This story is fiction.  It involves the use of models to be dressed as mermaids for a movie sequence, where they must wear the mermaid costumes for a long time during which they must consume a lot of fluid, but cannot urinate.  No hard sex, nothing non-consensual.

W/s (Hold-it), exhibitionism, consensual,  MFFFFFF


MERMAID MOVIE

By Francine



CHAPTER 4

To The Location

Thursday was spent insuring the mermaid models are had their final preparation instructions. They were to watch carefully their diets and fluid intake on Thursday, so as to minimize the possibilities of bladder or bowel problems Friday.  They were advised to fast if they could, or eat only low-residue foods Thursday, and keep their liquid intake as low as reasonably possible.  Friday they were to be at the studio at six A.M., ready for work.  All they needed to bring was themselves, as the studio would provide dressers and make-up staff to prepare them.

Tim was at the studio Friday, to check in the models as they arrived.  He met Marc Abramson, the Director, who would be in charge of the shooting.  Marc was a brusque man with a lack of patience and an artistic temperament.  He was dressed casually, wore his black hair at shoulder length, and carried sunglasses in his pocket.  He spoke quickly to Tim.  "The mermaid models are not my prime responsibility; my main interest is in the actors and the action.  The girls just have to sit there.  They have to do a  little drinking, but other than that all I expect is that they sit in position and look pretty.  I hope they're not bashful - I need to have a lot of breast display.  I'll position them so their tops show up properly, but after I position them, it's your responsibility to see that they stay there and don't give us any trouble.  I don't want to hear that they have any problems, so you take care of them. Got it?" He didn't wait for a reply, but went off quickly.

Tim checked his arriving mermaids.   As soon as one was ready to be dressed, she was told to use the bathroom (her last chance for many hours), then  to step behind a curtain which screened the dressing area, where she was to remove and leave all of her clothing.  She was then to present herself, naked, to the two dressers, one male and one female, who put the girls into the mermaid costumes.  

To do this, she was required to lie on a low table, where her legs were loosely bound at the knees and ankles with a strong but soft cord, which was then tied securely.  This allowed her to move her legs a little, but not to separate them more than an inch or two.  A soft cloth was slipped between her inner thighs to prevent chafing.  Next, she was rolled on her side while the back half of the formed tail costume was fitted to her.  Then the front half was installed, and the two parts fastened together securely.  The elastic top was then slipped up over her feet (now tail), and adjusted to her waist. The tail costume was then checked and a type of putty used to close the seams and any fasteners showing. She was then carefully lifted into a sitting, but reclining position on a low chair, where the make-up persons went to work on her hair, face, and body grooming.  

When each model was finished, she was inspected by the Mark, the director, and then allowed to hold  a towel over her breasts while she was   carried by two men into a large van waiting outside.

The process of preparing the girls went on schedule, and about a quarter to seven it was announced that they were ready to go.  The six models, Paula, Renee, Jeanne, Inez, Susan, and Mermaid "Mom" Martha, were laid on seats in the van.  The women were talkative as they prepared to depart, and this was really the first time they had to meet as a group.  The favorite topic was the "hold it" ability they had to demonstrate, and which they knew would be crucially tested today.  But at this point they were all made up, their legs were not yet tired, and their bladders were empty, so they could joke about it.  They did appear a helpless lot, though, because they could not walk or move their lower bodies more than a very slight amount.  The costumes looked fishy and flexible, but were in fact quite stiff, and they had been told to keep their legs as straight as possible to keep the costumes intact.

What became a convoy of  five vehicles left from the studio, carrying the mermaids, the actors, camera staff, and the rest of the crew.  Time rode with the models, with the male make-up specialist, there to do any field repairs required.

It was indeed a long ride.  They were unsure of the route, and ran into traffic and a short detour.  It was becoming a warm day, and the make-up man broke out cold soft drinks and passed them around.  The mermaids, saying things about "living dangerously" or other bits of humor, accepted the drinks but drank them slowly.

It was well past nine when they arrived on the site, which involved a group of large rocks situated on the coastline, with the waves gently washing the lower areas but leaving the higher parts dry. Some time was consumed as the director chose the exact positioning of the mermaids.  Then, one at a time, they were carried out of the van and put in place on the rocks.  They were relieved of their towels, and their placing was carefully reviewed.  Mark critically examined the placing of each mermaid, with special care that each had her breasts prominently exposed and free from any shadows.  

As he worked with Martha, he considered what pose to use.  "What's your name?" he asked of her at first. " "Martha," she answered warmly.   "OK, Martha, you're supposed to be the senior member of the clan.  I need to be sure your hair shows clearly, so the gray comes through.  Also, your top needs some special consideration. The other breasts are all  high and firm, so they're not expected to move much.  Yours need to show their, well, flexibility.  I want you to twist back and forth several times, so I can see how much your jugs flop around.  Try it!"  Martha, a bit embarrassed by the request, nonetheless complied.

Mark gave her several tries, the instructed her, "When the camera's on you, I want to see those things swing and jiggle.  So let 'em hang loose - don't try to keep them still.  Understand?" Martha nodded.

With all of the preparations that seemed necessary, it was eleven before the actual shooting began. In the heat of the midday, the girls were beginning to complain that their legs were hot, and some were a bit concerned about the effects of the sun on their exposed tops.  These were calmed, though, and the work went on.  

Tim asked them, between takes, how they were holding up.  Martha replied clearly, "I'm fine - don't worry about me. My only real concern right now is the sunburn I'm going to get on what Mark calls 'my jugs'.  They're not used to this much exposure!"  

Jeanne was a touch less carefree.  "Well," she said, "it would be nice if I had a bathroom built into this suit.  I could use a good pee.  But I'm OK - I'll last!" 

Inez was "A little chilly! What with no shirt and all this breeze!"

Renee just smiled and said, "No problems.  Carry on!" 

The dressers and make up staff served as caterers for the group, and at times kept the group supplied with cold drinks and a few sandwiches.  Many of the men were heavy drinkers of the sodas, but of  the mermaids, only Renee seemed to want to imbibe deeply.  The others avoided the drinks, or sipped them slowly when offered.

The staff worked diligently, and there were few breaks.  The drinking scene was shot early in the activities, and for it each model was provided a champagne glass, served in the scene by the main actor.  In actuality, a few times he give them the glasses, but for most of the shoots they were provided the glasses by one of the crew.  The glasses were actually filled with ginger ale, which was the simulated champagne.

Mark was insistent that the drinking be real, for many  close-ups were being taken.  He explained that after the initial serving, the mermaids were to look as though they were delighted with the drinks, and were to look like they were enthusiastically downing glass after glass.

The director wanted both long shots and close-ups of the mermaids drinking the "champagne", and of the actor serving it, so many glasses were filled and refilled.  as the day grew on, Tim was a bit concerned about how much the girls were having to drink.  Quietly, he asked the "caterer" how much they had used.  Cliff, the make-up man dispensing the ginger ale, admitted he was worried. "We've already run through eight liters, and no one's getting it but the mermaids," he commented.  "He's doing an awful lot of shoots.  I hope he gets through, soon - I brought a dozen bottles, and we've only got four left.  If he needs more than that, we'll have to try using the stuff from the soft drink cans; I don't know where I could get any more around here!  I'm getting worried - I never know when this guy is going to be satisfied!"

Tim did a bit of mental calculation.  It was now nearly two in the afternoon, and the girls had been in the costumes eight hours.  Eight liter bottles, spread among six mermaids, averaged out to well over a liter for each.  His average mermaid had been drinking the stuff over the last two hours, now adding up to over a liter each, not counting the other drinks they had had earlier, and he knew none of them had urinated since six in the morning.  They must all have very full bladders by now.  Nonetheless, the director showed no signs of nearing completion.  They had actually been shooting only three hours; the schedule called for six.

Tim shared his concerns with Cliff.  "You know, I'm not worried about running out of the stuff, I'm  much more concerned about another problem.  Over a full liter has gone into each of those girls, and not a one of them has had a bathroom break for eight hours. How do you suppose they feel?" 

"Glad I'm not them", was the response.

Mark approached the mermaids, saying, "Look, ladies, you can't get tired now.  Keep those smiles up!  You're supposed to be having a great time!  Let's see some enthusiasm!" Turning to Tim, he commented, "Gosh it's hard to keep them in the mood!  You'd think they would enjoy all this time lying on the shore and just feeling the breeze.  It can't be too cold for them. They must tire easily!"

Tim answered, calmly, "They're probably getting full bladders. They haven't had a bathroom break since six A. M., and they know they won't be getting one".

Mark was impatient.  "Comes with the job. They're supposed to be models.  They should know how to stay put and pose!" With that he wandered off to the camera crew.  

More takes were made.  Mark was difficult to satisfy.  Good thing the weather is holding, Tim thought.  If we had a miserable day, Mark would be impossible to live with.

As three o'clock approached, Tim took a can of drink from Cliff.  As he opened it, Cliff suddenly cried out,  "Gee, look at that!" he pointed to the mermaids, in between shoots, all six of them noisily calling and jeering at one of the camera crew.  Tim rushed over to see what the commotion was about.  It told him a lot about how the mermaids were feeling.

The camera crews had also had a long day, and no bathrooms were around. A lot of soft drinks had been consumed. Usually the men would slip away behind a rock or a truck to relieve themselves, but one cameraman was apparently held to his post by some compelling duty, and had turned aside, in full view of the girls, opened his pants and started peeing.  

The girls had a right to be offended by his exposure, Tim surmised, but as he approached he realized that it was not the exposure they were screaming about.  It was simply his insensitivity in doing in front of them something all of them desperately wanted to do, but could not.

"Do it for me, too!" yelled Susan.

"And me! Twice for me!" screamed Inez..

Renee added her noisy observation, "Men are weaklings!  Women have to hold it!  Men can't!"

"You ought to be one of us" thundered Paula.

"You ought to have to do what we have to" Jeanne yelled.  "Men!  Insensitive pigs!" 

Only Martha, eldest of the group, seemed to be quiet.  

Their rage told Tim what he feared; their endurance was being sorely tested.  With hours to go!

After the cameraman returned to his usual duties and calm was restored. Tim walked over to the mermaids during a break in the shooting.  He told them, "I think the drinking scene is finished - at least I hope.  They're  running out of ginger ale, anyway.  Hey, I know this is rough for you; that's we tested you.  How are you doing?" He checked each of the models, starting with Martha.

Martha was feeling miserable. Inwardly, she was having second thoughts about the wisdom of her trick to get the assignment.  To Tim, she could say only "I'm holding on - just wish I had a few more muscles to hold with.  I wish they could have built relief valves or maybe diapers into these suits!   I hope I don't have to drink another glass - I think I got more than anyone else with all those shoots of him trying to get 'Mama Mermaid' drunk." She looked down at her breasts.  "I didn't really think he'd be impressed by these, but he's made me flop them around a lot.  Right now I wish they were tanks to store ginger ale!"

Jeanne was specific. "I forgot to bring my spare bladder.  The one I'm using filled up a couple of hours ago.  Man, you don't know how stretched it is.  It hurts; and it's going to get worse!" 

Inez just shook her head. She made a face, and pointed to her abdominal area with a finger.

Renee was smiling.  Tim remembered her capabilities.  She quietly told him, "I'm putting a good face on it, but its getting to hurt.  I think I can handle it, but I'm worried about these other girls who aren't as stretchable as I am.  Especially Martha over there. I think she's really in deep pain."

Paula was resolute. "I'm trying.  I don't know if it can hold it till we finish, but I'm trying!"

Tim was hoping they could get through it.  He heard Mark say something about having enough takes of the drinking, and to be sure they had the champagne glasses out of sight.

Cliff came around again with drinks.  He got takers from the camera crew, but only jeers from the mermaids.  

"Do you take returns?" Jeanne called to him, "I've got a gallon or two I'd like to give you back!"  

Even the director was concerned.  To Tim Marc asked, "Are they OK?  We said six hours, you know.  Some of them seem to have doubts.  I assume you told them what they had to do?"

"Oh, they know all right.  But there are human limitations.  They will reach limits. We need to get through as fast as possible.  " 

"I want you to apologize to them on my behalf, for that clod of a cameraman.  He should have known better than to expose himself like that in front of six women!  I told him if ever tries that again, he's through!"

"You know," Tim tried to tell him, "they weren't as upset about him exposing himself as they were about what he was doing.  He was really rubbing it in!  Making a point of relieving himself, when none of them are able to!  Every one of those girls out there probably had a much fuller bladder than he had, and none of them is allowed any relief at all!  That's what got them upset!" 

Mark was a bit exasperated.  "All afternoon you've been telling me about female bladder problems! Tell them to hold it!  That's what they're being paid for!  I don't want to hear any more about it!" With that he charged off again.

Tim could do nothing but shrug.  He was keeping his fingers crossed that the models could finish the shoot.  It was getting harder and harder to keep them smiling for the camera.  Off camera, between takes, they were beginning to show contorted faces and clenched fists, with  obviously fidgeting of arms and even legs, under the tail costumes.  A couple of times Mark had called to them to keep the tails still, because of the twitching motions of their bound legs.

3:45 P. M.   A take was in process, scanning the mermaids.  They were five hours into the six hour shooting schedule.  Suddenly, with cameras running, a cry came from Jeanne.  She was sobbing, screaming "I can't - I just can't!", tears running down her quite unsmiling face.  All eyes fell on her.  The whole front of her tail was quivering, the outer surface moving rapidly.  Then pieces came off. It was starting to deteriorate.  Fragments dropped, then a large piece fell off and a large gush of liquid poured out, washing away more fragments.  Parts of her bound legs came into view, and liquid was soaking her legs and what was left of the costume.  Make-up was being washed off.  

It was obvious that Jeanne had lost control of her bladder, and its contents were now washing away her paper tail and the carefully applied make-up that faired it to her body.  She looked a mess, and  continued her sobs and tears.

Mark was neither sympathetic nor amused.  "Get her out of there!  Clean up that rock!" His exclamations was punctuated by a series of obscenities, after which he yelled to the girls, "The rest of you better be able to keep control of yourselves!  We have to go on now with five of you!  I hope the rest of you can do better!  There had better not be another problem like this!"

He fumed at Tim,  "You were supposed to provide models who could stay in character for six hours!" He walked off, cursing and fuming.

Jeanne was carried away from the rock, her urine dripping from her legs and what was left of her costume.  The men peeled off the remnants of the tail, and cut her legs free, then left her beside the van that had brought them in. At this point Jeanne was naked, standing beside the van, in tears, her eyes hidden by her hands.  She didn't seem as concerned by her nakedness as much as she was embarrassed at her failure and the humiliating spectacle she had provided. 

Tim went to her and tried to comfort her.  She looked up at him, and muttered, "I'm sorry!  I should have been able to do it!  I just couldn't hold it in any longer!  When I started to leak, I couldn't stop it until the tail got soaked and started to fall apart.  By the time I got it stopped, it was too late.  I 'm sorry!"

Tim tried to give her some words of comfort, but she wasn't really listening.  She cut him off, "I still ache down there!  I did get it stopped, but, I  might as well finish, it doesn't matter, now!"  With that, she sank to a squat, and poured out a forceful jet from her bladder onto the ground.  It continued for half a minute or so, then trailed off, leaving a large puddle on the ground in front of her.   She turned, still sobbing softly, and climbed into the van, taking a seat by herself.  There were no clothes for her.  She didn't care any more.   She lay on the seat, naked, alone, in tears.

The remaining five mermaids were clearing showing their agony, except perhaps for Renee, who seemed to be able to cover up her needs best of all.  Mark was disgusted with them, but went on with his remaining takes, using the five that were left.

Tim wondered who would be next to lose control.  What was being required of them was well beyond what he had expected.  The drinking scene had been shot early in the sequence, and had resulted in their consuming a lot more than he had expected; but, worse, they had to consume it earlier which meant holding it longer.  He hoped they were near the end.

Inez was the next to show signs of failure.  At the end of a take, she called out, "that's got to be the last for me - if I have to wait any longer, I'm going to lose it just like Jeanne did!"   Paula was nodding in agreement.  Martha was shaking her head, her face contorted, her breasts quivering.

The time was about 4:20.  They had now gone over ten hours without a bathroom break; less than the twelve Tim had expected, but with a much greater liquid intake than he had anticipated. How much longer could they last?  One had already failed, and it looked like two more were right at the edge.

Tim pleaded with Mark for an end to the shooting.  Mark was not ready.  "I need about another hour to finish it; and I need the mermaids in position. I can do with these five, but...."his voice trailed off in thought.  Suddenly he called his dressers together.  "We got a problem.  The one mermaid - that one," he said, pointing to Inez,  "is about to spring a leak.  I've got to keep them together long enough to finish up, maybe another hour or so.  The others seem to be hanging in there, but this one's a problem.  Can you do some quick surgery on that costume, to empty her, then repair it so it'll hold for an hour?"

The two had a quick discussion, then went over to Inez with a bag of their equipment.

The female dresser was sympathetic to Inez, "Kid, hold in there!  They 're putting you through torture, and we're going to try to help you relieve yourself.  Interested?" 

Inez gave her an enthusiastic affirmation.  The woman positioned Inez on her side, then began feeling gently along the front of her costume.  She took a small knife and a pair of scissors, and began to cut a small circular hole in the front, just below  where she judged Inez's crotch to be.  Meanwhile, her helper called for two men to come over and help.  

The woman felt carefully inside the costume, her hand touching Inez's private areas and palpating her abdomen slightly.  "Bob, you ought to feel this - bet you never ran into this before!", she said to her colleague.  At her request, his hand slipped up through the hole and felt upwards.  Inez winced and squealed "No - not  there - don't push it!!".  He looked at the lady dresser, "She's hard as a rock, and all swollen! No surprise she's making such a fuss!  Here, let me help.."   his hand adjusted the edges of the hole, folding the paper material back a bit.  Together, they looked through it, where her labia were exposed to the strong sunlight, and her pubic hair showed through.  "Let's try it now," he said, "We need to lift her up and hold her face down, so nothing will fall into the tail; it's got to all come out the hole." The three men picked her up, one holding each arm, and one her feet, encased in the tail.  They held her about at the level of their waists, her face down, her uncovered breasts hanging.

Bob bent down and crawled under her, holding a small spatula.  He slipped it into the hole, trying to get in the space between her legs.  It didn't fit.  "Use your hand, stupid, a little pee won't hurt you" , his female colleague anxiously instructed him. He placed his hand with two fingers wedged between her legs, his palm facing the upper part of her body, ready to deflect her discharge from entering the tail.  "Let go!  Now!" they shouted at Inez.  

Inez was a strange sight.  Being held in a prone position, her naked breasts hanging below her,  the men supporting her by her arms and feet, and a male hand slipped into the small hole  cut around her crotch, she held her head up, bending it back.  She looked like some kind of fish being dragged from the sea.  She could feel Bob's hand in its very intimate location, squeezed between her bound legs.  Her muscles were clenched while she was suffering severe bladder cramps. She tried to release them.  It took a bit of time.

Bob felt her urine splatter his hand.  He tried to deflect it down, to clear the tail.  A torrent of fluid poured out of her, falling to the ground below.  Inez felt strange.  Never had she had to urinate in such a strange posture, held by three men, with another man using his hand to deflect her stream, and while the  whole crew watched.  She was looking straight at the cameraman.  Suddenly, she realized, he was filming her!  She was tempted to scream a protest, but the cramps were subsiding and her pain was diminishing.   She just felt too good to complain about anything.  

They held her for several minutes while she urinated.   When she was through, they put her down, and the dressers began to repair the damage to the costume, trying to recover the hole and mask the seams.

"Hey, how about us?" wailed Susan.  Paula looked on with an eager face, almost whispering, "Could you do me, too, please?"    Only Renee seemed indifferent.  Martha looked on, a bit farther away. but said nothing.

Mark made a clear announcement.  "We haven't got time to do you all!  We're just trying to keep this one from being a basket case!  Let's get back to the shooting and we'll get through, soon!"

They went on.  Inez was now relaxed and smiling.  The others were gritting their teeth and trying to hold on.  Time ticked slowly.

Finally came the great moment. At a few minutes after five, it was announced that the camera work was over.  The men were ordered to collect the girls and take them back to the van.

Inez, in no hurry, now, waited, relaxed.

Two men picked up Susan, and another two carried Paula.  Renee awaited her turn.

Martha, the Mermaid Mom, was beyond waiting.  As the first two mermaids were being taken to the van, Martha reached down and began to tear away the fishtail costume.  She made short work out it, and somehow she worked the cord off her ankles.  With her knees still corded together, she then worked herself to her feet, turning her side to the camera location.  She bent over, standing with her ankles a foot apart but her knees still bound, her breasts swinging below her with every move, as she tried to free her knees. Finally she slipped the cord, and stood up, spreading her freed legs wide, and with full face to the camera released a great gush of urine.  It poured out of her like a water hose, spraying and gushing, running down her legs. Prominently displayed was her thick black bush of untrimmed pubic hair.   Ecstatic with release, she stood and raised her arms as if in a victory signal; displaying full frontal nudity to the entire crew, who simply stood and looked.   Seeing Tim, she cried out, "I knew I could do it!  I told you I could! And I did, I DID!" 

The display over, Martha made her way to the van in complete nudity, her legs wet with her urine, proudly twisting her frame and swinging her breasts as she went.  "Last chance to see 'em, guys!" she called out, this 56 year old lady with the graceful body and magnificent gray hair, showing herself off as if she was  a teenager.

Back at the van, the crew cut away the costumes from Paula and Renee, leaving them naked, although they were quickly offered towels to cover themselves. Without waiting for a towel, Paula immediately found a spot near the van, squatted and urinated profusely.

Renee took a seat in the van and covered herself with a towel.  She sat strangely quiet, not smiling, squirming just a bit, as the van started up for its return trip.  About fifteen minutes into the trip, Paula looked at her intently for a moment, then asked her directly, "You still haven't peed, have you?  The only one of us who hasn't!  You trying to prove something?"

"Maybe", Renee answered, softly. Then added, "I just want to see if I can last until we get back  - maybe I can!" 

While the trip continued, the women talked quietly among themselves, mostly exhausted from the long day.  Renee got little attention, but her expression conveyed the pain she was feeling.  Several times someone asked her if she wanted to make a stop, but always she shook her head.   

An hour into the trip, Renee was rubbing her abdomen visibly, her teeth clenched, her body straining with all her might to keep her muscles tight.  Suddenly, she called to to driver,  "Please, make a quick stop.  I've got to get out for a minute!  Please- "

The other girls began to smirk a bit.  Renee was finally having to give up.  The driver stopped, and she moved quickly to the door, leaving behind her towel.  With no attempt at modesty, she stood erect outside the van in he waning sunlight, spread her legs, placed her hands behind her neck, and spewed forth a gushing torrent of urine onto the ground in front of  her.  Everyone was watching.

After what seemed a minute or so, she turned to the van, observing that everyone was watching her, and announced, "So I didn't make it - I came a darn site better than anyone else did!  And I almost made it all the way back!  I may not be the prettiest model in the lot, but no one else could hold it like I did!"    Proudly, she threw her hair back as she finished her stream, then slipped back into the van and collapsed onto her seat.  Two of the men applauded.  The other women just looked at each other.  One shrugged.

They returned to the temporary studio.  It was now getting dark, and the day's work was done.  Six women, all wrapped in towels, walked back into the room where they had been dressed, and retrieved their clothes.  Tim gave them all a warm thank-you for the work that day and the pain he knew they had all endured.   

"All except Renee", Inez was quick to add, "I think she loved it!"

Renee just smiled.

Martha dressed while Tim watched.  "Have your last look - I think I'm getting a bit old for this.  I wouldn't want to go through it again.  I'm past the point of having a body suitable for showing off..", then stopped, hesitated, and thoughtfully added, "but even if it was one last fling, it was fun! Even if I almost failed the bladder test!  You know, when it was over and I could peel off that costume, I was hurting so bad I didn't care who saw me.  If I hadn't been so full and hurting so bad, I couldn't have done it.  I just had to get out of it and let everything go!"

"Martha", Tim replied, "You were great!  If you had been twenty, you couldn't have put on a better show!"  He extended his hand for a final congratulatory handshake.

Lucy, who met them on the return, looked to Tim.  "Did it go OK?" she inquired, adding thoughtfully, "I'm sure glad I wasn't one of the mermaids!"

"Great show, Lucy, great show.  Even the Mermaid Mom - no., especially the Mermaid Mom.  But let's never do this again. OK? "


					END 


