Cindy's Wet Parade

Note: This story contains Female Desperation, and Accidental & Deliberate Wetting.
Cindy quietly cursed each cup of coffee she had drunk on that cool, busy morning. It was almost 9 a.m. and the parade was about to begin. Her uncomfortably full bladder worried her. Could she hold on for the hour or more the parade would take before ending at a shopping center 2 miles away?
“Damn, damn, damn,” she said under her breath while pressing her thighs together. “And I don’t even like coffee,” she said ruefully.
The morning had not gone well. She had awakened at 5 a.m. with just four hours sleep after partying with friends the night before. She had a slight hangover and immediately gulped down a cup of coffee to get herself going. She’d had another cup in the car on the drive to the parade assembly area, where she had to get into her costume, get made up and be placed aboard the float.
Cindy had taken a pee shortly after she arrived at the assembly area, but had consumed more cups of coffee – she didn’t keep track of how much – trying to wake up and stay warm in the cool early morning air. The float crew helped her get into in her fairy godmother outfit. It was a frilly floor–length silver gown, with lots of crinoline petticoats that made it flow out all around her some 30 inches from her feet. Her make up was applied; she got her magic wand and tiara, then headed for the float.
Cindy had felt a need to pee again before getting aboard the float, but there was a problem. There were plenty of portable toilets scattered around the assembly area, but for the life of her, Cindy could not figure out how she could get into one of them, wearing that massive gown; and if she could manage to squeeze inside and close the door, then what? How would she get all that cloth, with its hoops and petticoats, out of the way so she could take a pee? There was just no way. She decided she didn’t have to go that bad and would wait.
Next there was the float itself. Cindy, as the fairy godmother, was expected to stand atop a 10–foot high castle made of plywood, chicken wire, crepe paper and flowers. To get up there, one of the rolling metal steps used in warehouse–type stores to get merchandise down from upper shelves was wheeled up next to the float. Cindy went up the steps and clambered atop the castle, where there was about 3 square feet of plywood platform to stand on and a waist high brass railing for her to hold so she wouldn’t fall off the float. Once atop the castle, there was no way down until the end of the parade, when a similar set of steps would be available.
So here she was, trying not to think about her condition while the bands struck up their music and the long line of marchers and vehicles and floats starting to move down the street. Cindy, who hoped to become a professional model, was proud of was her ability to project a positive happy image no matter how she felt. She’d been queen of homecoming and the senior prom, plus Miss Tomato Queen and runner–up in a local beauty contest. She smiled, waved her wand and tried to present an image of a wise, beautiful fairy godmother, despite the pressure mounting in her crotch and the desperation building in her bladder.
The parade moved at snail’s pace, starting and stopping and bumping along. Every change, every bump, every lurch increased Cindy’s desperation. After 30 minutes, the float approached the reviewing stand, where various politicians, dignitaries and VIPs were seated. The TV cameras were also there. It another minute it would be show time. Then, just seconds away from the reviewing stands, Cindy felt a spasm of pain and a warm flow surged into her panties.
“Oh, no, no, not now!” she said to herself.
She squeezed her thighs together forcefully and the warmth ceased to expand. She had it under control. She was waved the magic wand and smiled at the dignitaries and TV cameras. The crowd cheered and she blew them kisses. And at that moment she felt a new surge of wet warmth flood her panties and start down her thighs. She squeezed her thighs again, but to no avail. Hot and wet and pungent, the pee flowed in uncontrollable waves, soaking her panties and panty hose, pouring down her legs and, within seconds, flooding her shoes. As the pee flooded down her legs, emotions overwhelmed Cindy’s senses.
First, there was the panic at losing control, at embarrassing herself in front of thousands. But that was mitigated by her confidence that she was a professional, and that she could and would smile and wave and carry on as if nothing was happening. Plus there was that raw sense of relief as the pain of an overfilled bladder dissipated. The increasingly painful pressure was gone. No matter how awkward and how embarrassing, her body felt relief. And finally, she felt a strange pleasure, an emotion that surprised her. The warm wetness actually felt good as it spread through her crotch, down her legs and around her feet. Best of all, the long gown hid everything. There was a subtle sexuality to it.
“Omigod, I’m peeing my pants in front of thousands, and no one knows,” she thought to herself. It was a sweet secret and she found herself slightly aroused by the emotion.
The float moved on and soon the reviewing stand was well behind them. It was still another 30 minutes until they reached the end of the parade route, but Cindy felt comfortable, even happy.
“This fairy godmother has some magic yet,” she said to herself as she gave the crowd an extra big smile.
Finally the float rolled into the parking lot where parade was breaking up. Marchers and float riders and drivers and children of all ages were flocking to the portable toilets set up around parking lot. Cindy wondered whether others had wet themselves. Her bladder had filled again as the coffee continued to percolate through her system. But she was OK. She could wait. Her revelry was broken by the voice of the parade master.
“Cindy, we’ve got a problem,” he said. “Someone forgot to bring the stairway here. We have no way to get you down. I’ve sent Jim to get a ladder. He’ll be back in 10 minutes or so. Can you wait?”
“I’ll be fine,” Cindy replied, although in truth she was starting to feel uncomfortable. But this time it was different. She had a secret and it gave her great pleasure. After 10 minutes of waiting, when the stairway had not appeared, she relaxed and let the hot pee flood out of her. It warmed her again as it flowed through her panties and down her legs and into her shoes. The sensation once again aroused her, this time not so subtly.
By: R.D. Winston