Waterproofing
Something I wrote at the beginning of last week but haven't got around to uploading until now. Turns out I wanted to keep Saffron around for accidents after all. ;)
I was actually debating whether to write this about Saffron or Annabelle (a much older character). I might do a picture for Bella instead.
It was a rainy Saturday in September, and Saffron was finishing up at a cafe in the town centre. She had been to see a friend earlier in the day, and had decided to finish off with a couple of cups of coffee before she walked through the countryside to a nearby town to catch the train home. She had anticipated correctly that the weather would be bad, and had put on some waterproof trousers with straps over her shoulders, an old but large rain coat and a pair of wellington boots in order to keep herself as dry as possible, and as she stepped out into the torrential rain Saffron felt very glad for this protection.
It was about half way through her walk that Saffron was aware of a small twinge from her lower abdomen. The two espressos she had drunk that afternoon popped back into her mind, and Saffron mentally disparaged herself for not having visited the loos before she had left. The need to go was small, though she didn't fancy trying to crouch down in the bushes in this weather if she could help it. Choosing to ignore the feeling for now Saffron quickened her pace, making a mental note to visit the toilets at the station before she caught the train.
Another twenty minutes, however, and into the outskirts of the town Saffron's bladder was insistently making its fullness known to her. She gave her crotch a small squeeze as if to reassure herself, and at each road junction scanned the nearby buildings for signs that she was getting close to the station. At last, Saffron saw what she had been hoping for, but her heart fell: the Saturday was busy and a long queue snaked its way back through the turnstiles in front of the public toilets that were in the entrance to the main building. Grimacing, Saffron joined the back of the line, giving her crotch a discreet squeeze in a vain attempt to help her hold in the pressure.
The wait was agonising. Fifteen bouncy, fidgety minutes later and Saffron was only just through the turnstile, and there were another six or seven people in the queue in front of her. On the inside of her waterproofs Saffron could feel her bladder numbing, and her heart dropped a little more. Things were beginning to get desperate; as much as she felt embarassed to do so, she couldn't help but stuff one hand between her shivering legs and clutch at her groin, willing herself to hold on just a little longer.
Five more minutes and Saffron's will was wearing even thinner. She had arrived at the head of the line but none of the cubicles now in front of her seemed to be vacant, and her bladder was showing signs of tiring. As Saffron stood helplessly she felt it squirm involuntarily, and a dribble of pent-up urine emerged to paint a warm patch onto her underwear. Grimacing again, she clasped her paw tighter around her crotch and prayed for a cubicle to open up before she lost control.
And success! A door half way down the row of toilets opened and a brown husky girl walked out, and Saffron siezed her chance. She dashed into the cubicle, slammed the door and bolted it behind her. In the breif period where her paws were no longer able to support her straining, her feeble bladder had begun to take nature's course; gripping her groin with her left paw once again, Saffron could feel the warmth of an escaped dribble of urine on her now soggy underwear as she used her free paw to wrestle with the zip on her long coat.
But there was a problem: the zip wouldn't budge. Saffron yanked harder with a growing feeling of dread, but the zip had caught on the fabric on the inside of the coat and she only succeeded in wedging the two further into each other. This was a big problem: without being able to take her coat off, Saffron was unable to unhook the shoulder straps of her waterproofs and had no way of exposing herself to the toilet seat that was just a metre in front of her. Panicking now, Saffron abandoned both the zip and her own dribbling and desperately scrabbled at the hem of her coat with both paws in a bid to reach her waterproofs underneath, but it was to no avail. Exhausted from the strain, her bursting bladder could hold on no longer and to her horror, Saffron grappled helplessly as she felt a long-awaited stream of urine squirm out from between her thighs and into her already soaked panties.
Still struggling, Saffron tried in vain to squeeze her muscles and stop the flow, but she knew it was no use. The stream had quickened, and she quivered as a small trickle of her warm pee scribled its way down the inside of her right leg, followed by another down her left. Knowing there was only one thing left she could do, Saffron backed up against the cubicle door, mortified and slightly tearful as she grudgingly gave in and began wetting herself.
While her waterproof trousers had been conclusive in sealing her fate, they now proved fortuitously helpful. As Saffron cowered and let loose the trousers funneled her stream down into her wellington boots, saving her the embarassment of leaving a puddle on the floor of the public toilets. The spring from her groin had grown to gush out in full flow, and she remained stock still listening to its hiss and patter as the warm urine pooled aroud her frozen feet and the presure ebbed away from within her.
It was a while before Saffron's overflowing bladder grew empty, though not before she had wiped away a few tears shed for her own shame and stupidity. The surging flow of pee slowed to a trickle before stopping and Saffron slumped a little, feeling pleasantly weak in the aftermath of her eventual relief. The urine she had sprayed inside her trousers was now sloshing around in her wellies, soaking her socks completely, and her once warm panties were cooler from the residual dampness.
Steeling herself, Saffron flushed her unused toilet, put on her best casual face and opened the cubicle door to trudge over to the sinks. Mercifully her waterproofs were showing no sign of damage whatsoever, but she was beginning to detect the faintest scent of musk rising from under the collar of her jacket. The train journey home was going to be a wet and solitary one, but the one thing Saffron was now desperate for was a shower. "Home," she thought sternly to herself as she bit her lip and attempted to busy herself with the hand dryer. Her wet panties felt uncomfortable against her crotch and bottom, a persistent reminder of the unseen mess she had made. "Get home, get washed and it'll all be fine.
"And buy yourself a better raincoat for next time."