#telepresence

Halfway home. The road testing your car's suspension as it always does. The hour commute to and from the office isn't ideal, you're certainly not paid well enough to justify it, but the upside is working the graveyard shift lets you do basically whatever you like between calls, and they're few and far between. Not much money, but more than enough downtime to sit on a video call with your internet friends in other timezones. 

You win some, you lose some, apparently.

You’ve got a friend on a call in your car, piping them through your car’s audio system. They help make the commute go a little quicker, even if the signal’s a bit hit and miss.

“Crap, I shouldn't have drank so much” You're giggling as you speak, but you can feel it starting. A familiar pressure in your lower abdomen. 

“Aww, poor thing. Is there a service station you can stop at?” They're putting on that voice again. The one they use when they're being silly. 

You think for a moment, the next gas station is a couple of miles away, but there's a fair chance of traffic on the way there. Either that or driving through suburbia to home, and there's no guarantee that'll be clear either. The dawn light filtering through trees and fences reminding you, warning you. The world is waking up, and the roads starting to fill.

Speaking of filling. Strategising your way to a bathroom has only made your situation worse. You try to force your legs closed, which worked for a moment. Until you had to break. 

Keeping one foot on the gas and the other on the clutch, while at the same time squeezing your thighs together. You’re not sure what's worse, the conscious effort to not let go or the road surface shaking you up like a beer can. A slight groan escapes you.

They heard “That bad, is it?” You can’t see their camera feed, but there was a grin in their voice “You know what you should do?”

“No. Not doing that.” Mind flashing back to your conversations with them, you knew what they were about to say.

“Piss yourself.”

“NO!” You shouted. Your voice resounded in the confines of your car. It didn’t help. Suppressing your own laugh was only putting more pressure on your bladder. So you felt it more. So it got harder and harder to ignore.

“You should, just imagine it.” Their voice got softer. Calmer. The very specific tones they put on when they want to fluster you

“You put that where it came from! I’m not gonna-”

A dog ran out into the road. You braked hard, slamming your feet onto the pedals. The seatbelt stopped you flying forwards as the car stopped, pressing in on your belly. You let out another whine. It was starting to hurt.

A beep of your horn and the dog was away, darting back between a pair of cars parked at the side of the road. You set off again, dodging potholes to try and smooth out the ride. You only succeeded in swapping jolting for swerving. 

You had to go.

You had to go now.

Cramming your thighs together wasn’t working now. It only put on more pressure as you squirmed and wriggled in your seat, trying to get comfortable. Every press of the brake pedal, every gear change, they each threatened to make you spill.

“You know what you should do?” Crap. They’re still doing the voice “I know what you should do”

Face red, you don’t dignify them with an answer. Maybe if you don’t speak they’ll lose interest

“You should piss. You should piss yourself”

You squirmed a little more, face reddening

“Piss yourself, for me”

You hit a pothole. You were so focused on not letting go, you didn’t even see it until it was almost under your wheel. The car jolted. You yelped.

The floodgates opened

Red-faced, panting, your body released the pressure stored up inside you. A growing patch of hot wetness spread through your pants and onto your seat. You whined as you panted, a soft whimpering rolling out of you. Thighs still rubbing together, now slick with your urine as the scent filled the car.