After holding for hours while I babysat, I was finally able to rush home 😳 When I got there I figured I could hold just a liiiitle bit longer, pretending I was holding in public while looking for a potty. I couldn’t help a couple of leaks 💧, but kept telling myself I could hold on. Eventually a huge wave got the best of me and a big squirt became a little trickle that I just couldn’t cut off 😖💧💧, making me weak until I had an uncontrollable accident in my panties and jeans 😫💦💦💦
Thank you to everyone who voted! 💜 I was absolutely desperate in my skirt and knee highs. I was bouncing and squirming so much, and I started to leak into my pink panties 🙊 I tried to stuff my skirt between my legs to help me hold, but then I leaked and made that wet too 😳😖 My legs started to shake as I couldn’t stop leaking until I finally just started flooding my panties in a full blown accident, making me give in and gush down into my socks 😫 Make sure to turn up the volume!☝️🔊
Kimmy had always been a bedwetter, since as long as she could remember. She’d had no trouble potty training as an infant, but when it came to bedtime she’d always needed a little extra help. Her parents had gone through countless brands of waterproof sheets, plastic pants, and sleep aid underwear inserts, until everyone just decided that it would be better for them all if Kimmy wore pull-ups to bed. This made sleepovers a little awkward, yes, but aside from the occasional uncomfortable parent-to-parent-to-children conversation, Kimmy was a normal girl.
That is, until she turned 16. When her parents divorced, Kimmy reacted the same way most young adolescent girls do when faced with problems they don’t have any explanation for: she dyed her until-then-blonde hair jet black, started wearing copious amounts of eye makeup, and tossed out any item of clothing that could still be seen with the lights out.
Being an “alt girl” that wet the bed into her late teens proved harder than it seemed in theory. The newer crowds that she started to hang out with stayed out later, partied “harder”, and attended more shows. Despite what her mother believed, Kimmy never got into any real trouble. Her new friends were actually very kind and accepting; most of the time it was a group of two or three girls who would hang around a shopping plaza with smoothies, whining out the problems that none of their parents cared to listen to. They were moral support, but moral support that stayed up later. Crashing at a friend’s place wasn’t a problem for most “normal” girls, but the older that Kimmy got, the less “normal” her “very common” problem felt. That’s when she met Norah.
Admittedly, she had been taken off guard. Norah wasn’t a girl that fit into any of the usual cliques that erected themselves in high school. She was pretty, but didn’t brag about it, smart, but she wasn’t going to make an Ivy League, and funny, but not in the dorky way. She always seemed like she was above the whole high school thing. So when Kimmy found herself making out with Norah after a football game in the girls’ showers, her life took a turn. And as their relationship progressed into junior year, and then into senior year, and then into college, secrets naturally revealed themselves. But the fantastic thing about Norah was, she was very accepting. Scarily accepting. Readily, excitedly accepting. And the rest was history.
Kimmy sat in the living room, watching cartoons. She was spread out on the couch in the one-bedroom apartment she and her girlfriend shared, lazily cradling a beer. “Yeah, okay!” she called back, eyes fixed to her show. Norah peaked around the corner from their tiny kitchen, pursing her lips. “Kimmy?”
Kimmy stirred, taking a sip of the beer without ripping her eyes from the screen. “Hmm? Okay, okay, let me just go to the bathr–”
“Kimberly Ford, if you don’t get into the kitchen this instant you’re going to bed early, young lady.” Norah snapped her shoulders up. She clearly meant business. Kimmy groaned.
“Okayyyyyy, I’m comingggggg,” she drawled out, hauling herself up, tying her wavy blonde hair into messy pigtails. Norah smirked, holding her arm out for her princess. “Good girl.”
Kimmy shot her a look. “Oh, piss off.” She rolled her eyes, watching her girlfriend revel. “I’m serious, Nor, Im not in the mood.” Norah laughed in her sweet, bell-like way and rested her weight onto one perfectly curved hip as she pulled a chair out for her guest. “Okay, okay, I’ll quit it.”
After they’d eaten, the girls cleared the table and Norah departed to take a shower whilst Kimmy started on the dishes. She ran the water into their shallow sink basin and let her mind wander. Her eyes ran down to the faucet, pumping warm liquid out, and she felt her thighs twitch as her bladder gently reminded her that it needed emptying. Kimmy sighed, drying off her hands and walking towards their bathroom. Behind the door, Norah was blasting her music and singing fabulously along. Kimmy couldn’t help but smile as she gingerly knocked, casually shifting her weight to baby the ache of her need. There was no response. “Norrrr?? Gotta pee, open up!” She rapped harder against the wooden barrier. Norah didn’t skip a beat. Kimberly sighed in defeat, deciding she’d just have to hold it until Norah was through.
She returned to the kitchen, starting on the odious task of dish washer. The warm water did nothing in the way of helping her ever-urgent bladder relax. She found herself crossing her legs and bouncing a little as she washed dish after dish. Luckily, the girls were pretty good about their you-cook-I-clean system, so there weren’t many dishes to do. Still, each felt like a special sort of agony after the last. Kimmy drained out the sink and listened as the shower continued to beat down its rain. Fidgety, now, she decided to distract herself with more television.
She flipped aimlessly until she came up to an episode of The Price Is Right, and, content with her choice, Kimmy leaned her head on her hand and watched as poor souls tried to guess the price of things they’d most likely never own in order to own those very things. As most people do when watching game shows, she found herself drawn into the viewer trap of “I could do so much better.”
The announcer beamed at her and held out his hand, which seemed close enough to touch. “WELLLLLLLL THEN, Miss Kimberly Ford, STEPPPP RIGHT UP!” Kimmy gasped, amazed and delighted that she had been chosen out of the many audience members. She scaled the stage in a sparkly tight number, her blonde curls bouncing voluptuously over her thin, tanned shoulders. She put in a guess, waited, bit her lip…The crowd went WILD! She’d done it! She’d won! A trip to Japan’s famous hot springs! Norah ran up onto the stage to congratulate her. They embraced, and then kissed passionately while people cheered. And then they were on a plane, and then naked, intertwined together in a beautiful steaming spring. The warmth engulfed them, and Norah was reaching behind her, pulling out a little velvet box. “Kimmy…will you do my the honor of becoming my bride?” Kimmy could hardly contain herself. “Oh, Norah! I…” she suddenly stopped, her body tingling. “I…” the air was cooler, less steamy, and her body shivered. “I…I…” she felt herself tense and she doubled over, grabbing herself between her legs. “I have to…!!!”
Kimmy was jolted awake by the sudden hot, hard squirt of pee that soaked into her panties. She shoved her fingers against her peehole and slammed her thighs together, panic white hot in her blue eyes as the burn of cutting off the stream made her muscles clench hard to keep from resuming what her body desperately needed to do. She scrambled to her feet, doubling over, and hobbled as quickly as she could to the bathroom. The door was cracked; Norah was letting the room air out while she dried off. Kimmy felt urine seep past her hand and trickle into her panties, pooling hotly and dripping in a trail to the floor.
She made it to the door, her heart racing and her legs with thin golden threads running down them. The toilet looked impossibly far away. Norah turned in surprise, immediately realizing what was happening as sobs built in Kimmy’s throat. “M-m-mistress!” She hiccuped, a jet of pee hissing audibly into her damp panties. “Mistress, I have to peepee!!” As the words left her mouth, her legs trembled and her knees buckled, and she started to pee a hard stream into her hands, still desperately grabbing at her crotch. Norah realized it was too late to do anything, going over and patting Kimmy’s back.
“It’s okay, baby, you’re having an accident in your big girl panties. Can you make it stop?” Kimmy shook her head violently. “I c-c-can’t stop! I have to weewee!! It’s coming out…!” Her words were drowned out by the sound of her hard bursts of pee turning into a constant, uncontrollable stream as she wet herself in the bathroom doorway. She pawed helplessly at her soaked panties while her body let go against her will, and her pee shot out of her petite frame in multiple rapid streams. Kimmy watched in horror as her pee splashed hard against the tile, her legs wobbly and slightly spread in ecstasy, sprinkling her toes and pooling into a warm puddle. The stream tampered off after what seemed like an eternity into a few drops, and the last of the pee that had collected around Kimmy’s naughty parts soaked into the saturated material of her pissy panties and dribbled down her legs. She sobbed and stood in the aftermath of her accident while Norah shushed her gently.
“It’s okay. Let get you cleaned up. You want me to put a nice diaper on you?” Kimmy felt her pussy throb a little at the words, despite herself. She sniffled and nodded, tugging at a blonde pigtail beside her pouting lip. “Yes please.”