“Aaaand, done! Good work, Melissa. Take five while we set up for the next round of shots.”

With a nod of affirmation, the small girl stepped down from the raised studio platform and retired back to the dressing room while the studio staff started to reorganise the props, cameras and lighting.

In the relative solitude of the dressing room, Melissa skimmed through the various outfits neatly hanging on the rack to find the set to model next. A quick search revealed that she was halfway through the day’s work, sitting at the 14th outfit she’d tried on. The next section in line to be modelled was….

...swimwear.

Sighing heavily at the fact, she retrieved the first of seven one-piece swimsuits from the rack and head towards the private cubicles lining the side of the dressing room. Pulling the curtain across behind her, she hung the swimsuit off the side of the cubicle and started to remove the outfit she tried on last. Once she’d changed, she looked herself over in the mirror to ensure that she was presentable.

Though it fit perfectly, it did accentuate her figure a little too much for her liking, particularly around the chest area. Once more, Melissa wished she weren’t a late bloomer so she could wow everybody with how perfect the rest of her was. She had all the right proportions to look stunning elsewhere, except for the one place that most boys her age laid their eyes on. To make matters worse, her self-appointed rival was already ahead of her in that department and would likely continue to grow, which could further leave her in the dust. With a pout on her face, Melissa brushed her silky smooth black hair aside and held it in place with a seashell shaped hair-clip, completing the overall aesthetic of the outfit. Not a moment later, there was a knock at the dressing room door and Melissa was called up for the next round of photos.

Thus resumed the back and forth between the dressing room and the photo set. At the very least, each time Melissa went back to the dressing room she could take a quick drink before returning to the baking heat of the studio lights. By the time she’d finished trying on the fourth swimsuit, all the water she’d drank up to that point was starting to catch up with her. It had been about three hours since her last stop by the restrooms during lunch and, if everything went according to plan, she’d be finished in just over two hour’s time, so she wasn’t that fussed over it at the moment. From what she remembered of the schedule for the day, there were no more breaks between the present time and the end of the photo shoot, aside from the set changes and outfit swaps, and those couldn’t really be counted as ‘breaks’ in Melissa’s opinion. Outfit swaps were on a tight limit of three minutes at most, and the set changes varied anywhere between a minute to five minutes. Efficiency was everything, and that’s why this studio was contracted to her father’s brand-name.

Pushing aside her thoughts regarding the niggling feeling in her bladder, Melissa changed into the fifth swimsuit, drank a quick mouthful of water, and then returned to the set. The sooner she got through the last nine outfits, the sooner she could finish up for the day and take care of her need. Just two more hours under those sweltering studio lights, two more hours of various poses, and likely a bottle or two of water. Suddenly, things sounded a little daunting, but no way was she going to hold up the photo shoot and announce that she, an Idol, needed a toilet break. Just the thought of it sent a healthy blush across her face. She’d just have to play it safe with the poses and only drink when she absolutely had to and she’ll be fine...she hoped.

By the time Melissa had finished all of the one-piece swimsuits she was definitely feeling the tightness in her abdomen. Having just polished off a bottle of water before the final shot in that set, she was certain she’d drank about a litre between lunch and the present time. A cautious glance at the clock on the dressing room wall revealed she still had at least another hour and a half before the work day ended. Another 90 minutes of heat and poses. Could she really do it? She shook all of the negative thoughts out of her head and slapped her cheeks to knock some sense back into herself. Of course she could do it! This was nothing! All she had left to try on were the bikinis, which were incredibly simple and quick to both put on and take off. With some luck, she’d be able to finish early. Grabbing the first in line of the bikinis, Melissa hurried into the changing cubicle and swapped outfits for the twenty-first time that day, subconsciously keeping her legs squeezed tightly together when not putting the bottoms on.

Despite her psyching herself up, the next hour of photography was painfully difficult. As the charm of a bikini came from being able to see the majority of the body, Melissa had to pull all sorts of poses that accentuated the clothing while remaining tasteful enough to be published in magazines aimed at teens. Without a relatively full bladder the poses would’ve been a breeze for a seasoned veteran like herself. However, that wasn’t the case this day and, though she was unaware, it showed ever so slightly in the rigidity of her poses. Her legs were always just a little too close together, her stretches weren’t as flowing as they should be, and her leans weren’t quite as low as they needed to be. In addition to this, whenever there was downtime between poses, Melissa often shifted from foot to foot or bounced on her heels until she was given her next set of instructions. Her mind tried to rule out the pressing aches in her bladder but her body remained true to its needs.

As time ticked into the last half an hour of shooting, Melissa was far beyond the point of caring about disguising her needs when she wasn’t being observed and, when she was out on the set, she often held in ways which looked semi-natural, if a little unusual. The aches and pains in her lower abdomen were ever present and she was now making a conscious effort of holding on with all the strength she could muster. It came as no real surprise that the drastic change from her usual peppy self to her current quiet and somewhat pained appearance now drew some attention. She still had three outfits left to try on, but from how the photography crew were looking rather concerned at her it was unlikely they’d get through them. The tipping point was when a few pained tears glistened at the corners of her vivid blue eyes when she had to do a rather demanding full-body stretch pose. The lead photographer of the agency signalled to the rest of the crew to stop before they went over to check on Melissa.

“Okay, be honest. You sure you’re doing okay?” The lead photographer, a youngish man in his late twenties, asked Melissa.
“Y-yeah. I-I’m fine.” Melissa tried to fib her way out of it, but was evidently failing. The sudden lapse in her concentration caused a spasm to shoot through her body, resulting in her having to quickly squeeze both her hands against the thin fabric of her bikini bottoms.
“Of course you are.” The lead photographer sighed with a dismissive shake of his head. “Hold on tight.”

Having worked with Melissa since she first debuted as a model for the agency, he was well aware of when she was lying or trying to push herself far beyond her boundaries. Though she would probably hate for him to remember, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to her. In a swift but careful motion, he swept Melissa up into a princess carry, making sure to be as gentlemanly as possible with his hand placements, and carried the protesting girl over towards the hallway leading to the dressing room and toilets. Gently placing her on her feet, he quickly turned the other way and muttered something about making it quick. Not needing to be told twice, and giving up the resistance she had left, Melissa dashed into the toilets as quickly as she could.

Not a moment after she yanked down her bikini bottoms and planted her rear firmly onto the toilet seat did an echoing blast of high-pressured urine spray against the inside of the toilet bowl, clattering against the walls and noisily splashing into the water. The volume of the sound inside the toilet bowl was matched by the very relived sigh that Melissa couldn’t help but release as she emptied her bladder’s contents, basking in the feeling of sheer bliss from finally having her relief. Though she was too wrapped up in euphoria to count, she was certain she’d been peeing for nearly a full minute before her stream steadily died down to trickles until eventually ebbing out into drips. It took her a further twenty seconds before she could catch her breath and fully process just what had transpired. Panting from the exertion, Melissa began to think back on the last few minutes as she wiped herself down and finished off in the toilet. As she was drying her hands, it dawned on her that, once again, she’d been caught out in a compromising situation by the eagle-eyes of her agent. Her face turned as red as a tomato when she remembered that not only did he catch her out, but he also carried her to the toilets; not just a normal carry, but a princess carry! A manner of carrying that she’d only ever seen between lovers in the shows that Cleo tended to watch. Just what did she allow to happen as a result of her own inability to recognise her limits?! How would she face him now? She couldn’t hole herself up in the toilets all day, so she had to brave it. Be strong, Melissa!

With her head hung in a mixture of shame and embarrassment, Melissa left the toilets and returned to the set. Of course, he was there at the set by his camera, as she had expected.

“Feeling better, little Miss?” He asked her in his usual calm, and comforting tone. She couldn’t trust herself to speak so she just nodded her head. Once he’d got his response, he went over to her and gave her a hard flick on the forehead, which prompted her to cry out in surprise before finally breaking out of her embarrassment.
“What was that for?!” Melissa retaliated with a pout.
“For being so hard-headed that you put yourself through a lot of trouble.”
“B-but…!”
“No buts. You should know by now that the physical and mental well-being of the models is far more important than any photo shoot we need to do.”

Melissa could only whimper in response and hang her head once more.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, though I doubt you have. Next time, just let us know rather than struggle on through on your own. We can pause the shoot until you’re ready.”

The lead photographer gently patted Melissa on the head before ruffling her hair.

“Fine…” She responded, leaning into the comforting feel on the head-pat.