Continue

Outside the bar, Waylon points to the left.

"I live down that way."

The two of you start off walking down the street. The pressure in your bladder hasn't found any relief. Walking briskly does seem to be holding off a major accident, but you've given up hope of stopping the small dribbles that leak out every few steps.

Not only is the effort required to hold physically exhausting, but it's starting to tax you mentally as well.

"How long until we get there?" you ask.

"It's not much further, just 10 minutes or so."

You really don't want to have an accident in the middle of the street in front of Waylon, but you're also really not looking forward to having to wait another 10 minutes to use a bathroom. If you legitimately can't hold it that long then you really have **** in the matter - wouldn't it be better to just get it over with now? But that's the real question: can you hold that long or not? Maybe you could relax your hold a little - just a little, not enough to actually pee - just to see if you're actually as **** as you feel, or if it's just the **** tricking you.

Mentally you find it odd to be reflecting on whether or not you're past the point of no return. Strangely, you find yourself almost rooting to lose control, just to get it over with. Even though your pants are already quite wet from the bar, you're definitely not about to intentionally have a full blown accident with Waylon watching.