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  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. Natasha Romanoff was in the kitchen drinking water and she saw her new friend Scarlet Witch passing by. So she went over to talk with her, Nat asked her how’s it being part of the Avengers? Wanda looked scared or worried about something, but she replied with “Yes it’s been very good and I like you a lot.” Nat was amazed because she actually liked her, she replied with “Thank you.” Just then Wanda was about to say something, but then she kept fidgeting. Wanda stopped and then she started wetting her leather pants, this was so embarrassing for her as Black Widow looked at her blankly, but in her mind enjoyed watching her wet herself. Wanda stopped and she was so scared that she could soil herself any minute now. She was to embarrassed that she didn’t say anything not even sorry, Nat loved this so much that she wanted Wanda to wet herself again for her entertainment rather than real desperation. Romanoff just then felt the urge to pee, she was happy Nat doesn’t have a fetish for wetting herself, she accidentally wet herself In the battle of New York by her lack of ability to hold her floodgates in. Nat realised that her desperation doubled and now she had to make her move. She didn’t quite feel like at good wetting, so she decided To use the bathroom like any other person. She went to the main bathroom, locked Bruce was in there, lucky there is more. She went downstairs with the lift and Hawkeye was in there, “Oh shit!” Natasha said, she then remembered the toilet near Iron Man’s working area. She made her way there but Tony was inside, she just remembered that there was also one just near the laundry hopefully Thor wasn’t in there. She made her way up the lift but when she was going up she lost a bit of control as she started to slightly pee her red panties, that was her first drop. She regained control and whispered to herself “Your a spy you shouldn’t have this problem when you need to pee.” When she became a spy they taught her how to hold her pee in for hours without any leakages and it seems like that her training is fading, her ability to hold so much and no accidents is running away. She even barely made it through the battle of Sokovia, she peed herself during the battle which to her she liked but still never gave her a fetish. When she got to the first floor where this next bathroom is and it was true exactly like what she predicted to happen came true, Thor was in it. She just remembered that her bedroom has a bathroom there, so she went back down using the lift. When inside she couldn’t help it but she dampened her panties a bit with her second squirt of pee which was thicker and more powerful to dampen her whole panties. She did regain control as the lift reached floor 2 (the bedrooms), she ran out but felt a small drop escape her clutches, so she slowed down. Nat opened her room and ran to the bathroom, she shut the door and start taking off her suit. Her built came off but her zip was stuck “Oh fuck!” She cried while moaning after “I’m, I’m, I’m going to wet myself!” She now was moaning non stop trying again and again with her stuck zipper. Just immediately after she moaned once more her body let go and her floodgates opened. She started peeing, hot piss running down her already damp panties through to her legs and down her black boots. She stood there enjoying her relief as this felt more warmer than any of the times she had an accident in mid battle. Once Ms Romanoff’s floodgates closed she opened her eyes and then loved wetting herself, she finally got a kink for it. Now she just wanted to keep it a secret, she even wounded if she told Scarlet Witch about this. Is thought she had a peeing fetish because she always acted weird and just had the right personality for it or maybe Nat was wrong and she didn’t have this fetish or any fetish more any matter. “Maybe she even discovered it when she peed in front of me earlier” Nat said, that could be right or it was just her imagination. Natasha Romanoff, who was once a Russian spy now an Avenger and pee lover too. To Be Continued...
  4. Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this, my longest EVER commission for Omorashi.org, clocking in at OVER 22,000 words! If you want one commissioned for yourself, please DM me! Otherwise, enjoy! 🙂 THE MARVEL HYPNOSIS CRISIS Kamala Khan raced through the city, stretching her arms out in several punching attacks; trying to strike her nemesis. Unfortunately, Becky was fast and her plasma armour’s speed made cornering her difficult. Kamala’s fists smashed uselessly against walls, bins and one very unlucky pigeon, however, she soon spotted an opening. As her arch-nemesis fled inside a building, she activated the speed dial on her mobile. ‘Nakia, Zoe, Becky’s gone inside the building! Cut her off!’ said Kamala, preparing her body to break into the building; inflating her fists to the size of trash cans. ‘Let’s get this bitch’. Zoe’s words were immediately followed by the sound of Kamala’s fists punching through solid brick wall, as she raced inside. She was prepared for a fight, her classic superhero gear; based on her idol, Carol Danvers: A red, yellow and blue bodysuit, though her bottom half was largely red-tights and thick blue boots, yet it never dulled her enthusiasm for saving lives. Even if she didn’t look as good as Carol doing it, something Kamala had said to others at least a million times was: ‘Totally impossible, she’s perfect!’, she never stopped trying. Today, was another opportunity to prove that. Kamala’s arch-nemesis: ‘Lockdown’; though her real name was Rebecca St. Jude, had robbed a bank of several million dollars just over a month ago, using the money to fund some two-bit supervillain tech that Kamala and her friends had tracked to this abandoned apartment building. Nakia and Zoe were dressed in their tacky but enthusiastic Ms. Marvel costumes, ready to help their friend. ‘Embiggen!’ shouted Kamala, as she grew herself to be 8ft. tall; before smashing a wall that separated Lockdown from the trio of heroes. Unfortunately, they had walked right into her trap. For less than a second, Kamala, Nakia and Zoe could see they were staring at an advanced hypnosis machine; all three of them trapped within the chamber, while Becky stood at the other side of its harmful rays. She’d been playing with them the whole time and though Kamala tried to fight it, with seconds; all three heroes had been frozen. They could only stare in horror, as the ginger haired villainess approached them. Her shiny blue plasma armour glinted in the dim light, while her smile shone with evil; contemptuous malice. Even on her freckled face, it was still incredibly horrifying in its cruelty. ‘Well then. Now that I have you three under my command… let’s try some simple commands… stand on one foot!’. All three heroines instantly obliged, despite their minds screaming at them not to. ‘Zoe, spank Nakia’s ass’ said Lockdown; indulging in her petty, yet dangerous levels of power and personal hatred. Zoe’s head collided against Nakia’s bum less than one-second later, with both women internally blushing and cringing; yet Lockdown was in charge now. All they could do was try to fight, yet the effects were too powerful. ‘Nakia, run into that wall’. Immediately, Nakia began sprinting towards the far-left wall and after several seconds, crashed into it with a painful thud; falling, in pain, against the floor. Lockdown laughed cruelly. ‘Oh this is going to be fun… hmm? For you Kamala… let’s see… wet yourself’. Kamala’s eyes widened as she felt her body respond, despite every order in her brain screaming to disobey. But it was too late. Kamala found her arms and legs trembling badly, before she felt streams of hot, thick piss running down her red tights, sliding into her boots and forming a puddle around her. Lockdown’s eyes widened in shock; before she broke into laughter; the horrible kind that comes from a bully with power. ‘You’ll do anything I say… oh… OH THIS SHALL BE FUN’. THE NEXT MORNING Kamala Khan’s eyes slowly drifted open, moaning from the aches and pains in her body, as she looked around. She was in her dorm room with her friends Zoe and Nakia, both in sleeping bags at either side of her bed. Zoe was wearing a dark blue pair of pyjamas, Nakia, a green-eco-friendly pair with symbols of green-peace on it. Everything seemed normal, though Kamala felt strange. ‘How did we get here? What happened? Why can’t I remember last night?’. Feeling freaked out, Kamala looked around the room for any clues as to why her memory was gone and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted her room’s wooden cabinet: Resting on top of a replica of Captain America’s shield were half a dozen empty vodka bottles and as her groggy mind properly woke up, she could see a bunch of glasses around the room. Kamala breathed a sigh of relief. Now she remembered what had happened: They were celebrating Lockdown’s recent imprisonment, largely thanks to their exposure of her crimes. Clearly, they had let their celebrations get too out of hand. ‘God, superheroes should not be allowed to get this drun- OW, my head’ said Kamala, moaning from the hangover; an intense splitting sensation between her eyes. ‘This is going to be a fun morning’. Over the next half hour, Zoe and Nakia were slowly coaxed back to the land of the living, a mixture of water bottles and cold flannels giving them the ability to think somewhat clearly again. ‘I can’t believe we got so wasted!’ said Nakia, shocked. ‘Honestly, this isn’t even that bad compared to what I used to do’ said Zoe. ‘I’m not proud of it anymore’ she said defensively, as Nakia gave her a judging look. ‘But frat parties are wild, so I’m kind of used to it’. ‘I swear, I am never drinking again’ said Kamala, still trying to nurse the headache from her skull. ‘Lies!’ said Nakia and Zoe simultaneously, laughing. Over the next few minutes, the girls got dressed and went their separate ways; continuing on with their normal days. However, Zoe and Nakia soon began to notice that something wasn’t right. Zoe was out shopping, looking for a new pair of crop shorts; hoping to impress Nakia, when she began to feel an uncomfortable twinge in her bladder. ‘Piss off’ she muttered; not seeing the irony, as she continued to look for new outfits. However, as time went on, she found more and more of her attention being distracted. Despite not usually struggling with her bladder, Zoe found herself swaying on her feet; doing a slight pee-pee dance behind the changing room curtains, as she changed between blue and red crop shorts, tried on different shirts and generally wondered how much she could spend on her credit card before her overdraft ran out. During this time however, her bladder let her get no peace. Now desperately crossing her legs, Zoe realised that she had badly underestimated her need to go and stumbled from the changing room, one hand down her tight blue crop shorts, trying to hold on for long enough to find the toilets. Spotting them across the food court, Zoe breathed a sigh of relief and began squirming towards them; still desperately holding herself like a little girl, as children and parents alike stared at her disapprovingly. ‘God this is so cringe!’ thought Zoe, as she reached the halfway point towards the toilets. ‘I look like a little fucking girl. Well, at least I’m nearly… no! Oh my god no! Zoe felt a burst of pee spray through her fingers, soaking the red panties underneath her crop shorts; while leaving a golf-ball sized wet spot on her shorts. Freezing still, more people turned to stare in confusion and then in shock, as they saw glistening wet patches running down the college student’s legs. Whispers, insults and laughter began to ring out across the food court, as Zoe stood; rooted to the ground, her bladder totally giving way as her face turned bright red. She tried desperately to stop but it was too late and the gold-ball sized patch on her crop shorts became a soaking fountain, spreading from the front and around her bum; as Zoe began to completely wet herself. Pee sprayed out around her in hot golden streams, soaking into her socks, trainers and gathering in a puddle, while Zoe’s body trembled; the young woman herself lost to shock and dismay. ‘I can’t believe it! How could I have an accident?! OMG, this is the worst thing ever! I’m acting like a fucking nine-year old! What is wrong with me?!’. Unseen to her, a young woman’s IPhone recorded Zoe’s public accident from among the crowd, as a devious laugh was supressed. Meanwhile, Nakia wasn’t doing much better. She and a group of college friends had been protesting outside of a Starbucks, a dozen or so of them holding placards and handing out leaflets to any passers who would listen. They were campaigning for fair-trade prices for all cocoa bean farmers who supplied the mega-bean corporation, something Nakia had been invested in ever since she had spent an evening watching a documentary about it with Zoe; crying into her shoulder for most of it. Unfortunately, it was a rainy Sunday and those who were out on the streets weren’t especially motivated to take flyers, most mumbling empty courtesies, a few throwing insults. Nakia was not thrilled at having been called a: ‘Socialist slag’ five separate times, just for insisting farmers be paid a decent wage. However, something else was troubling her even more. Since arriving, she’d had an upset stomach, cramping up at in-opportune moments and causing her to nearly double over in pain. Not wanting to leave the handful of her fellow protestors; as she was their unofficial leader, she’d fought through it but now, a new and hideously embarrassing side-effect had begun to make itself known. ‘BRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH’. Nakia groaned quietly as she felt a thick fart burst from her bottom, a thin high pitch whine in the Sunday rain, as her tightly jean-clad bum stretched from the effort of releasing such a loud, long fart. Still relatively quiet; drowned out by the ambience of the street, her fellow protestors hadn’t noticed her doing it but they were already smelling it. ‘Oh god, that’s foul, WTF!’. ‘Why does it smell like a dead rat here?’. ‘Council doesn’t give a shit about repairing the sewers, too busy taking all-expenses holidays, while we still have homeless everywhere. God, that reeks!’. Nakia blushed with embarrassment, glad no-one realised it was her but also feeling incredibly uncomfortable. ‘Come on, get it together!’ she said to herself. ‘You’re not some dickhead boy at highschool, stop letting these rip! You’re trying to help people, people who need you! Focus, deep breaths and control the butt! (Inhales) That’s it! (Exhales) I can do this (Inhales) I can keep control (Exhales) and nothing will stop m-’. ‘PPPPPPPPRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSQQQQQQQQQQQQQQEEEEEEESSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHPPRRRRRFFFFFFFSSSSSSQQQQQQHHHHEEEESSSSSH’. Nakia’s fart was so loud and unexpected, it not only turned all of her fellow protestor’s heads instantly towards her but several people on the streets nearby, who shook their heads contemptuously at her. If that had been it, Nakia’s cheeks; burning red as they now were, might have shown enough embarrassment from that alone. However, the smell was already filling people’s noses and her friends began to gag, tears filling their eyes; simultaneously laughing and appalled, as the horrid gassy smell wafted in through their noses, almost unspeakably bad for a bum as cute, perky and small as Nakia’s. ‘Oh my god Nakia, what kind of processed shit are you eating?’. ‘That’s foul!’. ‘What the hell, can you not Nakia? I feel like I can hardly breath!’. ‘Call the Avengers, someone just let off a dirty bomb in the city!’. Nakia trembled in fear, trying to laugh off the teasing but she was utterly repulsed. Not just by the enormous fart that she had just shared with her friends but because; right now, Nakia Bahadir, a young, talented, passionate Muslim woman: Bold, creative and brave, had just completely shit herself like a pre-school child, right in front of her friends. It had started as soon as the fart came out, her anus opening up completely against her will and a thick, mushy log of shit pouring into her tight white cotton panties. A river of poo had then flooded forth, completely filling her underwear, squishing against her bum and causing small pieces to begin running down the inside of her blue jeans and down her legs. Nakia’s only saving grace was that; due to her hatred of western thongs, she wore boring thick grandma-style panties, as well as a green coat that was hanging down to her knees. Elsewise, a mountain of Nakia’s shit would have been visible under her clothes; rather than the thick, wet brown spot; hidden underneath her coat, that had turned that area of her blue jeans, dark, soggy brown. ‘You okay Nakia? You look pale…’. ‘Y-yeah, I’m fine! I-I just, n-need, bathroom. Period stuff’ she said weakly, before rushing away; her walk awkward, trying not to drop more shit down her trousers. The protests looked at each other, confused. ‘What was that about?’ asked one of them. A young woman; around their age, with dark red hair and a wicked smile, took a pamphlet from one of their hands, giggling. ‘Oh don’t worry about your friend… I’m sure she’ll be just fine’. Nakia practically fell into the restaurant toilet, bolting the cubicle door behind her and breathing heavily for several seconds trying to calm her racing heart. ‘Oh my god, I just shit myself, again! What the hell is going on today?’. Nakia slowly; groaning with disgust, pulled down her filthy jeans off her legs and was horrified at the mess: Dirty, brown shit; with an absolutely foul stench of homemade egg and cress sandwiches, was covering her underclothes and her bum felt like she might as well be wearing an overfilled diaper: So utterly clogged and filthy were her panties. Pouring what shit she could from them and her jeans into the toilet, she managed to clean the worst smearing off her legs with the help of some tissues and soap in her green backpack; though she’d need at least scolding showers before she felt truly clean again. The panties; despite her best efforts, were pretty much-a-write off, so she placed them into a side pouch of her backpack, along with a thick red pair from this morning, which had several skid-marks and pee stains in them, causing Nakia to roll her eyes at the sight. Having an accident while walking to the protest had been bad enough, wearing the spare-set of panties from the clothes she kept in her backpack in case a friend was raped was worse; yet to then have another accident?! ‘I must be stressing out too much!’ thought Nakia, though she didn’t entirely believe it. ‘Guess I need to take things easier for a while. Maybe stick to online activism for a bit. I’ll worry about that later though…’. Nakia exited the bathroom, relieved no-one had entered while she cleaned herself up; though unbeknownst to her, Becky had caught the entire thing on tape via a hidden camera in the ventilation shaft. Walking out of the restaurant, she began to make her way home; determined to have a shower and put this weird day behind her. However, around halfway there, Nakia grimaced as she felt her tummy rumbling in a familiar and frightening way. ‘Oh no! Not again!’. Kamala by contrast was going through changes of her own; however, the way she responded was quite different. The hypnotic programming for Kamala was far more advanced and so, the young heroine didn’t see anything out of place with her behaviour, as she began to do some combat training in her dorm room. ‘Alright Kamala, you got this, you got this… noIdon’tgotthis!’ she screamed, falling on her ass; as her attempt to do a backflip kick failed. Shrinking the wrong parts of her body had caused her to do an inadvertent splits and she struggled to get back up again. However, as she was doing this, a loud fart ripped from between her bum, causing both bum cheeks to increase to an obscenely large level. The cheeks expanded, now both the side of dinner-trays; thick as two car tires, with a fleshy tightness that allowed Kamala to sway to her feet but then left her unsteady. ‘Woah, easy dumb butt, let’s get you under control!’. Practicing her kicks, Kamala felt another fart building but decided to keep training. Her black hair flew over her shoulders as she kept enlarging parts of her body, practicing hits on a punching bag; though a series of small farts escaped her tightly held butthole. ‘Prrrrfffhhhh’. ‘Pffffffff’. ‘Prrrfhhssss’. As Kamala kept practicing, she suddenly felt a much larger one rip free; enlarging her butt massively, to the point that she found herself suddenly off-balance again. ‘Crap!’. She hit the floor softly; thanks to enlarging her arms to a cushy size, however the impact caused a massive pain in her tummy and massively expanded her ass, to the point that it was now four times larger than the thighs and torso it was attached too. ‘Come on body, work with me’ begged Kamala, frustrated that her usual training issues were playing up today. Of course they weren’t normal at all, however Kamala no longer knew that. Half-a-mile away, the-red haired villainess sat; crying with evil laughter, as she watched her computer monitor with incredible glee. Watching Kamala act like this was the most fun she’d had in months and she kept slapping the table in amusement, struggling to breathe through the laughter, as she saw the heroine fall over from her massively over-inflated ass and high-powered farts. Becky’s legs were trembling with intense laughter and she sat in a white-skirt, red-shirt and red thong panties, at the secret hideout she had made her own. Admittedly, it was just a rented apartment with stolen money and a false name but still! It was a villainess’s hideout! That had to be impressive! As she kept laughing, Becky suddenly felt a burst of pee soak her red-thong panties and immediately straightened up; no longer laughing, as she shook off the laughter. ‘That wasn’t pee… that was sweat! Unlike those idiots, I don’t just have accidents like a toddler when I need to go! I use the bathroom whenever I want and don’t need to rush’. Despite this thought, Becky hurriedly stood up and raced to the toilet; just to make sure she had no further leaks… Meanwhile, Kamala’s overstretched body; in more ways than one, had reached its limit. Kamala felt what was happening a few seconds before it did and though she brought her knees tightly together, it didn’t stop what came next. ‘Oh not this again!’ moaned Kamala but it was too late. Kamala Khan’s training shots began to get soaked with piss, as the young hero lost control of her bladder. Pee burst through her blue Captain Marvel underwear and into the white-shorts, turning them a light yellow shade, as a series of stinky fishy farts continued to pulsate from her butt. Kamala let out a high pitch whine, as her enlarged butt dumped pee all over her legs and knees. She had; in her memories at least, experienced this dozens of times before, so was used to it by now but still didn’t enjoy the feeling and waited impatiently for it to be over. ‘Ugh, so gross’ moaned Kamala, as her accident finally stopped and she lay; stretched out, in a large puddle of pee. She knew it was the price she paid for being an inhuman, for being super-powered and able to help save the world. Even so, she hoped; in a few more years, she’d grow out of it completely. Until then, she just needed to control it, especially as; to her delight, she had a training session with her idol and role model, Carol Danvers AKA Captain Marvel, in just a few short weeks. Kamala was determined everything would go perfectly and resolved herself to keep training in preparation, so she could impress her hero. ‘I’ll do that’ decided Kamala. ‘Right after I get out of these wet clothes!’. TWO WEEKS LATER Kamala was breathing heavily, sweat on her brow, as she nervously knocked on the door of the log cabin. She knew it was silly but Everytime she went to see her mentor and idol; Carol Danvers, it left her paralysed with fear when first arriving. Kamala worshipped the ground Carol walked on and as such, was constantly worried that Carol would one day grow mad at her for something she’d done or failed to do, refusing to help train her. In her worst nightmares, Carol would even demand Kamala no longer use her old moniker; the very thought of which had left her waking up in a cold sweat more than once. Still, she needn’t have been worried, as Carol opened the door and smiled upon seeing Kamala. ‘Hey, you ready for some training?’ said Carol enthusiastically, punching her fist to an open-palm for dramatic effect. Carol was dressed in her bomber jacket and a tight pair of dark blue jeans, her butt cheeks accentuated well by the fabric. Despite the fact she could enlarge and shrink her body, Kamala felt jealous at her idol’s natural beauty and then blushed; realising she’d been staring at her role model’s ass for way too long. ‘Y-yep, I’m ready, let’s do this!’. The two walked to a training area Carol had set up in the trees, with dozens of targets: Plastic dummies, repurposed ULTRON drones, AIM tanks, all ready for them to demolish for practice. As they approached, neither noticed that they were beginning to show visible signs of being desperate for the toilet. Kamala had crossed her legs several times on the walk over, while Carol; having been hypnotically programmed by Kamala last night under trance, was regularly holding herself, one hand stuffed down her jeans and clutching a pair of slightly damp red panties against her trembling, overworked pussy. For now, neither of them had noticed the other’s strange behaviour. This was about to change. ‘Marvel, morpho punches, three tanks; on your left!’ shouted Carol. Kamala’s enlarged fists punched through the AIM vehicles like paper, crushing their turrets underneath her fists; now hard as diamond. ‘Captain, photon blasts on Ultron drones at Point 2.5!’ responded Kamala, watching in awe as her hero blasted apart the training robots like they were made of clay. ‘I have such a girl crush, it’s embarrassing’ thought Kamala Khan; though it wasn’t romantic, just pure admiration. The two were practicing combo-takedowns on enemy factions and for Kamala, it was a dream come true. Spending time with her hero; fighting bad guys… well, sort of. It would have been cooler if they were actual bad guys, not training drones; she thought. Still, she was sure they would get their chance soon enough. ‘Marvel, civvies to hero’ shouted Carol, Kamala nodding quickly. In battle, sometimes a hero is launched into a fight before they can transform into their recognisable armour and costumes. However; as every hero with a secret identity knew, and even those who cared about basic branding, it was ill-advised to fight too long in civilian gear. As such, each would transform at a moment’s opportunity into their specialised costume and this was what Kamala now did. Throwing a STARK-tech nano-ejector towards Captain Marvel, she hit the button on her own and felt a tight costume slide over her body in a manner of femtoseconds; absorbing her regular clothes into the ejector, itself condensed into a pocket in their uniforms. There was just one problem… ‘Training drones, halt! Security override: Talos’. The drones immediately stopped firing, as Carol Danvers looked towards Kamala; annoyed. Momentarily confused, the young heroine looked towards her mentor and blushed bright-red when she realised what had happened. ‘This is your gear! You’ve got them mixed up!’. Carol Danvers body was now covered in the red, yellow and blue, homemade burkini suit that was Kamala’s superhero costume, while Kamala herself was now in Carol’s tight black and yellow leather: A retro costume that Carol used when training with Kamala. She had to admit, the change made her feel very powerful; embarrassed as she was, while Carol now looked like an overgrown high-school student, yellow locks running down, below her shoulders, with the red tights sticking tightly to her legs. ‘I’m so sorry Carol, I didn’t mean-’. ‘-You can’t make a mistake like that on the battlefield Kamala, it will waste time and lives could be lost’. ‘I-I know, I’m… I’m…’ Kamala tailed off, her face suddenly turning pale white. ‘… Kamala?’. ‘ARGH! BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFGGHGHHHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSSSS’. Kamala screamed, clutching her belly intensely; as a sharp pain ripped through her from her thighs down to the bottom of her bum. It was immediately followed by an extremely loud fart, emanating from Kamala’s backside, as her perky young bottom suddenly tripled in size, pushing out the tight leather of Carol’s costume, while the young girl’s long, putrid fart and powers strained the suit’s integrity. Carol stared in disbelief, as Kamala gaped in horror; wishing that a supervillain would just blow up the world, so she could be dead and not have to face her mentor’s response to her disgusting behaviour. However, rather than a scolding, Carol’s next reaction was one of mutual confusion, frustration and fear. ‘BRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! BRRRRRR!!!! BRRRRRRR!!!! PSRRFFFFFFFHHHHH!!!!!!’. Carol let out a series of high-powered farts, each one causing photon blasts to rip through the back of Kamala’s tights; exposing Carol’s sexy, shaking bum to the young hero, causing her to blush scarlet red. The smell was awful, thick, intense; with an electric tanginess from the cosmic energy, as Carol stared down at her own body, bewildered. ‘What the hell?! Argh! BRRRRFFFFFFFPPPPPPHHHSHHSHSSH’. Another round of intense, stinky photon farts blew through the hole in Carol’s suit, as Kamala recoiled from the smell. ‘Oh, gross, gross, gross! I’m literally dying’ she moaned, as Carol Danvers whole body turned scarlet red with embarrassment. ‘Kamala I’m so sorr… OH NO. No, no, no, no, no!’. Captain Marvel screamed as a hot, wet blast of photon empowered shit blast straight from her asshole, spattering the forest floor beneath her at super-speed. Kamala stared in shock, while Carol looked horrified, as several less powerful bursts caused clumps of shit to run down the back of Carol’s legs; smudging over Kamala’s red tights. Kamala, practically struck dump until this moment, suddenly felt an intense pang of pain burst through her own body and gasped, as a huge streak of pee flooded through Carol’s tight black leather costume. It ran down Kamala’s exposed legs in several streams, as the young heroine felt lightheaded and shocked. ‘Oh god, I’m peeing Captain Marvel’s supersuit! No, no, no, this can’t be happening! Holy shit!’. Her shock did not slow down the accident in the slightest however, as Kamala Khan continued to wet herself; piss forming into a puddle beneath her, while a sickening amount went down her black leather leggings and into her boots, her toes now sploshing around uncomfortably inside her own piss. ‘Argh, so gross, Captain, I’m so sorry!’ cried Kamala, tears running down her face. The elder hero barely heard her, too busy crapping herself in a humiliating display to even fully register what had happened to Kamala. Carol couldn’t believe this was happening. She was Carol Danvers, a legendary hero; who had saved the world countless times. She was not a panty-pooping; obliterating in this case, little girl who couldn’t hold herself during training. She could not have been more mortified. Kamala meanwhile was no less happy. ‘I can’t believe I’m having an accident in front of my hero! This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!’ thought Kamala, as she felt her stomach building up for one last; awful, display. ‘Oh god no. Please, please, no… ARGH!!!!’. Kamala screamed, as she felt her butt enlarge to a ridiculously out of proportion size for her body; as Carol finally snapped out of her self-pity, realising what was happening to the young hero. Unfortunately, she could do nothing but watch as Kamala Khan let out the largest, smelliest, most horrific smelling fart that Carol had ever had the misfortune of coming near her nose, before the inevitable followed. ‘PPPPPPPRPRRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFFHHHHHHHHHHHHHHBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSSSSS!’. Large, thick clumps of shit; extended well beyond human size by Kamala’s enlarged butt, began to slide from her exhausted asshole, pouring through her anus and stretching against the black-leather. Pulled to breaking point, the leather snapped open and Kamal’s knees trembled as piss and shit began to run down her bum, over her knees and down the back of her ankles; drenching her and her idol’s suit in filth. Mentally and physically exhausted, the immense pain of humiliation; yet physical relief of losing control, caused Kamala to collapse backwards, her massive bum falling into the pile of enormous shit she’d left on the forest floor. The young heroine sobbed; devastated, as more continued to push its way through, leaving her absolutely devastated. Carol looked on sympathetically. Though she was incredibly embarrassed, she knew how much Kamala looked up to her and how devastating this must be on the young hero. Putting her own needs to the side, she walked; uncomfortably in her ruined clothes, up to the sobbing hero, whose accident had finally come to an end, offering her a hand up. ‘We obviously trained too hard today’ said Carol confidently, unaware that she was being hypnotically programmed to believe this. ‘Come on Kamala, let’s get cleaned up’. Kamala looked up, tears in her eyes, though she didn’t take Carol’s hand; as her own were still covered in piss from when she’s tried to hold back her accident. ‘I don’t deserve any of this’ said Kamala despondently. ‘I’m not a hero, I’m just a stupid little girl from New Jersey. Just leave me’. ‘That’s an order Ms. Marvel’ said Carol more firmly. ‘You aren’t giving up because of this’. ‘The world still needs you’. Kamala looked towards Carol again, who gave a slight nod of affection. Smiling weakly, she realised that Carol was right. No matter how embarrassing this was, she had to keep fighting to get stronger, better; more controlled. For all those who couldn’t. Kamala Khan took Carol Danvers hand. A FEW DAYS LATER Jennifer Walters sat in her lawyer’s office, squirming at her desk. For the last several hours, she had been feeling an unusual need to use the bathroom that had been interfering with her regular legal practice. Normally, she arranged meetings with clients while in She-Hulk form; particularly with domestic abuse survivors, as it made them feel safer to be represented in court when going up against their abusers. Yet today, she had been alternating between her forms at random and her body kept shifting between extremes. One minute, she had been fine; the next, she was squirming under her desk, her tight green legs clamped tightly together, as she tried not to piss herself in her pinstripe trousers while listening to cases where New York’s struggling women had been beaten halfway around the block by their former high-school sweethearts, turned mean drunks after their football careers had fallen through. Right now, she was hearing a less serious case but unfortunately, that in and of itself was proving to be a problem for her, as this latest client had an unusual story to tell: ‘So, you’re saying the phone company experimented on you for their products by inserting computer chips in your ass?’ asked Jennifer in disbelief. ‘I know it sounds crazy but I have all the evidence right here!’ said the woman in her early 20’s, a thin, blonde with raggedy hair and deep blue eyes, wearing tight red jeans. Jennifer looked over the paperwork and at first; while cynical, the answer to the weirdness of this case became abundantly clear. Moxwell Phones was a front business for the Kingpin; New York’s most notorious crime boss, which she had come across many times in her repeated legal battles in court, as well as superhero escapades. Once, she and Spiderman had even had the unfortunate pleasure to end up in a three-way brawl with the muscle-bound madman. Terrifyingly, he had managed to go toe-to-toe with both of them for several minutes and even briefly knocked her unconscious with a metal beam, until Spiderman; badly injured but fighting on as ever, had done the same to him by chucking him into a stack of hundreds of loose gravel bags. She figured that Fisk must be using this business as a front for human trafficking and drug smuggling, with the computer chips story being a lie told to unwitting and poorly educated marks; allowing them to move large amounts of cocaine discretely around the city, without their victims being marked by the FBI, superheroes or other criminal gangs as the usual couriers. “Please say you believe me!’ begged the woman, tears in her eyes. ‘Mrs. Williams, I do’ said Jennifer sympathetically. ‘Please, explain your full story to me’. As she said this, Jennifer regretted her words only seconds later as she felt a huge desire to fart building up in her ass and took a slow, deep breath in order to calm it down. Her bladder was aching and she cursed her luck for having attended training with Ms. Marvel, Spider-Woman, and Peggy Carter the other day, clearly having exhausted her body too much after recovering from a recent supervillain’s attempt to poison the eastern United States water supply. Little did she know; at the end of that training session, when all the superheroines had gathered around a TV screen to review their training footage, Kamala had played a pre-recorded hypnosis video that had subtly programmed hypnotic behaviours into all of them, the main one of which was now affecting Jennifer. ‘I was applying for jobs, my rent was overdue and I needed money badly. Then, these two guys approached me in a bar and said that; for a few night’s work, I could get paid good money if I was willing to do some unorthodox stuff. I’m not prudish, I figured they just wanted sex but then they took me to this warehouse and I got really scared. I tried to leave but they wouldn’t let me and then they said that if I didn’t allow them to do their work, then they would hurt me and that I didn’t want to mess with their boss’. Jennifer listened sympathetically but she was struggling to concentrate, as she noticed her thick, green arm was beginning to transform back into a light, creamy pale human one and she felt a long, silent fart slowly escape from her clenched buttocks; the smell of ham and honey sandwiches beginning to fill her nose, as she struggled not to gag. Hiding her arm, she tried to will her body to stay as the She-Hulk and clenched her legs tightly together; her intense need to pee and shit beginning to feel seriously painful. ‘Go on’ said Jennifer, her voice strained with the exertion of her now failing body beginning to break down. ‘They told me that they were going to put computer chips inside my ass as a test for their new products and said that if I went to certain places each day for a week, then I’d be paid $1000 at the end and no one need ever know. Every time I got to the locations, I’d get woozy and pass out for a few minutes, then wake up with my whole body feeling sore and scar marks on my butt’. ‘I think Kingpin’s, ah… gang, used you as a hmm, drug mule said Jennifer desperately, now bouncing in her seat repeatedly; as she felt a massive burst of tension building that she somehow knew would completely wreck her bladder control. ‘What?!’ screamed the woman. ‘Those bastards!’. Jennifer; unable to take it any longer, rose to her feet and tried making her way to her office’s bathroom but Mrs. Williams blocked her path. ‘Mrs. Walters please, you’ve got to take my case! I know you’re a hero, you’ll help me, right? Please say you’ll help me?’. ‘I…’ said Jennifer, feeling incredibly faint, as one of her green legs reverted back to human form; causing her trousers to sag immensely, as her whole body shook. The woman finally noticed Jennifer’s unusual behaviour, frowning in confusion. ‘Are you alright?’. ‘I… I… I can’t hold it!’. Her large, green asshole let rip an immensely loud fart, as Jennifer turned bright red in humiliation and the woman stared at her incredulously. ‘BBBBBRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFFGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!’. ‘What the fuck?!’ said Mrs. Williams angrily. ‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’. ‘No, I’m so sorry, I need-’ started Jennifer but it was too late. She took one step forward, then; her asshole opened again, spewing forth a massive amount of shit, immediately causing her pinstripe pants to fill with hot, thick, sludgy crap, as an utterly foul smell filled the air. ‘Oh my god!’ gagged the woman. Jennifer’s whole body began to go haywire. Her arms and legs kept changing between her She-Hulk appearance and her human appearance, even splitting down the face with both, as she screamed in agony. The subsequent body changes caused her clothes to rapidly sag and then stretch, tearing holes at several places, as shit began to slide down her legs, while her asshole continued to expel more and more shit in heavy thuds, with much of it falling out through the holes in her pinstripe suit. She didn’t wear panties as they didn’t stretch enough, so nothing was restricting her breakfast from pouring out her bum as she trembled in humiliation, the heavy loads from She-Hulk causing her pinstripe pants to fall down, exposing her naked pussy to Mrs. Williams, as she began to lose the rest of her control and pee flooded down her legs, arcing out in a spray that caused the client to recoil back in horror; pee spilling into her shoes, while Jennifer Walters stood there, aghast, with her pinstripe suit trousers around her ankles, wetting and shitting herself; half-naked, like some kind of disobedient child who hadn’t been properly potty trained. ‘Fuck you!’ screamed the woman, turning in anger and yanking open the office door. ‘I trusted you and you treat me like this! No wonder people say never meet your fucking heroes!’. Mrs. Williams stormed out before Jennifer could stop her; though, in truth, she was too preoccupied to really try. Her accident continued unrestrained, as mounds of thick, brown shit; in log and clumpy shapes, fell over her black high-heeled shoes and the piss formed a massive puddle around her as Jennifer Walters; lawyer extraordinaire, continued to humiliatingly piss and shit herself, her clothes and her floor like a baby. Slowly, her asshole began to stop expelling shit and Jennifer’s body reverted to its all-green, She-Hulk form, trembling; an unusual sight for her, as piss dripped down her soaked, muscular legs and she felt the last of her accident pour from her body. She stood there for a few seconds, before punching her desk in frustration; leaving a huge hole through its corner. Sighing, Jennifer swore and stepped out of the muck. ‘This is my fifth accident this year!’ thought Jennifer. ‘If I don’t get this under control, clients are going to talk and I’m going to lose my license if I do this in a courtroom’. In truth, this was the first accident Jennifer Walters had experienced since grade school; however, the hypnotic trance had convinced her otherwise, making her believe that her She-Hulk body was suffering a multi-year long response to a viral infection, as an unfortunate form of mutated Gamma Poisoning. Despite her messy state, Jennifer Walters was still a hero; first and foremost, her heart going out to the poor client whose body had been used and abused by the Kingpin’s men, surgically tormented by shady criminals for a drug-trafficking scheme. She knew there was zero chance that Mrs. Williams would ever trust her again, however, she wasn’t the only lawyer in the city with special skills and; as much as she hated to help the competition, this seemed as good a time as any. Reaching out to her phone, she dialled a number she knew by heart: Nelson, Murdock & Page, where the legendary super-hero lawyer; as well as secretly the superhero Daredevil, resided. ‘Hi, this is Jennifer, can I speak to Matt? Yes, it’s urgent! Hi Matt! Yeah… I need your help. I’ve just messed things up with a client and I think you’ll be interested in what she has to say about hers’. ‘I’m sorry, we can’t afford to take on any new clients right now Mrs. Walters’ said Matt coolly but professionally, always the gentleman. ‘It’s a Fisk case’ she said bluntly. There was silence for a moment. ‘... Alright, I’m listening’. THE NEXT DAY Kate Bishop almost never missed. More specifically, she never missed her targets. Being trained by one of SHIELD’s most legendary agents; as well as being a prodigy archer in her own right, meaning that very little escaped her marksmanship. In battle, this meant that more than one supervillain; as well as countless drones, aliens, demons, vampires, warlocks, Werewolves, and living glass mannequins had met their end at her hand. During her days off, however, this was more of a fun party trick. Right now however, she was missing one thing: A bathroom. Kate Bishop was a young SHIELD protégé and experienced fighter; she was used to going without relief for long periods but something was unusual today. Her bladder felt uncomfortably full and she hoped her friend would be here soon. ‘Woah, sick girl! How’d you get so good at that?’ said an eighteen-year-old skater punk, having seen Kate throw three empty soda cans from the wall she was sitting on over 10ft., each one spinning on the bin’s rim and sliding in with perfect precision. ‘It’s a gift!’ she said sarcastically. ‘The gift of thousands of hours of work, blood, sweat and tears, broken bones, adrenalin rushes, self-loathing; you know, the works’. ‘Damn girl, okay! You waiting for someone?’ the boy said flirtatiously, sliding his bike in front of her. ‘Yeah, now scram!’ said Kate; annoyed, not wanting to deal with some random asshole right now. ‘Come on babe, don’t be like that’ said the boy; seemingly wanting to sign his own death warrant as he came into an uncomfortable leering distance of Kate’s boobs, tucked neatly inside her purple shirt. Moments before he would have got a broken nose, a friend grabbed Kate’s twitching arm. ‘He’s not worth it’s said Kamala, giving the boy a menacing stare, as he swore and cycled off; never knowing how close he came to a major beat-down. ‘What took you so long?’ said Kate. ‘Sorry, training these past few days has been crazy!’. ‘You take it so seriously’ said Kate flippantly, walking along the wall’s edge; as Kamala laughed. ‘Me?! You’re in the training grounds more than I am! You just want people to think you’re aloof to maintain this cool girl image!’. ‘Ooh, you’re right! … Is it working?’. ‘... Yeah, you are pretty awesome!’. Kate laughed, giving Kamala a friendly shoulder-punch of affection, as the two young teens made their way into the city. Kate was dressed in tight black jeans, with a purple top, sunglasses, and had her hair thrown back; straight as an arrow, swaying gently in the midday sun. Kamala by contrast was wearing bright blue jeans, a red and yellow striped jumper; with a thin white vest underneath, her long brown hair in a tangled mess. Coincidentally, both were wearing thin grey cotton panties. There was no hypnosis involved in that, however, just a similar taste in clothing stores. Unbeknownst to either of them, however, there: ‘Girl’s Afternoon Out’ had been set up through Becky; determined to humiliate Kate, who had assisted Kamala as a friend in stopping several of her prior schemes. However, she dare not try to secretly film her accident; even in plain clothes and hidden. Her hypnotic programming couldn’t undo years of SHIELD training and Kate was exceptionally observant, even by their standards. Instead, she had Kamala wearing a hidden camera; hidden inside her scarf. She’d also had Kamala slip diuretics into the water bottles at Kate’s house earlier that morning; Kamala knowing the password to get past Kate’s home defences. Since arriving for her meetup with Kamala, Kate had slowly been feeling more and more uncomfortable, as the diuretics forced their way through her system and she’d regretted downing those sodas now. As they walked, Kate searched the environment for toilets but was unable to find any; much to her annoyance. Kamala; under Becky’s careful guidance, had chosen the location well. There wasn’t a working toilet, bus stop, or stable phone reception for miles, and those diuretics were fast-acting. Becky laughed back at headquarters; watching the incident slowly play out through a camera feed. She knew that Kate didn’t have much time and she was right. Kate was now occasionally holding herself; though still trying to be discrete, swaying on the pathway they were on heading towards the city. Kamala; also having drunk some of the diuretic water, Becky never missing an opportunity to humiliate her, was beginning to struggle. Her butt kept randomly expanding inside her jeans, inflating to comical levels; nearly twice her size, as small farts escaped her backside. ‘PRRFFFFF, PRRFFF, PFFFFSH!!’. ‘Damn Kamala, what you been eating lately? That being said, I can’t really talk; feel like I ate gravel for breakfast, my stomach is killing me. This is weird, I never get this kind of stuff’ said Kate, confused. ‘Really? Happens to me all the time’ said Kamala resignedly. ‘Side effect of my powers’. Kate looked surprised. ‘You’ve never mentioned that before. Damn girl, that sucks. Guess it’s not always bad not having invincible skin or being stretchy enough to be a human trampoline’. ‘Hey!’ said Kamala, laughing in mock outrage. ‘For what it’s worth though, I don’t think you’re any less super without the powers’. ‘I wasn’t fishing for compliments Kam!’ said Kate defensively. ‘I know. Just wanted to say’. ‘Thanks Kamala’ said Kate, genuinely serious for a moment. ‘I mean it’. ‘You’re welcome’. The two young heroes’ sweet moment was interrupted as their desperate needs for the toilet grew worse. Kate was now walking with tightly clamped legs, while Kamala was openly holding herself, both girls clearly in pain, as their bladders filled to an uncomfortable level. Though neither would admit it, both had wet spots in their grey knickers that they were well aware wasn’t sweat and knew it wouldn’t be long before small leaks became huge accidents. ‘Jesus Kamala, why did you make us meet in this isolated dump?’ asked Kate, annoyed; finally beginning to openly hold herself, as she took a break from walking along the dirty canal to the city, the sound of water rushing by not helping her condition. ‘I’m sorry, Google Maps said it was a faster route! I’m not that great with directions!’. Kate gave Kamala an odd look; knowing that was unlike her, as Kamala normally had a good eye for where to meet up. Before she could consider it further, a massive rip of pain split through her stomach and Kate moaned in agony, squatting down and holding her stomach in frustration. Kamala gasped in shock and Kate in horror as a small stream of wee; lasting for three seconds long, burst through the crotch of Kate’s tight black jeans, pouring through her grey cotton underwear and onto the cobblestone below. ‘Right, that’s it!’ said Kate desperately. ‘I’m losing it; I’m going behind that tree!’. If Kamala had been in her right mind, she’d have been tearing at her own jean zipper to do the same; despite the embarrassment and risk of going in public. However, Becky had accounted for this possibility in her hypnotic programming and had made sure that Kamala would do everything in her power to prevent her friends and fellow heroes escaping their accidents this way. ‘What?!’ said Kamala, outraged. ‘Kate, you can’t go there, what if there are cameras!’. ‘Oh, so you’d rather I piss myself on camera than go behind a bush?’. ‘You don’t need to do either, neither of us do!’ said Kamala; though deep down, she didn’t believe it, as she was already doing the pee-pee dance and desperately holding herself between her thighs. ‘We can find a toilet somewhere!’. ‘There’s no time, I’m about to go, hold on yourself if you want to!’. Kate began to unzip her trousers, however, Kamala’s programming kicked in, and just as she’d slid them down to her knees; racing to pull her grey panties down, Kamala’s hands stretched over and knocked Kate’s own away, pulling up her trousers in a fast yank. ‘Fuck off Kam, what the hell?!’ said Kate angrily. ‘Why are you being such a… an… oh no!’. Kate tried to pull her trousers down again but they weren’t even below her knees as a loud, smelly, putrid fart ripped through the air, and pee flooded through her grey knickers; before forming a waterfall of golden streams that ran straight downwards, though a few streams broke loose, spraying her jeans and Kate’s legs and shoes. Kamala wanted to look away but the hypnotic programming didn’t even let her truly consider the idea, as Kamala felt her own need to go accelerate to critical levels. ‘Fuck, fuck… fuck, I can’t hold it!’ screamed Kamala, her butt letting out an enormous fart as it expanded to obscene levels. ‘PRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSSSSPPPPPPPPPPSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS’. With every second it went on, Kamala began to wet and shit herself simultaneously. Both flooded into her panties together, filling them in a second as golden streams ran down the front of her legs, over her knees and showing up as a massive, expanding wet patch on her jeans and crotch, while thick brown streams; shit mixed in with piss, went down the back, leaving her jeans bum area with a massive brown stain on it, that was only getting bigger, stinkier and more embarrassing by the second. Both superheroes continued to wet themselves; Kamala’s shitting accident being especially horrifying for her, not even happening during training. False memories told her this wasn’t unheard of for her but even so, it had been a while; at least three months in her head, since the last one and she thought she’d been moving past it. It was embarrassing; no, mortifying shame to have that turn out not to be the case when out with her friend Kate. She also felt awful for accidentally making her own accident worse, unsure of why she felt so honour-bound to stop her as if her role as a superhero should prioritize preventing young, eighteen year-old-girls; on the verge of an accident, from using an emergency toilet area. ‘I-I’m so sorry Kate!’ said Kamala; tears running down her face, as she ran off in shame, realizing what she had done to her friend by what she’d thought was her stubborn pride. ‘Kamala!’ screamed Kate angrily, though as she heard her friends sobs; despite everything, she felt sorry for her. Kamala hadn’t meant for this to happen. ‘She’s such a stupid bitch!’ moaned Kate, before feeling guilty at the comment. ‘Come on, no she’s not, she just made a mistake. Sure, she chose a bad location and didn’t seem in any hurry, then stopped me… but… ah, she’s just a do-gooder. Aren’t all heroes like us though? Yeah but this isn’t like her. Not really’ thought Kate, suddenly feeling suspicious. Kamala was definitely aspiring to be what Clint jokingly referred to as a ‘Parrot’ AKA a hero who is always prattling off speeches, inspiring quotes, and obeying the rule to the letter; never wavering on their principles, believing that would make her a better hero and would make Carol Danvers proud of her. But even so, Kate realized that something was off. Kamala may be a little tightly wound sometimes; sure, but she could be practical and she didn’t consider crime-fighting to be stopping one of her friends from avoiding a major and humiliating accident. Something was wrong. Trying to ignore the pee on her legs and jeans, Kate carefully slid off all the clothes on her bottom half; making sure she was hidden from any passing strangers, as well as other prying eyes she was now wary of, before attaching the sodden panties to a small arrowhead she pulled from her pocket. She always kept a mini-compact bow and a few arrowheads with her in most civilian circumstances, in case she ever needed to take down the odd mugger or; worst case scenario, a shooter when she wasn’t on active duty. Technically, using it for this purpose wasn’t the most appropriate use of her skills as a master archer but she figured that this was an unusual circumstance and could be justified if anyone ever found out about it. Probably. Pulling back her bow and releasing, the panties were flung on the edge of an arrowhead and the shot was perfect; sliding the arrow into a gutter, while the panties got stuck at the top of a pipe, where leaves would quickly obscure them from the very limited view anyone could already have. She’d return tonight and collect them, once she hightailed it back to her apartment and did three things. Firstly, a shower. The pee on her jeans and legs was beginning to cool and she didn’t like the sensation when warm; let alone icy. Secondly, she was going to do a blood test; to check if she had been poisoned with some kind of nerve agent or diuretic. Finally; if she had been, she was going to contact one of Kamala’s friends. She had all their numbers memorized; as she did with the close friends and family of all her Avengers and superhero teammates, in case they were ever injured or killed in battle. Kate couldn’t be sure who was in on this but knew who she could safely eliminate wasn’t. Whether others had noticed yet or not, something needed to be done. Something wasn’t right with Kamala Khan. THE PREVIOUS WEEK Gwen Stacy was baffled. Shocked. Terrified. All of the above. She was having; quite possibly, the most confusing week of her life. It had all started after a superhero training session, routine stuff. She’d done some fight training with Carol Danvers, Kamala Khan, Janet Van Dyne; a few others. Yet ever since then, things had been anything but normal. It had all started on the first day when; out of nowhere, a bright blue flash of light had engulfed her and she had gone from swinging in the city of New York she knew to a mid-2000’s version of the city that looked similar but was nothing like the world she knew. There were no Avengers, no alien invasions, no heroes… except one. Spiderman. She’d somehow ended up in an alternate world that only had a black-suited Spiderman, who seemed to be able to move around the city with incredible speed and skill that even she couldn’t match. To her shock, she soon realized that it was Peter Parker; learning his identity when she followed him from a distance, being careful not to trigger his Spidey-Sense as a threat. She also realized that he was really weird. For some reason, she’d seen him leave a clothing store the other day doing air thrusts and weird dance moves towards women; all while listening to ‘Funky Soul’ via his MP3 player and wireless headphones. That sight alone had made her bizarre journey almost worth it, however; she didn’t have time to question it. From there, her timeline jumping began in earnest. Today, she was at high school with Mary Jane; heading to band practice, where she was going to test a theory, hopefully before she jumped again. Gwen figured that the world-jumping was due to unstable DNA, ever since her battle as part of what she’d nicknamed the ‘Spiderverse’ incident, where she and a group of her parallel selves had battled Wilson Fisk. She figured that if the bands played their music together, the harmonies may combine with her unstable DNA patterns to form a more stable; eventually allowing her to stabilize and perhaps travel between universes at will. Currently, she’d been forced out within a handful of days each time; before the different dimensional energies ripped her apart. If she; as well as some of her alternate selves, had worked out the same conclusion, then multiple universes worth of Gwen Stacy Spiderwoman, in the same environment, should be able to create a ‘Multiverse Synchronisation Gateway’ and that was her ticket home. She knew she might only get one shot at this. She’d been trying it in a dozen different timelines; so far nothing, yet if she didn’t for any reason, then the others may achieve it without her, and then she’d be stuck as a permanent unstable presence between universes; forever. What she didn’t know is that her DNA had been set off by an unintended effect of Kamala’s hypnosis. The program had instructed Gwen to go far away from Kamala and begin placing herself into situations where she would be forced to suffer humiliating accidents. Her genetically altered mind; still not entirely understood by her or many Spidermen/Spiderwomen, had responded to this by manifesting a new ability from her DNA; already charged with multi-dimensional energy: She now had the ability to jump through parallel worlds at a whim. Unfortunately, Gwen needed to use this strange, risky, unreliable, and limited opportunity method to get control of it or she would never have a semblance of a normal life again. Naturally; during a time of immense personal crisis and stress, Gwen practically wanted to scream in annoyance as her bladder had filled rapidly this morning, leaving her now desperate for the toilet as she approached her band class. She wanted to go but she couldn’t risk it, so instead, she tightly clamped her legs and moved forwards. ‘You okay Gwen?’. It was this universe’s Mary Jane: A fiery redhead; like the vast majority, she’d seen, with huge boobs that this timeline’s version of Peter was staring at for half his time at college. Having slipped into the place of her alternate self, Gwen was dressed in a thin white skirt and dark blue cotton panties; with bare legs and white trainers, while Mary Jane wore a tight white tank-top and short red-skirt, with Gwen having glimpsed red lingerie on MJ earlier; much to her enjoyment. ‘Y-yeah, I’m fine, just tired. Still, need to focus if I’m gonna do well at band today’. ‘I know what you mean’ said MJ. ‘It gets so tiring sometimes. Come on tiger, let’s get this done, then we’ll go get Chinese food!’. MJ kissed her girlfriend’s cheek, causing Gwen to blush. In this timeline it seemed, they were partners and boy was she an enthusiastic lover. Gwen had initially wanted to decline her advances but had discovered earlier in her dimension-hopping that acting out of character for this version of herself in the timeline caused her to rapidly jump to a new one within minutes of her altered behaviour. Thankfully, she had the memories of each new Gwen she booted into another timeline, so could use that to stay in character. Giving MJ’s bum a gentle squeeze, the redhead giggled in delight and the two entered band practice, taking their seats, as Gwen felt a slight tanginess in the air. ‘Do you feel that?’ asked Gwen excitedly. ‘Feel what?’ asked MJ. ‘N-nothing, nevermind’. Realizing that no-one else could sense it, she realized it must be the beginning of a multiverse synchronization event and if she could just keep this going for a few minutes; she could be home! Desperately squirming in her seat, Gwen cursed her infuriatingly small bladder but fought through. This was her moment. She could not miss it for anything, least of all a bathroom break. Using her enhanced reflexes to put her hand up first when the teachers asked to play a song, she chose one that was meaningful to multiple versions of Spidermen and Spiderwomen everywhere, a song that paid tribute to a close friend and someone she wished could be her partner. Oh yes, she knew the exact song. ‘Yes, Mrs. Stacy? What shall we play?’. ‘Blackway & Black Caviar, What's Up Danger’. ‘Very well!’. The band began to play as Gwen smiled. She knew that; in many universes, this song meant the world to Miles: Playing it through his suit during the moment he truly became Spiderman, hyping himself up with music. She sometimes listened to it so she could imagine seeing him properly again and perhaps; one day, starting the relationship they know they could. Nothing was going to stop her now. Not a billion universes, not DNA gone wild and not her desperate need to pee, which now had her wriggling on her seat to the point that MJ was looking at her with a knowing stare. She didn’t care. This was it. Two-thousand on thermometers Two-thousand surroundin' us Travel two-thousand kilometers To hang out with us The tanginess in the air increased and Gwen smiled, though quickly grimaced too, as her desperation began to reach critical levels, feeling a small spurt of pee leak into her panties; as she blushed bright red. Even so, she could see bolts of electricity ricocheting off the wall and knew that now was not the time to stop. What's up, danger? (Danger) What's up, danger? (Danger) An intense fart escaped her that she was barely able to keep silent, as she felt reality began to fall apart around her; even as the band continued to play the music. She could feel bursts of pee soak her knickers and the putrid smell hit her nose but she could not, would not, be stopped. She kept playing as she felt herself lose control. Ayy, gettin' old, they doubted us Makes it that more marvelous Sign 'em up, 'cause I'm in this vibe and I get synonymous Pee was flooding over her skirt now, a wet patch expanding across her skirt and down her legs; as Mary Jane’s eyes widened in shock. ‘Gwen… you’re…’. ‘Out of here!’. Gwen felt her whole body fall forwards, as she was blasted into a vortex of unimaginable energy; as she screamed in terror. Piss and shit flooded over her legs in a matter of seconds, yet within a split-second, she was wetting her white spider-suit, then a red and yellow one with wings. Jeans, skirts, mountain gear, Hand Clan uniform, a Green Goblin Suit, Thor’s Armor, Oscorp research gear, Dr. Strange’s sorcery robes: She could feel her piss flooding inside hundreds of different costumes in a single moment; infinite versions of her wetting herself inside a moment of pure chaos at the heart of the multiverse. What's up, danger? Ayy, don't be a stranger 'Cause I like high chances that I might lose (lose) I like it all on the edge just like you, ayy I like tall buildings so I can leap off of 'em Then, she felt herself living a thousand lives and memories all at once. She saw one universe where Mary Jane and Peter Parker had her tied to a bed, with her squirming desperately in black lingerie; utterly bursting for a piss. Mary Jane was whispering sweet nothings in her ear, while Peter used his Spider-Sense to find every weak point in her body and was edging her on orgasm like nothing she had ever felt. The pleasure and desperation were indescribable. She felt Mary Jane slide over her, as hot pee flooded from Mary Jane’s own red Victoria secret panties and a loud fart emanated from her backside; shit and piss beginning to slide into the redhead’s lingerie and over Gwen’s stomach. ‘Let go Gwen’ whispered Mary Jane and Gwen’s own release, her own accident, her own orgasm, shook the whole multiverse with pleasure. I go hard wit' it no matter how dark it is I'm insane but on my toes I could keep the world balanced on my nose I had a slumber party wit' all my foes Now I wear 'em like a badge of honour all my clothes If I'm crazy, I'm on my own If I'm waitin', it's on my throne If I sound lazy, just ignore my tone 'Cause I'm always gonna answer when you call my phone Gwen felt her whole body vibrate with ecstasy, yet she kept falling through infinity and saw and felt a thousand more universes. Worlds where the Avengers fell and she; the last hero, turned back invasions at the survivors’ colonies from plague mutant zombies, the last Supervillains, and even Thanos, battling the Mad-Titan equipped with Spider sorcery that she could barely comprehend. Like, what's up, danger? (Danger) Like, what's up, danger? (Danger) D-don't be a stranger What's up, danger? Two-hundred miles-per-hour wit' a blindfold on (on) Mama always askin', "Where did I go wrong?" (wrong) What's up, danger? Ah, what's up, danger? She saw universes where Miles Morales, Peter Parker, and Mary Jane were holding her as a wife, then fighting her to the death as a brutal; ruthless, enemy. She watched beautiful displays of love and horrifying displays of hate and screamed in terror at all of those, yet still, she kept falling, every inch of her soaked in fear, piss, grief and pleasure. Traveled two-hundred miles, I'm knockin' at your door And I don't really care if you ain't done wrong, come on What's up, danger? (Danger) D-don't be a stranger (stranger) Gwen was horrified that she was going to be stuck in this chaos forever but she forced herself to concentrate. She could still hear the band’s music: ‘What’s Up Danger’, echoing across the entire spectrum of creation and she used it as her anchor. She envisioned her universe in her mind and suddenly, the vortex of creation began to take shape, feeling less chaotic and forming into pictures she could see in front of her: There it was! Her New York! Her home! But her heart was divided and the picture began to split into two, terrifying Gwen that she was about to lose it. ‘No!’, she screamed in absolute horror. I like it when trouble brews, I won't dare change I like it when there's turbulence on my airplanes I like it when I sense things I can't see yet Fortunately, the image wasn’t collapsing but showing possibilities: Two. She saw two universes ahead of her in the vortex and ahead, she saw the heroes and friends she knew, the world she’d grown up in, the people she’d fought for all her life. Then, she saw Miles; the Miles she’d fallen in love with, in his world, and knew that if she willed herself to, that she would end up in his universe and could stay there forever, free of the cursed divide between dimensions. She could be with the man she loved, as she felt his heartbeat with the music. Swimmin' with sharks when they ain't feed yet 'Cause I like high chances that I might lose I like it all on the edge just like you, ayy I like tall buildings so I can leap off of 'em I go hard wit' it no matter how dark it is For a brief moment, Gwen wanted to. She wanted to more than anything. But her world still needed her. Gwen knew that. One day, she would find Miles again. But this was not their moment. She aimed her heart and mind towards her universe; tears rolling down her eyes, as the image of a smiling Miles looking right at her, as he began to fade. He nodded at her in approval; tears in his eyes. She cried aloud with emotion and fell through the divide between universes, as she appeared; like a ball of white and blue fire, in the New York skyline. If I'm crazy, I'm on my own If I'm waitin', it's on my throne If I sound lazy, just ignore my tone 'Cause I'm always gonna answer when you call my phone Like, what's up, danger? (Danger) Like, what's up, danger? Can't stop me now I said, "I got you now" I'm right here at your door I won't leave, I want more What's up, danger? The people of the city stared up at her, afraid for a moment that she was a hostile attack but soon, they saw one of their heroes; Spiderwoman, through the fire and cheered. She had been missing for almost a week and her return brought a wave of cheers and applause ripping through the city, as Gwen cried with relief and happiness; before laughing, as she realized that pee and shit had still filled up her white Spider-Suit. Yeah, what's up, danger? Can't stop me now, yeah I said, "I got you now" Come on, what's up, danger? Come on, I said, "What's up, danger?" Gwen Stacy had returned. Spider-Woman was back. THAT SAME DAY
 Janet Van Dyne had been having… problems. She didn’t want to admit it; certainly not to her judgmental husband, yet age was starting to get to her. Up until last year, she’d handled everything that the inevitable passage of time had thrown at her. She’d worn glasses willingly, moved slower but with grace, accepted that certain muscles were just going to be permanently aching now; not helped by her superhero lifestyle, which she had maintained long past the point where many other heroines might have retired. Janet loved hero work. She had gotten her husband Hank into it, not the other way around; despite what he may sometimes claim. Age and a few pains were not going to stop her. But this latest problem had left her wondering whether she really had gotten too old to carry things on. Last year; a false memory implanted by mind-controlled Kamala, Janet had been running a search and rescue operation inside a housing district that had been devastated by fighting with the Kree Empire. She’d been in her Antwoman Suit, crawling through the wreckage of a destroyed home, when she’d felt an unbearably bad need to piss. Trying her hardest to push it off, she’d made it through the rest of the operation, only to get changed into her civilian clothes and completely soak herself in her car on the way home. Janet could still remember; to her shame, how it felt to soak her beige cream trousers, feel a thick, wet log of her own shit squirm its way from her desperately clenched asshole and smear all over her bum and driver’s car seat. The worst part had been Hank’s scornful remarks when she got home and cold treatment of her for days after, her husband despised weak women. It was part of the reason he’d been attracted to her in the first place, a confident, bold young woman, in a science division, giving ideas and lectures to pig-headed men; way above her station. While others would have fired her, Hank made her his personal research assistant and; as times got gradually fairer for women, promoted her to co-head of his division. She’d fallen in love with him for believing in her and Hank had reciprocated due to her strength and conviction. The moment Hank saw her in piss-stained and shit-smelling clothes, she’d lost a huge portion of that respect and had been working for months to regain it. Even now, she still got the odd, disgusted look from her husband if she needed the bathroom too often and she couldn’t stand it. She wanted him to see her as the strong woman she knew she was once more. Of course; in reality, no such thing had ever happened. Hank; still immensely guilty over his wife being trapped for decades in the Quantum realm, wouldn’t have criticized her for bringing home anything less than a severed head; let alone a messy pair of trousers. Of course; thanks to the hypnotic programming, that knowledge had been lost and Janet had spent the last few weeks immensely stressed, hiding her accidents; that were now happening more and more frequently, multiple times a day. Janet’s first one that day began before she was even awake. Squirming and wriggling around in bed, her legs clenched tightly together in a dark red nightgown, Janet’s mature legs were wrapped around each in a vice-like grip, her whole body struggling to restrain the accident that the hypnotic programming was trying to force on her. In her dream, Janet was back at high school; sixteen years old, taking her exams again. She’d drank far, far too much water and was now squirming in her seat, in her tight white school blouse, her red lace bra feeling constricting to her sweaty boobs, and her white cotton panties dripping with what she hoped was sweat. ‘Mrs. Dyne!’ said her teacher; Hank Pym, in a thunderous voice. Her husband and teacher was dressed in a sharp, black suit and holding a long measuring ruler that sent a huge chill of fear racing down Janet’s spine and made her start to lose control at her seat in the class, pee flooding through her white panties in fear, as all her classmates turned to watch Janet wet herself, who was sobbing in terror. Laughter and insults filled the room, as back in the real world, Janet’s nightgown was wet at its bottom, the smallest of puddles forming under her bum, as her body shook with desperation; trying in vain to wake her up. ‘Janet… come to the front of the class. Now!’. Somehow, hearing her first name was far scarier and she stood up, trembling and soaking, her black schoolgirl shoes walking through her puddle, as she stood before Mr. Pym. ‘You’ve had an accident, didn’t you?’. ‘Y-yes s-sir!’ sobbed Janet. ‘P-please l-l-let me c-clean up!’. ‘Not before your punishment Janet. Bend over the desk’. She hesitated. ‘Now Janet!’ his scream terrified her and in the real world, another burst of pee leaked from her pussy, spraying through her fingers, where she was desperately holding herself; clenching her pussy with both hands, as she whimpered like a little girl, in both worlds, her deep, hypnotic sleep unable to be breached, her smooth, mature legs, glistening with wetness, as a loud fart filled the air: ‘BRRRRRAAAAAFHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRTRRRRRRRRRTTTTSSSSSSSSSSSS’. ‘Janet has been a disgusting, dirty, weak little girl class and she must be punished’. ‘No sir, please, don’t!’. But it was too late. Janet; trembling over the teacher’s desk, sobbed in horror as her skirt was flipped up, exposing her shitty, wet panties to the whole class, as she farted putrid stink towards them, making everyone laugh and gag in horror. Then, the blows landed; the ruler smacking against her ass, as she cried on the table. The blows landed again and again and Janet cried out, as piss and shit anew flooded from her white wet knickers and down the back of her legs, as her teacher stared at her with utter contempt, and the sound of people laughing filled her ears. ‘No!!!’ she screamed, the sound of her voice being replaced with an alarm; as she jolted awake. For a moment, Janet was relieved but then, she felt around her crotch and a chill ran down her spine. ‘Oh no! No, no, no!’ Throwing back her duvet, she nearly gagged at the smell, finding her long legs covered in piss, her nightgown smeared in shit and stained yellow; with wet patches everywhere, while the sheets were utterly foul. It was not helped by the fact that; despite everything; Janet found herself repeatedly farting, the putrid, horrific, tangy, yet bitter odor only adding to the room’s foul concoction: ‘PRRRRRRF!’, ‘PRRRRRFFFFFFSSSSSS’, ‘SRRRRRPHHHHHMMMMM!’ FLRRRRRRRRRRPRRRRRFFFFFHHH!’. ‘Oh god’ said Janet, as the last wave of shit and pee flooded from her exhausted asshole, as she trembled in her blankets; still continuing to have an accident and wet & shit the bed. Suddenly, a voice called out and Janet’s blood ran cold. ‘Everything alright up there?’ called Hank Pym, having barely head his wife’s upset moans. ‘I-I’m fine!’ she said unconvincingly. ‘Well, I’m just bringing you some breakfast!’. Janet’s mind worked at a million miles per hour. Frantically jumping from her bed, Janet quickly grab an experimental piece of shrink tech and threw it towards her bed, shrinking the entire structure down to the size of a pin. She then jumped into the en-suite bathroom, closing the door just in time to avoid her husband seeing her in her foul nightclothes, covered in piss. ‘Good morning, I brought you some breakfast…Where is the bed?’ asked Hank Pym. ‘Oh, I’m using it for an experiment!’ she said hurriedly, turning on the shower and jumping side. ‘An experiment?’ asked Hank, confused. ‘Y-yes, to test the dexterity of cotton and foam surfaces when exposed to a heating agent combined with Pym Particles. Pym nodded approvingly, impressed by his wife’s work ethic. ‘Well, just make sure you get our bed back by tonight’ he warned. ‘I want to be able to sleep’. ‘Yes dear!’ she said, hurriedly scrubbing herself clean and throwing the wet, dirty lingerie behind the toilet. Hank Pym gave a devilish smile, slowly unlocking the bathroom door before he stepped inside and pulled off his early morning clothes: A suit, tie; white socks, and black shoes. He then pulled back the curtain, Janet having just narrowly cleaned herself in time, as she jumped in shock. ‘Hank, don’t scare me like that!’ she lectured, as her husband stepped into the bathtub with her; not noticing the last of Grace’s piss and shit wash away, much to her relief. ‘You are looking delightful today my darling’ said Hank Pym, a lustful edge to his voice. Right now, Janet felt anything but sexy and didn’t want her husband touching her; in case he found a part of her body she hadn’t cleaned. However, seeing how throbbing hard his cock was, standing up thick and straight, as well as the fact he knew she wasn’t on her period, Janet decided to get creative. Pulling him into a passionate kiss, she then pushed him against the wall, as hot water ran over both their bodies and she fell to her knees; slowly kissing down his body. ‘You haven’t done this in… a while!’ moaned Hank Pym. ‘I’ve just been thinking about how you rescued me’ said Janet seductively, as she began kissing her husband’s balls. ‘I was the one who caused you to get trapped there in the first place’ he said glumly. ‘That’s not true and you know it. You came back for me. Now, let me show you how grateful I can be’. Hank Pym’s eyes rolled back in his head as Janet Van Dyne slid his thick cock deep into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat; yet she did not gag. Starting to enjoy herself and feeling more powerful and in control than just a few minutes ago; sat wet and ashamed on her bed like a soiled toddler, she pleasured her husband thoroughly, extracting sweet and rough moans from him as his seed leaked from his mouth and dripped down her throat and out her lips in hot, white bursts. Eventually, he lost complete control and Janet swallowed as much as she could manage, before letting her husband release the rest over her face and mature, faded pink but still large breasts. Janet smiled. It felt good to be in control. That feeling lasted roughly three-and-a-half hours. As Janet headed into town, she was sitting in the driver’s seat of their car, preparing to get some supplies in for dinner. Heading to the local grocer’s, she found a growing feeling of discomfort in her bladder and realized; to her horror, that she already badly needed to use the toilet again. ‘Not again!’ she moaned. ‘This is ridiculous. What is wrong with me?’. Tears came to Janet’s eyes but she wiped them away quickly. She was not weak. She would not be weak. She would hold it, buy groceries and then make her way home. She was a mature woman, not a weak, elderly, doddery old fool. She would hold it. She could hold it. ‘I can hold it’ she said to herself. So, Janet Van Dyne sat in her car; driving to the store, in beige cream trousers and a white blouse, fidgeting and squirming, occasionally holding herself, yet refusing to allow herself to think properly about how much pain she was in from holding her bladder. Even as the pain made her shoulders tremble with exhaustion and Janet felt sweat pouring down the back of her neck, she refused. ‘It’s all in your head. You control your own body’. She had no idea how wrong she was at this moment; thanks to Becky’s programming, however, Janet refused to see it. So, the drive continued, with the mature superheroine slowly growing more desperate, small, smelly farts with high-pitched whines, escaping her bum; stinking the car. Lowering the window, she could hear the sound of rain pouring down loudly onto the car but blocked it out. She wouldn’t think of rain, water, toilets, how badly she wanted one, how much she was containing inside her… ‘Ah, here we are!’ said Janet with false happiness, trying to deny her own thought processes by heading into the store. Walking with her pants tightly buckled and her legs clamped together, Janet felt incredibly uncomfortable, the metal of her belt digging painfully into her overworked tummy, as her body desperately fought to let out another fart… or worse. Janet refused to indulge it, however, grabbing a shopping trolley as she walked around the store; slowly, as the pressure in her bladder got worse and worse. ‘I don’t need the toilet, I can hold it, I don’t need the toilet, I can hold it, I don’t need the toilet, I can… I can… I… oh fuck!’. Janet’s thoughts turned panicked in a second, as her knees nearly gave way and Janet felt an incredible pain tear through her stomach. Her legs shook so violently for several seconds, she was almost worried she was having a stroke but the pain was nowhere near her heart, it was from her bladder to her asshole and she could feel it slowly opening, a long, slow, horrifically smelling fart slowly pouring out of her; accompanied by a high-pitched whine, despite her embarrassment. ‘PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFGHHHHHHH!’. Janet’s face blushed bright red and she speed-walked to the next aisle as several customers gave her dirty looks of disapproval. Janet shook heavily as she picked up the last of her items, taking them to a self-scan checkout, as she began freaking out. ‘Oh god, I’m shitting my pants! I’m shitting my pants’. It was true. Janet could feel a thick but mushy load of poo slowly slide out of her clenched bum, forced into a thick, thin stream and already, beginning to strain against her knickers. She had no idea how long it would be until the smell was noticeable to others or how long it would take to show against her trousers but she didn’t want to stay in the store long enough to find out. Janet hurriedly tried to get the last of her items through before she lost any more of her control, her body shaking, as a cashier; noticing her tense state, approached. ‘Are you okay m’am?’ he asked. ‘I’m fine, thank you’. ‘Are you sure? You look-’ he began but Janet cut him off. ‘I said I’m fine young man! Now, why don’t you get out of my way, before I have to call your manager over!’. The young man backed off apologetically, as Janet grabbed her items and slowly, began to walk out. She felt guilty for biting the man’s head off but she had no choice. Already; looking around, she could see people noticing it. ‘Oh my god!’. ‘Ugh, it stinks in here!’. ‘What the hell is that smell?’. ‘Do they ever clean these stores?’. ‘Smells like a toddler shit themselves’. Janet nearly wanted to cry at that last comment. That’s how she felt at the moment. A toddler. She hadn’t even managed to go to the store successfully without starting a major accident. God, she hadn’t felt this humiliated in a long time and, as she walked towards the store exit, she could feel her poo start to mush thickly against her trousers. Janet moaned and whimpered in horror as she stumbled back to her car, farts emanating from her backside repeatedly, as several dozen people begin to gag from the smell and watch her in disgust, seeing a growing brown stain on the back of her beige trousers. ‘That’s utterly foul!’. ‘What a pathetic old tart!’. ‘Truly vile!’. ‘What kind of disgusting old bitch shits herself in public!’. ‘Wear a diaper love!’. The last comment; shouted directly at her, made Janet began to sob with tears, as she threw herself and her shopping into the car, sat into her seat; squashing shit all over her bum and onto her car seat before she sped out of the car park, wailing in pain and humiliation, as Janet Van Dyne began to completely shit her pants. It poured out of her in huge thick strands, not stopping for a second, her asshole throbbing and beating like her racing heartbeat, as the woman cried in dismay at her ongoing accident. Piss began to flood out as well, soaking through the front of her trousers and forming a wet, sludgy puddle in her car seat; as it began to mix with the shit, before pouring over the front. Hundreds of miles away, Becky watched in fits of laughter, as the hidden cameras she’d had Kamala place in the woman’s car showed the original Wasp’s accident in HD quality. By now, a brown puddle was flowing over the car seat infrequent, messy streams, pouring down the back of Janet’s legs and into her shoes, while a series of loud farts could still be heard: ‘PFFFRRRRRRRRRRSSSHYYY’, ‘PFFFFFFFFF’, ‘PGGGHRRRRSSSSSSSS’, GRRRRFFFFFFPPPPPPHHHPPPP’. ‘Oh god please no!’ screamed Janet hysterically, speeding past several cars, sobbing in a mad fury, trying to deny the reality of her situation. Unfortunately, there was no escaping this. Janet had completely shit herself; with dozens in public seeing her, as well as wetting herself to boot, as if it hadn’t already been embarrassing enough. It was utterly humiliating and worse, Janet had no idea how she could even begin to hide this mess from her husband. Beginning to hyperventilate, Janet pulled over and parked the car in a relatively secluded spot, then tried to calm herself down from a full-blown panic attack. ‘Hank can’t see this!’ she said aloud, crying with every word. ‘He can’t’. Janet thought desperately for a solution but nothing was coming to mind. Even if she could clean the car in time before heading home, there was no getting around her clothes; half stained brown, with massive wet patches on every part, as her exhausted asshole finally stopped expelling shit, her streams of piss slowing to a few drops, before petering out. She had no change of clothes to hide her accident behind… except… ‘That’s it!’ said Janet triumphantly. Janet and Hank; ever the prepared couple, kept multiple variants of their suits in different places. They had two in different parts of their homes and; as she now remembered, one each in their car, shrunk down to the size of a cocktail sausage, hidden inside a secret compartment within the door. Grimacing as Janet moved to grab it, feeling the shit that was sludging horribly inside her panties, Janet unlocked a vial of Pym Particles, hidden inside her handbag, and used it to enlargen the Wasp suit; which formed around her body and ejected her ruined clothes in a nano-second. ‘Warning, foreign contaminants found in suit’ said a dull, robotic voice. ‘Recommendation: Purge materials from suit’. ‘Do it!’ said Janet. Her suit’s robotics then ran a gas cloud through her shit; blinding her temporarily, as she felt piss and shit go from liquid and solid into gas form, before being released from her suit in a concentrated burst of air. Janet stood in her puddle; now a huge lake from her perspective in the Wasp suit, as she looked towards it with disdain. ‘I need to get home and chance, then I’ll sort out this mess’. Shrinking the car down, Janet held it like a tiny briefcase and flew through the air, racing for home; as Becky’s video feed cut out, the signal interfered with too much by the shrinkage. ‘Clever old minx’ admitted Becky. ‘Well, these have been fun. I’ll have to get Kamala to gather more. Soon, I think it will be time for her next accident, and this time, the whole world will see what a baby she really is’. Becky began to laugh and then continued, laughing maniacally for several seconds. After a while, however, Becky stopped and felt awkward. ‘Wow, that whole evil laugh thing is overrated when you’re alone!’. TWO WEEKS LATER Michaela was getting seriously worried. The gossip had been all over twitter: Across the world, some of the world’s most famous superheroes; all female, had been suffering embarrassing accidents. A few had been leaked to TMZ of training videos, where heroes like Captain Marvel had suffered embarrassing losses of control. Some had been more public, like the famed scientist, Janet Van Dyne, caught on camera losing control in her car and at a grocery store. Yet perhaps most personally and worryingly to her, was that of Ms. Marvel’s. The young hero had been rescuing people from a bridge-fire, when she had suddenly become incredibly desperate for the toilet, piss rolling down her red and blue tights on Live TV, for all the world’s news networks to see. That; while gross, was not the truly shocking thing to Michaela. She figured that Kamala; in her eagerness not to let anyone get hurt, could have neglected going to the bathroom for a few hours. No, what alarmed her was how Kamala had then abandoned the people on the bridge; trying to find a bathroom, only to suffer a humiliating accident as half-a-dozen news choppers followed her and watched the young hero shit her pants through her enlarged butt for over four minutes straight. It was a front-page story in most countries and the ramifications had been huge. People were talking about: ‘The Great Superhero Scandal’, female heroes around the world were being grilled about nothing else but their bathroom habits in interviews and a few national governments were even talking about sanctions against female superheroes, if their powers and bodies were so volatile that they suffered accidents like this on a regular basis. Michaela didn’t believe it. None of their behaviours made sense and her suspicions had been confirmed when she received a text-message from an unknown number: ‘DIURETICS. HEROES POISONED. KAMALA KHAN. INSTIGATOR OR CATSPAW? INVESTIGATE. I AM TARGET. GOING UNDERGROUND. CALL WHEN YOU HAVE ANSWERS’. ‘What the hell did the message mean?’ thought Michaela, as she walked onto the college campus. ‘Kamala, an instigator… for what? Poisoning?! No way!’. She was certain of that last part. Kamala hadn’t left her college room for three days, after Carol Danvers stripped her of their shared mantle and told Kamala that if she ever saw her using it again, Carol would treat her no differently to any other villain. She’d been despondent since, swinging between sobs, self-hatred and general isolation, with nothing able to pull her out of it. Michaela knew there had to be more to this than Kamala being a coward and having a weak bladder at the worst possible moment. Nakia and Zoe had been acting strange too. She’d seen footage of their own accidents shared in a bunch of local Whatsapp groups, from college chats to ‘EmbarassingPublicDisplays’, a group she’d uncovered while looking into everything. Nakia losing control at protests? Zoe at shopping centres? Michaela wasn’t going to tolerate this any longer. TEN MINUTES LATER ‘What the hell is up with you three?!’ asked Michaela bluntly. Nakia and Zoe shifted awkwardly in their seats on the carpet, while Kamala; puffy-eyed from crying, just looked exhausted and resigned to everything, laying on her bed in pyjamas, clearly worn out from sleep deprivation. ‘I lost control!’ said Kamala quietly. ‘I abandoned the people because I was trying to avoid humiliating myself and instead, I just let everyone down more. I’m a failure’. ‘That wasn’t like you! Zoe, you’re normally so controlled and strong; you cringe when people do anything remotely awkward in public, yet you’re having accidents now?’. Zoe blushed, frustrated to be talking about this in front of Nakia. ‘Guess I’m not as strong as I thought I was. I hate that it’s happening but what can I do to stop it? It’s like my body’s regressed lately, okay? I don’t know what the hell is happening!’. ‘Me neither’ admitted Nakia, staring at the carpet in embarrassment. ‘I thought at first I’d been eating badly or that it was some chemicals but now… I feel like my friend’s sisters have better bladder control than me and they’re eight!’. ‘Look, can we not talk about this!’ said Kamala, exaggerated. ‘You guys know this has been happening to me for years. I just messed up too badly on the bridge. I’ve had so long to control this, you’ve been trying to help with it for ages and nothing’s worked. What’s the point of even trying?’. Michaela, Nakia and Zoe all slowly turned to stare at Kamala, giving her concerned, scared looks. Kamala felt uneasy. ‘Why are you staring?’ asked Kamala, confused. There was silence for a moment. ‘Kamala, you haven’t been having accidents for years. This all started only a few weeks ago’ said Nakia, her eyes widening in growing horror. ‘What are you on about? I’ve had this stuff since I got my powers’. ‘You’ve never mentioned that’. ‘You’ve all seen it!’. ‘No Kam, we haven’t’. A tense silence fell in the room, as Kamala looked frightened and the others looked seriously concerned. Suddenly, Zoe glanced towards something on Kamala’s desk. ‘You said you’ve been too busy with superhero stuff to go out much recently, right?’ asked Zoe, standing up. ‘Yeah, why?’. ‘What’s that?’. Kamala, Zoe, Nakia and Michaela looked towards Kamala’s desk, staring at a new laptop on her desk; the front pushed half-down, obscuring what was on the screen. ‘Oh… that… I got that ages ago’ said Kamala, though in truth, she felt uncertain of the words she was saying. The rest of her friends stood up. ‘Can we see it?’ asked Michaela, slowly approaching it regardless. ‘I’d rather you didn’t’ answered Kamala. ‘Why?’. ‘I-I’m not meant to touch it’. ‘You said it’s yours’. ‘Y-yeah, it is but… I mean… I… I… I just feel like I shouldn’t…’. ‘Kamala… what’s on that computer’ asked Nakia, now seriously scared, as all three gathered around the desk. ‘I… I…’. Tears ran down Kamala’s face, as her eyes widened in shock and she began to shake violently. ‘I don’t know’ she whispered, horrified. Michaela opened the lid of the laptop and gasped at what she saw. The others did the same, with Kamala breaking into full on sobs; recoiling in horror, while Nakia and Zoe’s expressions turned to rage. The screen was full of two dozen different live camera feeds, replaying accidents from various superheroines all over the world. Looking from video-to-video, they could see recordings of Spiderwoman wetting herself at band-practice, Janet Van Dyne losing control in her car, Jennifer Walters shitting her pinstripe suit in front of a client and dozens of other heroines; suffering a variety of accidents. ‘What the fuck, that’s us!’ screamed Zoe, as she saw the video feeds containing Nakia and Zoe’s accidents. Both blushed bright red at seeing the other’s humiliation. The two girls turned towards Kamala, grabbing and shoving her against the wall. ‘Why the fuck do you have these?! What kind of sick fuck are you?!’ screamed Zoe. ‘I thought we were your friends!’ shouted Nakia, tears streaming down her face. ‘Hey!’ shouted Michaela, getting all of their attention. ‘It’s not Kamala’s fault! Look!’. The three girls approached the laptop and gasped; Kamala being the most horrified of all. There, a video had been started by Michaela, showing Becky; her sworn nemesis, subjecting Kamala to a series of hypnotic controls. Other video feeds then showed Kamala with Nakia and Zoe, all of which demonstrated one undeniable truth to them: Lockdown had control of their minds. ‘How… how the fuck is this possible?!’ said Kamala, recoiling in horror. ‘… That night… the night we went drinking… Becky robbed a bank that night…’. ‘There’s no way we wouldn’t have tried to stop her!’. ‘Obviously, we did!’. Nakia sat down next to Kamala, tears in her eyes, while Zoe stood in front of her; looking guilty. ‘I’m sorry Kamala’ said Zoe apologetically. ‘I didn’t know she’d done this to you’. ‘I’m not angry at you’ said Kamala, dangerously quiet. ‘I’m angry at her. I’m going to kill her! I’m going to kill that bitch!’ screamed Kamala. Both Nakia and Zoe leapt back, scared at their usually calm friend’s rage, however as Kamala stood out, Michaela blocked her path to the door. ‘You can’t confront her!’ she said hurriedly. ‘I can and I will!’. ‘No, you won’t! The fact she’s able to control you means that she must have a trigger phase to do it. If you go and march to where she is; even if you find her first, all she needs to do is say the phrase and you’re her slave again!’. ‘Not if I rip her head off first’ snarled Kamala viciously. Her friends looked at one another; frightened, yet Michaela stood her ground. ‘Kamala, I know what she’s done to you is horrible-’ began Michaela. ‘-No you don’t! She made me hurt innocent people, fellow heroes, my idol!’ screamed Kamala, her whole body shaking with pain. ‘She made me turn on Captain Marvel and humiliate her! She has to pay! She has to!’. Michaela threw herself around Kamala, wrapping her into a tight hug as the young heroine collapsed; wracked by sobs, while her three friends held her tightly. After several minutes, Kamala slowly began to calm down, her crying slowly calming, until finally, Kamala sat up, looking at everyone with a tired expression. ‘What do we do then?’ asked Kamala desperately. ‘We could go to the other heroes?’ suggested Michaela. ‘That won’t work. Captain Marvel’s blacklisted me with every team and if I tell them about some hypnosis scheme, they’ll think I’m making excuses to be let back in’. ‘We could show them the laptop’ offered Nakia. ‘I doubt it’ said Michaela frustratedly. ‘Kamala’s probably got a hypnotic trigger in her if this thing even leaves the room, she’d smash it before we even got down the hall!’. ‘Hey!’ said Kamala. ‘Sorry, I mean, Becky would make you smash it’. ‘Well then what do we do?!’ asked Kamala desperately. There was silence for several moments. ‘We deprogram you’ said Michaela simply. ‘How?’ asked Nakia. ‘Without the code words, it’s going to be near-impossible’. ‘Does anyone have a better idea?’. Nobody did so the girls got to work. Sitting Kamala down, Michaela found an old pocket watch in Kamala’s draws and decided it would make a useful focal point for their commands. She then got Nakia to give Kamala a back-rub; trying to relax her, while Zoe made some hot chocolate. After a while, the tension in Kamala’s body was a little eased; though her face was still full of concern. ‘Michaela… if Becky can take control of me at any time…’. ‘Then the moment she calls, you could be under her control. Reveal what’s happening, then everything’s screwed’. ‘Then we don’t answer the call’ said Zoe. ‘We can’t afford to ignore it’ explained Michaela. ‘Lockdown would have definitely programmed Kamala to answer her calls as a priority, no matter the time. Not answering would be the same as telling her, then we’re back to square one’. ‘But she didn’t account for everything’ said Nakia. ‘We knew our behaviour wasn’t normal. Kamala thought this had been happening for years. Fake memories and experiences, right?’. Kamala nodded; disgusted. ‘Then, why weren’t we programmed like that?’. Michaela thought about it for several moments, then laughed bitterly. ‘She’s lazy’ said Michaela. ‘You two don’t always fight with Kamala do you, you were just helping her take down Becky, right?’. Nakia and Zoe nodded uncertainly. ‘I guess so’ said Zoe. ‘I still can’t remember it but I know that before, we haven’t been with Kamala regularly in fights’. ‘Exactly!’ said Michaela. ‘She wasn’t expecting you. She’s a petty asshole and a bitch, so when you were there, she put in the programming so she could humiliate you but she was careless. Lazy. She didn’t even bother to make it seem normal to you both, just figured you wouldn’t tell the difference’. ‘Oh that bitch!’ said Nakia, insulted despite everything. ‘We need to get started’ said Michaela hurriedly. ‘Becky might call in five hours or five minutes. We have to start now’. So, Michaela got to work, sliding the watch in front of Kamala’s face multiple times, as she began a countdown. ‘Follow the watch Kamala. Let it relax you. You can feel yourself getting sleepier and sleepier. Now, as I count down from 5, you’re going to slip deeper and deeper into a rest, that will turn into a sleep, where you will hear only what I say’. Kamala felt her eyes drifting, the watch going in and out of focus, as the hypnotic trance began to take over. ‘Feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep, as you feel the relaxation increase with each number… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… you are now in a deep, relaxed sleep, totally asleep, only aware of my voice’. Kamala was snoring heavily; sitting in her chair, her shoulders and head slumped, awaiting commands from Michaela. ‘Now then Kamala… I want you to picture the words and controls, buried deep in your mind, that Lockdown put there. I want you to feel those words slowly ease out of your subconscious as I count down from 5-1’. ‘5… 4…. 3… 2… 1… let the words disappear from your mind!’. ‘PRFFFFFFFFFFFFFPHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSSS’. Kamala let rip an enormous, putrid fart, enlarging her ass to the size of a sofa cushion on each side, as her dark blue pyjama bottoms ripped open, exposing her ass to Nakia and Zoe. Both couldn’t help but laugh in shock, while Michaela stared; frustrated. ‘Shut up, both of you!’. Michaela took a deep breath and focussed. She had to figure out how to do this, for her friends; as well as the countless others who could be hurt by Becky’s schemes if she wasn’t stopped. The damage already done had been serious. There were more supervillain attacks than ever and less people trusted their heroes to protect them, when female heroines; once considered pillars of strength, were pissing and shitting themselves like little girls half-way through fights. She had to find a way to stop this and she would not give up. ‘Kamala, as I count down from five, you will feel your mind reject any previous commands it has been given. You will feel them slip from your subconscious, rise through your brain and vanish, easing out of your body, like tension in a muscle’. Kamala remained still, as Zoe and Nakia watched silently. ‘5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Release!’. Kamala Khan did release… another enormous and loud fart, enlarging her butt so much that she became unstable in the chair and tipped over, the sudden shock waking her up in a panic, as Zoe and Nakia moved to help her up. ‘Ugh… what happened?’. Michaela slapped her head to her forehead. ‘I can’t get the hypnotic triggers out!’ she said frustratedly. ‘Becky’s are too deep. We need more time to figure out an answer’. ‘But we don’t have more time!’ said Kamala desperately. ‘She could call at any moment!’. ‘I know!’. Michaela thought hard about what to do. They needed time but the moment Becky called, Kamala would end up back in a trance. She would give them away… unless… ‘Kamala, get back in that chair, quickly! I have an idea that will buy us more time!’. ‘What do you mean?’. ‘We need to figure out how to undo the hypnotic programming. I can’t do that without testing it on others first and to do that, you can’t tell Becky what we’ve learned’. ‘Well, how are you going to stop me?’ asked Kamala impatiently, scared Becky might call at any moment. ‘We need to hide your memories’. Zoe and Nakia looked at each other, confused. Kamala was for a moment but then she realised. ‘You want to…’. ‘Put you back in a trance and hide away your memories of learning this, yeah. If you can’t remember it, you can’t tell Becky’ explained Michaela. Kamala sat silent for a few seconds. ‘Mike’ she whispered, sounding afraid. ‘I don’t want to do this. I don’t want her to control me’. Michaela walked over and hugged Kamala, holding the trembling hero. ‘I know… but if you don’t, I can’t see another way to stop her. Can you?’ asked Michaela. Kamala thought about it for a few moments, then shook her head. ‘Alright. Let’s do it’. THE NEXT DAY ‘Alright, we only have a few hours until we re-awaken Kamala and we need to practice with this guys, come on!’ said Michaela firmly, as Nakia and Zoe prepared for another practice run. Michaela’s plan for Kamala had worked. She had successfully programmed Kamala to hide away the memories of the past several hours, replacing them with false-memories of reviewing the video-feeds for Becky, while implanting a trigger word: ‘Bravery’, that would restore her memories; though only when spoken by Michaela, or Zoe and Nakia as a backup in case an emergency happened. Now, they were practicing to see what they could understand of the hypnosis on their own. The results so far had not been promising. Since they knew that Becky had been sloppy with Zoe and Nakia, they decided that trying to deprogram one of them as practice for Kamala would be a good first step. Unfortunately, while Michaela had made them obey some basic commands, she needed to get them into a deep trance if she was going to have any hope of achieving the same thing with Kamala. Since it was a hot day, Michaela had stripped down to a dark red vest top and thin blue jeans, while Nakia wore a green sleeveless shirt and dark red jeans, with Zoe wearing a white crop top and black jeans. All three were sweating from the heat and nerves as they prepared for things to get serious. ‘Okay… who wants to go first?’. Zoe looked towards Nakia and saw that her friend looked uncomfortable. Though she would never admit it, Zoe had a major crush on Nakia and ironically, Nakia felt exactly the same way towards Zoe. Wanting to put her more at ease; as well as wanting to impress her, Zoe stepped forwards. ‘I’ll do it’. ‘Okay, let’s do this’. Michaela began to swing the pocket watch; a more detailed golden one she had brought from her home, as Nakia dimmed the lights. Feeling herself becoming more and more drowsy, Zoe was soon under the hypnotic trance and Michaela considered what kind of scenario she could make her run through as a test. Meanwhile, though Nakia was blushing as she realised it, the sight of Zoe in a hypnotic state turned her on. The way she stood there; motionless, completely at their mercy, it made naughty thoughts run through her head. She felt her nipples harden as she imagined walking over to Zoe, rubbing their bodies together, kissing her, sliding her hands through her soft hair and over her body, inside those tight trousers and sliding her fingers deep into Zoe’s- ‘-Nakia, any ideas?’. ‘Huh? Oh, yeah… ugh… let’s make her a gassy pop singer. Let’s see what happens’. ‘Um… okay’ said Michaela, slightly weirded out by the suggestion but going with it anyway. ‘Zoe, as I countdown from 5, you will awaken as a famous pop singer. You are giving a live performance to an audience of thousands of fans, yet you badly have to fart and won’t be able to stop. Everytime you do… you’ll be immensely embarrassed but keep performing anyway’. Nakia stared into Zoe’s eyes; her own full of arousal, as she looked over her friend in this intimate state of vulnerability. ‘5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Awaken!’. ‘Hi everyone!’ said Zoe, in a voice far higher and enthusiastic than her normal tone. ‘I am literally so excited to be here, let’s get the music going!’. Nakia and Michaela stared at each other incredulously; before beginning to laugh uncontrollably, as Zoe broke into song: I heard you're feeling nothing's going right
Why don't you let me stop by?
The clock is ticking, running out of time
So we should party, all night So cover your eyes, I have a surprise As Nakia and Michaela began to calm down, a loud fart ripped from out of Zoe’s backside; causing the young woman to blush Scarlett red and clutch her bum, yet she didn’t stop singing, even as the smell of morning Nutella toast and orange juice came out through her butt as a putrid, eye-watering smell. 
I hope you got a healthy appetite
If you wanna dance, if you want it all
You know that I'm the girl that you should call Another loud fart ripped from Zoe’s bum, causing her to dance desperately on the spot; as she held her anus, with neither Nakia or Michaela sure if this was hypnotised or real desperation. Nevertheless, she continued singing and began pointing towards Nakia. Girl, when you're with me
I'll give you a taste
Make it like your birthday everyday
I know you like it sweet
So you can have your cake
Give you something good to celebrate Nakia blushed redder than a tomato, as Michaela smiled smugly at them. ‘The lyric is boy, not girl’ whispered Nakia. ‘Yep’ confirmed Michaela. ‘That must just be her’. ‘Shut up’ said Nakia, though she was breathing heavily now, which only got more rapid as Zoe approached her and began shaking her body inches from Nakia, her boobs shaking loosely in the spacious crop top. So make a wish
I'll make it like your birthday everyday
I'll be your gift
Give you something good to celebrate Pop your confetti
Pop your Pérignon
So hot and heavy, 'til dawn
I got you spinning
Like a disco ball
 Nakia’s legs were shaking with excitement as she stared towards Zoe, her eyes fluttering between her friend’s breasts and face, their lips only inches from each other, as Zoe sung. ‘Zoe… awaken!’ said Michaela. Nakia was immensely disappointed as Zoe awoke and; realising how close she was, recoiled back several ft. ‘Damn girl, what did you hypnotise me to do, be a lesbian?!’ joked Zoe, blushing at how close she and Nakia had been. ‘Nope’ said Michaela smugly. ‘Just to fart and sing’. There was a tense, sexual silence in the room for several seconds. ‘Alright Nakia… you’re up!’ said Michaela. Nakia went under the hypnosis even faster than Zoe did, her head slumped forwards; asleep and standing, as Zoe admired her crush in this state. She had to admit, it felt intimate, exposing and hot, though the next command from Michaela made the feelings even stronger. ‘Nakia… fart!’. A loud, vicious smelling gas blew from Nakia’s bum as Zoe’s eyes widened, somehow finding the sight of this incredibly arousing. Even the smell didn’t disturb her as much as she thought it should and she could feel her light blue panties underneath her jeans beginning to get damp, as she bit her lip in pleasure. ‘Again!’. Zoe had to supress a moan as Nakia let out another putrid fart, with Zoe’s panties going from damp to thoroughly wet, as she clamped her legs together, hugely enjoying the sight of Nakia so submissive, yet dirty; filthy, and depraved. She’d never felt so turned on by something so unorthodox. She wasn’t sure if she could handle Michaela giving the command again without losing control of herself in a way she wasn’t quite ready for. ‘Wait, Michaela-’ she began but it was too late. ‘Awaken!’. To her relief; yet also disappointment, Nakia’s eyes fluttered open and her normal conscious returned. Both Nakia and Zoe stared at each other for a long while, both aroused by the experience, as Michaela looked on, amused. ‘You two look happy’ she said suggestively. Both girls became defensive. ‘It’s just the programming!’. ‘Yeah, whatever that sick fuck Becky’s done to us, she’s messed with our heads’. ‘Absolutely!’. ‘Totally’. ‘Yep!’ ‘Yep!’. Michaela raised one eyebrow. ‘Uh-huh. Well anyway, that’s a start. Let’s see what else I can figure out’. For the next few hours, Michaela worked tirelessly to test the hypnotic effects on both women and see what she could undo, restrict, replace or limit, with some promising results. She found that she could restrict Zoe’s chances of wetting herself by making her senses more heightened as she grew desperate, while removing some of the psychological barriers preventing her from using public and private toilets sooner. For Nakia, she was able to trigger constipation in her whenever she was about to shit her pants, giving the young woman a few extra minutes to find a toilet while she was backed up. At which point, Michaela had placed a new trigger that wiped the old conditioning from her mind; relative to this condition, allowing her to shit in peace. Unfortunately, the results were still limited. To get even that, Zoe had made her way through three pairs of Kamala’s stretchy trousers, wetting herself twice by mistake and once while waiting for new hypnotic triggers to be implemented by Michaela. Nakia had suffered similar accidents, four pairs of trousers covered in the young woman’s shit and was not keen to suffer anymore with further experimentation. Michaela sighed. It wasn’t enough to de-program Zoe and Nakia; let alone Kamala. ‘We need to re-awaken her. We can’t make Kamala wait any longer, it’s not fair to her. We have to find a way to apprehend Betty, despite the hypnosis’. ‘How?’ asked Nakia. ‘Well, we can turn her to our side now, I’m sure of it. I could put her in a trance that makes her fight for us’ said Michaela hopefully. ‘Yeah but without removing Becky’s triggers, she’ll just get Kamala back on her side. You’ll both speak gobbledegook at her for ages, then just pull at her mind in an endless loop and that doesn’t do us any good either’ insisted Zoe. The three girls looked sullen for a while, until Michaela suddenly sat up, a brain wave hitting her. ‘Zoe, what did you just say? Repeat it!’. ‘Uh, you’ll pull at her mind in an endless loop?’. ‘No, no, before that!’. ‘You’ll speak gobbledegook at her for ages!’. Michaela leapt to her feet, ecstatic. ‘That’s it!’. THREE HOURS LATER ‘Bravery!’. Kamala gasped in horror, her memories flooding back to her, as Michaela held her still. ‘Kamala, it’s okay, we’re here, we’re here, it’s alright! We think we’ve got it!’ ‘You can get rid of the programming?!’ said Kamala excitedly. ‘Well… no’. ‘Then how exactly have you ‘Got it’ said Kamala sarcastically. ‘We need to test a theory and if it works, we might just bring her down’. ‘What’s that?’. ‘We need to hypnotise you again’. ‘… Okay’ said Kamala reluctantly. ‘To be a chicken’. ‘What?’. ‘Just trust me. Please?’. Kamala; baffled by the suggestion, was still desperate for anything that would let her escape Becky’s hypnotic control and so, she trusted her friend. ‘Okay… let’s try it’. Within a few minutes, Michaela had put Kamala into a deep trance, standing frozen and slumped forwards, as Michaela relayed the instructions. ‘Kamala, as I count down from five, you’ll begin to feel more like a chicken with every passing second. When I say ‘Transform’, you will become a chicken upon hearing that word and will behave and act like one in every way. Human language will no longer make sense to you and you will only snap out of your trance if you hear one of us three do this whistle’. Michaela let out a low pitch whistle sound. ‘During this state, no human language will make sense to you from anybody; you will be completely unable to understand it. No human language will make sense to you, you will be completely unable to understand it. Now then, let’s begin’. ‘5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Transform!’. Kamala felt herself instantly disappear and suddenly, she felt as free and worriless as a bird, her thoughts reduced to simple meanings and desires, as she looked around herself for food. ‘Food, I want food, food, corn, corn, must find corn, hmmmm, where’s the corn?’ thought Kamala, smiling as she clucked about. Her friends saw Kamala instantly began acting like a chicken, pecking her bed with her mouth, as she began flapping her arms at Zoe and Nakia, who moved out of her way; dismayed at their friend’s behaviour. Michaela grabbed the laptop and began playing an audio file, where Becky’s voice could be heard: ‘Kamala… burp!’. The words had no effect on Kamala. Grinning, Michaela gave the whistle and Kamala stopped chewing on her blanket, spitting out the silk and looking extremely annoyed. ‘Well… how did that help?’ asked Kamala, annoyed. Michaela pressed the laptop button again. ‘Kamala… burp!’. Kamala let out a rousingly loud burp, grimacing in disgust afterwards, though Nakia, Zoe and Michaela looked delighted. ‘What?’ asked Kamala, confused. ‘Kamala, Becky wasn’t just lazy… she was stupid! She just gave us the tools for her downfall!’. Kamala slowly began to grin as they explained it and; ready for a fight, grabbed her Ms. Marvel costume. Lockdown was going to pay. ONE HOUR LATER Becky was sitting in an office chair, laughing at the videos Kamala had provided when suddenly, there was a loud banging at the door. Turning instantly, the door was blown off its hinges a second later and Kamala; fully costumed, stormed inside with Zoe, Nakia and Michaela close behind her. ‘Becky, it’s over!’ shouted Kamala. Becky smiled, walking from her office towards the four. ‘Aww, look at the would-be-heroes’ said Becky patronisingly. ‘I guess you had the sense to figure something out but not enough to think of this. Kamala… obey!’. Kamala’s whole body suddenly went from a fight-stance to a passive one in the blink of an eye, as she slowly walked over to stand beside Becky. ‘You didn’t think of that, did you little heroes?’. Michaela smiled. ‘Actually, we did… Kamala, transform!’. Suddenly, Kamala began clucking and pecking at and around Becky’s feet, as the villainess looked at her incredulously, before shoving her onto her back. ‘Is that supposed to be funny?’ said Becky, laughing in dismay. ‘You’ve made her a passive chicken with a counter command?! You idiots! I have an override command that can blot out yours!’. ‘Kamala… supreme!’. Kamala did not respond, happily pecking at her shoes, as Becky gasped in dismay. ‘Kamala… supreme! Supreme! Supreme! Obey me!’. ‘She can’t’ explained Zoe. ‘She can’t understand human language. Becky looked at them fearfully. ‘That means she can’t understand your commands. It’s over!’ ordered Michaela. Becky drew a pistol from her waistband, pointing it towards Michaela. ‘Like hell it is!’. Before she could fire, an arrow knocked the weapon out of her hands; causing Becky to yelp in surprise. ‘Don’t bother trying to shout commands at Kate either’ said Nakia, cracking her knuckles. ‘She’s got headphones in. She won’t hear you’. Becky stared at them fearfully, as the three girls ran forward and before she could respond, simultaneously leapt forward. ‘This is for our friend!’. The three ‘would-be-heroes’ punched Becky in the stomach simultaneously, making her scream in immense pain, as she was badly winded, collapsing to the ground on her knees. As she struggled to breath, Lockdown felt a warm sensation spreading through her panties and down into her trousers, as she tried to scream in rage. ‘No…’ she gasped. ‘I… can’t… hold it!’. Rebecca St. Jude, Becky, Lockdown, the hypnotist, the aspiring super-villainess, the bitch… began to completely wet herself, soaking her tight, waist high blue jeans, a thick wet-patch expanding across them as she let out an enormous fart, which; moments later, turned out to be the prelude to her shitting her pants as well. Becky tried to moan in pain and horror but still had too little breath, as thick, crusty shit poured into her jeans and formed a horrendous smell around her. ‘God Becky, that reeks, what have you been eating here?’ asked Michaela, laughing. ‘I… I’m not like you people… I don’t have accidents… I’m not a baby… I’m…’. ‘… Live to the whole world!’ said Zoe enthusiastically. ‘That secret camera you gave Kamala in the scarf sure is nifty! The broadcasting range is incredible!’. Becky managed to gasp in horror as she realised Nakia was wearing that exact scarf and; in the distance, she could hear the sound of police vehicles and S.H.I.E.L.D. approaching. Unable to comprehend her defeat and shame, Becky passed out, her face slamming hard against the floor, as the three girls winced in pain. ‘Ouch!’ said Michaela, before whistling to restore Kamala, who blinked back into consciousness and; seeing a collapsed Becky, smiled. ‘It’s over’ said Michaela, smiling. A FEW MINUTES LATER Kamala, Zoe, Nakia, and Michaela walked out of the building as Lockdown was led away; bruised and handcuffed, by several angry heroines, escorting her personally to The Raft. As they watched her be taken away, Kamala looked sad, as the others looked at her; confused. ‘You okay?’ asked Nakia. ‘I… I don’t know’ answered Kamala honestly. ‘We stopped her but only after weeks of all this happening. If I didn’t mess up in the first place, none of this would have happened’. ‘Kamala, you can’t blame yourself!’ protested Michaela. ‘Without you being brave enough to risk going back in there, this could have gone on for months; even years’. ‘I know but still… you all suffered as much as I did. I feel like I could have done more’ said Kamala sadly. ‘Spoken like a true hero’. The four women looked up, to see Captain Marvel floating down in-front of them. ‘C-Carol, I-I mean, Captain!’ saluted Kamala, before putting her hand down; realizing how weird that looked. ‘I know what you said about not using your moniker, I swear, we didn’t go in wearing your colours and we only went in to stop Lockdown. I swear, I’ll never do that aga-’. Kamala was interrupted from her babbling by Carol pulling her into a tight hug, as Kamala and the others gasped in shock. ‘Is this a dream?’ asked Kamala, disbelievingly. ‘This better not be another hypnotic illusion’. ‘I think we’ve all had enough of those’ said Carol smiling, as their hug broke apart. ‘Kamala, I am so sorry. When I saw you abandon those people on the bridge, I didn’t even stop to think that you might have been going through things I couldn’t see and I threw my crap onto you. You know the hypnosis impacted me and I was a jerk. I judged you in the moment, not for everything else I’ve seen you do, not for the kind of stuff you did today. You took on a supervillain while under severe mental stress; without backup, because I left you high and dry’. Captain Marvel knelt down before Kamala, who was staring at Carol with tears in her eyes. ‘Kamala, you were a true hero today. All of you were. As far as I’m concerned, you can all use the moniker anytime you want. Today, you showed me what it means to live up to that; even when no one believes in you. Kamala, today… you were more worthy of the name Captain Marvel than I was. I hope; if you still want it, that you wear the Ms. Marvel name with distinction. There’s no one who deserves it more than you today. Not even me’. Tears rolled down Kamala’s face freely as she threw herself around Carol, sobbing with happiness, as the older hero held her affectionately. The others joined the hug and they held each other close, as Captain Marvel and the four young women celebrated the victory, a moment of joy and peace, after a long period of darkness. ‘Come on, let’s get you four something to eat… there’s a lot of people who want to thank you!’. EPILOGUE Kamala Khan’s blacklisting from all superhero organizations was immediately lifted after the exposure of Rebecca St. Jude’s hypnosis schemes. Following glowing recommendations from Captain Marvel and a dozen other heroes, Ms. Marvel was inducted into the Avengers and became one of their most acclaimed new heroes. She appeared; in a limited capacity, on a number of talk shows and news station interviews to further expose Lockdown’s lies, restoring the credibility of dozens of female heroes across the world. Two years later; due to her experiences at the hands of ‘Lockdown’, Kamala Khan was successfully able to resist the effects of an interstellar psychic entity and led the Avengers counter-attack against it, saving the earth from a world-ending invasion. In time, her fame and popularity grew to rival some of the most iconic superhero members of the Avengers, leading to increased tolerance towards ethnic minorities globally; something Kamala took immense pride in. Captain Marvel’s issues were eliminated by Charles Xavier, wiping the hypnotic triggers from her subconscious. Afterward, she spent several months on earth, regularly fighting alongside Kamala Khan, leading to both becoming close friends. One day; many years later, Kamala would ask Carol Danvers to be the godmother to her firstborn child, a request she gladly accepted. Michaela, Nakia, and Zoe all experienced a brief period of global fame after their discovery of the ‘Lockdown Hypno-Crisis’. During this time, they were rewarded danger-money settlements by the Avengers, compensating each of them $200,000 for their actions in stopping Rebecca St. Jude. Nakia and Zoe decided to go on a year-long holiday to Europe, during which time, they began a romantic relationship. Since returning to the United States, they have been living together in a shared apartment. Zoe does amateur modelling; though occasionally volunteers at a local homeless shelter, while Nakia started her own charity: TeenChange, an organization which became a powerful force in helping to tackle Cyberbullying, Domestic Abuse, and Addiction in the under 20’s age bracket. Michaela was offered a private position working as a criminal investigator for Jennifer Walters AKA She-Hulk. Taking the offer, Michaela has helped uncover more than a dozen criminal operations and later played a part in the arrest and imprisonment of Wilson Fisk, leading to her briefly becoming a target; causing her to leave the mainland United States for six months. Upon returning, she continued her work and remains there to this day. Rebecca St. Jude AKA Lockdown was taken to court and found guilty of numerous crimes, including robbery, arson, gross bodily harm, multiple counts of attempted murder, and a dozen counts of enhanced coercion, and was sentenced to thirty-eight years in ‘The Raft’. Unfortunately; due to a breakout by Dr. Octopus several months later, Lockdown was able to also evade imprisonment and is now on the run. Due to her advanced hypnotic skill, she is currently being hunted by highly trained, anti-telepath & hypnosis agents, working on behalf of the FBI. Her location remains unknown. Jennifer Walters; among many other Marvel heroines, was cleared from most of the public humiliation after the truth of the hypnosis scandal came out. To her eternal annoyance, her client still chose to pursue justice through Nelson, Murdock & Page, a fact which still annoys her to no end. Janet Van Dyne was greatly relieved to learn that it was not old age causing her body to so dramatically fail in many instances. Even so, the events left Janet troubled; worried that she had so easily been convinced to fear her own husband’s rebuke. After several weeks of heated arguments, the two went to a private marriage counsellor and; despite teething issues, such as Hank Pym shrinking the therapist’s office during one meeting in annoyance, the two have been making steady emotional progress. Kate Bishop received no glory for her role in exposing the hypnosis crisis, which was just how she preferred it. Two months afterward, she and Clint Barton; the original Hawkeye, were sent on a mission by S.H.I.E.L.D. to assassinate the legendary assassin: Taskmaster. The results of this mission remain classified. Gwen Stacy AKA Spiderwoman has been working to better control her new powers and has begun a; very long distance, relationship with Miles Morales. She can only stay in his universe for a few hours at a time but it is increasing with training and it is her hope that; one day, there will be no limit. Research into her cells may also crack the secret to permanently unlocking travel throughout the multiverse. Once Lockdown was arrested, Carol Danvers took the four young heroes to a diner, where dozens of female superheroes had gathered, to express their immense gratitude. During this, the heroes decided that; not wanting to allow Lockdown to permanently ruin something which was meant to only be used for light fun, they would have a hypnosis show in the diner. Michaela; having been the one able to do some basic deprogramming, was the one called upon to do it and the heroes had an excellent time, as the young heroes willingly subjected themselves to hypnosis, this time as it should be: From their own free will. THE DINER – POST CREDIT SCENE 😉 Kamala, Zoe, Nakia and Gwen Stacy stood on stage, waiting nervously, as Michaela walked on; now wearing a magician’s cape, leant to her by an actual sorceress, which all of them thought was pretty damn awesome. They’d asked Kate Bishop if she’d wanted to take part and her response of throwing a drink in their faces had seemed conclusive enough as to an answer. As such, Kate watched from the crowd; laughing, as the four women stepped forward. ‘Heroes of the world! Watch as I now turn these four women into chickens but not through the power of shapeshifting! Merely, the power of persuasion!’ said Michaela dramatically. Swinging a gold-chain pocket watch in front of the four women, she snapped her fingers and the lights were dimmed; causing each of the four members on stage to only be able to concentrate on what was immediately in-front of them, exposing them quicker to the effects of hypnosis. Slowly, all four women began to sway on their feet: Kamala first; as the most heavily programmed beforehand, therefore the most at risk. Zoe went second, closely followed by Nakia. Gwen fought it for a little while longer but slowly, the slow ticking, the intense lights and the soothing calm of Michaela’s voice sent her straight into hypnotic sleep. ‘Now, I shall need help from you, my loving audience!’ said Michaela, flourishing her cape; as the other heroines laughed. ‘We shall all count down from ten and as we do, you four will feel our voices echoing in every part of your mind. As we count down from 10-1, you will feel less human and more like chickens with each passing second. You will forget social protocol, you will forget yourselves and become only chickens, until I say and the audience say the word, Excelsior! Now, let us begin the countdown. The superheroes all chanted in unison: ’10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Chickens!’. Instantly, Kamala, Nakia, Gwen and Zoe and began to cluck, peck the floor and flap their wings on stage, making strange clucking and ‘Cuckoo!’ noises, as the other heroines burst out with laughter. Kamala pecked at Nakia’s shoes as if eating corn, while Zoe and Nakia flapped their wings at each other; trying to intimidate the other into moving out of their path. Gwen’s were particularly hilarious, her spider-abilities combining with the hypnosis to cause her to start walking in chicken form up the wall; clucking as she went. Fairly soon, she was walking on the ceiling upside, sticking to the wall with her spider abilities, yet flapping her arms and pecking as if a chicken, while the heroes below laughed and prepared to catch her if she fell. ‘Alright everyone! All together now, it’s time to restore them. 3… 2… 1…’. ‘Excelsior!’. Kamala stopped pecking at her shoes and leaned up in dismay, before blushing at her own actions, while Nakia and Zoe stopped head-butting each other and flapping their arms for dominance. Gwen fell from the ceiling but her spider-human reflexes allowed her to land perfectly and she did a bow after her recovery landing, while all of them received applause. ‘Thank you very much everyone!’ said Michaela, giving a bow to the audience, as the other girls did with her. ‘Thank you and goodnight!’. THE END
  5. Our superheroines struggle to take off their costumes. Thanks to Rexone 28 for the art
  6. Empeeror

    Hulk wet

    Honestly, would Hulk even know what a toilet is?
  7. From the album: kimikyu's pee sketches

    an old request from tumblr yet again, mostly the actor and not the character. but hey!! it's still pee!!
  8. omo-mad

    Black Widow #1

    From the album: Omo-mad's artworks (2020)

    Check out my other works here: https://www.patreon.com/omo_mad
  9. omo-mad

    Black Widow #2

    From the album: Omo-mad's artworks (2020)

    Uncensored version here: https://www.patreon.com/omo_mad
  10. On the Europe school trip, which was six years later after the Blip and on this trip Peter was drawn to Michelle’s bathroom habits. Throughout the trip he discovered that he realised he had a crush on MJ. Before the snap or which some people call the blip happened, the same thing happened towards another girl at his school and that was Liz Toomes. He started to notice Liz’s accidents and this unlocked a bit of a secret to him, which made him attracted to a fetish that consists of wetting and desperation of girls. One thing he hoped for is that MJ would be exactly like Liz a sexy girl with a small bladder. To Peter the reality of this trip came true, which was that MJ would exactly be like how he remembered Liz by her accidents. Peter Parker’s favourite part of the trip was the flight from New York to Venice and to tell you why, we’ll it’s darn simple. Pete went to use the airplane bathroom and when he opened the door stood MJ looking like she needs to go so bad. Parker quickly shuts the door and starts pretending to clean the toilet seat, as a way to make MJ wait longer. Michelle was getting frustrated she quietly spoke in an angry voice “Peter please hurry up I’ve got go!” There was no reply back from Peter and this infuriated MJ. It was just in a matter of seconds when Michelle Jones first felt a squirt escape her and immediately looked around, no one was awake so that was great she could grab herself like a young girl without anyone looking at her. She bent over slightly and jammed her hands into her crotch, she grabbed her crotch area of her black jeans and started doing the pee pee dance. The thought of a 18 year old acting like a little kid was embarrassing to herself and aim to get a stronger bladder. She now was feed up with Parker and banged on the door and quietly said “Hurry up Peter... please.” Again no reply but inside that bathroom Peter was getting all excited about this, but the one who he is getting excited for isn’t too happy with this predicament. Just then another wave hit Spidey’s crush and made her scream a bit, Miss Jones was getting scared about wetting herself now because it was on its last legs. She couldn’t use the bathroom behind her because some person has been in there since the start of her desperation and she wouldn’t make it if she walked to the other bathroom where Pete and Ned were originally seated. She was not one of those girls who would rush back to their seat and use something else as a toilet, she would definitely not use the sick bag as a device to pee in nor will she use the blanket the plane provided to pee on. There was no other choose, but the option she definitely does not like, and that was wetting herself right now and having a so called “accident”. She took a deep breath in and with out any hesitations she started peeing, her golden stream bolted out from her pussy and ran into her pink panties and which soaked both the front and the back. She couldn’t help it but she moaned softly about her accident, the only person who heard it was Peter and by the sounds of MJ made him sexually attracted to her, which made Spider-Man quite aroused. The stream died down shortly after that and she actually enjoyed being wet after the embarrassment she took upon. Luckily her jeans were black and didn’t show much of the accident, but can you imagine if she wasn’t wearing black jeans and everyone would make fun of her but not the one who forced her to do this. The wet MJ went back to her seat and smiled to herself because of what Mr Parker did to her and after her enjoyment, Mr Parker left the bathroom leaving Brad to go after him. To Be Continued...
  11. Author’s note: This story takes place after Michelle Jones’s omorashi story. When the news of who is Spider-Man and it exposed that Peter Parker was in fact the friendly neighbour Spider-Man. Years passed and people bullied him based on his secret identity because of J Jonah Jameson’s remarks on him as a menace. He couldn’t take it anymore because the whole world knew who is was, but the webhead was ment to be a secret with only a few people who knowing his identity. Peter did know that everyone knew who Tony Stark really was because he wanted to, but Peter wasn’t ready for this. Peter had a wonderful idea he should live in Wakanda, where the whole world thinks it is a small province of Africa and very poor, but it ain’t. He called up Black Panther to tell him, that he wants to live there for a while and King T’Challa agreed that he could come. T’Challa said that he will come to pick up Peter at 2 o’clock and the current time is 1:35 in the afternoon. He waited for the arrival of the vibranium jet, where it will take him on a journey he would never forget, the jet appeared a bit early than expected at 1:53. He grabbed everything he packed and raced downstairs to aboard the jet plane, this was the best day of his life, but then he remembered that he never told his girlfriend that he is going away to protect himself, but she could make it out and realise that it was for the greater good. While in Wakanda lay an embarrassing moment with the princess of Wakanda in her bed. Shuri loved to sleep naked, but it wasn’t due to the heat waves in Africa, but it was more a liking from her. The sheets aren’t covering her whole body because it’s so hot and it exposes her breasts and a bit of her ass. Anyway let’s get onto the embarrassing accident she had, yesterday she drank so much water and went to sleep with it stored in her system and now it made it into her bladder and now she desperately needs to pee, but Shari hates getting out of bed to go use the toilet because she finds she can’t sleep again after emptying her bladder. So she decided that s would wet the bed because of her hatred for using the toilet when she’s trying to sleep. It was only a matter of seconds when her bladder gave up and she could hear hissing noises and moaned softly when she could feel the bed getting wet. She got up and put the sheets in the washing machine to pretend her naughty accident did not happen, when the washing was finished she could hear the voice of her brother outside and she rushed to her bedroom and locked the door. She made up her bed and put a dressing gown on to hide her nude body. She went outside to find her brother with Spider-Man right next to him and the king spoke “Shuri, this is Peter Parker of New York he will be living with us for some time.” “Peter Parker, this is my sister Shuri.” And after that Peter said in the most romantic way to Shuri “Nice to meet you Shuri.” She gave him a cheeky smile maybe a sign of love or that she wanted to have sex with him. Black Panther told Parker that there was no place to sleep and he was fine with it and said “It’s fine, I’ll probably sleep in your sister’s room if that’s the only place to go.” “Yes there another bed in the bank of the room or you can choose to sleep with her because her bed is a queen bed.” Peter nodded his head in a yes and T’Challa left leaving Spidey and the princess alone. Anyway they both went to the vacant room and Peter went to get changed in the bathroom into his pyjamas and came out to see Princess Shuri laying naked on top of the bed exposing all of her private parts. Peter was loving this probably taking mental notes for Michelle back at home and probably imagining her exposing her whole body to him. He decided where he was sleeping and went into her bed and she slid in and they looked at each other as they fell in love and both fall asleep. Peter woke up later from a terrible dream and it woke up the princess and he found out he was sleeping naked, he asked her and she did it and she told him that she wanted to have sex with him, but Peter declined because of his relationship with MJ. Shuri went back to sleep but Spidey bet that she would try to use things to manipulate him to doing it. To Be Continued...
  12. I'm going to try and start a new interactive story, hopefully it generates some interest. If there is enough interest, I will keep posting updates. As of right now, each poll will be up for two days before closing. Basic summary: Captured in battle by a rogue battalion of HYDRA agents, our heroine has been tormented and is outfitted with an implant that causes the wearer's bladder to fill up upon command. Now, our heroine has to both find out how to escape and remove the device, but also hold onto her bladder... Now for our heroine: A. Black Widow B. Scarlet Witch C. Captain Marvel
  13. Brief introduction: In the past few weeks the Avengers have found out that nefarious supervillain known as Dr Doom has been work with another villain known as Kang the conqueror. This found out by Avengers leader Captain America just recently were he found out by Mr Fantastic heard that Doom operates in a nearby Hydra underground lair, Mr Fantastic and Cap teamed up to infiltrate the base but no sign of him, Cap’s companion believes Doom is operating in his castle in Latveria. Steve Rogers generated a team to infiltrate Doom’s castle and to find out what the deal with him and Kang is. The special team consists of Black Widow, Scarlet Witch, Wasp and as leader of the group Captain Marvel. The heroes have just recently boarded onto the Quinjet to start their mission, you’ll think that this team would be so powerful because it’s made up of the most powerful female Avengers, but these girls’ stories will be different to what you might think what happens. All of these girls were very pretty and were just like your average girl, tall and has a charming personality. One of them was very different and that was Scarlet Witch who’s alter ego is Wanda Maximoff, the fierce girl who the Avengers saved in the Battle Of Sokovia. She is still tormented by the fact her brother died which causes her to have very dark nightmares, most of the time she wakes up to find out that she pissed the bed. Another thing is that all the other members besides Wanda all have peeing fetish and today was the day Wanda become like her teammates. ——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— Story: High above the skies of New York our team of strong and power female Avengers were ready for the adventure they will have, but they sort of didn’t really get on to good. Wanda was the more quiet one whereas Carol was the more talkative one, Natasha was the deadly one and Hope was the funny one. On the way Wanda made a very bad mistake she drank heaps of water before coming on board and she was quite desperate to pee. She informed their leader, but there was nothing Carol could do because the inflight bathroom hasn’t been fixed yet so the only thing poor Wanda could do was try her best to hold it in. Natasha turned to face her desperate companion and said to her “That’s why you should wear a diaper.” Black Widow was actually a big lover of pee fetishes, every morning she would wake up very early drink too much water and use the toilet with her pyjamas pants not pulled down. Sometimes she even sleeps naked and she still does the same thing but she plays around with herself when naked, this is usually masterbating. Natasha only got into wearing diapers when she first meet Tony Stark, before of all this fame she has now a long time ago she was Russian spy. She had many accidents while as a spy, this was because she was young and wasn’t shown how to properly control your bladder. Anyway Widow is even more crazy that she makes her own diapers because the regular ones used to give away her position because of the smell of her piss or her shit. These ones she designed traps the stink so no one can smell it. Wasp is the complete opposite, even know she would love to wear a diaper under her suit she can’t because the suit was designed to fit just on the body and it does properly close if you very baggy or big panties underneath. She loves make jokes and she’s always a nice person to meet because of her funny characteristic and her overall appearance just makes you happy to be with her. Finally, the Captain! Carol Danvers Danvers was an officer in the United States Air Force were her passion for wetting herself on purpose came from. It started in a bar with her Air Force friend Maria Rambeau were the two of them got so drunk that they both wet themselves under the table and that accident turned Danvers on so much. She also keeps a empty water bottle in her jet plane in case she needs to go and luckily there is an autopilot feature. You thought Natasha was weird get a look at Carol! She purposely wet her bed, woke up early go outside strip naked and pees on her lawn or in one of garbage bins or a fan favourite of hers make sure to drink a lot of water the night before successfully hold it overnight, wake up at 5 am (usually her normal wake up time), drink more water wait for it to settle and add to the load just waiting to leave her system. Shortly after it’s been added, race to the backyard and start peeing on the garden and grabs her pussy and proceeds to hold it in once again and then walks over to were she would go when she pees on the lawn and releases it all there. She also become a colleague of the Kree superhero Mar-Vell, who taught her to fight, use her newly developed powers and also to teacher her how to successfully hold in your pee for a whole battle. She was in the great Kree Vs Skurlls war of what Earth would call the 90s and joined in 1995. Wanda absolutely was in agonising pain, her poor body could not hold it in much longer, she couldn’t take this anymore she belted out saying “Carol please I have to go so badly please stop somewhere, please!” “Look, there is no way that I will be stopping anywhere for you to go. But I suggest if you don’t want to go in your clothes I have an empty water here for you to go in.” The temptation of her just letting go was springing up to her, but she fought it through, she really didn’t want to ruin her clothes because she thought it to be silly to fight bad guys with a wet pants. It was inevitable what she chose, she reached out to grab the bottle, then placed it in the drink holder and then pulled down her pants. She pulled off her almost damp panties, lucky she didn’t start leaking yet. She completely naked from the waist down that didn’t make her embarrassed by other watching her nude because before Sokoiva her brother and herself were tested in a lab in a Hydra base because Hydra wanted to use their powers to bring back the old war of S.H.I.E.L.D. vs Hydra of the 1940s and beyond. In these tests she was mostly naked with Hydra scientists watching her, she actually got used to being seen naked as this was the reason she always sleeps naked. She gripped the bottle towards her vagina and in seconds her brain must’ve clicked thinking the bottle was a toilet and immediately shoot out her golden stream. Her golden stream was so yellow and was so warm that she though she was peeing spa water, every inch of it perfectly landed into the bottle. Later on the whole bottle was full, but she kept going she walks over to the back of the Quinjet with her golden stream still coming out as she looks for the janitor’s equipment that contains a bucket and release the rest in it. It was a shame that Scarlet Witch never knew how to plunger a toilet properly, it could have saved her life! To Be Continued...
  14. This was another request, this one from @GrangerDanger, and it's set between Civil War and Homecoming (in my head, at least). Thanks for reading! *** The last bell finally sounded, and Peter sprang from his desk. It had been a particularly long and boring day, and he was excited to finally get out and…well, let’s just say engage in some after-school activities. It had been a few months since Peter Parker had been become more than just Peter Parker and just two weeks since he’d returned from a last-minute, wildly exciting trip to Berlin at the request of Tony Stark. Tony Stark. Peter unconsciously shook his head at the most ridiculous of the ridiculous things that had happened to him in the past year. Tony Stark had showed up at Aunt May’s apartment, spewing some bull about a grant. As soon as he’d gotten Peter alone (which, Peter thought distractedly, was even weirder – who else but Tony Stark could just show up and ask to see a teenager boy alone without so much as eliciting a raised eyebrow?), Tony had explained, in characteristically sardonic fashion, that Captain America was trying to help a mass murderer escape, and Tony needed Peter (who he knew was Spider-Man, because Tony Stark knows literally everything) to help catch Cap and the Winter Soldier. The battle had been outrageous, and Peter definitely felt like he’d contributed (after all, it had been his idea to use rope to trip up that guy who’d become a giant for a few minutes), but Cap and his friend got away, so Peter hadn’t technically done what he’d been asked, and he felt terrible for that. All he wanted was a chance to prove to Mr. Stark that he could be better. Every day since the airport fight, Peter had obsessively checked his phone, hoping for another summons, another mission from Mr. Stark. He’d spent his afternoons and evenings slinging around the city, helping people – mostly in little ways, no real big crime stoppage – quietly yearning for some actual excitement, something that would allow him to show Mr. Stark that he wasn’t just a kid. That he deserved to be an Avenger. “Earth to Parker!” Peter looked up. He was at his locker, putting away his last textbooks, and Ned was next to him, apparently in the middle of some story that Peter hadn’t been paying attention to at all. “Sorry, man. What were you saying?” Ned beamed, his good nature entirely unperturbed at Peter’s distraction. “I was asking if you were coming to Academic Decathlon practice today. You already skipped two this year, and Mr. Harrington isn’t too happy.” “Oh, yeah,” Peter cringed. He liked Academic Decathlon (and he definitely liked one particular teammate…), but he had totally forgotten about practice after school. He’d been so much more focused on… Peter’s eyes lit up as he pulled out his phone, not having given Ned an answer. There was a short, exhilarating message on the screen. Tony wants a meeting. I’ll be waiting outside after school – HH “Sorry, Ned!” Peter had to keep himself from sounding too excited. “I have the Stark Internship, and I can’t keep Mr. Stark waiting!” Peter was already dashing down the hallway, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, as Ned called out behind him. “I’ll just cover for you, then! Remember me when you’re rich!” Peter managed a half-wave behind him before bursting through the school doors. Sure enough, there was a conspicuous black sedan parked a few spaces back. Standing next to it was Mr. Stark’s perpetually annoyed-looking head of security, Happy Hogan. “Mr. Hogan,” Peter nodded at the man, trying to come off as mature. Happy opened the back door, not quite scowling, and Peter slid in. He told himself that Happy didn’t mean to shut the door on his backpack strap – he was just in a rush. “So what does Mr. Stark need me to do?” Peter asked as soon as Happy got into the driver’s seat. “Does he have a mission for me? Are aliens gonna attack again?” Happy was wearing dark sunglasses, but Peter didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were currently rolling. “Tony just told me he wanted me to pick you up,” the man sighed. Peter opened his mouth to ask more, but Happy was already rolling up the partition, clearly done with conversation. Only a little chastened – Peter knew that Happy didn’t like these chauffeuring trips – Peter sat back. He knew it would take at least 30 minutes to get to Stark Tower, and it looked like he was going to have to entertain himself. As the adrenaline of the school day and learning that Mr. Stark actually wanted to see him(!) faded, Peter had an uncomfortable realization: he really had to pee. He paused and wrinkled his forehead. He’d never really thought much about it, but yeah, he always went to the bathroom after school. Even after he got his powers, he’d go before changing into his improvised costume. Over the past two weeks, he’d just stopped at the school restrooms on his way out before ducking into some alley to change into the new suit Mr. Stark had made for him. Today, though, he’d run out without even thinking about it; he’d been so excited, and he hadn’t wanted to keep Happy waiting. Peter thought fast. He had to go pretty bad, but he was sure he could make it to Stark Tower, and Mr. Stark was always running behind or doing something important, anyway, so he was sure he’d have plenty of time to find a bathroom before Mr. Stark was actually ready to see him. Peter pulled out his phone and succeeded in partially distracting himself for the remainder of the drive. He never fully lost awareness of his overly full bladder, but he was able to flip through Snapchat with only a few intermittent squirms. By the time Happy pulled into the Stark Tower parking level, though, Peter had to press his thighs together before getting out of the car. He was grateful to finally be in proverbial sight of a bathroom. Without a word, Happy led him to the private elevator. Peter thought better of asking where they were going, and besides, standing slightly behind Happy let Peter shift side to side without being seen. As the elevator doors closed, Happy’s phone dinged. “Tony wants you in the lab,” Happy said tersely, pushing the button for the appropriate floor. “Right now?” Peter asked before he could stop himself, immediately cringing at how childish he sounded. Happy glanced mirthlessly over his shoulder. He didn’t bother to answer the stupid question. Peter inhaled deeply and stood up straight. He didn’t even know what Mr. Stark wanted yet – maybe it would be a two-minute meeting, and then Peter would be sent off to work on his own. Or just back into the car for Happy to drive home. In seconds, the elevator reached Mr. Stark’s lab, and the doors slid open. Happy held his arm across the threshold, and pointed vaguely to the left. Taking the hint, Peter walked around him and headed in the indicated direction. He heard the elevator doors slide shut behind him; clearly, Happy wasn’t staying. Peter couldn’t help but gaze around the lab. Of course he knew that Tony Stark would have nothing but the best tools and tech – higher than top-of-the-line – but it was still so cool to see. Peter knew tech better than almost anyone at his school, but even he couldn’t think fast enough to come up with names for all of the gadgets he was seeing. The room was gigantic, but Peter heard the sounds of tinkering a few yards in front of him. Focusing, he saw Mr. Stark staring at a huge, holographic screen, making rapid adjustments as some of his machines carried out his orders next to him. Peter squeezed his legs together again, determined not to squirm, before clearing his throat. “Uh…Mr. Stark?” Tony looked behind him, hands still flying in front of the screen. “Hey, Pete. Come and stand over here. I’m updating your suit, and I need to get your biorhythms right.” Wide-eyed, Peter walked over to Mr. Stark and stood inside a circle in the middle of some machines, trying to hold his bladder without making any obvious external movements. Tony glanced up, then did a double-take. “No, you’ll need to get out of your clothes to try on the suit,” he ordered. “You are wearing underwear, right?” Blushing, Peter nodded. Tony had developed material that basically shrink-wrapped around him at the push of a button, so he didn’t have to spend time shimmying into spandex. It looked like this new version of the suit had the same capability, so Peter quickly stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt, stuffing his clothes into his backpack and tossing it to the side. Tony held out the prototype, and Peter stepped into it, grateful to find that putting on the suit didn’t require any new knowledge, so he was able to do it right in one go. He pressed the button, and the suit snapped into place around him. Peter shuddered briefly; the sensation shocked his bladder, and he nearly leaked. Thankfully, Mr. Stark wasn’t looking, so he was able to cross his legs briefly, bringing himself back under control. He tried to stand up straight, still hoping that this would be over quickly. Almost as soon as the suit was on, Peter felt a poke on his arm. He clenched his pelvic muscles again as he looked over to see one of Mr. Stark’s robots taking some kind of reading from the suit. Peter felt himself starting to tremble. “M-Mr. Stark?” he asked, hoping Mr. Stark wouldn’t call out the stutter. “What is this for?” “Suit updates,” Tony replied, not taking his eyes off the screens, which now held several different angles and readouts of the Spider-suit. “The one you have now, I just whipped up in a few hours to get you ready for Germany. Now, I wanna make sure you have proper – can you stop moving?” Tony interrupted himself, enunciating the last two words. Peter felt his face get hot; he hadn’t even realized how much he’d been shifting. “Sorry,” he mumbled, feeling more than a little bit of despair. What Mr. Stark was describing didn’t exactly sound like a quick fix, but maybe… “So…what do you need from me?” Peter asked, grasping at a last shred of hope. “FRIDAY needs to create a digital replica of your physiology, so the suit can read your body and respond appropriately to your needs,” Tony explained. “Today, we’re getting a baseline – just standard heart rate, blood pressure, cortisol, EEG stuff, and then later, once I finish some of the programming, I’ll send you around the neighborhood for a spin so the algorithm can build in awareness of what your body does when you’re spider-ing.” Peter felt himself sweating, even though the material of the suit had super-advanced cooling material. Really, what Mr. Stark was describing sounded awesome, but he was a hairbreadth away from losing control, and the thought of wetting himself in front of Mr. Stark was overwhelming his brain and his body… “The program’s pretty intuitive,” Tony was saying, still fiddling with multiple images on the holographic screen, “but it has to get a bunch of data from you to make sure the responses are accurate, so just sit tight, and…” Tony actually turned around this time, exasperated. Peter forced himself to stand still, and felt a warm spurt soak into his boxers for his efforts. “Did you not hear me say the word ‘baseline’?” Tony quirked an eyebrow, and Peter quailed under his idol’s stare. “Just stand there for about ten minutes, so FRIDAY can get all the readings she needs.” Tony turned back to his screens, and Peter felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. There was no way he’d make it ten minutes, plus out of the suit, plus to wherever there was a bathroom in this monstrosity of a building. “I know you’ve got more energy than us old people, kid,” Tony went on, talking to himself as much as Peter, “but surely you have the skills to just chill out for a few…minutes…” Tony trailed off as he actually looked at the biological readings projected on the screen. The kid’s heart rate was well into triple digits, and his cortisol was spiking. Peter, for his part, was crumbling. He wanted to hang on, he had to hang on, but he was leaking almost continuously, and he was in pain, and he couldn’t focus on anything other than desperately, hopelessly trying to hold back the flood without actually grabbing himself. “Hey, kid?” Tony gazed intently at the screen, trying to make sense of Peter’s sky-high stress levels. “Is there anything-“ Tony didn’t need to finish his question, because he turned toward Peter and saw – and heard – the explanation for the kid’s anxiety. Half of Peter’s brain was screaming at him to run, to get out of Mr. Stark’s line of sight, but he was completely petrified, unable to move an inch. His bladder had just started to empty, like a water balloon had popped between his thighs. Heat gushed down his legs, splashing – oh god, it was actually splashing – onto the concrete floor. Tony opened his mouth to say something – his instinctive reaction to any given situation was to say something – but shut it again in an instant. Neurons firing overtime, he decided his only recourse was to avert his eyes. Peter felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. His chest hurt, and sounds were muffled (in space, no one can hear you scream), and he knew he was still pissing all over Mr. Stark’s floor, but he couldn’t feel anything other than blinding humiliation. His eyes filled with tears that he frantically blinked away, even though his face was obscured by the mask. His brain felt like a skipping record, or a car engine that wouldn’t turn over; he knew he had to move, had to apologize, had to do something, but he couldn’t actually think any coherent thoughts. After far too long, Tony heard the overly loud pattering sound fade away. He stood in silence for a few breaths, then spoke, not quite looking at the kid. “OK, just…just take the elevator up two floors, and there’ll be a bathroom down the hall to your right,” Tony instructed, trying to make it sound as if a teenage superhero peeing himself was nothing more than a minor glitch in his plans. Peter pressed his lips together to keep them from shaking, but pressed the button to release the suit. The rush of air made him shiver, rapidly cooling the drenched fabric of his boxers. Despite the highly advanced fabric of the suit, he still felt how soaked the material was all down the legs. “Just…leave the suit here, DUM-E or someone will take care of it,” Tony added, just as Peter was steeling himself to pull off the mask. With that final direction, Peter drew in a deep breath, grasped at the back of the mask, and slid out of the suit, catching it briefly on his foot before he was able to step out of it entirely. He let it crumple in a pathetic pile on the floor, just beyond the reach of his infantile puddle. Peter stood for a second, unsure if Mr. Stark was going to say anything else, but then reached down for his backpack and all but sprinted back toward the elevator, his vision blurry with tears. In the elevator, Peter didn’t even have time to catch his breath. He was done; there was no way Mr. Stark would ever let him join the Avengers now. How could he have been so stupid? The elevator door slid open, and Peter turned right, looking for the promised bathroom. He was just going to change, throw on his jeans, and then get out of here, maybe even – “Peter?” Peter froze. No, he couldn’t take anything else right now, he couldn’t – “Peter, is something wrong?” Pepper Potts, Mr. Stark’s unbelievably glamourous and savvy CEO and girlfriend, was walking up behind him, and there was really no marginally-decent explanation for him standing in his underwear on one of Mr. Stark’s private floors of the tower. “Peter? Honey?” The boy was frozen, so Pepper approached cautiously, not wanting to scare him. She could hear his shaky breath, and, as he was, in fact, in his underwear, she was already forming a hypothesis of what had happened. Sure enough, when she approached him, she saw the dark stain across the front of his boxers and the redness around the rims of his eyes. She felt terrible for the teen, but at the same time, she was intensely irritated with Tony. “It’s OK, honey,” she assured the still-quivering boy in front of her. “The bathroom’s that third door there. You can get cleaned up.” Peter nodded, messily wiping his nose on the back of his hand, but not moving toward the indicated room. “Were you with Tony?” Pepper asked gently. “It wasn’t his fault,” Peter insisted quickly. “I just…I didn’t…it wasn’t Mr. Stark’s fault.” Pepper knew better than to either believe Peter or to push him any further, so she just smiled softly and pointed down the hall. “There’s a chute in the bathroom. Put your wet things in there, and FRIDAY will wash and dry them for you.” “No, I-“ Pepper waved a hand, cutting off Peter’s protest. “It’ll take ten minutes. She’ll be done before you’re out of the shower.” Peter hung his head. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of Stark Tower, but he couldn’t argue with Miss Potts. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, then slunk off down the hallway. Pepper watched the boy close the bathroom door behind him, then turned on her stiletto-ed heel and stalked into the elevator. In seconds, she stormed into the lab. “Tony!” Tony winced at the sound of his girlfriend’s voice. Correctly assuming that she’d run into the kid upstairs, he didn’t even bother with a quip; he just turned away from his screen to face the wrathful Pepper. “What were you thinking?” she demanded. Tony sighed. “He didn’t say anything! How was I supposed to know?” “Did you even ask?” Pepper glared pointedly. “Or did you just jump straight into giving orders, not even bothering to say hello or offer the kid a snack or something?” Tony’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t have to answer; Pepper was right, and he knew exactly what she was implying – who she was implying. He looked up at the woman he loved, the woman who was so much better at virtually everything involving people than he was. “What do I do?” Upstairs, Peter was taking deep breaths, inhaling the hot steam from the shower. He’d briefly considered ignoring Miss Potts’ orders and not putting his soaked underwear in the sci-fi-ish laundry chute, but then he figured that there was bound to be some sort of tracker, so she’d know and yell at him, so he reluctantly did it anyway. He wasn’t really one to take long showers, but the hot water felt good helped erased the horrible feeling of wet fabric sticking to his legs, and what else was he going to do until his boxers were clean, anyway? He hadn’t set a timer or anything, but just as he turned off the water and was reaching for a towel, he heard a ding. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he looked out to see a green light on the laundry chute. He opened it and found his clean, dry boxers neatly folded on a tray. He took a moment to marvel at the technology before his train of thought naturally led him back to the crushing shame of having an accident in front of Mr. Stark. Peter sighed shakily as he pulled on his clothes. He tried to think positively; he could still help the city (would Mr. Stark even let him keep the old suit?), he had technically gotten to meet the Avengers (oh god, would Mr. Stark tell the Avengers that he’d peed his pants?), and… Lost in thought, Peter pulled open the bathroom door, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He had just enough time to start wondering if he even knew his way out of the building when he heard probably the last sound on earth he wanted to hear right now. “Hey, Pete.” Peter stopped and looked up, trying not to raise his head dramatically slowly. Mr. Stark was standing at the end of the hallway, hands in his pockets. Peter opened his mouth, but just like Pepper before, Tony cut him off before he could make a sound. “Don’t apologize, kid. Don’t you dare apologize,” Tony ordered, though he didn’t sound mad at all. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” “But I-“ Tony shook his head, refusing to let Peter talk. “Pete, I’m the grown-up here. And I know that. I didn’t think about anything other than what I wanted to get done today, which means I didn’t think about you at all, and that was really crappy of me.” Peter bit the inside of his lip. Mr. Stark sounded almost sad, and he didn’t want him to be sad, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do if Mr. Stark didn’t want him to apologize. “I know better than that, kid,” Tony sighed. “I know better than that because that’s how I was raised. My old man never asked if I needed anything, never cared about what I wanted. He was all about getting the work done. And I told myself I’d be better than that.” Tony gazed at Peter and shrugged, unable to fully verbalize how awful he felt for what he’d inadvertently done to the kid. “You don’t apologize, Pete,” he reiterated. “I’m in the wrong, here, and I promise, I won’t let it happen again.” Peter tried to smile. He was pretty sure Mr. Stark was just being nice, that Miss Potts had yelled at him or something. Then again, Mr. Stark did look uncharacteristically vulnerable when talking about his dad… Tony was silent for a second, but it didn’t seem like the teen was ready – or able – to speak just yet. That was OK. “Go back down to the parking deck,” Tony instructed by way of ending the obscenely awkward encounter. “Happy’ll take you back to Aunt May’s, and I’ll text you when the new suit is ready, K?” “Okay,” Peter managed to squeak out. Tony nodded and turned away, figuring the kid wouldn’t move unless he felt like he was officially dismissed. Behind him, he heard Peter scramble into the elevator. Tony frowned to himself. Pepper had been right, as she always was – it was totally his fault that the kid didn’t even feel comfortable enough to ask the use the bathroom. He wasn’t sure if his little speech had done the trick, but he’d definitely try to be more attentive in the future. And in the meantime, he’d be sure to add a dryer and a heater into Peter’s new suit.
  15. Princess Shuri lay fast asleep in her bed in the Royal Palace of Wakanda. She slept there in her satin pyjamas, she was dreaming about her friend Peter Parker. He is her best friend and in the dream he was kissing her and all very bizarre things to her, that he wouldn’t do to her maybe she was dreaming how she wants her future to be like. And then she had the most weirdest thing she ever dreamed about, she was in the entertainment room in the palace and with Peter. Him and her were watching a movie together and it was a scary movie, she didn’t know what one it was maybe it was IT or something. Anyway she got very scared in one particular scene and ended her fear wetting herself and while she was wetting herself Peter couldn’t help but stare at her pee running down her legs of her jeans. Shuri woke up she realised it was a dream but she did get turned on by the dream as she would love to be Peter’s girlfriend. Shuri went back to sleep and she shifted in position. Her hand was now under the bed where her crotch is and was about to give herself an orgasm, but then felt the crotch of her pjs were wet. She must’ve been desperate to pee while sleeping and then had a dream about it. She got up, she tried not to scream as it was 6:00 already. There was a huge stain on her pjs and the bed, she couldn’t believe how she wet the bed and had an accident like baby, she just couldn’t believe it. She took off her wet pjs and went back to sleep naked and hoped she would wake up before her brother so she could hide her accident from him.
  16. Captain Marvel had been away from Earth for years. The discovery of her past and what it meant for her lead her back to space where she intended to end the ongoing Kree-Skrull War by any costs. The Kree had been assaulting a small Skrull outpost for weeks now, and Carol had finally just got time to answer their distress beacon. It sounded like they were holding out, but she knew they could use help. The small moon was in sight for Carol as she glided across space moving so fast you'd probably only see a red and blue blur. While approaching the planet, something seemed off. No visible wreckage in orbit, only a few Kree ships. The majority of the battle had to be on the ground. Carol descended from the sky as she approached the beacon. An empty town, completely empty. No signs of battle, no signs of life. Her short range scanners didn't pick up anything human size or larger. Carol approached the beacon cautiously, she knew this had to be a trap. The nervousness hit her more than she expected, and she felt it a bit in her bladder. She slowly walked towards the beacon, step by step, not sure what to expect. Suddenly - beeping. Captain Marvel stopped in her place, it nearly gave her a heart attack. Was it a bomb? Or were all the Skrulls killed? She could hear the ominous beeping going at a steady rate, it couldn't be a bomb. Her scanners didn't pick up any explosive materials. Finally Carol decided to approach the beacon. It was a bigger pod shape, a control panel hanging in front of her with a button to turn it off. Carol turned around, eyeing the scene. Still nothing. 'I'll just turn this malfunctioning time-wasting piece of junk off and get out of here.' Danvers thought to herself. Carol hit the switch, and instantaneously a huge shock wave of electricity went through her whole body, she couldn't help but collapse. She fell on the ground, her body convulsing from the electric shock wave, not even noticing she had lost all control of her bladder which was emptying into her blue and red suit. Finally, she gained the energy to stand, realizing she had completely pissed herself. The warm piss ran down here thighs as she stood up. She looked disgusted at herself, opening the seems of the pant legs of her suit which caused the piss to drain out, creating a puddle beneath her feet. Suddenly, her holographic gauntlet started going off alarming her of multiple lifeforms. On the hills around the village stood at least fifty Kree soldiers, all armed. She looked behind her to see the same thing. Some of them were snickering, realizing one of the most feared and powerful heroes in the galaxy - the great Captain Marvel - just peed her pants.
  17. I was wandering If anybody is in a possesion of two specific comics. Those were divided in 4 pictures per comic. Main heroes were Rogue and another one was Batwoman (I'm oretty sure it wasn't Batgirl). The one with Marvel included desperation and a relief when she comes out some kind of a ship. The one with DC circules about hero's return to batcave's bathroom with Robin inside.
  18. so, being a slut for marvel and it’s characters, i tend to place my faves in omo situations in my head. such as my all-time favorite character bucky. i’ve read a couple five with the premise of HYDRA controlling his bladder along with everything else they did, and how it affected him then and how it affected him afterward and was wondering if anyone really had a similar interest like that! this may as well also be a place to dump any marvel omo bc i’m thirsty for it and have so far found no art at all, which is sad feel free to message me or reply on this topic about any of this, i gotta find out if anyone else here loves bucky!
  19. Alas, this doesn't involve actual wetting, but I just stumbled across this when I was reading today and thought the second to last panel might be relevant to someone's interests. The idea of Peter Parker desperate to piss in front of Iron-Man and Captain America is the stuff of dreams. Obviously, not my own work and the credit goes to writer Dan Slott and the artists and editors listed here. My apologies if this isn't the correct place to post this.
  20. So I've been watching the new Netflix original marvel Jessica Jones, and there are so far allot of wetting scenes or scenes having to do with pee or toilets. That said I've only watched the first two episodes. In the first episode there is one toilet scene, and one bed wetting implied scene. Then near the end of the second episode there is a wetting scene with a puddle. It seems to me that the director is really good at making it look real. Maybe he/she has a fetish too.
  21. A short Deadpool fanfic. Features the voices in Wade's head, swearing, violence and mild pre-Spideypool flirting. ————— Wade squats at the edge of the roof, surveying the street below. He needs to piss. For a moment he considers standing up and peeing off the roof, seeing if he can hit any of the poor fucks below. He plays with the thought, turning it over in his head. Spidey wouldn’t like it. And it’s not a very hero thing to do, neither. ‘I fucking know that, shut up,’ he says out loud. The boxes are right, of course. If he’s really gonna try to do the hero thing, peeing on innocent passers by isn’t exactly a great move, hilarious though it would no doubt be. There’s a little less room for mayhem when you’re a hero than when you’re just a merc. He really shouldn’t have had all that Mountain Dew. He stands up, anyway, because squatting with a full bladder is like begging to piss yourself. If he can’t piss over the edge of the roof, maybe he can parkour his way to somewhere he can. Only, he realises, he kind of likes this feeling. Really? This is something we’re into now? ‘Maaaaaybe?’ Wade scratches his neck. ‘Never thought about it before.’ We’ve been into way weirder things, his brain points out. Kind of stuff we do for sh*ts and giggles . . . Hell, this isn’t even a kink by comparison. Ooh, we could experiment! See how long we can hold it! Wade considers this for a moment. ‘I guess what with the healing factor there’s no chance of doing any real damage to my bladder . . . Not that that would stop me. I draw the line at wetting myself, though. This suit’s a bitch to clean.’ Which is really dumb when you think about it, considering how much blood you get on it on a daily basis. Wade is still arguing with himself when someone lands on the roof behind him. He notices at once, but it takes him a while to pay the figure any mind. It’s only when Spider-Man clears his throat that he turns around. ‘I don’t mean to interrupt what’s no doubt a fascinating monologue—’ ‘Dialogue,’ Wade corrects him. ‘Trialogue? Di is for two, but there’s at least three. Sometimes six. Multilogue!’ ‘Whatever.’ Wade is pretty sure that Spider-Man is rolling his eyes behind the mask. ‘I was under the impression that we were hitting that trafficking ring tonight. Only I’ve been waiting for you for about an hour.’ Oh yeah, that’s what we’re supposed to be doing tonight! ‘Oh shit, yeah! My bad, Spidey. Got distracted.’ Thinking about piss. ‘Thinking about—no, shut up. Thinking about you, gorgeous!’ Wade bows with a flourish. Spider-Man’s arms are crossed in the body language of someone who’s entirely unimpressed. ‘Uh-huh. So, you coming?’ ‘For you, baby? Always!’ Spidey doesn’t dignify the double entendre with any kind of response. Instead he turns away and stalks across the roof. Wade follows. A thought strikes him just as they reach the other end of the building. ‘Hey, Spidey,’ he says suddenly. ‘You into watersports?’ Spider-Man halts and turns his head slightly. Wade decides that masks on other people suck. He’d like to be able to read Spider-Man’s expression right now. ‘You mean,’ says Spider-Man slowly, ‘like, surfing?’ Oh-em-gee, isn’t he just precious? Aww, who’s an adorably naïve Spider-Boy! Too cute. Too. Fucking. Cute. I may barf. You know, mentally. Wade swats the boxes away, also mentally. Not that they aren’t right. They are so right. ‘Yeah, something like that. Totally what I meant. So, we hitting that trafficking ring or what?’ And with that he jumps off the roof, forgetting that he’s six storeys up and that landing on concrete really fucking hurts, healing factor or no. ————— Fighting on a full bladder, it turns out, is hard. It’s also kind of a turn-on. Especially when Spider-Man’s leaping around with his hot moves, showing off that pert ass of his. The traffickers put up a decent fight, but nothing the two of them can’t handle, once they’ve released their victims into the night. And Wade tries not to kill anyone, he really does, but it just so happens that blades are meant for stabbing, and his hand-to-hand isn’t as great as Spider-Man’s. Besides, one of them is aiming his gun at the back of Spider-Man’s head while the arachnid’s busy with three others, and Wade doesn’t really have time to think, so he runs the fucker through. He doesn’t feel especially bad about it. By the time the fight is over, Wade really, really needs to piss. All that moving around has shaken his bladder and it’s making it harder to hold it in. Spider-Man makes a disapproving sound once he’s finished webbing the knocked out traffickers together, looking down at the dead guy. ‘What?’ says Wade defensively. ‘He was gonna shoot you! I just saved your life, baby boy.’ He pauses. ‘Do I get a kiss as a reward?’ ‘You really, really don’t,’ says Spider-Man dismissively. ‘Couldn’t you have, like, non-mortally wounded him or something?’ Wade throws up his hands in exasperation. ’Everyone's a critic! I don’t know what kind of bullets you’re used to, sweetcheeks, but the ones I tend to deal with move really, really fast. So, no. I just reacted. You’re welcome.’ He doesn’t look happy, does he? You’d think he’d be a little more grateful to us for saving his life. Spider-Man sighs, his crossed arms dropping to his sides. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry. Thanks, Deadpool.’ Wade blinks, not sure if he actually heard what he thought he heard. ‘Am I hallucinating?’ Did he just apologise? Did he just thank us? ‘You’d better get out of here,’ Spider-Man continues. ‘The cops will be here to arrest this lot soon.’ Wade cocks his head to one side. ‘Aren’t you coming?’ ‘Someone’s gotta explain this to them.’ Spider-Man nudges the dead guy gingerly with his toe. ‘I could get rid of the body,’ says Wade without missing a beat. ‘Yeah. No.’ A moment passes. ‘So, you going or what?’ Wade crosses his legs. His bladder feels full to bursting point now. Their conversation was a decent distraction, but now it’s getting almost impossible to ignore. ‘Yeah,’ he says slowly and swallows hard. ‘It’s just . . . kinda hard to move.’ Think of a babbling brook! Or a waterfall! Crashing waves, maybe. Or, you know, just think about piss. ‘Dudes! Not helping!’ Wade growls under his breath. Spider-Man crosses his arms again. ‘Why?’ His tone is skeptical. ‘You injured?’ Wade laughs in spite of himself. ‘No, no. I’m good. Just . . . Kinda really need a piss.’ Spider-Man sighs and rubs his forehead with his hand. ‘What are you, five?’ ‘Fine, fine.’ Wade starts shuffling towards the door of the warehouse. The going is slow, though, and after a few steps he whimpers pitifully and grabs his crotch. That’s right, show Spider-Man how you can’t even hold your bladder. ‘Shut up!’ Wade manages to croak. ‘I didn’t say anything,’ says Spider-Man. He sighs again and steps around Wade to look at him. The faint sound of police sirens reaches Wade’s ears, which means Spider-Man has been hearing it for a good while already. ‘All right. Go hide behind those crates.’ Spider-Man points to the back of the warehouse. Wade turns around and shuffles the other way. He reaches the crates just as the police cars come to a screeching halt outside, and squats down behind them as quickly as he can manage. Bad move, bro. ‘Motherf-aaaahh . . .’ Wade hisses as his bladder begins to void without warning. Peeing has never felt so good. Urine trickles out into his suit, warm and wet. He sits back against the wall, trying not to moan. There’s no point trying to stop it now, he reasons. Thought we weren’t gonna wet the suit. We weren’t, but we did anyway. It’s gonna be hell to clean. ‘I don’t care,’ Wade whispers, closing his eyes in bliss. So, we are into wetting ourselves, then. Good to know. Another kink to add to the list. Beyond the crates, he hears voices. Spider-Man is talking to the cops, but Wade can’t focus on what he’s saying. A minute later he’s still wetting. The piss is leaking out of his suit, forming a puddle around him. When it finally stops, he looks around and it occurs to him to wonder what’s in the crates. The cops are talking loudly enough that he risks pulling one of his katanas and uses it to pry the nearest crate open. It’s like Christmas has come early. The crate is full of weapons. Lovely, shiny handguns, and big, heavy assault rifles. He picks up one of the handguns, trying its weight in his gloved hand. It’s got good heft to it. A new kink, fighting baddies with Spider-Man, and now a brand new handgun? Today couldn’t get better if it tried. Wade pries open another crate, predictably enough containing ammo clips, loads the gun and sticks it down the back of his sopping wet pants. Then, forgetting all about hiding, he stands up and calls, ‘Hey, Spidey! And cops! These guys weren’t just smuggling people, they were smuggling weapons too! You might wanna step carefully back here, though. I just took a piss on the floor.’ Everyone stares at him for a moment. Then five guns are drawn on him, and he puts up his hands. ‘Aw, come on! Help me out here, Spidey?’ Spider-Man just slaps his palm to his forehead and shakes his head exasperatedly. Right about now’s probably a good time to get out of here. There’s a window on the wall above the crates. ‘Okay. I’ll just be leaving now.’ All the guns go off as Wade leaps onto one of the crates, swings up onto another, grabs onto the window sill and hoists himself outside. One of the bullets nicked his shoulder, but it’ll heal. Deadpool vanishes into the night, leaving only the occasional drop of urine behind.
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