... but then her pants split

I had an idea to write some scenes from films where the heroine is at her moment of triumph and then, well...
I'm open to suggestions for further scenes to rewrite.

Ballerina (ages increased)
Felicie and Camille had continued their dance battle into the foyer of the ballet school. Camille had the technique, cold and precise, but Felicie had her sixteen years in the orphanage fuelling her emotions and she channelled all of this into her movements, letting it guide her limbs so she could feel the dance like she never had before.
At last, the two girls came to the landing. On point, they both began to shuffle back to the steps. Camille was nervous, this wasn't something she had ever practised before, but Felicie was in a place beyond nerves, she was running on anger and indignation. They reached the very edge and Camille chickened out and stopped. But Felicie, without hesitation, leapt.
She soared through the air, the steps falling away beneath her. It was like she could fly. She stretched out, feeling free, not caring about anyone who had ever told her she couldn't be a dancer, she was dancing now.
At the bottom of the steps she landed one foot, then the other. Then she became aware of a horrendous ripping noise.
Her old denim shorts, the ones she had since she was a child, finally gave up and let her know that she might be a dancer but they were not a leotard. The back seam parted long, wide and loud. The leggings she had been wearing underneath were even older and their seat had given out long ago, meaning that the crowd of people who had been watching the dance battle now had an uninterrupted view of Felicie's white cotton orphanage-issue underwear, her name stitched under the waistband in pink.
Felicie froze while she assessed the damage, and while her audience processed what they had seen. Then, when the laughter started, she covered her rear with both hands and whipped around to back herself to the wall, her face burning red as bright as her hair.
"That's something the opera house has never seen before!" Camille laughed from the top of the stairs. "If they ever decide to put on a burlesque show we'll call you!"
Humiliated, Felicie shuffled awkwardly sideways towards the door, hoping Odette might have a skirt she could borrow.

Captain Marvel

Amidst the chaos on the Skrull ship, Vers ran. She had managed to escape from the device that had been holding her upside-down and letting the eny aliens probe her memories, but her hands were still firmly encased in metal gauntlets which she could not blast off.
Still, she found the restrictive device useful as she encountered a couple of Skrull guards responding to the alarms she had caused; before the Skrulls could fire, Vers swing her arms at them each in turn, knocking them out with the heavy devices.
After a moment she reached a door that would not automatically open, it needed a touch on the pad to the side of it. It would not be fingerprinted, Skrulls changed their fingerprints too often for that to be practical, but required proof that you were a flesh-and-blood creature opening it and not, say, a rogue meteor or a computer malfunction or something. But Vers could not use her hands, encased in the gauntlets. How could she convince the door to... She suddenly remembered the cold deck under her feet. The Skrulls had removed her boots before putting her in their device, and she had not been able to retrieve them before starting her escape. She lifted one foot to use it on the door pad.
RRRIIPP!!
A sudden draft which was not connected to the ship's dropping hull pressure became apparent. Vers realised that her Kree Starforce flight suit had just suffered a wardrobe malfunction, although how bad she could not yet tell. She felt a definite loosening of the plasto-leather around her rear, and the shame which came to any member of the Kree race when their suit, the symbol of the proud military force which she served, suffered damage not caused by enemy fire.
"Well. Are those military-issue undies?" a Skrull voice came from behind her. Vers now knew that the suit was split badly enough to reveal her pink thong, and presumably a fair bit of her bare behind with it.
"Oh, yeah." she replied, half-turning to see the Skrull behind her training a gun at her back, "We all wear these."
Vers kicked backwards, knocking the guard to the floor but feeling stitches pop as the split in her suit worsened, then continued her escape.

Five minutes later, having finally managed to get the gauntlets off her hands, Vers returned to her original room, where her boots still stood next to the machine she had been in. The seat of her suit was split wide open, the dangling threads framing her backside, and the split reached from the small of her back to her belly button. Vers grabbed her boots and turned to leave. As she did, the memory device started playing again, recalling a random event pulled from her mind. This one was the time she had reported for calisthenics on her first morning in the Air Force, not realising that a male cadet had swapped her uniform for one two sizes too small. The image of Vers on the screen made it through two star-jumps before the seat of the tight trousers began to split apart.
Vers raised a glowing fist and blasted the screen as she walked away.