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by Lucy Peters on August 08, 1999 at 14:50
No, you haven't missed a part. It's just that I seem to have finished this part but I'm still working on part 3. So I'll post them out of order. This part takes place on the Staurday of the weekend, in the morning. Hope you enjoy it.
Lucy
Favourite Fantasy 4 - Playtime in the garden
After breakfast we all had our panties checked, and then were let out into the big, sunny courtyard garden with its’ wonderful playground. We were all dressed in nice little-girl short shorts over pretty cotton panties, with T-shirt tops. My panties were plain white cotton little-girl ones with pink trim at the legs and waist, and I had yellow shorts and a pink T-shirt with pictures of flowers on the the front. Susie had blue shorts over big-girl panties and a white T-shirt; she was being ‘older sister’. Claire had pale turquoise shorts over the same sort of panties that I was wearing, and a pale pink top.
Grown-ups forget how much fun playgrounds can be. Quite apart from our role-play as children, we girls all enjoyed climbing the frame, sliding the slide, swinging on the swings and bouncing on the see-saw. And, of course, we were all looking forward to feeling the need to go potty ourselves - or to watching the others going potty in their nice clean pants. With my genuinely weak bladder, I soon found myself needing to go pee-pee. I didn’t try and hold on at all, but just let it dribble into my knickers as I waited my turn on the slide. I loved the feeling of the warm wetness between my legs, and just letting the pee dribble out slowly meant that the feeling persisted much longer than peeing hard. It was several minutes before Susie noticed the wet spot spreading slowly on the front of my yellow shorts.
“Did you wet yourself, Amy?” she asked. I nodded, hung my head a little.
“Did a little pee-pee,” I said.
“It’s not much,” said Claire. “I do big pee-pees.”
And, less than five minutes later, she did, standing on the grass with her legs apart and streams running down her legs as the dark patch of dampness spread rapidly across the crotch and bottom of her shorts.
“Did you wet yourself, Amy?” she asked. I nodded, hung my head a little.
“Did a little pee-pee,” I said.
“It’s not much,” said Claire. “I do big pee-pees.”
And, less than five minutes later, she did, standing on the grass with her legs apart and streams running down her legs as the dark patch of dampness spread rapidly across the crotch and bottom of her shorts.
The sun was warm and the air dry, and in fairly short order both Claire and I found that our wet pants were drying quite noticeably as we rushed about. Neither of us wanted to be changed, and when Angela came out and asked us if we wanted clean pants we both shook our heads. Shortly after that, I found I needed to wee again, so I let a long, comforting spurt out then followed it with more short surts and dribbles, gradually soaking my panties again and enjoying the feeling of droplets of wee running down the insides of my legs as those wonderful wet warm sensations enveloped me.
Susie asked me if I wanted to have a go on the see-saw, so I joined her on the stout pole with its’ two neat little seats. We were soon going up and down nice and gently. Susie looked at my wet shorts and grinned. I noticed that she was sitting off to one side on her seat with her shorts sort of rucked up so that the legband of her white knickers showed, but it was only when I saw the leg elastic of her pants move and a the tip of a chocolate-brown lump slowly poke out that I realised why she was sitting like that. She was BM’ing her knickers while we see-sawed. Now she was going a bit pink in the face as she tried to get the rest of her big job out, but it’s always difficult to poo your pants when you’re sitting down. After a couple of minutes, Susie stopped the see-saw and planted both feet firmly on the ground so that she could raise her bottom a few inches from the seat. Then she took a breath and pushed. I heard the unmistakable sticky rasping sound of her BM sliding out into her knickers. Next moment, Susie sat down suddenly on her end of the see-saw, nearly firing me in the air, and next time I looked at the legs of her shorts there was a smudge of brown showing both sides.
We see-sawed for a few more minutes, and I enjoyed the sight of more and more rich brown poo squeezing out of Susie’s knickers under her thighs. Her BM was chunky and quite firm, but the assault of the see-saw on her bottom was doing a very good job of spreading the mess out inside her pants. Susie was looking very pleased with herself.
“Did a big job in my knickers,” she said, as we finally got off the see-saw. “Have you gone big jobs yet?”
“Did a big job in my knickers,” she said, as we finally got off the see-saw. “Have you gone big jobs yet?”
I shook my head, and wandered off to the sandpit as Susie went over to show Claire what she’d done. I felt my own BM ready to come out, so I squatted in the sand and started to absentmindedly fill a bucket with the golden grains as I let my first jobbie ease out into my panties. It was a long smooth snake of semi-soft warmth that slid out easily until it collided with the inside of my knickers. I had to push a bit harder then, and I felt my shorts bulge out slightly before the poo-poo started to move sideways and spread out inside my still-damp panties. I kept pushing, and more yielding warmth piled up under my bottom with a series of soft, sticky sounds. I wished I could just go on and on pooing like that, but all-too-soon I found that I had finished. Even so, I had quite a lot of poo in my pants - there was a feeling of warm squashiness over most of my bottom, and my knickers were sagging inside my shorts. I decided to sit on the edge of the sandpit, which was made from tree logs, and feel it squidging in my pants. When I sat, the poo spread out quite a bit, and I thought that something must be escaping from my knickers down the backs of my legs. I longed to look in a mirror and see if it showed.
I sat by myself for quite a while, wiggling my bottom in the gooey warmth in my pants and enjoying the sensations only well-filled knickers can bring. Then I got back up and wandered over to where Claire was being pushed gently on one of the swings by Susie. The wet patch on her shorts hardly showed now - unlike me, she obviously hadn’t peed again.
“Hello, Amy,” she said. “Did you wee-wee your pants again? Susie’s made a messy in hers.”
“I know,” I said. “I went big jobs too.” And I turned round for a moment so that they could see the little bump in the back of my shorts, and anything that showed at my legs.
“Did you?” said Claire. “It hardly shows.”
“Well, I have,” I said, and sat down on another swing, relishing the feeling of my mucky panties as my weight came onto the poo-poo again. “What about you, Claire? Don’t you need to go potty?”
“Mmm, mmm,” said Claire. “A bit.”
“Hello, Amy,” she said. “Did you wee-wee your pants again? Susie’s made a messy in hers.”
“I know,” I said. “I went big jobs too.” And I turned round for a moment so that they could see the little bump in the back of my shorts, and anything that showed at my legs.
“Did you?” said Claire. “It hardly shows.”
“Well, I have,” I said, and sat down on another swing, relishing the feeling of my mucky panties as my weight came onto the poo-poo again. “What about you, Claire? Don’t you need to go potty?”
“Mmm, mmm,” said Claire. “A bit.”
We swung too and fro for a while longer, Susie taking it in turns to push us before she went over and sat on the grass to watch. You could hardly see that she had poo’d her pants when she was standing up, but when she sat down and clasped her knees you could see the brown showing at the legs of her pants inside her shorts. I knew if I went and sat like that the poo escaping from my own knickers would show too. Just then, I realised that Claire had stopped swinging. She put her feet on the ground and stood up, still holding the swing-ropes so that the yellow plastic seat rested against the back of her thighs. She tensed suddenly, and gave a little squeak. Next moment, the back of her shorts bulged suddenly outward as a loud, sticky squelching sound left no doubt that she was filling her pants. Claire squeaked again as there were more rich fruity sounds and the bulge grew. She was pink in the face now, and with a grunt and an even louder squelch! pushed a third instalment out into her already-full knickers. Glossy golden-brown paste appeared suddenly at the legs of her shorts as the warm softness overflowed her panties and spread down her thighs.
Gradually, Claire relaxed.
“Went poo in my pants,” she announced, quite unecessarily. A dark brownish-yellow stain was already showing on the bulging seat of her shorts. If it wasn’t that apparent that Susie or I had messed our knickers, there was no mistaking that Claire had. And that was before she sat back down on the swing-seat with another resounding squelch. More golden-brown fudge squeezed out down her legs, smearing the swing-seat and making a small pile on the ground beneath it. Claire was in the most complete, most glorious mess imaginable. And, from the look on her face, she was loving it. Susie and I exchanged glances. Susie said:
“I guess that proves that she who poos last poos longest.”
“I guess so,” I said. “That’s even more than Katie did in the video!”
“Went poo in my pants,” she announced, quite unecessarily. A dark brownish-yellow stain was already showing on the bulging seat of her shorts. If it wasn’t that apparent that Susie or I had messed our knickers, there was no mistaking that Claire had. And that was before she sat back down on the swing-seat with another resounding squelch. More golden-brown fudge squeezed out down her legs, smearing the swing-seat and making a small pile on the ground beneath it. Claire was in the most complete, most glorious mess imaginable. And, from the look on her face, she was loving it. Susie and I exchanged glances. Susie said:
“I guess that proves that she who poos last poos longest.”
“I guess so,” I said. “That’s even more than Katie did in the video!”
Angela came out to find us about ten minutes later, by which time the seat and crotch of Claire’s light-blue shorts were a wet, mottled caramel colour, and the thick smears of poo spread several inches down the back of each thigh. There were skidmarks down the rest of her legs, and little piles of golden-brown in the grass showed where she had been.
“Goodness me, Claire, what a mess,” said Angela, holding Claire by the arm and looking at the stain on her shorts. “I think we had better clean you up now.”
Susie and I followed Claire and Angela into the changing-room, which had a door leading directly to the garden. Claire waddled bowlegged with her pants so full, and much to our delight more mess escaped down her left leg as she walked.
“Goodness me, Claire, what a mess,” said Angela, holding Claire by the arm and looking at the stain on her shorts. “I think we had better clean you up now.”
Susie and I followed Claire and Angela into the changing-room, which had a door leading directly to the garden. Claire waddled bowlegged with her pants so full, and much to our delight more mess escaped down her left leg as she walked.
When Claire was standing safely in the shower-tray and Angela had lowered her messy shorts, we could see that her once-white panties were almost completely stained golden brown; only the upper part of the front and the side panels over her hips revealed that they had started out as clean white cotton. The inside of her shorts was also stained and smeared with thick yellow-brown poo, and when Angela gingerly grasped the waistband and lowered the sagging panties we saw the muddy mess spread thickly all over Claire’s bottom right up to the waist of her pants at the back, piled deep in the seat and smeared generously down her legs.
“That’s the worst messy I ever saw anyone do in their pants,” said Susie.
“It’s one of the biggest messes I’ve ever seen in one pair of panties,” said Angela, busy with wipes and her spray. “And I’ve seen a few, working here!”
“That’s the worst messy I ever saw anyone do in their pants,” said Susie.
“It’s one of the biggest messes I’ve ever seen in one pair of panties,” said Angela, busy with wipes and her spray. “And I’ve seen a few, working here!”
It took quite a while to clean Claire up and dress her in fresh clothes - as a neat little schoolgirl in a gymnslip over a vest and a fresh pair of white schoolgirl knickers, her hair in bunches and her feet in ankle-socks and sensible shoes. It didn’t take anything like as long for Angela to clean up Susie and I, although we had both filled our pants fairly well. Soon, we too were dressed for school, me in a gymnslip like Claire, Susie in a short tartan kilt and a white shirt. Susie and I looked at each other and grinned; we had both experienced the strange but-not-unpleasant sensations in our rears as, bent over Angela’s knee while she sat there, we felt her deftly slid in the neat little pellets, followed them with a good shot of warm water before letting us lie for a moment as it soaked into our ‘ammunition’.
“Time for school now,” said Angela, as I stood up, already feeling the first faint stirrings of a need to poo. “Follow me.”
“Time for school now,” said Angela, as I stood up, already feeling the first faint stirrings of a need to poo. “Follow me.”
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