Katrina and Kelly (panty pooping, drug use, danger) ADULTS ONLY Copyright:
2005

   It was supposed to happen.  All the experts agreed it would.  It was one of
the Worst Case Scenarios for the Federal Emergency Management Agency. 
Katrina wondered if the political party her father had supported all along
realized that some of their own were trapped in the nightmare of filth and
violence that had engulfed the once proud and venerable city.  Even
European visitors admired the sense of history.  There was something
romantic about the fine line between decadence and doom; of delicious and
decay.  The Big Easy was like that fruit that was nearly over-ripe, almost
sickening in its sweetness, bursting its juice in one's mouth.  In any
other city in America such euphemisms would have seemed silly.

   But New Orleans was a city of barely concealed filth and degradation. 
The truth of the matter was that it resembled a European city of the 19th,
rather than the 21st centuries.  No city in Europe, at least Western
Europe, was ever that dirty.  It was more than just the dirt though; it was
the legendary heat and humidity that could bring even a seasoned Caribbean
native to their knees.  It was the stink.  It was the poverty that was
barely swept to the sides for the sake of the tourist dollars.  The social
fabric of New Orleans was as much a flash point as the physical location,
or the government response (or lack thereof) in the catastrophe that
followed.

   Katrina and Kelly had enjoyed their time in the city.  Like many
fathers, Gerald Macmillan had far too much confidence in his daughters, and
lavished money and praise on them.  Katrina had had a highly successful
first year at Tulane University and her little sister Kelly had already
moved into her French Quarter apartment in anticipation of fall enrollment.
There was only one problem.  Drugs.

   It had started with raves.  Cocktails of ecstasy, marijuana, occasional
cocaine and heroin use, had sapped at the girl's spending money-including
the special fund their father had insisted they save for an emergency. 
They comforted themselves in the knowledge that, thus far, their smack use
was occasional and inhaled.  After all, you could only get addicted if you
started shooting up they told themselves.

   "Kat don't even worry about it...I have been through two hurricanes. 
You nail plywood over the windows-that's it!" their friend and hookup
Patrick had opined.

   The girls had resolved to make a party out of it.  They had stocked up
on ice and alcoholic beverages, bottled water, and hash.  Surprisingly,
they even thought to buy a little food.

   Katrina was an athletic, 5'8 inches tall and 135 very well distributed
pounds.  Her breasts strained against the light blue tank top and her
glorious bottom did the same with her spandex shorts.  Even the humidity
did not defeat the mane of blonde hair that was something of a trademark
for her.  Not surprisingly she had refused repeated offers to appear in
Girls Gone Wild-although in their present financial situation she would
have considered it.  If only the cash points worked.

   Kelly on the other hand had just bloomed into woman hood with breasts
that wiggled only a little in her braless tube top, and a smaller but
incredibly round little bottom that filled her hot pants.  Her hair was
dark brown, although the summer sun had left it with some lighter streaks.

   ***

   The pre-hurricane party had seen both girls snorting some heroin and
having fun with a couple of good looking boys, who were overjoyed to find
out that the two were sisters, and equally disappointed when they found out
that the girls had no intention of putting on some sort of incestuous
lesbian show for them.

   Now the party goers had fled the city, or were stranded in their own
buildings.  Their heroin use, had, predictably constipated both girls, and
their limited food intake had further slowed their coming bowel movements.

   After more than forty-eight hours though, with the narcotic well-out of
their systems, Kelly was especially desperate.  She had eaten as much as
her older sister, but she was smaller in all respects-including the
volume-capacity of her colon and rectum.  Now she could see her belly
actually distend a little as her compacted waste began to back up into her
large intestine; much the way the rest of the city's sewer system had she
thought grimly.

   "We can't go in the apartment, think of the smell!" Katrina fretted. 
She still thought of her little sis as a very welcome guest never mind that
neither of their names appeared on the deed to the property.  "Look, we can
make our way to one of the shelters, there's bound to be porta-potties
there." She reasoned.

   "Eww!" Kelly's little nose wrinkled in displeasure at the thought.  But
a violent cramp persuaded her that finding a portable toilet was better
than pooping her panties.  That thought prodded her to start thinking with
some sense of reason.  What if I don't make it?  she thought What if I
really do have an accident in my panties?

   This prompted Kelly to suggest they find the most appropriate garments
to wear out.  Katrina chose a pair of expensive satin panties with a full
seat, and Kelly chose the same, the only difference being that Katrina's
were white and Kelly's were a soft baby-pink.  Over her panties Katrina
chose a pair of black spandex boy-shorts and the already dirty blue tank
top, while Kelly opted for a slightly longer pair of bicycle style shorts.

   "This city already stinks." Katrina stood up, lighting a joint.  "Want
some little sis?"

   Kelly giggled.  "You know pot makes us horny-as-hell sis, do you think
that's such a good idea?" Again, surprising reason from the child.

   "I don't give a shit if I have to jill-off in the porta-potty right now,
I just want something to take the edge off and that won't give me a
hangover.  And apart from a bottle of warming vodka, this is all we've got
left." Kat took a long puff which caused her to cough horrendously and then
passed the spliff to Kelly.

   With just enough clear head to walk straight, the girls moved out.  If
they had been less sheltered, if they had not had their minds clouded by
chemicals, if only, if only.  Hand in hand, they stepped out of the
building.  On the front door stoop their feet were still dry.  But all
around them there was water.  Less than knee deep even on Kelly, but the
Quarter was one of the higher areas of the city.  They still had no idea
that far from being a simple hurricane, this was what experts had
feared-the levies had failed.  Neither of the young girls had the slightest
clue how bad it really was.  They didn't know that if there were knee or
ankle deep water in the Quarter that there would be whole neighborhoods
elsewhere that would be submerged.  They had exhausted the batteries in
their boom box playing CDs rather than listening to the news.  The gunfire?
One always heard strange things in NOLA.

   Still, the girls' survival instinct had at least gone far enough to
wearing sturdy hiking boots, which while getting soaked, would at least
protect their delicate feet from the host of submerged hazards that could
cut their feet to ribbons.  Both girls had been avid water-skiers and their
father had strictly instructed them that if they received even the
slightest cut in the water that it needed immediate disinfection.  Still,
they had never water-skied an open sewer, which was precisely what Jackson
Square and just about every other part of the city had become.

   It was slow moving though the fetid waters, and had they not been high
they would have surely puked at the sight of occasional things they saw
floating in the water.  After nearly an hour, both girls' clothing was
utterly saturated with sweat.  In Katrina's case the effect was especially
spectacular, her breasts pushing her nipples deliciously into the wet
fabric.  Kelly couldn't help but stare at their beauty.  Kat smiled and put
her arm around her little sister protectively.  Grinning, she opened up a
plastic cylinder she wore on a thong around her neck.  This clever device,
water-proofed with a simple rubber gasket, contained cigarettes or in this
case pre-rolled spliffs, and a lighter.  As they rested the girls giggled
once more, but as Kelly stood to step off into the water again a water
moccasin suddenly moved right past her feet.  She screamed and hopped back
onto the small landing out of the water.  It was several seconds before she
realized that the massive slug of shit that had been backing up her guts
was now opening her anus.  She sobbed, defeated, and sank to her knees into
her sister's waiting arms.

   "Oh...god...Katty...I'm...I'm...Ppp...pooping!  Pooping my panties!"

   "There there, baby sis.  We know this might happen and you just had a
big fright."

   "I'm sss...sorry!" Kelly continued to sob and tears rolled down her
adorable cheeks as she gave in completely to the huge turd that was slowly
filling her panties and shorts.  As horrifying as it was however, the slow
release of pressure, combined with the rectal massage of her poo actually
felt amazing, even if she couldn't yet admit it to herself.

   "Sweetheart, I can barely hold on myself...in fact...."

   "Yeah Kat?"

   Katrina closed her eyes and tried to relax.  "I think I'll just go in my
panties too." With that the older girl relaxed the muscular rosebud of her
anus and actually began to push.  Kelly watched in fascination as her
sister's belly actually began to flatten with the release of her shit. 
Both girls had been well and truly backed up from the rings of their
sphincters, all the way back into their large intestines.  Katrina had not
told Kelley that last night after she had gone to sleep, she had imagined
being sodomized by a thick black cock, and she rubbed her clit to orgasm-a
fantasy made more realistic with the thick stinking shit that filled her
bowels.

   Now the girls were so high that not only were they less frightened than
they should be of the natural disaster, but even pooping in their expensive
satin panties hardly bothered them.  All the pot in the world however would
not take away from the fact that they would have to push and strain if they
were to unload completely into the stretchy material that covered the
girls' succulent young bottoms.  Even for the more bashful Kelly, the
relief of pressure felt so incredible that all pretenses were lost and she
pushed until her face turned red with the effort required to empty her guts
of her feces.  After two minutes that seemed like two hours, both girls'
panties were fairly bulging with poo, and although the stretchy shorts they
wore contained their loads snuggly and securely between the ass cheeks,
there was no way anyone could miss them from behind.

   "Oh thank God Kelly..." Katrina breathed "It was hurting I was so
full...how are you doing baby sis?" she turned, wiping a trickle of sweat
before it got into her eyes.

   Kelly couldn't believe how she felt, the pushing and the wave of...was
it pleasure?  Surly not...but the tingle in her clit, and her small hands
bunched up against her shorts at the front, the way her ass was sticking
out...something was making her young clit tingle like never before. 
"K...K...Kat?" she panted, "That felt unbelievable."

   "God I know.  Their beautiful, if dirt smudged faces, were nearly
touching and they gazed into each others eyes for strength and support with
utter love for the other.  Katrina's head swam, she knew it was the pot,
but her loins were on fire.  She leaned in and pressed her lips against
Kelly's hot, open mouth.  Her little sister was even higher than she was
and did not resist the incestuous kiss, instead, standing with Katrina so
they could wrap their arms around each other.  The girls then stared at
each other with those glazed and reddened eyes of the utterly monged.  A
smile began to crack on each girl and just like that they were laughing
hysterically.  There in the doorway, in the abandoned streets of the French
Quarter, the two sisters then kissed again with more passion, days of
slight dehydration, drugs, and situational shock rendering their morality
neutralized.  Their hands simultaneously dropped to each others' bulging
panties, gently running their fingers and applying just enough pressure to
cause a sticky warm sensation that set both girls on fire.  Their tender
young cunts moistened exponentially as their finger tips increased the
pressure on their pantied asses they had soiled to capacity.  Katrina
moaned through her nose, desperately trying to keep the lip lock between
her and her sister's salty wet mouth.  Kelly now joined her in moaning as
their loins imploded and then exploded in a climax that put them to their
knees and nearly saw them fall in the poisonous water.

   The rest of the walk was tiring but the constant stimulation each was
receiving gave them energy.  Said stimulation was coming from the fact that
the enormous quantity of bowel mud in the back of their panties was being
worked through their gussets across their labia, filling out the vulvas and
tickling them with tiny air bubbles, and finally rising to their clits. 
Both Katrina and Kelly were openly worming their shit into their vaginas
and only stopped when they began to encounter other stranded and suffering
people.

   As they approached the Superdome, they began to get an inkling of the
chaos that awaited them; though the pot had relaxed them so that they did
not realize the position they were putting themselves in.