The noise of Kate filling her pants was growing louder, perhaps as the flow down there became more violent. It sounded to Kamala like someone was having diarrhoea into a plastic bag, crinkling and squelching uncontrollably. The smell, too, filled Kamala's nostrils, repulsive. She'd pooped in her clothes just days before, but she was sure it hadn't smelt anywhere near this bad. Suddenly she heard something she didn't recognise- it was hard, a smacking sound like rainwater on plastic. This time she couldn't stop herself; Kamala had to glance downwards. And there she saw it. A puddle of murky brown was growing on the floor, spreading away from Kate's feet. ——————————————————————————————— Jemma almost gasped out loud when she felt the first leak. It dripped out of her before she knew it was happening, moistening her labia and soaking into the thin cotton of her underwear. Her eyes went wide and a hand flew automatically up to her mouth in an effort to stifle a cry of surprise. She knew that there was almost no chance left of making it to a bathroom on time, not if she was already leaking when there were still half a dozen people in line in front of her. This was it. This was the endgame. She glanced around quickly, in just about every direction, doing what she could to assess the situation. Her eyes scanned every door, every window, every direction from which people were ebbing and flowing. Jemma needed to know everything, to be aware of every possibility. It was something that S.H.I.E.L.D. had drilled into her harshly, but she doubted any of her mentors expected her to be using her training like this- in a corridor full of young adults, trying not to piss herself and hoping to work out the best awy to avoid being caught if she did. Of course, the trouble with that logic was that she already had started to piss herself. Of that there could be no doubts or denials, The first spurt had come, and sure, it had only been a spurt, but that was one spurt too many for her liking. Jemma had always preferred her underwear dry, thank you very much, unless they were under the influence of someone who had taken her out to dinner first. Now they were decidedly warm and sticky, but not in the way she liked. Her only saving grace was that everyone in the corridor seemed to have their own shit going on- in some cases, literally. She watched the Stepford Cuckoos, fidgeting in unison like an identical dance troupe. It wouldn't be long before they had accidents of their own, if Jemma was as good at reading desperation as she thought she was. Then there was Kate- poor Kate, who had just pooped her pants and left a visible mess on the floor. Shuri and Kamala were too wrapped up with comforting her- and in holding in their own needs- to notice Jemma much. But she knew, deep down she knew, that it wouldn't be enough. Even if Kate and the Cuckoos and even Shuri didn't end up needing to use the bathroom before they lost the fights with their bodies, Jemma was just too desperate to make it in time. Her legs shook and clenched tightly, her bum jiggled in her jeans with each urgent movement, but there was no chance she could hold it in for long enough. The maths was simply impossible. A litre and a half of water in a one-litre bladder didn't fit. And all that water had to come out somewhere. Jemma wasn't surprised at all to realise that that somewhere was her pants. It was inevitable and she knew it. No matter how much she squirmed, how hard she clenched, how desperately she wanted to hang on... she couldn't beat nature. And nature demanded release. It was shockingly easy for her to accept this fact. In fact, she barely even struggled against the urge to just wee herself. After three accidents in almost as many days, it seemed simple to her. Maybe her bladder had been weakened by the excessive holding. Interesting; her hypothesis would've been that holding to the point of losing control would only serve to make the bladder stronger. Instead the need to pee was advancing to a desperate urge more quickly than she'd ever known it to before. It was like the gap between normality and an accident had halved in the half-week she'd been away. And now, standing in a hallway with dozens of students, she was about to pay the price for it. Again. There was no point hiding it; she could try, but she was certain she would fail. All Jemma cared about at that point was emptying her bladder, getting to her car and getting the hell out of New York City. She'd hoped that the bladder emptying would take place while she was sitting safely on a loo, but no such luck. So be it. She gave in. Jemma spread her legs a few inches and just let it happen. The contrast between the relief and the shame that washed over her simultaneously blew her mind. Where her pussy had been red-hot just a moment ago, now the entire front of her legs felt warm and salty. It flowed from her in a rush of humiliation, ticklishness and- was that arousal? No, this was bad. The one thing Jemma hadn't been able to figure out that week was why the relief had made her horny. And the last time that had happened she had tried to make herself- That thought terrified Jemma. Not here, not now. She was in a school full of barely-legal adults! It was enough to shake her out of it. People were staring, pointing, whispering to each other. And all she could think about was how much she wanted to play with herself. She knew that she had to get out of there. Jemma tried to stem the flow and couldn't. So, still pissing in her jeans, she pushed through the crowd and out of the building, leaving a long, glistening puddle behind her. —————————————————————————— Shuri put her head down and ran. She didn’t know or care where she was going, and she was more than aware of the fact that it did really matter. All that was important then was getting as far away from that crowd as she could. She offered no explanation or apology to Kate, who was sobbing over the mess she’d made on the floor, or Kamala, who had been left with the unfortunate job of dealing with it. There was no time. Later on she would be sorry for abandoning them, but at that moment it couldn’t have been less important to her. She knew she was on the brink. After the week she’d had- the week they’d all had- it was hard not to know what that felt like. They’d gotten plenty of experience. Almost right away, once she was past the initial gaggle of students, things started to look up. The smell was out of her nostrils at last, the smell of Kate’s mess and of who knows how many other farts. It felt a million times better to be breathing cleaner air, but the ache in her bladder wasn’t letting up. If anything, the movement seemed to have made her need worse. This was where being a resident would've come in handy- or, at the very least, having a resident with her. Shuri cursed her poor forward planning under her breath. She could've dragged Armor along, or even the Cuckoos, although they barely looked in a state fit to navigate anywhere. Hell, anyone who lived in the X-Mansion would've been useful right about now. They could have shown her the way to the nearest toilets or, failing that, at least somewhere private where she could pee in peace. A plant pot, a cup, a swimming pool- just about anything would do for Shuri at that point. Instead she found herself utterly lost, a juxtaposition that she was far from used to. Growing up in Wakanda, the streets were familiar, as were the palaces and laboratories which she had grown to know so well over the years. And if she ever didn't know where something was, it was all too easy to ask one of the locals. They all knew her by name, treated her with respect and were happy to help out. Somehow, Shuri doubted if she would be afforded the same courtesy here, surrounded by young adults who weren't used to a Princess rocking up and asking for directions. The worst cramp of desperation yet struck Shuri and she doubled over in pain. The intensity of the wave forced her to check her priorities. Making it to the bathroom was no longer on the agenda. Even if she knew where one was, she sincerely doubted that she would reach it in time and pass through the line before she wet her pants. Now all she cared about was having an accident in private. It was the least she could do after the horrendously public circumstances of her humiliation outside the gas station bathroom. Just don't be seen- the rest wasn't important anymore. She darted down a narrow corridor that opened up to her left, finally finding some space to breathe. There was nobody within five feet of her in either direction. The trick was finding out where the path led. That was easier said than done when walking without leaking was a challenge. Nevertheless, she pushed on, keen to get as far from prying eyes as it was possible to be. At the end of the hallway she arrived at a wooden door, not dissimilar to the ones she'd seen in regular American schools on TV. Through the narrow window Shuri could see what looked very much like a classroom- and, by the looks of it, an empty one. She pressed against the door, fully expecting it to be locked, and was pleasantly surprised when it swung open to let her enter a totally deserted room dotted with desks and chairs. And there, right at the back of the room, was a trash can. Her eyes lit up at the sight of it. Until Shuri spotted it, she had't realised that it was exactly the kind of thing she was looking for. Sure, it wasn't a toilet, but it kind of looked like one, and it would suffice under the circumstances. A voice in her head was trying to stop her, berate her for considering something so dirty, but her body was the stronger of the two. Her mind was made up, persuaded by the constant pain in her bladder and the sensation of being on the edge of leaking. Ahuri was walking towards the bin and unbuttoning her jeans before that reasonable voice even had time to finish talking. In one smooth motion, she turned and squatted, sliding her jeans down all the way to her ankles. She wanted to keep them out of the way. No sooner had her bare bum touched the rim of the trash can than the flow started in earnest, hissing metallically against the material. The relief was heaven, and not for the first time that week Shuri couldn't help closing her eyes and moaning from the pleasure of it all. So lost in the moment was she that she never heard the door open. Her piss went on for a very long time. At one point a soft fart slipped out of its own accord and she smiled gently to herself, eyes still closed in bliss. It was only when she opened them that she saw the huddle of teachers watching her by the door. ———————————————————————— Carol knew she could’ve just flown home. That was what frustrated her the most, as per usual. Whenever she had someplace she had to be, it always turned out to be the kind of place she couldn’t get away with simply flying to- especially when she had to use the bathroom. She groaned internally as she started up her car. What was the point of being one of the most powerful beings in the universe if you couldn’t use those powers half the time? The most annoying part was that nobody complained when Iron Man started zipping around the city, or Thor wondered into town to grab something. Hell, even the Hulk was more of a novelty than a shock to the residents of Manhattan at this point. Yet she was still expected to hide her abilities, to act natural whenever she was in public so as not to alarm the locals. Nick Fury didn’t think it was a good idea for ordinary humans to know about any more superheroes than they already did. Sometimes, like with the older Avengers, it was too late for that, since most of the world had seen them tearing up Sokovia. But Carol? She was on another level. And if Hawkeye- the original, not Kate- was enough to freak people out, then Carol Danvers AKA Captain Marvel had no chance of keeping a low profile once she started flying around the place. She didn’t like it, but she still held a lot of respect for Fury after their work together decades ago and she didn’t want to piss him off, even if she could crush him dead in five seconds should she want to. That was why, desperate to pee and unable to focus, she found herself pulling away from the X-Mansion on her own, the way ordinary people did. She hadn’t bothered saying goodbye to the others from the trip. Most of the students seemed to just want to get back to their rooms, and the teachers mostly looked occupied with other things. That was fine with Carol. She was far from anti-social by nature, that just didn’t mean she wanted to be around people all of the time. And days spent cooped up with people everywhere and nowhere to be alone had left her itching for some peace and quiet. There was something else she wanted badly, too: the chance to find somewhere to pee. Getting home seemed like the best option, as gas station toilets around here were usually dirty and she didn’t want to pay for something just to be allowed to use one. Whether she could make it there in time or not was a completely different story. Of all her unlikely toiled escapades of the week so far, this was probably the worst she’d had to pee in that time. Crapping her pants twice was worse, of course, but never until then had her bladder been so full and so insistent on emptying itself soon. In fact, she was struggling to remember a time in her whole life when she’d had to pee so badly. In her earlier years, before she’d discovered who she truly was, Carol had rarely been more than a few minutes away from a toilet. Or perhaps it was just that her bladder had been more forgiving back then. She wasn’t old- was she? It would go some way to explaining why her capacity felt as thought it had been vastly reduced over the last ten years or so. She was at least certain that a decade ago she would never have been in this situation, squirming like a child in the front seat of the car and growing increasingly worried that she might not make it home. The only silver lining- if it could be called that- was that for once, there was nobody around who could see how desperate she was. It certainly made a pleasant change from the crippling embarrassment of struggling to hold it in front of twenty-one other women. In the privacy of her own car she could do whatever she needed- and, inevitably, it wasn’t long before that included reaching down to hold herself with her hand whenever she got the chance. Every time she needed to reach up and take a grasp of the steering wheel was a nightmare. Only in those moments when Carol could squeeze tightly, feeling her fingers knead into the flesh, did she feel something approaching relief. Her home wasn't too far away. At a guess, she'd be back in half an hour. Was that too long? She didn't know. Her bladder was aching, but she'd survived such aches before, even if they'd never been this intense. The worry was traffic, which had always had a way of twisting itself at the most inconvenient of times- especially in this city. Not knowing what else to do, Carol squeezed her full thighs together and tried to focus on the road. The last thing she needed was a car accident. Someone like her would be able to survive more or less any crash, of course, but the delay would definitely lead to a different kind of accident even if the impact didn't. Even being near-enough invincible didn't make her bladder infallible. No, it was probably smarter to play it safe and steady if she wanted to give herself the best chance possible of getting home dry. She looked at her watch quickly. It'd been ten minutes since she'd left the X-Mansion, making home no more than twenty away by now. Reaching an open road, Carol let her hand reach down and hold herself again, hoping it would be enough to hold back the flood. —————————————————————————————————————— The bad news was that Kamala was right on the verge of peeing her pants. The good news was that at least she wasn't going to be alone. She hadn't even tried to stop Kate when the other girl turned and fled the scene of the crime. Kamala had been frozen in place, fearful of the impact that movement might have on her bladder. So all she could do was watch while Hawkeye disappeared around the corner, leaving a thinning but unmistakable trail of brown behind her. The only positive was that it was someone else's job to clean Kate's mess off the floorboards, because Kamala certainly didn't fancy going anywhere near it. Even from a distance, the smell was still horrendous. So many people had been staring, and some still were, but mostly now at the floor rather than at Kamala. Not that she was in any position to judge Kate for having an accident- she was about to have one herself, not to mention the multiple times she hadn't made it already that week. It happened. She got it. She just wished that Kate had pooped herself somewhere slightly further away. Now all she had to worry about was the Cuckoos. Armor was there, too, but she mostly kept herself to herself and was never one to make a scene, even though she looked beyond desperate. A horrible, delicious image crawled into her mind then: what if she just... went? She could have her button undone and her pants around her ankles in a flash, then a quick squat and thirty seconds of hard pissing and it would all be over. She would be empty, feel far better and finally be free to get the hell out of that mansion. Besides, Kate had already made a mess, she would simply be adding to it. And wasn't it the stupid school's fault they were even in this position in the first place? Surely a school with this many people walking around all day should have higher bathroom capacities. Kamala couldn't see how this kind of thing didn't happen all of the time. There was nobody around who would or probably could stop her, either. Kamala wasn't cocky by nature, but she was still confident she could take on almost any of the young mutants in a fight if anyone tried. The adults like Jean or Storm would be far harder to take down, but it would never come to that, so there was no point worrying about it. They weren't exactly going to try and battle her. They'd probably be too busy trying to sort out the Kate situation. Kamala was suddenly shaken out of her devilish thoughts by a noise from nearby. Over the course of the few days she'd spent in their company, Kamala had grown used to the sound of the Cuckoos' voices harmonising in unison. Or, at leats, she'd grown about as used to it as it was possible to get. That didn't mean, thought, that it didn't still give her the creeps, the way the sounds layered on top of eachother so bizzarely. Even considering that, though, she'd noticed that it was always easy to understand not only what they were saying, but how they were saying it. And the gasp she heard at that moment was very much one of dismayed shock. She whirled around to see Mindy, Phoebe and Celeste pissing themselves where they stood. The three of them were backed up against the wall, cowering like cornered animals. And all three crotches were turning dark and damp at an identical rate. They each stood with one hand desperately grabbing their pussy, as if in denial that it was happening again, but there was no denying the three puddles growing on the floor and merging gradually into one. Kamala watched on, conflicted. She took no pleasure in seeing these girls lose control. On the flip side, they were next in line- the only people left in front of her. And that meant she was next. She could finally piss, in an actual toilet. She just had to hold it until... The bathroom door opened again, and a red-faced girl walked out. She looked down guility at the mess the Cuckoos had made and hurried away, perhaps not wanting to get on their bad side. Kamala took her chance, moving as swiftly as she dared towards the door. But just before she reached for the handle, she found her path blocked. "It's our turn!" the Cuckoos snapped at once. Kamala stared back at them in disbelief. She blinked. For a moment she even forgot how desperate she was. "Uh, guys, I think it's a little too late for you," she pointed out, nodding at three crotches that were now so soaked through she could see their panties, "you didn't make it. See? So please let me in, otherwise I'm gonna- urgh- pee my pants too". The trio didn't budge. They didn't look happy. "We aren't done. We have to poop, too," they said. "Oh, jeez," Kamala said, "can't it wait? I'm kinda about to burst here, guys". She wasn't exaggerating- her piss felt right on the brink of exploding from her hole. "No," they demanded, "we waited for our turn. Now it's our turn". Kamala groaned. There was clearly no point arguing, not least because they outnumbered her. "Okay, fine," she said, "but I'm coming in too. I have to get on the toilet as soon as you're done or I won't make it". The prospect of waiting until the girls had finished emptying their bowels didn't appeal to Kamala, but what choice did she have? So she followed them into the bathroom, doing everything she could not to pee into her tight underwear again. ——————————————————————————————————————————————————— Carol Danvers knew she wasn’t going to make it. She knew from the way her bladder ached, from the way her pussy pulsed painfully and every fibre of her being screamed for relief, despite being at least five minutes away from the toilet still. She knew that at some point before the car stopped moving she would well and truly soak herself and there was nothing she could do about it. She knew she wasn’t going to make it, and yet she kept trying anyway. In a way she almost longed for it at that point. After all, it didn’t really matter. Did an accident count as an accident if nobody was round to see it? Would it be remembered if not by her? Probably not. And it had to feel better than sitting there in agony. She could picture how it would feel to finally give up control, to relax her muscles as her thighs turned hot and wet, feel it pool beneath her butt and soak into the seat. The relief was something she couldn’t help craving. And yet, something deep in Carol’s instincts forbade her from giving in and peeing herself on purpose. That was simply wrong, simply too… weak for her liking. So she would keep trying to hang in there. But when the floodgates opened- which they would, and very soon- she wasn’t exactly going to fight it. And the knowledge that it would all soon be over was what kept her going as she pulled into her neighbourhood. It was so much easier once she accepted that it was a matter of when, not if, she would wet her pants. And there was something empowering about the way she made that decision. Knowing that she could have an accident and nobody would know made everything more comforting. In a way, Carol wished that she had had someone there her whole life to tell her that accidents happened, and that it was okay. Instead she’d spent a lifetime viewing failure to make it to a bathroom in time as a sign of weakness, laziness or both. But now she saw that that wasn’t true at all. It was just a part of being human. Her hand reached down to squeeze herself for what she knew would be the final time. This was the end. Not quite the end of the journey- there were still a few minutes left of that- but the end of her tether, the final limits of her ability to hold on. Her bladder, full and bloated, pressed painfully into the seatbelt. It was ironic, she thought, that she’d ended up coming so close. She’d messed her panties at the museum and again at the bus stop, but this was a very different feeling. It was almost calm. Carol focused her mind, concentrating on the feeling between her thighs, and there it was- the first spurt appeared between her legs, wonderfully warm. She tried to stem the flow, but in truth, only half-heartedly. There was no point putting too much effort into holding in a pee that was going to come out in her jeans either way. She had to concentrate on the road too. So she wasn’t surprised, but instead relieved when a second leak slipped out, this one bigger and longer than the last. Two minutes from home. Carol sighed to herself. Two minutes too late. She didn't need to look down to know that she was peeing in her pants. That much was evident from the eruption of heat that started to blossom over her lap. The feeling inside, too, was orgasmic. There was nothing quite like the sensation, Carol reflected, of realising that you were completely incapable of holding in your own pee anymore. No matter what she did to try and stem the flow, it was as if her bladder muscles were disconnected from the rest of her body, like a car with the brake wires cut. Now she did chance a glance down at her thighs and she wasn't at all surprised to see her jeans looking several shades darker than they had been when she up them on. They were glistening wetly, the light through the car window reflecting off of them and shimmering where she had soaked the denim. Between her legs a small puddle bloomed, illustrating how she was pissing herself faster than the car seat could soak up the fluid. And she was still going. It was almost unstoppable. By the time Carol pulled up on her driveway, she was only just finishing up. Her pussy purred hungrily, eager to be played with in the wake of such incredible pleasure. And she knew that she would play with it, once she was inside. Carol couldn't remember ever getting out of the car quicker. She left her piss-drenched seat to be dealt with later and headed for the front door, keen to get inside before a neighbour spotted those wet legs. The second her door closed behind her those jeans came off, abandoned in a heap by the door. She toyed with the idea of taking the panties off, but in the end decided against removing them. Instead she rushed straight to her bedroom to cut to the chase. It felt good to be home. ———————————————————————————————— "Guys, hurry up!" Kamala pleaded, both hands buried deep in her crotch. She knew she had only a matter of seconds before she burst completely. The Cuckoos were a bizarre sight, all three of them huddled together on one toilet. Kamala had never wanted to think too much about how the triplets pooped when there was only one toilet available- that was, until she'd gotten her first taste of it at the museum. Here, on the Professor's own property, they wouldn't dare do something as bold as shit on the floor. But they didn't seem receptive, either, to the idea of two of them having accidents. And they also clealry didn't believe they would make it up to their own bedroom, which had a specially-built three-toilet bathroom available. So Kamala was there, watching the three half-naked women trying to push out what were presumably three monster shits into the same small bowl. How they planned to flush it was a mystery she didn't want to think about. Kamala knew all too well how it felt to have large shits inside of her. She also knew how bad constipation could be. So on another day, she'd have empathy for Phoebe, Mindy and Celeste. That wasn't the case, however, here. She just needed them to squeeze the damn things out before she pissed her pants. "We can't!" they said, "it's stuck!" And they went back to that crazy, simultaneous straining. The noise of them each grunting in unison was bizarre. Kamala was out of time. She couldn't hold it any longer. So she did the only thing she could think to do. Her jeans and panties came down surprisingly easily, and for once she didn't care that the triplets could see her bare pussy. Charging forward, the leaks starting, she grabbed Phoebe and pulled her off the toilet. Before they could reach, Kamala was on the seat, pissing furiously into the bowl. The relief was more pleasurable than any orgasm she'd ever had. In front of her, sprawled out on the floor, butt exposed, Phoebe lay stunned. Only then did Kamala see the brown log poking out from between those toned cheeks. Later she knew she would feel bad; she hadn't realised how far along they had been. But not yet. Knowing that the least she could do was hurry up, Kamala pushed on her bladder, hoping to finish peeing quickly. She didn't want to be the reason Phoebe Cuckoo took a dump on the bathroom floor, after all. ————————————————————————————————————————————————— By the time Jemma Simmons got to her car, she was well and truly soaked. Again. Her jeans were drenched, saturated, ruined. And now, finally away from the eyes of the students, she knew that it was with more than just pee. She slipped into the driver's seat, put her keys in the ignition... and didn't turn them. There was something else she needed to do first. Something she'd been waiting to do all week. She glanced around the car and saw nobody. That hardly mattered- this wasn't going to take long. Finally where nobody could interrupt her, Jemma slipped a hand beneath the waistband of her jeans and started to rub.
  3. Authors Note: Hey guys I want to let you know that these stories are not going to be continuous, but it will just maintain a new plot instead of continuing that first storyline. MCU Wetting/Messing Story Chapter One (Captain Marvel and Female Avengers): On a dark and stormy day in New York, Captain Marvel lay fast asleep in her bed and she looked so peaceful laying there, but not for long. It was 6:00 Carol’s usual time to get up, but when she got up she felt very hot and that’s when she found out that she wet the bed. Carol got out of bed and stood there naked (one of her kinks) observing her mess. She couldn’t believe it that she pissed the bed she hasn’t done that since the age 13, she stripped the bed down and took the wet doona and sheets off to put it the washing machine. She was lucky that the other Avengers only wake up at 7, but still she had to maintain a stealthy plan. She walked as slightly as she could and she was going so well and then archived her goal without waking everybody up. She placed it in and silently tiptoed back to her room to be naughty. Now safe and sound back in her room she pulled out something that was stashed away and it was a packet of adult sized diapers. She put it on and went to the kitchen we’re she forced herself to drink non stop refills of water and after doing that she was absolutely desperate to pee. She raced to the nearest bathroom, which was the one just next door to the kitchen and locked the door. Inside she turned on the lights and watched as she pisses herself in her diaper. With a hour to spare she couldn’t wait to be naughty, anyway Danvers wanted to see if Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch) was into wetting herself as the other day because of her had an accident on an mission and wanted to see if she loves it or hates it. So she locked all the bathrooms in this area thinking she will trick her into wetting herself and made all other bathrooms near Hulk’s lab men only and most of the female Avengers won’t be resorting to the men’s as most desperate females would. ——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— The time now was 7 o’clock and Danver got dressed in her usual cardigan, which consisted of a white v-neck T-shirt, light blue jeans and a beige jacket. Scarlet Witch was the first one to come out, then Black Widow, then Shuri, then Gamora and then she couldn’t keep count and the plan malfunctioned because they all had to pee. By accident Carol created this long line of her female companions, but it was so cute to see Shuri looking like she was going to explode. But there one thing wrong with this and that was to lie and make them believe that someone was inside there. “Open this fucking door!” Said Wanda with tears rolling down her eyes she knew that she wasn’t going to hold it in for much longer and then Danvers went to do her job. There was a little secret opening on the side of the bathroom and she was in, “Hi Wanda, I’m sorry to tell you this but you need to hold on longer.” Said Carol and Wanda replied hesitantly, which made her voice seem shaky “CCCarol II don’t thiiink I’ll make it, I can’t hoold it inin ffor muuuch longgger.” Before Carol could speak, Wanda erupted her pyjamas pants suddenly become saturated and she felt so embarrassed by this that she raced to her room crying. Most of the other desperate girls tried to stop the urge to go because one of them failed, but it was inevitable that it would happen and it did Black Widow lost all control and peed in herself in her red satin pyjamas, Shuri looked like the next one to lose control because she’s looking like the most desperate out of them all. She was biting her lip and had her hand wedged between thighs, she was the most desperate because she would purposely wet the bed everyday, but she didn’t today because she chose not to. But now she is trying not to show that she wants to wet herself and she usually loves to wet herself in a bathroom to isolate herself from everyone else, but she didn’t think she will today. “I am the most deadliest woman in the whole galaxy and I am asking you kindly to hurry the fuck up, please.” Gamers spoke those words as she begged for a chance to use the bathroom and nobody thought that they were going to make it. Wasp had enough and ran straight for her room to put on a diaper and released in there instead. The queue dramatically died done with many people leave and finding alternatives to go in, but the queue only consisted with Shuri, Wanda, Valkyrie and Gamora now. Valkyrie was so drunk that she wasn’t even paying attention to how her bladder is filling up and upon that she was the next victim. Wearing nothing but a bra and panties and only just realised then that’s she was wetting herself. As Valkyrie left them, Gamora and Shiri would not stop. Shari must’ve banged that door a thousand times, she totally desperate to pee and it looked like she was more desperate than the most deadliest woman in the whole galaxy. In a matter of seconds she was leaking spraying squirts of pee into her blue satin pyjamas, the young princess of Wakanda panicked, every time she tried to stop thinking about it her urge grew. Gamora felt her squirts escape her and was devastated by this, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold this in even if she had all the time in the world. The door flung open Carol was shocked to see so many people left and ran out of the bathroom. It was the perfect time for the two desperate girls to do the job, they locked the door and fought for the toilet and Gamora got the toilet and Shuri had nothing. She quickly scattered around the bathroom for somewhere to go and in seconds Gamora started forcefully peeing into the toilet. Shuri got her idea, she was going to go in the sink, her dirty desire of holding it in through the night and wet herself in her pjys tomorrow morning in the bathroom changed. She quickly lifted herself up onto the table top and moved the tap to the back and released her desperate urge into it. It was so fucking warm, every drop of it she couldn’t help, but moan in joy at the sound of her sweet relief. Two hours later... It was breakfast and while eating the girls went to where Danvers was sitting and asked her why she was so long in the toilet today and she smartly said to them “I was constipated.” The girls feel for the lie and sat back down and thus have left them with waking up with a distasteful start to the day. The End
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