Desperate at the Museum

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Chapter 1 -Becoming a Victorian Mel looked at herself in the mirror, the long black dress, the corset that made her feel so slim. Sometimes she wished she could dress like a Victorian all the time. It made her feel so glamorous, so special, even if it was only for a six hour shift at a time. When she’d got this job at the open air museum it was like a dream come true. So many of her fellow graduates were still filling in mountains of application forms and getting precisely nowhere. Mel had been lucky in comparison and she knew it. She also knew for every job at the museum there were at least fifty unemployed graduates clamouring to replace them, show how much better they could be at pretending to be Victorian, explain things to visitors, pick up rubbish, whatever was asked of them. Mel learnt very quickly not to complain, doing exactly what you were told meant you got to keep your position. She didn’t want to be like Greg, the man had finished one day on the job and grumbled about not getting a break during his eight hour shift. He didn’t reappear for a second day. There were a lot of tales like that but Mel wasn’t sure how much truth there was to them all. She did know the manager could be a nightmare of demands. Forcing shift changes, pay docked for imagined infractions, yelling at you in front of visitors. Still, if she kept at it for another few months and got through her probation there was a chance she’d be up for promotion, earn some real money on the education team and get to sit in heated classrooms teaching kids about the past instead of freezing outside in the rain or pretending the rebuilt terraced slum was her actual home. Mel had only one real concern on her mind as she waited for her probationary period to end. Her normal spot was just too far from the staff toilet for comfort. The museum was a huge place, recreated villages, towns, a pretend coal mine where the visitors could dig for coal, a farm, even a train track that looped round the whole site on the hilltop above, looking down into the valley. In the last year the museum had become more hi-tech, installing hidden webcams into the buildings so people could watch the re-enactors from home, as if they were spying on the past. Mel didn’t mind being filmed, having thousands of people watching her every move kept her on her toes, not breaking character at any time. She just hated the rule that the staff weren’t allowed to use the visitor toilets dotted about the site. This was supposed to ensure visitors didn’t see Victorians tapping on phones or adjusting their costumes, ruining the illusion of time travel that the museum worked so hard to make seem realistic. There were old fashioned toilets in the slum houses if any of the staff really wanted to get into their role. They could use the outhouses in the back yards in true Victorian style. Mel shuddered at the thought of peeing in public view like this but some of the long term staff told her to be bolder. “You’re going to have to do things like that if you want a school room job,” one had told her over a hasty meal in the staff canteen. “If you show you can pee in public you show you have the right ‘can do’ attitude,” a man shouted from the queue. “I just close my eyes and imagine I’m alone at home, you soon get used to it.” Mel still wasn’t brave enough to try this, preferring to hold in her pee until the end of her shift when she could return to the staff building and use the facilities in there. She had heard rumours that the site manager got off on knowing the staff were desperate when he did his daily rounds but she wasn’t sure whether to believe them or not. Mel turned away from the mirror and settled into her rocking chair by the roaring fire, mug of tea steaming on the wooden table beside her. She picked up her sewing from the day before and began stitching as the walkie talkie hidden under her dress crackled into life, making her jump as it always did, breaking into the peace and quiet of the cosy little room. “Doors are now open people, everyone to their places please.” The camera behind Mel whirred into life, bringing her into focus. People at home logged onto the website to watch as Mel and the other Victorians begin their day. Mel sipped her tea slowly whilst she waited for the first visitors to reach her row of houses. She had been told she had to drink tea through the day to bring her character to life, Edna the seamstress as she was known to the visitors. The downside to drinking so much tea was the speed with which her bladder filled up. She was still trying to balance how much she could drink with how long she could last before needing the toilet. She put her mug down as the door to the house opened and the first family of the day walked in, blinking in almanbahis şikayet the gloom. “Hello,” Mel began, turning to the visitors. “Come in and look round. You’re welcome in my house and can visit all the rooms you like. Come ask me any questions when you’re done but please wipe your feet on the way in. This is my home after all and cleanliness is next to godliness as you know.” The father smiled at her and they explored the house as Mel sat rocking gently on her chair. An hour ticked by and a steady stream of visitors passed through the house. By lunchtime the site was getting pretty busy and there was a queue of people waiting to see the seamstress, watch her fill her iron kettle for a third time from the pump outside before hanging it from the hook above the fire. By two in the afternoon Mel was beginning to grow uncomfortable, similar to most shifts here. It was a familiar feeling as the day wore on. She would feel her bladder expanding, filling up like a balloon, pressing against the corset and sending warning signals to her brain. Normally she made it to four and could half march, half run for the staff building at the far side of the site. Today she felt fuller than usual. Maybe she had tightened her corset too much, maybe drunk a little too much tea in her efforts to replace fluids lost from sitting so close to the fireside all day long. With an hour of her shift still to go, Mel was feeling very uncomfortable. She sat on her rocking chair, using the movement of it to cover up her increasing desperation. She felt a growing pressure in her bladder and for the first time the thought of using the outhouse in the back yard became an attractive proposition. Mel began to wonder if she could use the toilet without the visitors seeing what was happening. If she could get under her dress and lower her panties without them seeing, she might be able to go and nobody would see anything. It might even help her prospects here to go the extra mile in being a real Victorian. A couple walked into the house and looked at Mel as she wriggled on her seat, her legs clamped together under her dress in her efforts to control her building desperation. “Busy day?” the man asked, beginning with the question most people seemed to ask her. Mel remained in character as she thought of a reply, wondering how many different ways she could say the same thing. “Not bad sir. Plenty of orders for quilts so I’ve got to keep sewing. And the people round here are always getting holes in their clothes from working so hard to keep food on the table.” They’d already walked away, peering into her little kitchen before clomping their way upstairs to investigate the bedroom. “Where’s your bathroom,” the woman shouted downstairs, not bothering to be polite. Mel remembered the manager’s advice. Always go to the visitors to answer their questions, don’t shout after them. She got to her feet, a sharp pain in her bladder making her wince as gravity made her need to pee stronger than before. She found herself wriggling her legs slightly as she went upstairs, pressing her hand to her crotch until she was in sight of the visitors. She tried to force herself to keep still as she answered their question. “I don’t have a bathroom good sirs.” “Where do you…you know…go?” “I use the outhouse in the yard. I’ll show you if you like.” Mel led the couple outside to the yard, lifting the latch of the outhouse and stepping aside so the visitors could see it. Behind her other visitors milled about, peering in at the chicken coop, the vegetable patch in the next yard. “You use that?” the woman asked her. “Is it working?” “Well,” Mel whispered. “It flushes it all away if that’s what you mean. New fangled sewage system the corporation put in to try and cut down on the amount of dysentery round here. They think it’s in the water you see but I’m not so sure myself.” The woman turned to her partner. “I kind of need to go. Shall I use this one?” Mel looked as the man smiled, his cheeks flushing slightly. She frowned, not sure if she should allow this, but she had been warned to let the visitors do whatever they wanted. “Do you mind if I use your loo?” the woman asked Mel. “Of course. Although the visitor toilets are just across the street.” “I know but there was a huge queue for those.” The woman walked into the toilet and turned to face them both. She pulled the door closed and then opened it again. “It’s pitch black with that shut,” she explained. “I don’t like the dark. Could you two block the door so nobody else sees?” Mel and the man huddled forwards, Mel feeling another wince of pain as her bladder warned her e really needed to go, the toilet in view becoming an increasingly attractive sight, part of her brain telling her to almanbahis canlı casino shove the woman aside and sit on it herself. Mel tried to ignore the pain, shuffling on the spot as the woman lifted her coat and undid the button on her jeans. She pulled them down her legs and Mel could see her panties for a moment before she tugged them down to her knees. She perched herself on the edge of the toilet seat and Mel wondered whether she should look away, finding that her brain seemed to want to torture her, forcing her to watch as the sound of peeing echoed round the toilet. The woman sighed audibly, the relief clear on her face as a strong flow of pee fell down into the toilet. Mel felt awful watching, squirming on the spot as visitors behind her tried to peer over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. When the woman finished peeing she stood up and Mel caught a glimpse of her dark brown pubic hair as she pulled up her panties and jeans in a single movement, pulling the chain of the toilet and making water roar down into the bowl. “Thank you for that,” the woman said and she left the back yard arm in arm with her partner. Mel smiled at them as they went but she was feeling awful now. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and saw she was at the end of her shift. At last she could head to the staff building before she wet herself in her beautiful dress in full view of the visitors. The door to the house opened once more and Sue appeared. “Here to replace me?” Mel asked, already walking towards the door. “Sort of,” Sue replied. “They need you for an hour or two on the front desk first, Gary’s called in sick again.” Chapter 2 – Meeting the Manager Mel moaned but it got her nowhere. She had to do it. The walk over to the entrance building seemed to take forever, especially as visitors kept wanting her to stop and pose for photos for them. After an age she was behind a till, staring at the seemingly endless line of angry people all waiting to get in. She hated being put on entrance duties like this, having to spend her time calming people down as she took their money, putting up with abuse and rudeness in a never ending stream. The man in front of her was as angry as the one before. “Why have I been kept waiting for so long? Why haven’t you got more staff on a busy day like this? And keep still while I’m talking to you. Stop fidgeting like that.” Mel hadn’t realised how noticeable her desperation was becoming. Her bladder felt like it might explode at any moment but she made herself stand rigidly upright, her legs sticking to each other as she tensed up her muscles, anything to stop from peeing. “I’m sorry sir but our afternoons do get busy. Now is that cash or card?” Mel kept glancing at the clock on the wall across the room, watching the minutes ticking by as she grew more and more uncomfortable. She was handing back a credit card when she leaned too far, her stomach pressing against the counter and sending an unstoppable signal to her bladder. She felt a trickle of pee force its way out of her, soaking through her knickers in an instant. She gasped out loud and tensed every muscle in her body, trying her hardest to prevent any more from escaping. As the next person approached her she could feel the wet warmth against her pussy, the horrible feeling of damp panties. She shuddered and tried to beckon over the supervisor. “What is it?” Mrs Clark shouted from across the hall, unable to fight her way through the mass of people. “I need a break, just for a minute.” “Be quick!” Mel stepped away from the till and tried to push her way through the swarming visitors, all of them pointing at her costume, asking her questions, getting in her way. Finally she made it outside. The staff building was a five minute walk away but she knew she didn’t have time. The manager’s bathroom was the only one in reach. She tapped on his door and there was no answer. She pushed open the door and stepped into his private office. Nobody was there. She was passing his desk when she saw a file on his desk with her name on it. Her curiosity got the better of her and she picked it up, squirming on the spot as she opened the file and scanned through the notes. It was a review of her work along with recommendations for her progress. “Enjoy snooping where you don’t belong?” said a voice behind her. Mel turned to see the site manager appearing from his private bathroom, wiping his hands on a purple towel before draping it over a hook by the door. Mel squirmed on the spot as he stared at her, waiting for an answer. She dropped the file on the desk and caught a glimpse of the toilet behind him as the door swung shut. “I’m so sorry sir, please don’t fire me. I…I…I just…” “You just what?” “I just almanbahis casino needed to pee and I did knock but…” “Sit down for a minute Melanie, I want a word with you.” Mel sat herself on the edge of the chair, her bladder screaming for release. She hoped this wouldn’t take long or she might just soak his chair and the expensive looking carpet beneath it. “Although you saw the details before your appraisal I don’t suppose it matters too much. You’ve been noticed here Mel, stand out as an excellent employee on all but one count.” “What’s that sir?” Mel asked, pressing her thighs together and only too away of the dampness of her panties. Another drop of pee forced its way out of her and she winced. She had hardly any time left to get to a toilet. “There’s no delicate way of putting this. I hear you aren’t willing to pee in the outhouse like a true Victorian. Would you like to tell me why that is?” “I can’t go in front of people sir. I just can’t. The thought of them looking me while I pee, I just can’t do it.” “That’s a shame as there are plenty of people clamouring for a job like yours. I’m sure they’d be only too willing to go through with it and more besides.” “I know sir and I’m sorry. Look can I please use your bathroom, I’m dying for a pee.” “Well Melanie, it’s time for you to make a choice…” She interrupted him. “Please sir, I’m going to wet myself.” “One more minute. You seem to forget I run this place, not you. Where was I? Oh yes, time for a choice. You can either get over this ridiculous shyness you have about peeing in front of the public or you can hand in your notice and go and work somewhere else. What’s it to be?” Mel muttered something, her feet tapping the ground as she shuffled in her seat, sitting on her hands and wiggling around before the manager’s glare. “What was that?” “I don’t want to leave here. I love it here.” “Then show me you can pee in front of people.” “I will sir.”But Mel was still unsure whether she’d actually be able to do it. The manager frowned, pressing his fingertips together as if thinking hard. “I tell you what, you can use my bathroom.” “Oh thank you sir.” Mel went to get up but he stopped her. “Hold on. You can use my bathroom but only with the door open. If you can pee with me watching then I’ll know you’re capable of doing it for our visitors. And after all they’re the ones that pay all our wages here.” Mel stood frozen to the spot, not sure she’d heard him right. “Sir?” “You heard. You said you were desperate. What better time to get over this foolish notion that you can’t do it with people watching.” Mel studied him but his expression was inscrutable. She looked at the door to outside and then the one to the bathroom. Finally her body made her mind up for her, screaming for release. She opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. The toilet seemed to look back at her, waiting. Mel fumbled for the bottom of her dress, trying to lift it above her waist. She’d never peed in it before, normally getting changed first. She moved from foot to foot trying to lift it enough but the petticoats defeated her. “I need to take the dress off to do it,” she said to the manager who stood in the doorway looking at her. “Do it however you would as Edna the seamstress,” he replied. Sighing, Mel pulled the dress over her head, leaving her standing in her corset and panties. The corset pushed her breasts upwards, her nipples just visible but she didn’t care, she was too desperate. She went to pull down her panties but it was too late. A trickle of pee fell from her, soaking through her panties and dripping to the floor. She quickly shuffled backwards, standing over the toilet as the flow strengthened. “I thought you couldn’t go in front of people,” the manager said. “I don’t see a problem here at all.” Mel hooked her fingers to her panties, pulling them to one side, knowing it was too late to pull them down. She could feel their warm wetness on her hand as she continued peeing, the spray hitting her legs as she lowered herself onto the toilet, sighing loudly. She giggled as she peed, finding the whole situation suddenly hilarious. The manager watched her, leaning on the door and folding his arms. Mel thought the front of his trousers looked different, a slight bulge appeared to be visible there. Mel was so glad she was finally peeing, she found she didn’t really mind him watching. She felt strangely triumphant, as if she’d overcome a phobia long held. At last the flow of pee stopped and she was able to dab at herself with a tissue. “’Would you mind looking the other way while I dress?” she asked, knowing she couldn’t remain in wet knickers like this. “I want to see the whole process,” he replied. Mel shrugged, not able to do anything else. She stood up and quickly pulled off her panties. She began to wrestle with her dress and managed to get it back over her head, feeling an exciting sense of freedom about wearing no underwear under it, especially as nobody would know. “Now get back to work,” the manager said.

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