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Well usually I’m a good girl who wears clean cute cotton panties to work, unless I’m wearing panties for two days for a customer, but yesterday I was feeling particularly naughty. So rather than reaching into my drawer for a clean pair, or even into the laundry for a pair from a previous day, I went into my stash of panties I reserve for naughty times. Panties that I’ve wet a couple of times, or stained horribly in one way or the other. I found this lovely pair of white cotton panties with cute little navy blue stars and purple moons, with a purple waistband. Here they are in their pristine, virginal, never worn state: Now you will not have seen these panties before as they came in a pack that didn’t fit all that well (permanent wedgies), and they aren’t quite 100% cotton so they don’t absorb pee as well. So I reserved them for extra naughty times in and around the house. A couple of months ago when I was in the mood, I pulled the panties on inside a Goodnite, and had a rather significant #2 accident in them just because I wanted to see how badly this kind of accident would stain a pair of panties. I immediately washed them in the shower and sink, and this was the result. They were then laundered in the laundry and the shameful stain remained. So these embarrassingly stained panties were relegated to the naughty bin and I ignored them for months. The yesterday morning, while I was getting dressed, I was feeling a little naughty, and rummaged around and pulled these out. There’s something about wearing dirty panties to work, but there’s quite something else about wearing clean panties that you’ve permanently and shamefully stained. Their tendency to give me a wedgie only reminded me that they were there all day long! I pulled on a pair of black work slacks over top of them, along with a tasteful tan blouse. I went through the whole day, and would occasionally be reminded that I was wearing these adorable panties and stained panties when they got a little too uncomfortable bunched up in my bum. I got them a little more dirty in the back due to the wedgie and my lunchtime bathroom visit, but only a little bit, I’m a good girl who wipes properly. Anyhow, at lunch, I decided to have a little more fun, and so I bought a pad from the machine in the random washroom I visited, and slipped it into my panties: It was one of the cheap kinds of pads that come in a box in the machines, but I sometimes like those, as they are way too thick and make me feel like I have been a bad girl for forgetting to bring a pad with me. So this was going through my mind while I had a quiet afternoon at work. At about 2 pm, I got up for another mug of tea and felt like I could also benefit from a bathroom visit. I wandered into the bathroom to find it empty and my naughtiness levels increasing. Rather than go into the stall right away, I stood at the mirror and fixed my makeup, and as I did so, I carefully relaxed and let out one solid squirt into my pad and panties. I was feeling naughty enough that I wanted some wetting fun, but not so much so that I wanted wet trousers. I’m not the best at starting and stopping my pee, so it was a good solid 10 seconds of peeing. Unfortunately these cheap machine pads are really not good for pee accidents, and I felt my little accident flow off the side of the pad and dampen my inner right thigh. I bore down and stopped the flow and continued to fix my makeup for a few more minutes, revelling in the naughty feeling of having just peed my filthy panties at work. I was brought out of my revelry when the door opened and someone entered the washroom. She went directly into a stall, but I realized that I should probably do the same. So I relocated into the other unused stall and pulled down my pants and panties to inspect the damage. The wet stain on my trousers was invisible given the material and colour of the trousers, I removed them (after removing my shoes), and I dabbed them dry with some toilet paper. By this time the other person had wrapped up peeing, and was washing their hands, and sensing myself once again alone in the washroom, I pulled off my panties and took a few pictures of them on the floor of the stall. The pad was deliciously soaked with a rather dark blast of pee. I removed the pad and rolled it up, and found my panties mostly dry, the pad had at least protected them. So wrapped the pad in toilet paper, and threw it out in the little stall garbage, and then pulled my panties back on. I was throbbing at this point, aroused by what I had done and by the prospect of wearing the dirty panties for the rest of the day. I finished peeing in the toilet (like a good girl), wiped, pulled everything up, and went out to wash my hands. I had properly dampened the crotch of the panties by the time I got home. My hubby was thankfully home when I got back, and I was able to get a good and proper fuck almost immediately after getting home from work. I felt very dirty indeed stripping in front of him, and shyly did it facing him so that he did not see the stain on the back. He commented that he’d not seen me in those panties before, and I didn’t exactly answer him, but was careful to kick the panties under the bed in such a way that he would not see them. Sexy times ensued, and afterwards, rather than languish in bed, we both got up to go make dinner. I let him put his things on first and then slipped the panties back on underneath some comfortable pyjamas. I then spent the next 30 minutes chopping vegetables and oozing his juices and mine into the panties. Chopping complete, I hurried into the washroom to pee (which I should have done immediately after sexy times), and snapped these pictures of my dirty, now cum stained, panties. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this little experience. If you are interested in buying a pair of my dirty panties, do get in touch. You can learn more about how to order on my website: https://rachelkirwan.wixsite.com/panties Best Rachel

View File Bully Makes Girls Pee Themselves After Gym Class Ella owes the school bully Jake, lunch money. He goes to the girls locker room after gym class to collect. Ella is there with her best friend Annabelle, just hanging out and gossiping. Jake isn’t playing around. He says if they don’t pay up he will show pictures of Ella sucking his dick to the whole school. In the end he decides that if they just piss themselves he will stop being such an asshole. They listen, but bullies never change. He takes their change of clothes and they are stuck in their wet panties Submitter melikai Submitted 07/14/2019 Category Desperation Clothing Panties/Undies  

View File PeeKingdom - Bratty girls pee themselves in class PeeKingdom looks to be a new site. I bought this and am posting it to show off some of their work. I think its pretty well produced and acted honestly. We should try and support this site as well since i believe they are making content worth our while. https://www.clips4sale.com/studio/141675/pee-kingdom Submitter KryptonianGod Submitted 07/17/2019 Category Public wetting Clothing  

As I mentioned as part of the discussion in this post (https://omorashi.org/topic/25110-ultrasound-this-thursday/), I had an regular scheduled ultrasound on Thursday this past week. This is a normal check up procedure, I do these about once a year, ever since I had Botox injections to deal with my UI issues (I've had this done twice now, and it is a relatively new procedure, so they keep tabs on things). I've had many of these ultrasounds over the years, and have had a range of experiences with them. At my first ultrasound as a high school student (investigating the causes of my IU and bedwetting troubles), I had a very public accident, which I've shared with the community here (https://omorashi.org/topic/2645-ultrasound-disaster/). While at the time this was horrible at the time, I have found myself reliving it in my head and it has become a very erotic experience for me now. Basically just the thought of the experience get my heart racing and my lady parts wet. This is basically one of my go to experiences for when I need to get turned on fast (and being a busy grad student this is enough that I have been thinking about it more often than not). It was a long time ago and I worry that the feelings have perhaps faded, and also that at the time my teenage self was too panicking and emotionally upset to savour the other feelings going on. Thinking about my upcoming ultrasound, I kept thinking about my first disastrous one, and would get excited. This led me to consider perhaps trying to replicate this first exam, or at least take advantage of a rare desperation-inducing situation. I should say that I've had at least 6 of these ultrasounds in my life and this upcoming test was purely a check up. I haven't had any complaints and there haven't been any problems with my previous tests, so I was not worried about messing up any legitimate medical investigations. The general rule at my UK urologist is that they run a flow test and an ultrasound every time you go in. As a note, these tests usually entail an ultrasound only, but in the UK, they usually add a flow test, just because it's easy to do after the ultrasound. For the flow test you basically sit on a special toilet with monitors, which detects your flow of urine, to see if it is consistent. I understand that if you have a weak flow or stop and start, this can indicate an obstruction, or other problems (prostate issues in men for example). I've done a few checkups where I did not do the ultrasound, and was not scheduled to do either, but they asked me if I would do a flow test all the same, and I usually did, coaxing out some urine if I didn't have to go. As a result, I developed the habit of arriving at all my appointments with a pretty full bladder out of practice. And again, after probably 6 or 7 appointments and flow tests, they haven't found anything out of the ordinary (which is consistent with my diagnosis of mild mixed UI). For an ultrasound, you are requested to arrive at the hospital with a 'comfortably full bladder' and are usually instructed to drink two pints of water at least an hour before the test to ensure this. They pull down the waistband of your pants (and have you undo the button and zipper), put (usually very cold) jelly on your belly over your bladder, and press an ultrasound wand thing across the jelly until they get a good clear image. They then have you empty your bladder (doing the flow test), and then scan again, looking to measure the residual. If you have too much in there, they might ask you to try to empty your bladder again. On my first test, they also did an ultrasound of my kidneys and this was repeated my first visit in the UK. My bladder issues growing up and past experiences with these kinds of tests have led me to take some precautions around ultrasounds. Now the technician can see the waistband of your underwear, and when I was still a teen I was way too embarrassed to have the technician see my panties, let alone the waistband of a pullup/Goodnite, which is what I should have been wearing under my clothes for this (or which would have been recommended). As a result, I usually wore the biggest maxi-pad I could find, an overnight one with the big part on the bottom, which would catch any leaks or drips and be invisible to the technician. Also, and I didn't know you could do this (but of course you can), but if you tell the receptionist you are bursting to wee (and yes I screwed up the courage to do this once, not for an ultrasound but for a flow test), their first response is to ask you is you can use the washroom but only let out a little bit. This is an option for some, but for me it is not, I have a lot of trouble stopping after I start peeing. I have been practicing, but if I was desperate enough to ask the receptionist to pee before my appointment (being generally very shy about these things), there would be no way I would be able to stop after letting out a little bit. If you ask they might try to see you sooner, but there are generally a waiting list with an order and cue jumping in this case isn't an option. My clinic has a little video screen which tells you how late they are running behind, and they are almost always 30 minutes behind (the doctors are very good and spend lots of time answering all your questions, which is very nice but leads to backlogs). They have recently added a sign which says something like if you are not seen 40 minutes after you were supposed to be, then see the receptionist. I think this a partly to re-schedule, but partly also to check on full bladders. This is the UK after all and people are not really open about these things, so maybe they have the sign as a nice starting conversation about bladder situations with patients. So like I said, when I was younger I wore thick pads to all subsequent tests and drank much less water. My small bladder with OAB symptoms was not really up to the job of holding 2 pints, ever. When I was older, and more comfortable with things and mature (and also a little naughty), I I would comfortably wear a pullup to my ultrasound (not a Goodnite as this was too childish, but usually something like a Tena pullup, discreet or otherwise). I wore one to my more recent here in the UK. The technician clearly saw the top of a Tena pullup (rolled down to minimize visibility). This was necessary because even if I did my fluids correctly, the pressing of the wand-thing and the cold jelly would often cause me to leak a little, and normal incontinence pads (like maxi pads) don't work as well laying down on a bed, the liquid tends to run down your bum and skip the pad all together, and get into your panties and pants. The last test I had were I wore my Tena pullup, I had a nice 50 something British lady pulled down the waistband of my pants, and tucked in the small cloth they use to keep your pants free from the gel, and I got a pretty big exhibitionistic rush. She didn't have any reaction (this time around the pullup caught a little squirt when the put the cold probe on my belly, so one point for pre-planning). I still got rather excited by the thing, I suppose medical procedures, apart from say changing rooms (and random one night stands), are one of the few times a stranger sees your underwear. At least for me, and this was rather exciting knowing that she knew that I was wearing a diaper. For my test last week, I contemplated wearing a pullup again, though I didn't think I really needed one, as my UI problems have been non-existent this past while, and I could easily get the correct amount of fluids. Also, it had been done, the only real sort of way to build on the previous test would be to perhaps wear a Goodnite, or maybe even a proper, overnight diaper. But this seemed heavy handed and not quite what I was aiming for. It was after all a very short rush with none of the protracted agony and humiliation which comes from a wetting accident. This very long pre-amble is to say that I wanted to go to my test without any protection. But this was not too much of a challenge, as I was probably ready to do this anyhow. I would probably have slipped a pad into my panties, brought my usual spare pair in my purse (in a plastic bag, a long force of habit, which comes in use), and go from there. However, this would not really help me relive my youthful accident. Not to belabour this introduction, but I had been reading the discussion on rapid desperation (https://omorashi.org/topic/755-an-experiment-in-rapid-desperation/) and was keen to try it out. I decided therefore to combine the rapid desperation with an unprotected visit to my urologist with a full/filling bladder for my ultrasound. My test was at 3:00 pm on Thursday at the hospital, which is about a 20 minute cycle from my department (where I would be teaching and in meetings during the morning). Before the fateful day, I read up on the rapid desperation method, but I didn't practice, I thought about it, but I wanted to just see what would happen, and practicing/testing it out, seemed to be cheating, or rather would let me know what was going to happen, and so take away all the 'fun'. _________________________________________________________________ On the day of my test, I woke up early, went to the bathroom immediately (out of necessity) around 8:30am and had a cup of tea, my usual morning routine. My fiancé was out the door by about 9:00 am, having gotten up before me. He was heading off to his department for an early morning something (I was too wrapped up in my upcoming test to remember exactly what it was). I then began the practice of drinking small amounts of water, 300 ml every 15 minutes, and going to the bathroom as soon as I felt the urge. I am glad that we have our new place (I don't know if I told people on here, but I moved in with my fiancé, it made financial sense and otherwise we didn't get to see each other very much). Our new place has its own washroom, a huge improvement from my former student accommodation where I had to go down three flights of stairs to pee, a massive pain. Still in my PJs (t-shirt and baby-blue fleece PJ bottoms with panties and fuzzy socks for those who care) I set about answering e-mails, sipping tea and peeing whenever I felt the need. This went on for about an hour. I slipped into a pullup (Tena Discreet) before changing for work, just in case I felt the need to pee during my cycle to work. I wore this under my panties so it would be easier to change. We had a shot discussion about what to wear on my 'teaser post' and I had trouble making up my mind while I was waiting to change. I slipped into a regular pair of white cotton panties (with coloured purple trim, something cheap from the shops), and took a little while to make up my mind. I had a hard time making up my mind, but in the end settled for a lighter pair of jeans. They were not too dark so as to hid an accident, but not too light so as to make it totally obvious. They were also rather thick, not the stretchy thin jeans people have, but proper denim. This made it a little harder to cycle, but I've done it loads of time and the jeans may my bum look fantastic (at least to me and my fiancé). I chose a professional looking blouse to go on top, and also put on a big cozy hoodie which I often wear cycling and which is big enough to cover up a possible accident if worn around the waist. I wore comfortable walking shoes (flats). I decided against a purse and a bag, as it would be clumsy, so I put everything into my backpack. Inside I packed a spare pair of pants (tight yoga-style pants which I usually work out in and which pack small), as a precaution. I wasn't sure what might happen and if I did have an accident, I was not prepared to cycle all the way home in wet, obvious, jeans. I also slipped in a spare pair of panties (similarly white, from my rather simple panty drawer), and socks, just in case. I also packed a couple of things which I would need to school, some reading material for the wait (a couple of journals and a glossy magazine), a water bottle (about 1 litre), and I also brought along a 2 litre jug of mango juice. I was using this to hydrate during the morning, and it was about half empty. Before I left I added water as I find the juice way too sweet, albeit delicious. I also packed a small snack, though I really couldn't think about food at this stage, my heart was pounding just packing up. Packing and pre-planning for a possible accident was also getting me a little aroused, I noticed I was rather wet on one of my many toilet visits (there was a good little slippery patch on the crotch of my pullup, and I was very sticky). I went pee right before I left home and then headed off at about 10:15. While at first it took my body a good 40 minutes to fill up y bladder, by the time I left home I had peed about 4 times. Not always peeing very much, but sticking to the rapid desperation routine. By the time I left home, after having done the rapid desperation pre-drinking and peeing component, I was peeing every 20 minutes or fewer. It turns out I didn't need the pullup on my cycle, biking in the usual traffic took my mind off of my bladder, it's also hard to pee in a diaper while cycling. I arrived at my department around 10:45 am, with just enough time for a much needed bathroom visit before my only class of the day. I peed and removed my pullup. Even though it wasn't wet. In these cases in the past I would usually sit on the toilet and wet the pullup just so I don't feel as though it's going to waste, but in this case I was too distracted. It was not re-useable because of the bunching which occurs from riding a bike in a diaper and the already significant sticky patch. Did I mention I was very excited at this point? My arousal had somewhat decreased as I prepared myself mentally for my class and also while cycling, but I was still pretty wet. I tore off the sides of the pullup and binned it. My schedule for the day was as follows. I was teaching a class from 11:00 am to 12:30 noon, not so much a class as a graduate seminar, a small discussion group with about 10 to 12 masters students (depending on turn out), I then had a department lunch meeting from 1:00 to 2:00 pm after which I would have the remaining hour and a half to make my way to the hospital for my test. My plan was to continue to drink mango juice regularly and pee as often as I could between 11:00 and 1:00 pm, and then pee for the last time at 1:00 starting to hold it until my test. This would give me 2 hours of holding, which according to those who have done the rapid desperation experiment, is pretty hard/boarding on impossible to do. The seminar was a discussion as I mentioned, and I excused myself twice in order use the rest room: I was filling up quickly and drinking mango juice constantly, and I excused myself from the discussion once at 11:20 because it seemed like a good pause in the seminar, and again at 12:05, because I was getting very uncomfortable. At the end of the seminar I hurried to the washroom once more, this time at about an uncomfortable 6 or 7. I had finished the mango juice by then and picked up my water bottle in the graduate office (where I had left my bag), grabbed a quick snack, checked my e-mails for a couple of minutes and then went to the bathroom one last time before heading off to the department meeting. I noticed the unused pullup in the bottom of the trash when I did, and I had a momentary thought of regret, for not having kept it on. At exactly 5 minutes to 1:00 I peed for the last time before my test. From 1:00 until 2:00 I sat in the meeting. This wasn't the sort of meeting you excused yourself from. I did still continue to sip water, at least for the first 30 minutes, but then I stopped realizing my rapidly increasing level of desperation. I tried to focus on the meeting, but generally was too distracted by my upcoming appointment and my rapidly filling bladder. I became acutely aware of my body and had the feeling as though everyone was watching me. I could feel the skin on my inner thigh rub against my rough jeans, the slight lingering moistness between my legs, my feet somewhat uncomfortably curled in my shoes. I had a couple of bladder spasms around three quarters of the way into the meeting when I contemplated going to the bathroom for one last time. Surely if my bladder could fill up this fast in just 30 minutes, I could go and still be bursting for my ultrasound. I mulled over these options but stood firm in my decisions not to use the loo. I sat there in increasing desperation, and by the time the meeting was over (a little before 2:00 pm thankfully, like 1:50 pm), I was pretty desperate, probably an 8 on the 10 scale. As the meeting wrapped up there was the usual post meeting chit chat, and I tried to get away as quickly as possible. I was approaching the point of hopping about and needing to cross my legs awkwardly and I did not want my department colleagues to see me doing this. I excused myself from a conversation and then a second. In the third one of the grad students in a year after me commented that I seemed a little distracted (which I was but I was a little disappointed that it showed), and I made an excuse and quickly headed to collect my bag. On the way down the hall I filled up my water bottle which was about half empty at this point. I also grabbed a random bottle of water I had in my desk from a conference a while back and tossed that into my backpack. I know, what is a girl who is an 8 on the desperation scale with a 20 minute cycle ahead of her and at least 40 minutes (more like an hour) until her ultrasound doing getting more water? I was feeling reckless and moving about quickly was reducing my urgency, and well reckless and wild abandon! I quickly left the building, unlocked my bike and headed off to the hospital. The bike ride was uneventful, though I had occasional twinges and sharp feelings in my bladder as I went over bumps. I put my full concentration into peddling and traffic and arrive at the hospital still at an 8. I was surprised. I had no problem finding the bike racks this time, and right before going in to the hospital I chugged an entire last bottle of water. I wasn't really planning on drinking more water at this point, but I was feeling pretty desperate, an 8.5 to 9 on the scale. This was my sort of way of guaranteeing that I would not back out I suppose, or a moment of panic resulting from a lull in the feelings of urgency, resulting in my thinking that I was going to all this trouble (and increasing pain), and that I might still make it. I think this as hubris on my part, but I chugged the entire bottle of water before heading in to navigate the labyrinth of the hospital. I checked in at the desk in the usual way, and was sent over to the waiting area, which is overlooked by the reception desk. To the right of the desk is a video screen with little messages (including how late they are running), the waiting room is open plan with seats along the wall in a U shape and more seats in the middle of the U. I sat down in the middle of the bottom of the U after checking in. The hallway to the appointment rooms is also to the right of the reception desk and it leads down a hall, immediately to the right upon passing the reception desk is the usual bathroom that I use, inside they have the things to do a flow test. There is another bathroom before you enter the waiting room which is the one they send you to if you need to 'release a little pressure.' When I arrived there was three other groups, an old gentleman with his wife on the left-hand side (of myself sitting down), and elderly later on the middle chair island) and another elderly gentleman on the right. The seats were vinyl covered padded chairs, some with arms, others without. I sat down and started to read my magazine. I was already very desperate, a 9.5 at this point, but I could easily hold it for a little while, maybe a maximum of 20 minutes, this was a little worrisome because I arrived at about 2:20, and I still had 40 minutes to go before my appointment. I started to get nervous, a little bit of cold sweat formed on my forehead. I felt closed off and did not make any eye contact with any of the other people in the waiting room. I sat there trying to read my magazine. The elderly couple was called, and then the lady. Then another younger man, about 30 came and sat down and was also called. There looked like there were two nurses, and some of the people were quick others much slower. The gentleman beside me was there for a while, but eventually called as well. To be replaced with another middle-aged gentleman. I didn't really pay attention to the people around me, I was too caught up in my own agony and desperation. At this stage I had firmly crossed my legs, squeezing and double crossing them together as much as I could. The thick denim of my jeans was making it hard to press them together as tightly as I would have liked (and as my bladder demanded). I don't recall all the movements of all the people in the waiting room, but I do remember, towards the end, trying to figure out who was going to be called next, and whether it would be me, and how long I had. I also didn't want too many people to see me in my state or to strike up a conversation, not that British people would ever do this, ever! I looked at my phone, which I then tucked into my bike bag, at about 2:30 pm and lost hope. I had initially thought I could hold on until the test at which point I might have an accident on the way to the ultrasound in the dimly lit privacy of the hall way outside of the check up rooms, or perhaps, like my first ultrasound, leak during the test itself, or on the way to the bathroom after the test for the flow test (it usually takes the nurses a few seconds to calibrate the machine, so you a have to stand there, toilet in sight waiting for a good minute while they do this, a point at which I almost always lose a few drops). But at this state I was too desperate and was in considerable pain, I wasn't going to make it to the test itself. I wasn't going to even be able to stand up at this point. I was at a 10 on the scale, but still managing to hold on. This was when I started feeling pain, cramping pain in my kidneys, and I got worried. I am familiar with water poisoning, and know that you can damage your kidneys from holding it too long. Usually my bladder would spasm and I would leak well before this point ever occurred, but whatever it was, be it the group of people around me, my double-crossed legs, or sudden bladder shyness, I wasn't leaking, but holding on, and in increasing pain. I don't know the time exactly, it must have been maybe 2 minutes after I checked my phone, but time was doing that strange thing it does when you really have to pee. I didn't exactly leak, but I knew I was going to have to let some pressure out, and I was worried I was going to do some permanent damage. It wasn't exactly a controlled release, because I'm not good at those, but we could call it a momentary relaxation resulting in a small accident. After putting my phone into my bag, I put my magazine into my lap and let out a little bit of pee. Nothing was visible, but I quickly realized that I would have to put something more significant into my lap soon. I was feeling pain in my sides and stomach at this stage. The feeling of pressure on my sphincter was unbearable, a sharp acute pressure, not like the dull sort of full pressure which you get on a normal hold. I felt like rather than being a round balloon, that my bladder was a narrow zeppelin, with all of the pressure pushing against my pee hole. I stole a peek under the magazine while turning pages, and didn't see any damage on my jeans. My underwear felt a little wet but in that warm post-leak kind of way. The leak must have been small enough to either have been absorbed by the gusset of my panties, or my legs were tight enough together that the pee travelled down to my bum. A problem which I would have to deal with when I stood up, but a problem which I could likely solve by covering up with my hoodie. Thinking along these lines and with the magazine still strategically covering my lap, I removed my hoodie and put it on the seat next to me on the left. The east on my right at this point was occupied by an elderly gentleman in a baseball cap who may have been actively avoiding looking at me. I read some more, the magazine in my lap, and held my legs together, the leg crossing not seeming to cut it. This must have lasted for a good few minutes, but it was clear that I needed to try something more discreet. I also felt like I was going to lose control at any moment. I retrieved my hoodie from the chair beside me, put it in my lap, and arranged it to cover everything. At this stage I was wiggling my foot desperately, but otherwise not moving about too much, my legs pressed firmly together. I carefully folded my hoodie to ensure that it covered my entire crotch and also that none of it was between my thighs,... just in case. With my hoodie in my lap I tried to hold myself. This was a last desperate move, which was probably ill thought out, as it would have involved pressing the fabric of my jeans into the wet gusset of my panties, and would certainly result in a visible wet spot on my jeans. But I had to try, there was no way I was going to make the nest 20 minutes (or so the clock indicated). Amazingly the running late notice indicated that they were only running 5 minutes late, so I got very lucky, as another hour would have been completely unmanageable. I tried to jam my hand between my legs, but it didn't seem to help. The denim was too thick to allow me to maneuver my fingers between my labia and pres where it desperately needed to be pressed. I 'disreetly' kept my right hand under my hoodie moving my fingers about trying to find a good way to hold myself. It must have looked pretty obvious to the 5 people in the waiting room, but I told myself they were not looking, or I was past the point of caring. The hand wasn't working. I let out another spurt, this one completely involuntary. Then another, and another. Each lasting for about 1 or 2 seconds, but coming in quick succession. At this stage due to the placement of my hand (still between my legs), and perhaps the force of the spurts, the pee went upwards into the crotch of my jeans. I felt my hand get wet, and the warm hard feeling of wet denim. I peeked under my hoodie and magazine (now forgotten) and saw a considerable wet patch on the crotch of my jeans. Bigger than a full hand and spread evenly between both thighs. I quickly replaced the edge of my hoodie. I could only imagine how bad my bum was, as when sitting pee usually pools towards the bum as you will all know. When I would be called I would have to stand up and there would be a moment when I was going to tie the hoodie around my waist when all of my neighbours would see my accident (as I couldn't do this and cover my front at the same time). I momentarily considered this, but it would not be the first time I've used a sweatshirt to cover up an accident, and I thought I might be able to use my bag to shield myself in the front for cover. I couldn't think about this for long, because soon I was concentrating 100% on stopping from losing control completely. I ceased efforts to hold myself, though I still had a hand under the hoodie and my foot was now wiggling uncontrollably. I was still in pain and very much worried I would not make it. I could not stand up and talk to the receptionist (not that I would at this stage as it was clearly too late) without revealing my accident to everyone. I simply sat there very uncomfortably and wiggled. I also worried that standing might lead to a fatal cascade. I looked at the receptionist, who was busy on the phone, but I could have sworn I saw her glance over in my direction. She was a 30 something woman with brown hair I think. I spent a little longer staring at her with what must have been a forlorn look on my face. While I was almost completely oblivious to the goings on around me, I did notice her, she was off her phone a moment later and when the next nurse came in to call the next person they had a short and hushed conversation. They were too far for me to see anything, but they both glanced my way. When they did I hurriedly looked back at my magazine. At this stage I had been too distracted by my pressing need and quickly approaching bathroom accident to be embarrassed. It was all business, and the only thing I recall being aware of, was not being aware of the people around me. I would occasionally look about, trying to see when I might be called or trying to get a good description for you all (I do aim to please), but none of this was really registering. But now I felt myself blush lightly. The nurses were clearly discussing the desperate 28 year old clearly holding herself and wiggling uncontrollably in the waiting room. My heart raced and mind scrambled. I thought it might be worth the embarrassment if they called me sooner. I half expected the receptionist to walk over to me to ask if I was alright, or to be called next. At 2:45 pm most of the people who had been there when I arrived had been called and I was optimistic that I might get seen earlier. When finally the younger gentleman who came in while I was there and was seen left, and I anticipated being seen next. But it was not to be. Next up another elderly gentleman nearby and I was in agony. I left out another significant 2 or three second spurt, which seemed to do nothing to relieve the pressure, but did make the wet spot on my jeans more pronounced. I tried to reach a hand under my bum to feel for damage but I could feel nothing, thought I was unable to get my fingers too far under, at least nothing was visible from the sides. I was now fully committed. Not that I hadn't been the second I took my last washroom visit. My jeans were wet and there was no way to get up without revealing that to the whole group on the waiting room, and making the problem worse. I knew my appointment was approaching, it must have been 2:50 pm, and so at this stage I stuffed my magazine into my bag, as there was no chance I could read or follow it, I was too agitated. The thought briefly crossed my mind that if I wasn't seen at exactly 3:00 pm I might have a spectacular seated accident here in the waiting room. I panicked a little at the thought, my heart pounding, cold sweat appeared on my forehead and I blushed some more. I may have been shivering at this point, and I was close approaching the point of completely giving up and having a full accident right then and there. Should I make a mad dash to the receptionist and ask to use the washroom? The thought of me standing up at the reception desk where everyone could see me and wetting myself made my heart beat even faster Finally, and it must have been exactly 3:00, or very close to it, a middle aged female (45-ish) nurse in light scrubs with dark East Indian skin and long black hair, came to the edge of the end reception desk under the video screen. I'd seen here several times as she came out for patients. She called my name. I sort of waved with the hand that wasn't between my legs, feebly pressing the wet denim of my jeans into my vagina, and began gathering my things. I gave up on tying my hoodie around my waist to cover my accident from behind. It didn't really have full use of both of my hands and it was shaking at this point, and didn't think I would be able to do it. So clutching my bag and hoodie in front of me, so that the nurse and receptionist could not see the accident, I headed over to her. I'm sure everyone in the hall and in the waiting room (which at this stage was probably three other people), could easily see the wet patch on my bum, but I didn't look back. I don't think I felt myself holding it as I walked down the hall, but I don't think I leaked more at this stage, my body must have been in the pre-massive accident mode where it's actually harder to pee. I walked as quickly as I could, and was a little surprised that I wasn't peeing uncontrollably at this point. The nurse asked me how I was doing and I said "ok but that I really had to pee." I heard my voice sound weak and unconvincing. The walk to the examination room wasn't too far and was relatively strait. The nurse remained in front of me, guiding me down the hall, past a hallway on my left which was rather dark, and to a darkly lit examination room with a bed with cloth sheets in the middle. In the examination room I put down my hoodie and bag and she said, upon noticing either my wet bum or crotch, something like: "you've already had a little accident." Or "you've already gone a little bit." Not these words exactly but similar, in a very soothing and understanding way. I don't remember if I responded, I think I may have apologized. My face was burning at this point and I was incredibly thankful for the darkness of the room. I was also shaking. Still managing to hold on. Feeling very meek and embarrassed I climbed onto the bed an lay down. I had already undone my pants knowing the procedure and hoping to expedite things. The nurse tucked the little piece of paper into my waistband (to keep my pants dry, though that boat had long sailed). My whole body was trembling and I tried to hold my legs together. I think I may have re-iterated that I was sorry and that I really had to go pee. My bladder felt like it was going to explode, and I don't remember completely losing control before or after she applied the jelly, or if I was peeing the second I lay down on the best. The nurse put on the jelly, which to my surprise was actually very warm, they must have invented jelly warmers since my last test, as I recall the jelly being very cold. My bladder felt like an cannon ball in my lower abdomen. As she put down the ultrasound rod on my belly. She must have felt how hard it was, because she asked if I could use the washroom the let out a little pressure. To which I responded in a voice higher than normal and approaching panic level, "no I'm already going." And I was, I was wetting myself at this point. I don't know how much I was peeing, but I could not have stopped it if I had wanted to, it just came out. I wasn't the flood gates as one would expect, it was that very tortuous stream which you sometimes get when you've been holding it too long. When your sphincter is still trying to hold on but the pee gets out anyhow, not when it fully opens. She must have acted very fast, because within a couple of second she said she was done, and that I could now use the washroom. This was abnormally quick and she must have done the bare minimum knowing my predicament. Still wetting myself, I got up off the bed, and spent a second wiping the jelly off my belly, and doing up my pants only got the zipper up, the button was not going to happen, I was too swollen and my hands were shaking too much. Doing this, I remember touching my bladder and feeling it as a rock hard ball in my lower abdomen. I did up my pants and stood up and she directed me out the door to the nearest washroom which was supposed to be directly down the hall, the on on the immediate right after passing down the hall from the reception desk. At this stage I was half holding myself, half using my hand to shield the wet patch on the crotch of my pants. She tried the door to the washroom only to find it lock. "This one must be occupied" she said and then told me I could use the one at the end of the hall near the start of the waiting room. You could see the light coming from under the crack in the door and the very apologetic but business-like tone in the nurses voice. I am not making this up, it was like out of some omorashi fantasy story. I didn't think or stop moving, but powered on down the hall, walking as fast as I could walking without running. I literally ran down the hallway, while wetting my pants freely, rushing past the waiting room nurses, the receptionist for the ultrasound area, and into the washroom. I kept my eyes down and both hands firmly in my crotch. Without locking the door I yanked down my pants and underwear. I was in mid-stream and there was a nice wet patch all over the front of my pants, but not running all the way to the ground, which at the time surprised me, though on reflection, I suppose that had done most of my wetting while laying down on the ultrasound bed/chair. Later upon inspection, I saw a similar nice round even wet patch on the bum of my pants. I peed into the toilet for longer than a minute and a half. I could feel the rock hard roundness of my bladder while peeing, and could see the pee dripping from my underwear, which were around my ankles, and into my pants the entire time I was peeing. A sure sign of the wetness of my underwear. They were glistening wet, with wetness running all over the bum and up the front. My pee was very clear. My stream very thin and intense. I peed for longer than I've ever peed in my whole life, it must have been longer than 1 minute and a half. The pee hissed out of me like an angry serpent. And I felt my entire lower body gradually relaxing, like I had been planking for 5 minutes and finally stopped. After finishing peeing, I spent a few moment to let my heart stop pounding, locked the door which I had forgotten to do, and inspected the damage. Apart from perfect even wet patches running all over the crotch of my pants to about the knees, my panties were soaked and there was a small puddle on the floor in front of the toilet from where the pee had dripped through my pants onto the floor. I took off my shoes and pants and underwear, and made an attempt to dry both of these off with the paper towel which was in the room. My socks and shoes were dry. Like I said the peed did not run all the way down my legs. I spent the next, probably 8 minutes or more, cleaning the room and slowly applying dry compresses of paper towel to my panties and pants. I twisted my panties into a little ball with some paper towel and wrung them out. All this time I was all business, focused on cleaning up my accident and somehow making the massive wet patch on my pants disappear so I could hurry back to the examination room. I was shaking slightly, though not crying or sobbing. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I did not appear to be making much progress. I also spent a few moments to dry off my legs which were pretty wet as well. After what must have been 12 or 15 minutes, I paced about in my socks, like a trapped incontinent tiger in the zoo. I cracked the door a tiny bit and I peeked out the door to see if anyone was out there waiting for me. They were not. I could not see the waiting room, but everything seemed petty normal at the reception desk. I could not see my nurse, who I fully expected to see speaking with the receptionists. I had not seen her follow me out. I contemplated using the help button (those little strings and buttons they have in hospital washrooms) to get help and a dry pair of pants, but I thought this wasn't quite the emergency for which the button as created. After pacing about for a while, and building up my courage, and after several additional attempts to dry my pants with paper towel, I got ready to leave. I noticed that I had taken so long in my attempts to cover up my accident, that my bladder was almost full again (the rapid desperation really works!), and so before heading back to the ultrasound, I peed again, a large amount. Knowing that if I did not, I would be sent back to 'try again' and this would only increase the number of people that would see that I had had a spectacular accident in my pants. After it was clear that no one was coming to get me, and that I would have to chance the outside world in my wet pants. I put them back on, without my panties, which I balled up in my hand. And I opened the door. I don't remember looking around at anyone. Face burning, I walked purposefully down the hall, past the waiting room which had once again about 4-5 people in it, past the receptionist, down the dark hall and back to the room. The room was still dark, and the nurse was not there. Instead she entered just behind me, taking me a little off guard, while I was sticking my wet underwear into my bag. Not having time, I left them under my hoodie, which I had apparently left on a chair. I have no recollection of doing this however. She said something like: 'I saw you earlier but there were people before you.' A semi-apology for not seeing me sooner despite my clear desperate state. This made me blush, as I then knew she had been watching my desperate struggle in the waiting room. I apologized, but before I could say more, she pointed to the cupboard behind the chair where I left my bag and hoodie, and said: 'I got you something to wear, I wasn't sure your size so I have a small and a medium.' To which I apologized profusely and thank her for her thoughtfulness. I hadn't even thought about this. While I was cleaning up, she must have called someone, or gone and fetched a spare pair of pants for me to wear. Knowing that someone was thinking about my accident in this way now gets me very aroused, as this is not the usual reaction one gets from accidents, its more the reaction that you got when you were a child, where you parents were getting your backup pants out of the car while you cried in the washroom, oblivious. I was still shaking ever so slightly and felt warm all over. I noticed that she had also placed a reusable waterproof absorbent blue pad on the bum part of the bed. I was a little unsure of what would happen next, I was still standing there in my very wet pants. I didn't look like she was going to give me the chance to change into the scrubs which she had gotten for me. And I was invited to get back up on the table, still wearing my wet pants. I made some comment about miss-judging my fluids but she didn't say very much else, perhaps something comforting, but I don't recall, my face was so hot that I had ringing in my ears. I had forgotten to undo my pants, and fumbled with the button and zipper. She must have noticed the absence of my panties, which were not the low-riding kind, and the upper shaved portion of y mons. At that moment I realized what was more humiliating than having a technician see the waistband of your diaper... but rather knowing that your wet panties were balled up on the chair and that you had wet them. She put the warm jelly on my belly, which elicited a comment from me about how it was warm, and that I wasn't expecting that. I was so embarrassed I was babbling at this point, not a usual reaction for me, as I'm usually very shy and simply get quieter. She responded with something like yes. I also mentioned that I had peed a second time, because I had felt full again, and she said that this was good. She spent a long time on my bladder, and even longer on each of my kidney's. Compared to her first scan, she took a good 5 minutes (or so it seemed) on each kidney, probably longer. I didn't think the kidney's were going to be necessary, but perhaps in all the excitement she didn't notice that instruction, or perhaps my previous test the technician hadn't bothered. During this time I asked her whether she noticed anything, to which she said that the report would be made to me by my doctor and that she wasn't in a position to say anything. At this stage I was worried about my kidney's which were feeling a little tender. Something I told her as she prodded one for a good 5 minutes. I was still laying there in my wet pants, on each side and on my back while she ran the scan. When she was done, she once again wiped off the jelly and gave me a paper towel to wipe off any more. She told me we were all done and that I could change, and she got up to leave the room. I thanked her again for her thoughtfulness and then asked her her name, thanking her by name. I intended to remember what she said, but I can't for the life of me remember what her name was. I was in a daze. Ears and face burning. My entire body blushing. I stood there, having risen from the bed once I'd wiped off the jelly. I stood for a couple of moments to regain my composure. I couldn't believe what had happened. All the people who had seen me in my wet pants, my accident, everything. After a while I then set about changing. I took off my shoes and wet (and now cold) pants, and tried on the first pair of scrub pants, the smalls. These were too small, I probably could have worn them but then I would have been flashing a camel toe to the world, and it would have been a rather damp camel toe at that. Also it would have been painfully evident that I was not wearing panties. So I balled them up and left them on the absorbent mat on the bed, and tried on the medium. While doing so I noticed that the mat had two wet spots where the wetter part of my pants had rested on the bed while she ran the second round of tests. I rolled the waterproof mat back and saw that there was a somewhat bigger double wet patch on the sheets under this where my accident had clearly dripped through from the first round of the test. I had not forgotten about my spare pants in my bag, or even my spare panties in the ziplock baggie, but I decided against all of these. I was committed and being someone who had come not planning on having an accident, I felt like I should leave like someone who had had just that. After pulling on the scrubs I took a quick picture of this wet spot on the bed with my phone. I then made sure the pad was back in the middle of the bed, and slowly set about gathering my things. In addition to the two pairs of scrub pants there was also a cloth bag/pillow case which I wasn't sure what it was for. Perhaps to put all the wet things into after I left? I think in hindsight it could have perhaps been for my wet clothes, though this seems like the wrong thing for this (as a plastic bag would be better). I washed my hands in the little sink. I was careful to ball up my pants in such a way as to avoid getting my other things wet. I had forgotten to bring a plastic bag, despite all of my forethought. I had just completed putting on my shoes when the nurse returned, and she was clearly surprised to still see me there, and said something like "oh your still here" to which I responded "yes I was just packing up," and I thanked her again, and asked if there was anything else I needed to do. She said no, and then as if as an afterthought, she asked "would you like a bag for your things?" Which elicited further burning on my face. "No" I responded, "I'll be ok, thank you" holding up my already packed bag. She then went in to change up the room presumably. Now, in my scrubs, I walked back down the hall where I had previously sprinted, and tried to avoid looking at the receptionist and people waiting in the waiting room. I'm sure my protracted test had pushed a couple of them back a while, and that there were some desperate people in the waiting room, but I was not going to make eye contact with anyone. I carefully walked out of the unit, and out towards the exit of the hospital. I cycled home in the scrubs, which was chilly and they kept slipping down, likely revealing my butt crack to trailing cars. The results of my test would be discussed at my next consultation, or sooner if there were problems. I actually got a little lost on the way home, taking a wrong turn and having to back track. I was so distracted by the entire experience. I don't remember all of the ride home, but I got home and after stashing my wet things in the laundry (my fiancé is used to the occasional wet thing, though I usually do the laundry anyhow), I collapsed on my bed and had a blissful nap. I was completely exhausted from the whole thing. Now, thinking back, it was incredibly exciting. I've masturbated to components of the experiences and some of the emotions several times in the last while, and even thought about it during sex with my fiancé. The first time that I did, I almost cam immediately and my man was surprised that I came so fast (and probably a little proud). So there it was, all 17 pages of my most recent, very public, accident. Looking at the scrubs in my drawers still gets my heart racing.

View File Blonde Karah Wets the Bed Beautiful Blonde Karah has a little problem. She has been wetting the bed. Unfortunately for her she drank way more water than she realized. She has trouble getting some rest and finally dozes off. The sounds of water and waterfalls were running in her head because before she knows it she laying in a pile of pee! *Enjoy Submitter melikai Submitted 07/14/2019 Category Bedwetting  

Source: https://old.reddit.com/r/wetfetish/comments/cdalw1/some_one_said_this_would_be_great_here_hope_you/

View File White panties unexpectedly wet After doing your activities like painting, playing with your phone , taking notes for example, you can get a desperate desire to pee and you can not handle any more while you are perfectly squat you are peeing in your white cotton panties. I have to see a big wet spot on your white cotton panties. Look under your skirt and after look at me when you are peeing in your white cotton panties. I want to see your cute face, sexy legs, skirt,white cotton panties when you are peeing. last one for the day, I promise but I'm a huge fan of the sitting down visible panties wetting. I love that view Submitter melikai Submitted 07/14/2019 Category Desperation Clothing Panties/Undies  

I am curious, are there woman out there that sometimes leak a bit into their panties. This could be due to desperation, sneezing or even because you just like it. If this happens what do you do, do you remove your panties, do you just dry them as best you can and keep them on or do you maybe line the inside with toilet paper? Please let us know how you handle the situation.

I have been wondering if there are any woman out there that lined the seat of their panties with toilet paper because they had a pee accident in them. I never saw any videos where it was done. Anyone aware of such cases or it being talked about in other forums? Please let us know.

View File Miss piss in yellow stained panties Miss Piss turns her white panties yellow on a towel Submitter melikai Submitted 07/07/2019 Category Desperation Clothing Panties/Undies  

Mary Bromfield is your average teen girl, sexy, smart and loves teen films. Mary is also not normal she is the alter ego for Mary Marvel, who is Shazam/Billy Batson’s adopted twin sister. She is 18 and is about to finish school when she got her powers, she was in bed still it was 7:50 and naked. Her alarm went off within two minutes later, she shifted her ass to move herself to get closer to her bedside counter. She turned her iPhone alarm off but felt she had to pee quite desperately. She immediately grabbed her crotch to hold back her floodgates, it was Saturday and everyone was still asleep. What could she do if she said the name she’ll probably wake everyone up, it was either humiliation or waking everyone up. Mary knew she wouldn’t make it to the toilet because she felt like she could explode at any second. She had the biggest bulge ever as she stared at herself nude, she felt a tinkle of pee release from her body and onto her bed. She was scared, if she allowed herself to have an accident in bed like a little girl, Billy might make fun of her forever and exposing it to her friends. She said the name under her breath “Shazam!” She changed into her Shazam form, her bulge wasn’t big and she didn’t need to go. She wanted to do this hold her pee in as Mary Marvel and then later make it to the toilet and change back and release her desperation. She went back to sleep, she slept peacefully and didn’t have dreams about her releasing her distressing urge. It was 9:00 when she got up now it was time. By that time her adult desperation had gone up but not as urgent as her teen desperation, she raced to the bathroom and once arriving at the door was locked someone was inside. She knocked on the door, “Mary is that you?” “Billy please hurry up I need to go!” She said quietly, “Don’t worry I won’t be too long in here.” Said Billy. Mary was getting so desperate she grabbed her crotch in adult form now both her forms were in big trouble, if she stayed in her teen form she would already have wet the bed. “Billy please hurry. I’m bursting so badly to go! Please I have to pee!” “Hold on Mary.” Billy realised that Mary was in her Shazam form and said to her “Mary why are you in your Shazam form?” “Billy I had to go already at 7:50. I was lazy and I wanted to hold it in for a bit longer. Just please hurry I think I’m about to go any second.” Billy finished and was awestruck when seeing his foster sister naked. He got a bit aroused and Mary could see it please by the time Billy was staring at her she was grabbing hold of her crotch, she walked in and shut the door. She raced towards the toilet as she could feel her leaking, small leaks expanding into big ones. She plonked her sexy thick ass on the toilet and in relief said the name “Shazam!” And when she said the word she turned back into her teenage self and thoroughly started peeing in relief and Marry couldn’t help it but moan softly as it was so damn warm. Her floodgates started to close she enjoyed her holding and then cleaned her wet pussy and then flushed the toilet. When she was finished all of that , she made her way back to her room to get dressed for the day. To Be Continued...

Barbara Gordon lay naked in her bed, she was fast asleep and was peaceful. Just in the morning before she was in bed she helped Batman in her first mission as Batgirl, even though she had an accident in her suit like a little girl because she couldn’t take off her suit. “Barbara!” A voice called to her, it was Benjamin Roy. Ben was a friend that Barbara had at school. Babs looked down to see she was in her school uniform in full outfit, she then couldn’t see Ben and felt an urge to pee. She immediately ran to the bathroom, but the girl’s room door was locked by the time she got there she was starting to feel like she would wet herself outside the door. She then slid her hand in her skirt to hold her bladder tight and realised she wasn’t wearing any panties she was completely bare naked under her skirt. She ran back outside to the park where she hopped she would find a bush to excrete her waste in. She ran as fast as she could and grabbed her skirt, so it doesn’t fly up and exposes her pussy and her thick ass. Babs found a bush and lifted up her skirt and felt the overwhelming feeling of her hot piss hitting the bushes and ground. It was a dream all of it she woke up she felt the sheets and it wasn’t wet, but felt her oversized bladder bulge, it is Monday and it is 7:00 AM, she was nice and comfortable in bed and didn’t want to get out to use the bathroom. She muttered under her breath “I don’t give a fuck, I’m just going to go in my bed.” She went back to sleep, “Oh Babara, love it!” It was Bruce Wayne, she is deeply in love with him and she was dreaming her favourite dream, which is having sex with her crush. Just then something new happened unlike her past variations of this dream, she stopped having sex and felt she had to pee. Hands clasped over her pussy, Bruce watched as the desperate girl moaned loudly, while holding her pee. Barbara got off the bed and rushed towards the bathrooms, she shut the door was about to make desperate victory but then saw a man who she thought was Bruce. Until he stepped in the reflecting light, it was Joker, hand in his gun and positioned it to her head. She couldn’t think of anything but scream “HELP! HELP! BRUCE HELP PLEASE ITS JOKER!” Joker got very mad, he put his hand over her mouth. Bruce was still naked, but it didn’t stop him from saving her, he walked in and kicked Joker into the bath tub and Barbara couldn’t hold it anymore. She started peeing on the floor, hot piss running down her legs as she moaned in the relief of her bladder. The stream ended within a few minutes as Joker lay knocked out in the bath. She woke up from her intense dream and she noticed her bulge wasn’t there she obviously wet the bed as a result of the weird feeling in the dream. She got out of bed to the bathroom, where she dreamed about and brushed her hair and clean herself up from her accident. She starred at herself in the mirror and noticed how incredibly sexy she was her big boobs and thick ass being exposed. She always wanted that dream to come true, but the dream she today was made up because Joker died two weeks ago for killing Vicki Vale. To Be Continued...

A while ago, a lovely customer of mine asked me to wet a pair of delicious silver satin panties twice! I snapped a couple of pictures of me wetting them for the second time, and in celebration of Canada Day wanted to share them with you all! I hope you enjoy! Anyone interested in ordering their very own pair of my dirty panties, do check out my website and get in touch: https://rachelkirwan.wixsite.com/panties I've also got a pile of bras I'm looking to sell in case you are interested as well. Happy Canada Day everyone! Rachel p.s. I don't typically wear satin panties but I bought a few of them a while back for a customer.

This story takes place while the events of Avengers Infinity War is going on. Captain Marvel had a mission to on the planet Nowhere, the crime rates have gone up since the Guardians Of The Galaxy was there. Carol wanted to change that, it is why she has been flying there, now her quest begins. She just made it but earlier she drank a lot of water and now she has to pee. Carol hoped that she could make it, she doesn’t like peeing herself as normal girl but it’s because she takes her job to seriously and doesn’t to be know as a little girl that wet herself, she’s also very powerful and being that strong and doesn’t want to fetish in front of strength. Now the Captain’s urge was becoming worse she could focus properly but she did manage to make it to Nowhere without any leaks. Marvel didn’t care about her mission she was so desperate now that she could wet herself in catching a thief or criminal, now that would be embarrassing for her but hot for the crooks. Nowhere’s public bathrooms are disgusting they are not cleaned and there’s always old diapers laying on the ground, that’s what the ladies toilets look but she never ever gone to the men’s in desperation if there’s no more room in the girl’s. She didn’t want to use the public restrooms because there filthy dirty, she thought to herself were would she be sleeping. She thought that she would buy a room in the best hotel in Nowhere. She ran in and luckily she didn’t have to wait, the lady who was serving her was amazed that the gorgeous Captain Marvel has entered. “Captain Marvel big fan what would you like?” “I’ll take the suite, please.” “The $1200 one?” “Yeah that one, oh wait I didn’t bring my wallet.” “Don’t worry I almost forgot that if you are a superhero you don’t pay for a room.” Carol gave her a smile and she wasn’t taking notice of her urge to pee. Just then the desperation kick in she was at the limit and if she didn’t go now then she would have an accident. She takes the keys and get in the lift and there is no one in there so Carol grabs her crotch like a little girl she is in dire need of a toilet. The lift gets to the third floor and must find room 2018 and she does she unlocks it and rushes to the bathroom. She is now frustrated that she can’t take off her suite the zipper at the back is stuck and just had a small leakage in her white panties. “Fuck! I’m already peeing myself.” She moans and groans for a bit the zipper moved a bit but enough for her to take it off. She feels another squirt of pee coming out she starts crying she’s not going to make it. She has to accept that she’s not gonna make it. She then starts peeing the rapid force that coming out is so warm and her crying stops, it looks like she’s enjoying it. Her whole pants has a nice big pee stain on it and probably her panties would be soaked, she didn’t bring spare clothes so she had wash it or be nude under her suit. She stopped peeing and loved it. She did not know why she didn’t like it at first, now she actually could take it off her zipper needs fixing and she went to the bed and was laying on it naked. She was very tired from yesterday when this guy only came robbing at night and at 11:00 o’clock she got him and took her 2 hours to get back to her ship, so Carol fell asleep on her bed. To Be Continued... To

The past few days have been an utterly omo-filled blissful hell. Forgive my crudeness, but at the moment I can find no other way to describe it. As I write, my bladder and lower regions are aching from overuse, begging for rest. Given the events of the story I am about to tell that took place over the course of one day, as well as one story yet untold, I think the best course of action for me would be to listen to the pleading of my body. For now, I provide for your reading pleasure, three holds and a hen. Part 1: Too close! It started out as a typical work day, typing, updating documents, practically inhaling hot tea to try to wake me up as I don't quite have a taste for coffee, and indulging in a certain website where an entire community shared a deep interest of mine particularly close to my heart. And perhaps some other regions. Such tales with which these people have regaled me inspired me to do similarly, and I must confess I had been especially inspired by a certain kind of abdominal protrusion. Despite my hot tea and hourly hydration promise to myself to make up for missed sleep, I resolved not to use the restroom at work until lunchtime. (It was 10 AM. I took lunch at 1) Doing so especially without asking would have severe consequences if the phone rang at all during that time and I was not there to pick it up. Three strikes, and you're out, babe. That must have happened about once or twice. It's for this reason I'm normally reluctant to use the restroom in the first place, but this time was different. This time, there was resolve. This time, there was determination. This time, my bladder said, "Nuh-uh, missy!" and seized up scarcely before an hour had passed. You may have seen some of this in the live-action thread, but strangely enough, while I certainly appreciated it, the encouragement did the opposite for me. Just being on the site was absolute psychological torment, and the encouragement I interpreted as dismissive at the time only made me jam my foot under me tighter. The way I sit at my desk, I usually keep one foot tucked under me out of habit, but this time, I kept it tightly packed against me out of necessity. This does work for a little while, but it doesn't take long for my foot to hurt or fall asleep, and in this state, with hot tea and water already at their penultimate destination... the foot had long since stopped helping. I have heard somewhere that memory and concentration are increased when one is in such a state. But I haven't found that to be the case at all. My brain was in such a fog-filled, addled condition that I thought to myself, "maybe if I just leak a tiny bit into my panties, it'll help me hold on." It was an enormously easy task, barring the mental panic that set in right as the initial droplets were on the verge of egress. BAD. IDEA. The moment I released what I thought was a few drops, I felt a moist patch of warmth spreading between my legs. I slammed the brakes on myself, using a hand this time to staunch the flow despite the camera on the ceiling of which I'm always paranoid. This wasn't the place to inspect any damage, but while I clutched myself I could feel the preemptive heat in my pants that serves as the harbinger for desperate moisture. Too close. My pants were safe, and so was my chair. Now, the chair was off-limits and simply had to stay dry at any cost. You see, this chair is an office chair with fabric on it instead of a flat bottom, so it would have been darn near impossible to clean up. Not to mention somebody else sits here when I'm gone. In order to preserve the fragile state of both my clothing and the chair, I decided to get up, the resulting spasm setting in as I doubled over and battled myself to not clutch myself with my hands in front of the camera. I called for my coworker to watch the phones, but of course, at this time... no one answered. Not another second passed without me wiggling, clamping, gritting my teeth, and jamming my foot in between, doing everything in my power to help except what I desperately needed to do. Meanwhile I heard her cheerily talking to another co-worker in the hallway. This spark of indignation ignited my need anew, and I took the risk and bolted to the bathroom, spitefully striding past her in the process. Not much damage there, nothing of note, and the relief as everything spilled into plumbing and oblivion was heavily tainted by disappointment. How had I not managed to hold for even an hour? This was truly unacceptable. So what was I to do but try again? Part 2: property damage My lunchtime is a time of respite. It is more than food. It is a time to replenish myself and get ready to keep going for four more hours. And I did just that. Within reason, of course. I didn't drink any more than I normally would, and I could freely use the bathroom at this time. I decided to use this time to give my body a bit of rest, but somewhere around the 2 or 3 o'clock mark, I started to feel brave again. At that time, I decided that I wouldn't go again until I got home. Work lets out at 5, and it usually takes me a half an hour to get home unless I have other tasks, like filling up my car. It wasn't a long time, and I had been excusing myself as often as I needed, whenever the need came up, so it should have been a fairly easy task. But fate had other plans. An aside: I kept my boyfriend updated on all of this. Technically he actually doesn't share this particular interest, but he's so incredibly supportive that it almost feels like he does. It was at the tail end of his lunch break and he asked me if I was okay. I told him yes, and although I don't usually like to use this notation, I told him I was at a solid 2. Off he went. NOT TEN MINUTES LATER I was back to withholding a flood, trembling and scarcely able to focus on my tasks at work. I couldn't write without feeling the pressure of several cinderblocks on my lower abdomen, and, although this might not have been true, it felt as though the foot tightly jammed in my crotch was the only barrier between the veritable ocean inside of me and its flooding. I really couldn't understand why. I knew my bladder was tiny, but I didn't expect it to be that tiny. How on Earth could I achieve a bulge when I went from a normal, working girl, to a shattered, desperate mess in the span of a few minutes?! Later I would learn that what I had been doing was actually a tactic known as rapid desperation. Apparently, if you go as often as you need to, and then stop all of a sudden, a merciless wave would strike with less warning than a snake in hiding. But that would be later. Now, I was in quite a predicament, and struggled to do some work. Sweat crawled down my face as I panted with the effort to keep it all in, making a mental change in the rules I had set. Just two more documents to finish, and one flash card for later. Then I could go. The words on my computer screen swam before my eyes and ceased to provide meaning. I briefly wondered how I looked on camera, and I desperately knew I needed to escape sometime soon. Since the only possible out lay in my work, I redoubled my efforts to concentrate. I leaned forward toward the computer, make my hips rise ever-so-slightly off of my tightly wedged foot. Big mistake. My body took my learning forward as a green light to release all it had in full force and in as little time as possible. I'm not going to lie, I actually yelped as I slammed myself back down onto my foot. The pained protests from that poor foot were nothing compared to the sheer panic and question of how much damage I caused raging around in my head. Screw my own stupid rules. Screw the camera. I needed to get out of there right that second! My shaky hand shot out toward the phone, and I dialed my co-worker's extension for help. I opened my mouth to express that I needed to step away from the desk, but the tinkling of a bell, and the door opening stopped me in my tracks. I froze and looked up to see two repairmen, who had been scheduled to fix a leak. I wish I was joking. I really, REALLY wish I was joking. While I talked to get them to the right place, I was extremely aware of everything I did. My pained facial expressions, the sweat gently sliding down my face, my hips wiggling across my foot in lieu of using my hands, my shaking voice, and especially the soaked state of my panties. The presence of people around seemed to make my skin that much more receptive, and every layer, wet and dry, my foot...I could practically feel it in every skin cell in the area as I squirmed and continued to struggle not to lose control in front of perfect strangers-- and in a professional setting, no less! As I spoke to them to get them on their way, all I could think was, "Please.... please no." After contacting the person they needed to speak to, I frantically dialed my co-worker and again struggled to keep my voice steady. It took every ounce of strength I had and more to hobble to the bathroom and meet with absolutely glorious relief. Calling the stream a stream would not do it justice in the slightest. No sooner had my panties dropped than I gracelessly spurted, the waterfall splashing every which way as I grew weak from the deed and the sweat on my face and neck dried cold. When I got back to my desk, the repairmen were long gone. Instead, what I saw was the chair, swiveled toward the door, in full view of anybody who would pass by. There, on the fabric seat, was a darkened splotch about the size of my palm. My stomach dropped. How was I going to explain anything? How was I going to sit there again? Luckily, by this point, my work day was about to end. I quickly closed up shop, got as much of the stain out as I could, and sprayed it with Febreze. It was right then and there in my shame that I decided that that was enough holding for quite some time. That said, it's amazing how quickly some circumstances can change. Part 3: Christmas dinner Here's a tiny bit of context for you. I live somewhere that just barely toes the line between the suburbs and the country, on an extremely small farm. That means there's always work to be done after my work day is over. What I had not known was that we were running low on groceries, and my entire family would go as a team effort, but I would have to stay behind and take care of the animals. It was an extremely rare opportunity that comes twice a a year at best. I could do all my tasks, take a little time for myself and render my dress and leggings unsalvageable, then toss it all in the laundry before they came back. I wasn't a fool. I was going to take it. I wrote a list of all the tasks on a chalkboard, timing myself and my small but rapid water intake, refusing to even look at the small bathroom conveniently located very close to outside. With my muscles in the area badly weakened from earlier that day, I didn't have long to wait until I started to feel a significant amount of pressure. This particular hold had something that the other holds did not--movement. Honestly, it really helped. With how busy I was with cooking, cleaning, and taking care of all of our different animals, sometimes I was actually able to forget how badly I needed to go. Until I bent over to lift the bucket of chicken feed only to have my bladder give me a little surprise party and twist itself, making me shove my knees together in protest. My eyes flickered toward the entrance of of the house, where I knew there was a bathroom extremely close by. But no. I just had to be strong. The property is somewhat close to two other houses, whose occupants would definitely notice something off about just how fidgety I was as I was feeding the chickens. Okay, most of the chickens. Some of our chickens have to be kept separate because they're younger, until night falls and then they go in a special little house where they can be safe. They eat a little earlier too. I had finished with most of what I needed to do. The excitement was mounting with my need, and for the third time that day, I felt my poor panties dampen. Looking back, I honestly couldn't tell you what it was. The voices of my family were still nearby, so I absolutely could not even provide myself a tiny bit of relief. For the third time that day, I had to internally wrestle with my body, denying myself the release it so badly craved. All while keeping my cool and doing my chores. At long last, I heard the car pull away, and the sound alone made my muscles contract, with only my garden glove standing in the way of me making a huge mess on the grass in potential full view of my neighbors. It took several trembling seconds before I regained enough composure to move my hand and continue. My glove came away wet. I was running out of time. Thankfully, only one task stood between me and wetting freedom: Putting the younger chickens in their house for the night. For some reason, all the chickens that are young are skittish, and I tried to calmly talk to them, holding myself with one hand, and each chicken with the other. It would take longer, but I wanted this last splash of the day to be the biggest one yet. I wasn't going to let myself leak a little by holding two chickens at once. It was getting dark out, so I didn't think anybody would see me. My heart and nether regions pounded as I returned to take the last chicken home. This was it. This last chicken, Chickira, I knew to be especially skittish, so I ended up using both hands to catch her. Without a hand to stop myself, each trembling step yielded a few more drops, but I wasn't worried as I was going to soak the darn thing anyway, and it didn't show through my dress. My family was out on errands, and my neighbors wouldn't notice. Everything was going smoothly. Until Chickira decided enough was enough and beat her wings hard enough to rival a hurricane, slipping out of my grip and making a mad dash for the wild. My heart stopped. My bladder started. I really did not want to lose this precious bird! She was always nervous, but she was a pet. I called out as loud as I could, just barely remembering to hold myself in time. Suddenly I didn't think I was in for a night of wet fun anymore. My hope slipped away with that chicken, and with it, a large chunk of my resolve as fear took over. My leggings were instantly soaked, but thankfully not enough to seep into my favorite boots. I continued to hold, barely, still fighting to contain myself even with the host of uncertainties thrown into the plan. But that did not matter in the slightest. "Chickira!" I called out again, following her into a patch of very tall bushes which I knew to be infested with all sorts of bugs and spiders. Remember when I said movement helped with the hold? Let me clarify a little bit. Slow, deliberate movement, meant to keep the area busy-- that's why it's more doable when you're walking. But when you're running, bending, bursting, and desperate to save a life that is absolutely terrified of you-- Every erratic movement is a punch in the gut. Every spurt was unasked for, and unexpected. I kept circling and plowing through the bushes, begging the frightened bird, "please...you have to come home..." Many questions swarmed my mind while I was chasing Chickira and steadily flooding my dress--dark stains were evident on the front and back already--Would a neighbor hear me and come out and help me? What would they think about seeing me in such a terrible state? Would I have to call my parents and get them home faster? How could I avoid them seeing me like this? I need help... How can I get it? I really can't hold it anymore... With that last thought, the two holds earlier that day, the numerous tiny cups of water and tea that I had a drunk while doing my other chores, the fear of people I knew sticking their heads out the window and seeing me so utterly drenched, the fear of losing the bird, and worst of all, the fear of my family coming back early...it was all, suddenly, too much. My trembling muscles finally gave out and I stood there, staring, like a small child, at school, at the streams cascading down my leggings, the wet patches creeping further and further outward, and my clothing becoming dark and shiny with new, rapid moisture, with my hands and skirt receiving no mercy from the torrent as I made one final futile effort to keep everything inside. Forgetting about the chicken for a moment, I was transfixed by the scene unfolding not before me, but on me. Panting with the borderline-orgasmic sensations seeping into my innermost being, I sank to the grass and threw my head back in simultaneous bliss and horror, wanting to cry for losing control in such a shameful manner outside and not in the privacy and safety of the shower like I'd wanted. When my body finished racking itself with pulses of relief, I looked down at the puddle around me that would make a flash flood flash yellow with envy. I did end up calling my parents, and I did end up chasing the chicken around in prickling wet leggings and soggy, squishy boots, and utilized my family's idea of using a pool net to catch her. After crawling and running through the mud and bushes and lunging and doing all sorts of things one normally doesn't do when wet clothes begin to dry and chafe...Chickira was in the net, and safely home. And then the car pulled in. A jackrabbit could not have sprinted into the house, up the stairs, and to the laundry room as fast as I did, where I stripped every bit of wet clothing off, toweled myself dry, threw on an old house dress and went down to greet my family. I told them I needed time to be alone and they understood. I don't think they found out unless they looked in the direction of the coop and saw an unusually dark patch of dirt. Maybe...maybe a very large stray dog wandered through the area. Yes. That would be a good alibi. I spent the rest of the evening holed up in my room, too aroused to face my family again, too ashamed to do anything about it. Now, you may be wondering, the thread title is "Omorashi Doujin Gone Wrong," but this is all standard stuff! Where does it go wrong?" It goes wrong in that the story does have a happy ending with a Boyfriend ex Machina. The fact that I completely and mercilessly soaked myself when I didn't intend to--it didn't faze him in the slightest. All in all, it was a pretty lovely night. And that chicken's name has officially been changed to Christmas Dinner. Afterword: I have one picture from these stories. The one from part 2. I'd have loved to have taken a picture from Part 3 just to show how much and how MUCH I went, but circumstances did not permit this. Bonus: the blue ones were taken today, over the course of writing this. I suppose despite the recency of the occurrence, my body knows just how to react to it. NOTE: My phone is not allowing me to upload them now, but I will keep trying!