Paris Desperation by Imouto Kitten

Commissioned by Anonymous

The sun was barely rising over the Paris skyline when Hannah and Susan, 
both girls still wearing silken nightgowns of a cut just modest enough 
to be worn in mixed company barge into the hotel room shared by their 
mothers, trying to wake the older ladies and behaving more like children 
on Christmas morning than young adults who recently got the results of 
their A-levels and would be starting Uni in the fall. As their mothers 
stir from their slumber and rub the sleep from their eyes, they can't 
really blame their daughters for being excited and wanting to get an 
early start. After all, the younger girls have long admired, nearly 
obsessed, over the various magazines highlighting the latest fashions to 
come out of the Parisian Boutiques almost as long as the younger pair 
have been friends, and now they would finally get to visit those 
boutiques in person.

Andrea is the first of the mothers to get out of bed, her golden blonde 
ringlets cascading off her shoulders as she smoothes out her own, rather 
conservative nightgown and turns her Sapphire eyes upon Hannah, her 
daughter being the splitting image of Andrea at that age.

"Well, you two seem quite eager for our tour of the fashion district." 
Comments the elder blonde.

"I would've liked another hour or two of sleep," grumbles Mary, Susan's 
mother as she runs her hands through her chestnut hair to remove the 
worst of her bedhead, her emerald green eyes locking with her daughters 
as she adds, "But clearly, my daughter and niece in all but blood don't 
want to waste any of our brief time south of the channel." Like their 
friends, Mary and Susan are practically mirror images of each other 
despite the roughly quarter century difference in age.

Andrea and Mary had been friends for as long as they could remember and 
were closer than most actual sisters they knew, and had even fallen in 
love, gotten married, gotten pregnant, and gave birth on nearly 
identical timelines, and Hannah and Susan, only a day apart in age had 
followed in their footsteps.

As the suite they were renting for the weekend only had two showers, 
Andrea offered to prepare breakfast and Susan volunteered to help her 
while Mary and Hannah got ready to head out.

The aroma of freshly brewed French Roast coffee is soon filling the 
luxury hotel suite, and as the quartet sit down to a hearty breakfast, 
all partake not only of the coffee, but also of the freshly squeezed 
orange juice Andrea prepared.

As Mary and Hannah take care of cleaning up after breakfast, Andrea and 
Susan take their turn to freshen up for the day ahead.

As the quartet get ready to hit the boutiques, the daughters wearing 
coordinating designer blouses and skirts over summer leggings, and the 
mothers in simple form fitting tops and yoga pants, Mary asks, "Did the 
two of you remember to use the loo?"

"Mo-ooom!" cries Susan at her mothers question, "I'm not a little kid 
anymore."

"That may be true," comments Andrea, but you two will always be our 
babies, and besides, we've got a busy day ahead."

"We're good to go!" Insistes Hannah, her friend nodding in agreement as 
they head towards the exit to their suite, their mothers only a few 
steps behind their daughters.

###

Despite their insistance that they were fine when they left the hotel, 
the quartet are only an hour into their tour of the Parisian Fashion 
Houses when both Hannah an Susan feel the first twinge of what a mistake 
it was to drink so much coffee and juice at breakfast and then skip the 
loo before setting out. Truth be told, both of the recent highschool 
graduates had a history of bladder issues, both having been in pull-ups 
when they started kindergarten, and having been nearly ten before they 
could consistently have sleepovers without one, or more often, both of 
them wetting the bed. It had been years since either had had a full 
blown accident, but they still had below average holding capacity, and 
both of them knew it.

But neither of the younger pair of ladies bring up their growing need, 
not wanting to admit that their mothers were right, and besides, they're 
having too much fun trying on various designer dresses, comparing the 
myriad of fashion accessories on offer, and generally indulging their 
shared passion for fashion the way a kid in a candyshop with an infinite 
allowance would indulge their sweet tooth.

Unbeknownst to the daughters, however, the mothers are facing a similar 
predicament. Though neither Andrea nor Mary have ever admitted such to 
their not-so-little girls, Susan and Hannah undoubtedly inherited their 
small bladders from their mothers, and now both of the elder pair of 
ladies are regretting allowing themselves to get caught up in their 
daughters' excitement to the point they too skipped the loo before 
leaving the hotel, and to insist on a pit stop at this point would both 
make them look like hypocrites for not following their own advice not to 
mention would likely put a damper on their daughters enjoying themselves 
when the whole point of this trip was to reward the younger pair for 
doing well on an important milestone in their education.

So all four of the lovely ladies, mothers and daughters, blondes and 
brunettes try to put their tiny tinkle tanks out of mind as they 
continue their journey from one boutique to the next.

This is easier said than done, however as their kidneys all continue to 
process the liquids they had with breakfast, more pee pouring into their 
puny piddle pots with every store visited and all the bending over, leg 
lifting, strutting and twirling involved with every outfit change as 
they all try on dozens of different ensembles, modeling each for the 
others' opinion of how each one looks on each girl only serving to 
agitate their bursting bladders.

On more than one occasion, Hannah and Susan freeze midstep as a bit of 
pee slips past their dwindling control to dampen their knickers, both 
girls hoping their mothers didn't notice and worrying that the next leak 
will soak through to their leggings, or worse, be the leak that shatters 
the dam, and as humiliating as it would be for either of them to wet at 
their age, the thought of having an accident while trying on a designer 
dress is absolutely mortifying.

The mothers, with a couple decades extra practice under their belts do a 
better job of maintaining their composure whenever a leak gets out, and 
both are glad they decided to wear piddle pads to help absorb their 
minor accidents.

As lunchtime rolls around, the quartet find themselves at the base of 
the Eiffel Tower, and they take the lifts up to the lower observation 
deck. As they step out of the lifts, all four of their tiny tinkle tanks 
throbbing terribly, threatening total containment failure, they all 
decide to make a beeline for the toilets before hitting up the 
restaurants for lunch. Fortunately, the lines are mercifully short, and 
all four girls barge into their respective stalls, Hannah and Susan 
hiking up their skirts and yanking down their leggings and knickers 
while Andrea and Mary yank down their yoga pants and underwear, none of 
them fully seated before their trapped tinkle thrusts through their 
tired tinkle tubes to torrent into the toilet bowls beneath each of 
them, each letting out a sigh of relief as their overburdened bladders 
can finally relax.

As their streams slow to mere trickles, each girl examines the damage 
caused by their various leaks throughout the morning, both Hannah and 
Susan noticing the rather obvious yellow stains in the gussets of their 
knickers, both worried that the smell might become strong enough to be a 
dead giveaway to their piddle problems, and though neither girl has any 
idea what is going on in the other's stall, they come to the same 
solution, digging out a small bottle of perfume from their shopping and 
giving their knickers a small spritz in hopes of masking the scent of 
their pee.

Meanwhile, both Andrea and Mary decide their pads have taken as much of 
a soaking as they can handle without swelling to the point they would be 
obvious under their tight trousers, discarding them in the toilet as 
they retrieve clean pads from their purses.

After wiping and flushing, the quartet wash their hands in mutual 
silence, none willing to admit just how close they came to completely 
wetting themselves.

###

As the quartet enjoy a leisurely lunch at one of the Eiffel Tower's 
restaurants, Andrea peruses the fashion section of a tourist brochure, 
and coming across a schedule of local events, announces, "There are 
quite a few runway shows scheduled for this afternoon." Turning to her 
daughter and honorary niece, she asks, "Would the two of you like to 
attend one?"

"Sounds Awesome!" cry Hannah and Susan in near unison.

Smiling at the younger ladies' enthusiasm, Mary comments, "You know, 
Andrea and I were once offered jobs as runway models."

"Really?" Asks Susan, skeptically. Sure her mother was pretty, but the 
younger brunette can't imagine her mother on the runway.

"Oh yes," replies Andrea, "Though we ultimately turned down the offer."

"Why would you do that?" asks Hannah.

"Because we wanted to start families with your fathers instead of being 
famous." replies Mary.

After finishing their lunch and deciding their plans for the afternoon, 
the quartet leave the Eiffel tower, the morning's minor mishaps 
forgotten.

###

Hannah and Susan are practically bouncing as the quartet take their 
seats for the fashion show they chose to attend, and it is with much 
impatience that the two teenagers wait for the auditorium lights to dim 
and the runway spotlights to ignite.

However, the show has barely started when Hannah and Susan's petite 
piddle pots start to scold them for how quickly they forgot the lesson 
of that very morning. They had gotten a lot of exercise going from 
boutique to boutique that morning and the summer heat was already 
starting to be annoying, so they had drank a lot at lunch, and in their 
excitement to be attending a runway show, they had neglected to visit 
the toilets before finding their seats.

At first, the two soon-to-be uni students simply cross their legs and 
thank their lucky stars they don't have all the movement from that 
morning to agitate their bladders, neither wanting to miss even a minute 
of the show to take care of their problem, but as time goes on, model 
after model taking their turn on the runway to show off the latest 
fashions, the two girls grow more and more desperate.

Hannah subconsciously grips her chair's armrests until her knuckles turn 
white as her first leak of the afternoon dampens her knickers, not 
noticing Susan shoving a hand between her thighs as she experiences the 
same, both girls hoping no one notices their condition in the dark 
auditorium.

Their mothers aren't doing much better, both scolding themselves for 
getting caught up in their daughter's excitement once again, and though 
the older ladies wouldn't be too bothered by missing part of the show, 
the auditorium is nearly packed, and they're near the middle of the row. 
Given how many strangers, some of whom likely don't speak English they'd 
have to disturb to get out, they decide to try and wait until the show 
is over, both hoping their piddle pads are up to the task of catching 
their leaks in the meantime.

When the last model exits the runway and the spotlights cut out as the 
rest of the auditorium returns to normal illumination, the quartet let 
out a sigh of relief before realizing the next hurdle that stands 
between them and relief. Since the show was nearly sold out, there are a 
lot of people trying to file out of the auditorium, and between being 
near the middle of the row, needing to move slower than usual with their 
thighs pressed together, and not wanting their bursting bladders to be 
jostled by others in the crowd, they end up among the last to complete 
the journey out into the lobby.

Just as they think they're home free, they look for the signs 
identifying the restrooms and all four get a feeling that the waste 
waters in their lower abdomens just turned to lead when they see a line 
at least three dozen long waiting to get into the Ladies' room.

All four barely resisting the urge to break into a potty dance then and 
there, they silently agree it would be quicker to return to their hotel 
than try to last long enough to make it through that long a line.

###

The walk back to their hotel doesn't take long, but feels like it took 
forever with their full bladders demanding they be emptied, and as they 
stand outside the door to their luxury suite, Andrea is barely 
maintaining her outward composure as she pulls the key from her purse.

As her mother nearly fumbles the key in the attempt to get it into the 
lock, Hannah, hand bunching her skirt against her crotch as she 
shamelessly dances in place like a girl a third her age, cries out, 
"Hurry Mom, I need the loo!" and Susan, in no better shape can only nod 
her agreement.

After a few more tries, Andrea gets the key into the lock, but she 
freezes in the middle of turning the key as an unusually long spurt 
escapes into her piddle pad. Cursing under her breath, she tries in vain 
to halt the flow, the crotch of her yoga pants bulging noticeably as the 
pad tries to absorb all of Andrea's accident, but even as the pad 
reaches saturation, the blonde's pee continues to flow, darkening first 
the crotch of her yoga pants and then her inner thigh by several shades.

Mary's bladder begs her to follow the example of her sister in all but 
blood, but she instead pushes Andrea aside to finish unlocking and oepn 
the door, dashing inside, quickly followed by Hannah and Susan. 
Unfortunately for the brunette matriarch, she only makes it a few steps 
into the suite's common room before she meets the same fate as Andrea, 
her own yoga pants darkening several shades as her piddle pad overflows.

Too concerned with their own throbbing tinkle tanks to pay attention to 
the fact both their mothers just wet themselves like little girls, 
Hannah and Susan continue their mad dash for the toilet. Unfortunately, 
while the suite has two bathrooms, they both head for the one in the 
bedroom the daughters are sharing for this mini-holiday, and just as 
their salvation is within sight, the pair get into a shoving match over 
who gets to use the toilet.

The fight is over in a matter of seconds, Hannah pushing Susan to the 
floor as she nearly rips her leggings in her haste to get her garments 
down to sit upon the porcelain throne.

As Hannah's tinkle torrents into a toilet bowl for the second time that 
day, the jolt as Susan's butt slams into the tiled floor spells doom for 
the brunette's bloated bladder as a pint of pent-up piddle pours forth 
in a powerful stream gushing through her gusset to stain her once 
pristine white leggings an obvious yellow.

The two friends, sisters in all but blood just like their mothers lock 
eyes before their gazes trail downward, Hannah getting a good look at 
Susan wetting her leggings and Susan catching the slightest glimpse of 
Hannah's stream pouring from her girlhood. Blushing furiously, the two 
girls avert their gazes and an awkward silence falls over the bathroom 
as they finish emptying their bladders, the slight hiss of susan's 
stream and the melodic tinkle of Hannah's fading away as they slow to a 
trickle and then halt.

The silence is broken when Mary steps into the bathroom and says 
teasingly, "Looks like my little girl didn't make it either."

"Mo-ooom!" cries Susan, vainly trying to pull her skirt down over her 
knees to hide that she's sitting in a puddle of her own piddle.

Before Mary can embarrass her daughter further, Andrea joins the group, 
commenting, "And if that yellow stain I spy is any indicator, it was 
only a coin flip that kept my daughter from being the one sitting in a 
puddle of her own making." Though Hannah has more success hiding said 
stain.

"Since at least three of us need a bath and I suspect Hannah is feeling 
a little less than fresh as well," starts Mary, having mercy on the 
younger girls, "How about we take advantage of the fact this suite came 
equipped with a hot tub and then order room service for supper?"

"That sounds like a good idea." Says Hannah, standing up and pulling up 
her knickers and leggings, not bothering to wipe before reaching her 
hand out to help Susan to her feet, "Sorry about shoving you out of the 
way like that."

"It's okay," replies Susan, "besides, I was trying to do the same."

Having made up, the young ladies follow their mothers into the suite's 
other bathroom, where there's a family sized hot tub. The quartet strip 
out of their clothes, forming two piles, one for wet and one for dry, 
and while the girls notice their mothers removing the now pee-soaked 
piddle pads from their knickers, neither comment on it as they climb 
into the hot water, their muscles relaxing and making them realize just 
how tiring their day has been. As the mothers join their daughters in 
the oversized tub, all for ladies let out a sigh of contentment.