I Like Female Desperation
[b]I have an active interest in omorashi. I’m 18. I’m a cheerleader. If you send me a message, I will answer any questions you have.
If you have not read part one, please visit my profile and read it.[/b]
[b][u]Part Two.[/u][/b]
[i]I stayed on the table for several minutes. I was amazed at my ability to remain in control. I leant over to grab my socks. As I did, the burning sensation came rushing back. I had to sit up and cross my legs tightly. I slowly managed to ease one of the socks back onto my leg and I pulled it up. I then did the same for the second sock. I sat up, my legs still tightly crossed. The door to the room opened. “Am I ready to go now?” I wasn’t. There was one more test that needed carrying out. I was taken to the closest bathroom and told to enter a cubicle. Keeping my dancing gear on, I had to move my legs apart and stand above the toilet without releasing a drop. I had to spend two minutes doing this. Those two minutes were the longest two minutes of my entire life. I was biting my lips and pushing my muscles so hard to refrain from dripping. After the two minutes, I was taken back into the original room. The medical check was finished. “Can I board my plane yet?” It was still two hours before the boarding time.
My bladder was rapidly increasing in size. I knew I would have to empty myself at some point. “When can I use the bathroom?” I would have to wait out the two hours before boarding my plane. However, the employee had word in from the pilot that the on-board facilities were out of order. I was told I would not be able to use a bathroom until I arrived in Spain. Despite this new information, I was still not coming to terms with just how dangerous the situation was that I was in. I still wasn’t overly concerned. I stood there, legs tightly crossed, waiting for further instruction. I received a text message; it read:
[quote]Hi Emily.
I’m sorry to hear about your flight issues. Due to your later flight time, I have arranged transport to bring you to the arena. You’re going to be short on time, so you must leave the airport immediately after departing your plane. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may cause you. When you arrive here at the arena, you’ll be taking part in an extra performance. I hope you’re in your outfit already; there won’t be any time for a break when you get here!
Ben W.[/quote]
I read the message twice. It was now starting to sink in. I wouldn’t be able to relieve myself at all before performing in Spain. I was solidly at stage 8 now on the scale. I was told that a professional doctor would be interviewing me to assess my current situation. The doctor would advise me on how to handle it, and provide a recommendation for how long I should be able to continue holding. He arrived shortly after I was told. I took a seat opposite him at the table. He asked me how long it had been since I last used the bathroom (over 13 hours by this point), whether I had ever held for this length of time before (I hadn’t) and how much longer I thought I could continue holding (I was seriously doubting myself). He measured my bladder and inputted some information into his laptop. He then asked me to drink a bottle of ice-cold water. It took five minutes for me to finish the bottle. I was having to cross my legs and use one of my hands to hold my crotch. He clicked a few options on the screen, and then he told me he had the results. From the information he had gathered, he placed my bladder at 97% it’s maximum capacity. I was told that I would be able to continue holding for 30 minutes before my bladder would give in.
He left the room. I knew I needed to keep going for much longer than 30 minutes. The ice-cold water hadn’t helped. I could feel my bladder bulging under my hand, which was firmly placed on my lower stomach. I had my legs tightly crossed as I stood in the room. I was pacing backwards and forwards, leaning over and pressing my hands into my crotch. My breathing was becoming heavy. I began to think that the doctor was right. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to keep going after the next 20 minutes had passed. On the scale, I would still pick 8. I felt as though my bladder was getting fuller every few seconds. I highly doubted my ability to continue holding. I had 60 minutes before my boarding time. I sat back down on the chair. I looked at the TV screen on the wall, which was detailing the flight times. My flight was delayed by 25 minutes.[/i]
[b]I'll post the next part on Friday. Please message me if you would like a preview.[/b]
If you have not read part one, please visit my profile and read it.[/b]
[b][u]Part Two.[/u][/b]
[i]I stayed on the table for several minutes. I was amazed at my ability to remain in control. I leant over to grab my socks. As I did, the burning sensation came rushing back. I had to sit up and cross my legs tightly. I slowly managed to ease one of the socks back onto my leg and I pulled it up. I then did the same for the second sock. I sat up, my legs still tightly crossed. The door to the room opened. “Am I ready to go now?” I wasn’t. There was one more test that needed carrying out. I was taken to the closest bathroom and told to enter a cubicle. Keeping my dancing gear on, I had to move my legs apart and stand above the toilet without releasing a drop. I had to spend two minutes doing this. Those two minutes were the longest two minutes of my entire life. I was biting my lips and pushing my muscles so hard to refrain from dripping. After the two minutes, I was taken back into the original room. The medical check was finished. “Can I board my plane yet?” It was still two hours before the boarding time.
My bladder was rapidly increasing in size. I knew I would have to empty myself at some point. “When can I use the bathroom?” I would have to wait out the two hours before boarding my plane. However, the employee had word in from the pilot that the on-board facilities were out of order. I was told I would not be able to use a bathroom until I arrived in Spain. Despite this new information, I was still not coming to terms with just how dangerous the situation was that I was in. I still wasn’t overly concerned. I stood there, legs tightly crossed, waiting for further instruction. I received a text message; it read:
[quote]Hi Emily.
I’m sorry to hear about your flight issues. Due to your later flight time, I have arranged transport to bring you to the arena. You’re going to be short on time, so you must leave the airport immediately after departing your plane. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may cause you. When you arrive here at the arena, you’ll be taking part in an extra performance. I hope you’re in your outfit already; there won’t be any time for a break when you get here!
Ben W.[/quote]
I read the message twice. It was now starting to sink in. I wouldn’t be able to relieve myself at all before performing in Spain. I was solidly at stage 8 now on the scale. I was told that a professional doctor would be interviewing me to assess my current situation. The doctor would advise me on how to handle it, and provide a recommendation for how long I should be able to continue holding. He arrived shortly after I was told. I took a seat opposite him at the table. He asked me how long it had been since I last used the bathroom (over 13 hours by this point), whether I had ever held for this length of time before (I hadn’t) and how much longer I thought I could continue holding (I was seriously doubting myself). He measured my bladder and inputted some information into his laptop. He then asked me to drink a bottle of ice-cold water. It took five minutes for me to finish the bottle. I was having to cross my legs and use one of my hands to hold my crotch. He clicked a few options on the screen, and then he told me he had the results. From the information he had gathered, he placed my bladder at 97% it’s maximum capacity. I was told that I would be able to continue holding for 30 minutes before my bladder would give in.
He left the room. I knew I needed to keep going for much longer than 30 minutes. The ice-cold water hadn’t helped. I could feel my bladder bulging under my hand, which was firmly placed on my lower stomach. I had my legs tightly crossed as I stood in the room. I was pacing backwards and forwards, leaning over and pressing my hands into my crotch. My breathing was becoming heavy. I began to think that the doctor was right. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to keep going after the next 20 minutes had passed. On the scale, I would still pick 8. I felt as though my bladder was getting fuller every few seconds. I highly doubted my ability to continue holding. I had 60 minutes before my boarding time. I sat back down on the chair. I looked at the TV screen on the wall, which was detailing the flight times. My flight was delayed by 25 minutes.[/i]
[b]I'll post the next part on Friday. Please message me if you would like a preview.[/b]
