Emma froze, immobile on the dance floor as her worst fear came true. The silence was total. The audience, just a few seconds before cheering and clapping were as still as statues. None of them could believe what they were seeing. Emma wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole, but more than that, she wished she'd never agreed to appear on the damn show in the first place.
It had all started with Emma's wish to be a journalist. She had dreamt of being a journalist from an early age, sitting behind a cardboard desk even then, reporting the news to lined up toys in her bedroom. She'd studied media and journalism at university, then a Masters, then a lucky break just after completing her course. There had been an opening at a regional station, miles from where she lived but she had to take the shot. She had broken up with her boyfriend of four years, said goodbye to her parents, her friends, even some of her old school enemies and finally set off on the journey two hundred miles north.
Emma looked out at the three judges sitting in a row, staring opened mouthed at her, for once in their careers they were completely speechless. The presenter of the show, a veteran of countless TV shows, was looking to the producer who could only shrug. Nobody seemed to know what to do. Emma didn't see him, or anyone else. She was staring at the wet pool at her feet and feeling her face begin to burn with embarrassment.
Her first day on the news floor had been a lucky one. The presenter of the lunchtime news fell ill halfway through the broadcast with what later turned out to be a heart attack. As she was passing the studio someone with a clipboard grabbed her and she was manhandled into the vacant chair, spending the remaining fifteen minutes of the bulletin reading out the details of hospital closure protests and cuddly puppy stories.
The collapse of Barry Smith on screen, the longest serving newsreader in the county, was an internet hit, but as the views increased, just as many people were impressed by the confidence shown by the young woman taking over mid broadcast. That assured performance soon led to a regular spot and within a year Emma was headline news herself, the quickest career progression anyone had seen, getting a main anchor role, her own chair at the station board meetings, something even Barry had never achieved.
After a year at the helm, Emma was instantly recognisable wherever she went, small towns, cities, walks in the countryside, everyone seemed to know her or thought they did. Nobody suspected her secret, but then she had never had the courage to tell anyone before.
One lunchtime, her routine was interrupted, just days before she got the fateful letter asking if she'd like to appear on the national dancing show, Anything Goes. She was on her way down the corridor on the seventh floor, past the sport department, round the hideous pot plants by the lift and to the toilet to make her last trip before the broadcast began. Unfortunately her slavish devotion to routine had a downside. The toilets were locked, a lopsided sign declaring them "Out of Order."
Emma tried the door nonetheless to no avail. She glanced at her watch but time was against her. The show was due to start in less than a minute. Her makeup was already done, another of her quirks, getting that done before her last toilet visit rather than just before getting into the newsroom. So with heavy heart and a deep breath Emma made her way to her chair to begin broadcasting, with a quite desperate need to pee burning away inside her. The show itself went without a hitch but eagle eyed viewers might have spotted that the presenter seemed to shuffle in her seat more than usual and at one point could be seen glancing under her desk as if checking something.
Emma finished the broadcast with an aching bladder and a sense of exhilaration. It was as if she'd somehow cheated her own body, mastered an art of self control that she hadn't realised existed inside her. She liked the feeling and vowed to repeat it. So began a new routine, she would wait until after broadcasting to visit the bathroom, no matter how desperate she was.
For weeks this went on, her sense of power increasing until like any addict it just wasn't enough to just be desperate. She started drinking a bottle of water before stepping into the studio, making her desperation ever more severe. She would sometimes have to climb to her feet during video sequences, dancing on the spot before sitting down at the last possible moment when the camera returned to her. Some shows, she held her notes with one hand only, the other buried under the desk, clamped between her thighs to press against her urethra, trying to ensure she didn't commit the ultimate sin and wet herself live on air. That was her only fear, that one day she would go too far, wait too long, and everyone would know about her secret, know what she liked to do. That idea terrified her but not enough to make her stop.
When she read the letter from Anything Goes, she was delighted. An invitation on to a national televised dance contest. This was her chance to really hit the big time, a move from regional star to national treasure. Maybe a shot at getting on the national news. After all nobody from a regional show like hers had been invited on to such a prestigious show as Anything Goes before but then she was an internet sensation.
The day of the first show had been like a dream. Not just a chance to meet other stars from round the country, but also the chance to put her holding skills to the test whilst moving, a whole new challenge. It had been easy at first, keeping on the move distracted her, stopped her realising she needed to pee. But when she finished her first dance, she found herself in agony. She hadn't peed before starting the show and now thought that might have been a mistake. She stood with the presenter by her side, being interviewed, managing to keep her legs moving as if still excited from dancing, trying to conceal how desperate she was, how she would have done anything to run to a toilet and peel off her skin-tight underwear, let the balloon of a bladder insider her relax, let go at last.
Instead she had to stand in her thigh high miniskirt, her glittery top, her tiara perched on her head (glued on before the show to ensure it didn't slip.) What was worse, after the interview she couldn't leave, she had to sit with the other dancers whilst the show continued. In the rehearsals, once they'd performed, each couple could leave but someone had obviously had a rethink. So Emma had to spend forty minutes dying to pee, ten minutes longer than any of her news broadcasts. She was sweating under the studio lights, her legs clamped together, jiggling her heels up and down and squirming in her seat, enough to make the rugby player beside her give her a number of strange looks.
"Are you all right?" he whispered.
"I just need the bathroom," she whispered back, trying to smile at his mixed look of sympathy and disgust.
She watched the huge clock on the wall behind the audience. It seemed to pass the time at such slow intervals, every minute scraping past as she was hit with waves of pain, shooting spasms through her bladder. Tensing her thigh muscles helped but she couldn't hold them like that forever. Every time she relaxed her body tried to pee and she had to immediately tense up again. At one point she could almost feel a drop of pee wetting her panties, hoping against hope that she was imagining it. Finally the studio audience applauded for the last time and the lights dimmed. Emma shot up from her seat, almost knocking over the soap star in her rush to the door. She ran down the corridor and into her dressing room, locking the door behind her. She pushed open the door into the connected bathroom, almost tripped over the toilet in her rush to turn and sit down, frantically yanking down her panties and perching on the edge of the cold plastic seat. She was just in time, the instant her bottom touched the seat, her bladder gave way and a torrent of urine echoed against the porcelain bowl, splashing down into the water beneath. Emma sighed happily, almost able to see her tummy deflating. She stared at the floor at her feet, a smile playing across her face as for a moment she tensed up, stopping the flow momentarily, just long enough to feel the warm ache inside her again. Unable to hold it for more than a few seconds, she again relaxed and another gush of pee sprayed out of her into the toilet.
Finally she was finished, after what felt like forever, and she was able to tear off a sheet of toilet paper, dab between her legs and stand up. As she sat down at her dressing table to wait for her call to do the interview for that night’s news, there came a knock at the door. It was one of the producers, a tall man wearing a grey suit, phone in hand.
"Hi Emma," he said as she invited him in. "Mind if I sit down?" He had a tendency to ask questions without waiting for a response. "Now that was great tonight, simply super yeah? But next week if you want to really show the audience what you can do, you need to do something really special. Can you bring something really special? Think of something unique that nobody else has and you'll go far. I've got a good feeling about you Emma, catch you later yeah?"
Emma nodded and he was gone before she even had a chance to speak. She sat looking at herself in the mirror, pulling at a strand of hair and wondering just what she could bring to the next show that nobody would have seen before.*****
Emma spent the next week training hard with her dance partner, but on the night of the show he wrenched an ankle and had to be rushed to hospital with a suspected fracture. Emma had less than two hours to practise with an understudy, one of a range of back up dancers, all eager to appear on screen, get their chance at the big time. As they rehearsed over and over again, Emma had to snatch sips from her bottle of water between moves, the heat in the studio was overpowering. She found herself drinking more and more but was still trying to nail the end moves when the call came to appear on stage. The show was about to begin. Emma was rushed through make up and into a changing room. She was helped into her outfit, a skimpy approximation of a nurse uniform as their performance tonight represented nurse and patient.
Emma was slightly shocked by the costume, a skin tight white crop top, most of her torso exposed. She tugged at her skirt, pink, again skin tight with a few slight frills, making her wonder just how much freedom of movement she would have on the dance floor. Her frantic catching up with a new dancer had left her no time for a dress rehearsal but she would have to make do. Her socks reached her knees and her white shoes completed the ensemble, two red crosses over her chest, covering her nipples which would otherwise have shown through the thin fabric. As she was dressed she realised that as last week she was becoming desperate for the toilet.
There was no time to go now though as the lights went on and she was ushered to the stage with the other performers. This week she was drawn last and had to spend the first half of the show sat watching the other performers as they strutted across the dance floor. The audience seemed happy, cheering and clapping as the cameras moved round and the judges quipped. Emma sat as still as she could, though she became increasingly uncomfortable as the show progressed. She began shuffling on her seat, placing her hands under her bottom to help lift herself on and off the seat every few seconds. Her feet were tapping on the floor and she began to feel the familiar pain in her bladder as it became more and more uncomfortable, demanding she let go, get to a toilet now.
Finally, just as Emma was glancing at the exit door, wondering if she could dash off and come back without being spotted, she was called to dance. With a groan she hauled herself to her feet and gravity immediately made the pain inside her worse. She stepped out to the dance floor as the presenter chatted away to the crowd. Shuffling on the spot, squirming almost, her legs stuck together as the crowd all stared at her captured by her beauty and her costume, so different to the newsreader they all knew.
"Look at this now," the presenter grinned. "Raring to go, can't even keep still. And I thought nurses were meant to help make my blood pressure lower! Anyway let's see how you get on."
Emma took her place by a bed, positioned at the top of the stage. The music began and her partner climbed into the bed, getting under the covers and looking ill. As she bent over him, ostensibly to take his temperature, she found herself moaning in pain once more, gripping her thighs together tightly and wishing this was all over, that she'd never agreed to come on the show in the first place.
Her partner leapt from the bed and began limping round the stage, before slowly picking up the pace, grabbing her and spinning her round and round. The crowd cheered but Emma felt herself wincing as a tiny spurt of pee fell from her involuntarily, soaking her panties. She hoped nobody would notice, tensing even more to prevent further accidents. As the dance continued the two of them moved more and more in sync, at one point Emma stretching one leg up in the air behind her, blushing in case anyone noticed the damp patch there in the moment it was visible. She bit her lip, knowing there were only a few seconds to go. If only she could last. As the music reached a crescendo her dance partner lifted her into the air and ran across the stage with her. As he brought her back down he slipped and Emma fell, losing her concentration and accidentally relaxing her bladder as she stood back up.
"Oh no," she whispered to herself, turning bright red as a trickle filled her panties and overflowed the sides. It soon turned into a torrent, Emma was unable to stop it, she'd lost control. A never ending stream of urine ran down her legs, splashing onto the stage and pooling at her feet as she stood there wetting herself in front of the entire audience and all those watching at home.
The crowd was silent, the judges staring open mouthed. Finally the presenter stepped out on stage, as the last few drops fell from a humiliated Emma. She felt the warmth on her legs, the wetness of her panties, the burning shame on her face and wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
"Well," began the presenter. "At 75, I thought I was supposed to be the one who couldn't control his bladder."
That broke the spell, the audience laughed, so did the judges. Even Emma half smiled. As she slowly made her way to her seat there was a sympathetic round of applause from half the audience, the other half giggling and whispering. Emma sat staring at the floor, wondering if her career was over before it had had a chance to really get going. She didn't hear the judges' comments, lost as she was in her own thoughts.
"The results are in," said the presenter. "And today's winner is Emma and Evan!"
There was a moment of confusion before the crowd began cheering. "The people at home must have liked your stunt!" he added as Emma was brought back out to the stage.
Afterwards she made her way in silence to her dressing room, ignoring the looks people gave her on the way. She closed the door behind her and lifted her skirt. With an effort she pulled off her still wet panties and threw them on the floor. As she tugged at her skirt there was a knock at the door. It was the producer again and this time he didn't wait for an answer, just pushed the door open and stepped in.
At the sight of Emma wrestling with her skirt he froze for a moment before taking a seat on the sofa as if he didn't even notice her half nudity.
"What the fuck?" Emma said, incredulous at his lack of respect, just walking in on her. She pulled the skirt back to her hips and glared at him. "What do you want now? Here to boot me off the show I suppose."
"Not even close." He smiled. "They loved you out there, highest viewing figures ever. Clips of you are whizzing round the internet faster than I can even tot up the profits. You are a star Emma my dear. I told you to do something nobody's done before and it's not often I get surprised. But you, you surprised me. You surprised us all. I just hope you can pull something out of the bag for the final next week because they will be expecting even more from you then."
He got up and left before she had a chance to reply, leaving her wondering if she could turn this around after all. *****
"You've got to be kidding. No way am I agreeing to that."
Emma leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee. "Trust me, we both want to win and this is the way to do it. I know it. You want to be famous don't you?"
Evan looked at her, the smile on her face, the smile he'd grown in love in the week they'd been dancing together. Even after wetting herself he still liked her, if anything it made her appear more vulnerable, cuter. But this idea of hers, could it really work?
"All right, I'll do it. But I just hope you're right."
They spent the week preparing for the big finale. An hour long spectacular with the winner crowned at the end of the show, a huge prize and the shot at their own national show. Emma was up against a soap actor and a former marathon runner. She thought she was in with a good chance and with her final performance she had prepared something very special.
Before the show began Emma drank two large bottles of water in preparation and as the winners of last year's show were paraded before the crowd, Emma could feel herself already starting to need to pee. She just hoped she could hold it in, loving the sense of power over her body once more as she grew increasingly desperate. She kept sipping at the bottle by her chair, adding to sense that she might explode at any moment.
Time ticked by until at last it was time for her first performance of the evening. Each couple would complete two dances and it was Emma's time to shine. She took to the stage in her black ball gown, her tummy noticeably bulging with fullness as she was waltzed around the floor, her bladder full to bursting. She waited until the music had stopped and then squatted for the final move, her legs spread, her dress riding up to her waist. The crowd gasped, wondering what she was about to do, her long legs on show to them all.
Finally Emma just shook her head and got to her feet, somehow managing to hold in the pee that was dying to come out. The crowd clapped half heartedly and she returned to her seat to wait for the real performance to begin.
As she sat there, Emma looked at her partner, he was grinning at her, his dance suit sparkling with glitter just as she was called for her costume change. Making her way backstage Emma was brought into the costume room and her ball gown was taken from her. She stood there in her peach thong holding her bare breasts to keep them covered up as the costume assistant brought her the outfit she had asked for.
Emma thanked the young woman who handed it to her, and looked at the outfit, unaware of the assistant's eyes boring holes in her almost completely naked body. She was entranced with her costume and pulled it on. It was a modern version of a flappers dress, black with dangling sequinned threads. It barely covered her bottom and as the assistant stared Emma pulled down her thong and handed it to her.
"Do you want some other knickers?" the girl asked.
"No thank you," Emma replied, walking back towards the stage, feeling her heart begin to race with excitement. Was she making a mistake? All she knew was she wanted to win and her plan seemed the best way to achieve that. She reached the stage just as she was called to begin her final dance.
Standing perfectly still, she winked at her partner as he waited in his suit at the far side of the stage. The music began and Emma started to move, swaying her body from side to side before suddenly bending forward. The audience gasped as they were treated to a momentary flash of her peachy round bottom. In the control room people were suddenly deep in conversation, not sure if they had seen what they thought they'd seen.
Downstairs the dance continued and Emma was lifted in the air, spreading her legs wide as she was spun on her back. This time the audience was silenced as suddenly they could see flashes of what lay between Emma's legs. Nothing like this had ever happened on television before, not even on a show called Anything Goes. Emma had shaved her pussy especially for the show and as she whirled on her back she began to pant slightly, her breath laboured with excitement at the thought of the countless eyes all staring between her legs as a single drop of pee squeezed its way out of her.
The dance continued and Emma flashed her bottom over and over again, each time drawing appreciative murmurs from the crowd until the music built to a climax. The judges stared as Evan knelt down, ripping open his suit jacket and shirt in one movement.
Emma for her part was now so desperate to pee she felt she felt she might burst at any moment. As Evan lay on his back, his muscular chest exposed, Emma strode over and stood above him, tugging her dress over her head. The producers were going ballistic at the sight of a naked newsreader on stage, her breasts proudly sticking out from her chest, her nipples hardened with excitement. The crowd cheered louder than ever before as in the control room an argument broke out on whether to cut the transmission.
Emma felt nothing but exhilaration now, too late to turn back, it was now or never. With a deep breath she stood over Evan and stared into the middle distance, willing her bladder to relax. At last it obeyed and she felt her urethra widening as a flow of urine passed to her outer lips and dripped onto Evan's chest. She pushed her muscles slightly, squeezing them rhythmically as the flow strengthened to a river of piss, spraying out of her and gushing down onto Evan. It splashed onto his face, surprising him with its warmth. Emma looked straight at the judges as with both her hands she spread her pussy lips aside, giving them an even better view as she continued to piss.
She almost jumped when she felt Evan's hands on her legs, he was raising his face closer to her now, his mouth open as the flow weakened, finally ending with a few drops splashing down to join the pool on the floor as the music came to an end. Evan stood beside her and together they took a bow, Emma staying down long enough for her bottom to be photographed by countless surreptitious camera phones within the audience.
The presenter was gobsmacked as the camera turned to him. "Well...well...I...wasn't that something unique ladies and gentlemen?"
Emma pulled her dress back over her head and returned to her seat, trying to look casual even as her heart raced in her chest. She waited as the judges gave their comments, for the most part acting as if the climax of the dance hadn't happened, just talking about her dancing prowess.
At last the decisions were made and Emma waited for the audience and at home votes to be tallied. She began to wonder if she'd done the right thing, eventually concluding that if nothing else she would certainly be remembered for this.
"We have a winner. Please step forward Emma and Evan!"
The audience went wild as the two dancers accepted their trophies, hugs from the other dancers followed and Emma found herself facing the camera to talk about what she'd done. She suddenly felt unable to speak and had to let Evan do the talking, telling the world how they'd thought an accidental wetting had helped them win last week so a deliberate one might be even more useful in winning the final this week.
Finally the show was over and Emma was in her dressing room alone. She pulled the flapper dress over her head and looked at her naked body in the mirror. She was happy with it and felt strangely excited by the attention she knew she'd receive over this. As she stood there she ran her hands over her chest, feeling her nipples harden as she brushed over them. Her hands moved over the taut muscles of her well toned stomach before sliding over the shaved skin above her pussy. She felt a tingle of something else then, was it desire? She realised there was wetness in her pussy, it had made her lips slick to the touch as her hands moved between her legs.
Behind her there was a knock at the door, Emma ran for her dress but it was opened before she had a chance to reach it. This time it wasn't the producer though, it was Evan, he was topless, his ripped shirt obviously dumped somewhere.
"Hi," Emma said, suddenly embarrassed by her nudity, covering her chest with one hand, the other over her pussy.
"Hi," Evan replied, staring at her body. "I...err..."
Emma suddenly leaned over and kissed him, hardly even thinking about it. She was just so excited about winning, about what she'd done, about the fact that Evan had agreed to it, to let her piss on him. She planned to just give him a peck on the lips but suddenly their tongues were touching and his hands were gliding over her back. Emma had never been this close to him even when dancing and she found herself gripping his muscular bottom through his trousers. Their waists touched and Emma could feel a bulge pressing against her as his cock hardened.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she whispered as at the same time she fumbled for his zipper, undoing his trousers and pushing them to the floor with his boxers. His cock sprang out, sticking up in the air. Emma gasped as she saw the size of it, suddenly certain she had to have him just this once. Evan placed his hands on her breasts, toying with her nipples and bringing one then the other to his mouth, licking and sucking their hardness. His cock was pressed against Emma's stomach, she could feel its hotness as she placed one hand on it, making him moan loudly. She slowly moved her hand up and down his shaft as she sank to her knees. With her eyes widening she looked at the glistening head of his cock. She had never wondered what it was like but now she wanted nothing more than to guide it inside her. She licked the tip, tasting the salty precum before sucking it straight into her mouth, as far as she could take it. Evan moaned above her as she began to slide it in and out of her mouth, the saliva dripping from it as she hungrily tasted him, the heat almost burning her tongue.
Evan stood over her, not wanting to cum too soon. He had to stop her, it felt too good. With a concerted effort he tapped her shoulder, forcing himself against the joy he was feeling.
"Please stop or I'll cum," he gasped.
Emma let his cock plop wetly from her mouth and then stood up. She moved to the dressing table and leaned casually over it, well aware that made her bottom stick pertly up into the air.
"Get inside me!" she heard herself say, not even sure why she was saying it. She looked over her shoulder as he stood behind her, holding his stiff prick before gently guiding it between her legs. She felt the head glide through the wetness at the entrance to her pussy before he slowly moved his hips towards her, letting his cock sink all the way up into her pussy. He held it there for a moment before gradually starting to thrust.
The two of them stayed like that for as long as they could, Evan looking down to see his cock disappearing up his dance partner before sliding back covered in her juices. Emma stared into the mirror, watching his face change as he began to fuck her harder. She slid her hand between her legs and began rubbing her clit, feeling it engorged with blood and so sensitive it made her shudder to touch it. One finger was able to feel the side of his cock as it thrust in and out of her, pushing her against the table. She moved her hand quicker on her clit, aware of a building pressure in her.
"Harder!" she snapped and Evan obeyed. As he slammed in and out of her now he could feel his orgasm approaching. Emma knew she was about to cum just as she felt a need to pee again. She relaxed her bladder and pushed her hips backwards. As Evan's cock pushed as far into her as it could go she felt her climax hit. It made her pussy tense and relax, muscles spasming as her legs went weak. She gasped as suddenly she began peeing at the same time, hot urine falling over Evan's cock, pushing him over the edge. As Emma screamed through her orgasm Evan grunted loudly, his own climax hitting him as a jet of cum spurted out of him, filling Emma's waiting pussy. He thrust again and a second spurt flew out. A third followed before his cock finally began to soften. He could still feel Emma's orgasm continuing as she lay pressed against the table, her breathing laboured as she moaned slightly.
There was a knock at the door and Evan quickly pulled out of Emma, dashing into the bathroom and closing the door just as the producer walked in. He glanced at Emma bent over the table, her pussy starting to dribble a small amount of cum back out as her eyes remained closed.
"Well done," the producer said, ignoring the sight before him. "You did great tonight yeah? Did you enjoy it? Everyone's talking about your performance and the chemistry between you and Evan. Where is he by the way? I must see you both before you go home, get contracts signed for your own show. We were thinking of calling it Anything Goes, subtitle - Emma Goes On Anyone. What do you think? Anyway I'll see you soon."
He left, pulling the door closed behind him. Evan peered out from the bathroom door before stepping back out. Emma slowly stood up, her legs wobbling as she made her way to the sofa, collapsing onto it. Evan sat beside her and wrapped his arms round her. "You okay?" he asked.
"I think so," Emma replied. "Just that was the most powerful orgasm I've ever had. What the hell were you doing that was so good?"
Evan shrugged and gave her a kiss as the audience outside made their way home, all abuzz at the sensation they'd witnessed. Back in the dressing room, the focus of their attention was getting dressed before stepping out into the corridor. She walked hand in hand with Evan to the waiting taxis outside.
"I'll see you later," he said as she climbed into the back. But Emma didn't close the door, instead looking out at him.
"Well," she said, smiling. "Are you getting in or not?"
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