#zipperstuck

AT: i REALLY NEED SOME HELP, aS FAST AS POSSIBLE, 

You sit back, squirming and shifting, and read over the messages. They seem a little bit rude, and you decide that, seeing as you're desperate for her help, you'd better be more polite.

AT: pLEASE,

You look back up at the screen, certain you're in for more squirm-inducing taunting.

Instead, however, it seems something inexplicably great has happened.

AG: Oh, shit.

AG: Looks like Fussyfangs wants to talk a8out my Wriggling Day outfit.

AG: You're saved 8y her meddling! For now.

AG: If you think you're off the hook for your incredi8ly rude 8ehavior, Toreadouche, you've got another think coming.

AG: Looks like I have some scheming to do on your 8ehalf, Pupa! :::;)

AG: 8ye for now.

--arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT]--

Whoever this Fussyfangs person is, you want to give her a big hug, or maybe throw yourself at her feet in graditude. Well, actually, both of those things sound like they'd compress your abdomen a little too much for comfort, but still.

Who is that, anyways? Fussyfangs, outfit, meddling...

Oh, right, Kanaya.

KANAYA.

AT: nO, oK, yOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THAT,

AT: hI,

AG: There we go!

AG: Close one for you, Toreador.

Relieved--ok, yes, you get the irony of claiming to be relieved--you decide to try to rush through this as fast as you can.

AT: wHAT'S UP,

AG: Oh, the usual. Irons in the fire, scheming and plotting, weaving my many we8s.

AG: 8ored off my ass, 8asically.

AT: oH, uHH,

AT: tHAT SOUNDS LAME,

AG: Tell me a8out it!!!!!!!!

AG: Why do you think I'm here?

AG: I've got to try to m8ke myself feel 8etter 8y taking a look into the life of someone truly, deeply lame, to his very core.

AT: uH,

AG: So. What's 8een going on with you, Tavros?

AG: Playing un8elieva8ly shitty card games for wrigglers? :::;)

How does she know this stuff? Just looking at the saucy emoticon makes you squirm--not just because it has an annoying way of making your face warm, but also from the odd fact that everything she's saying about you is seeming to make the situation in your bladder worse. You uncross your legs to press them tight together, suddenly aware of sweat under your arms, and try to type out a good response.

AT: iF THAT'S THE PERSPECTIVE, fROM WHICH YOU LOOK AT fIDUSPAWN,

AT: tHEN i GUESS, yES,

AG: Oh, perfect!

AG: Why don't you tell me aaaaaaaall a8out it, Pupa?

Because she'll pick you apart and mock you and it'll be utterly humiliating, that's why. You give an impatient groan, jiggling your legs. How to get out of this one? Maybe just give her something brief.

AT: iT WASN'T REALLY, sO INTERESTING,

AG: Well, duuuuuuuuh.

AG: There is literally no such thing as an interesting game of Fiduspawn. Never has 8een, never will 8e.

AG: Doesn't mean I don't demand the full scoop, shitty and worthless as it may 8e.

It's official; something about the nervousness and embarrassment she generates in you is making you feel flustered and swollen and full to bursting. You have to get her off your back, somehow. You type out a reply with shaky fingers.

AT: i REALLY JUST, dON'T SEE WHY YOU WOULD EVER WANT THAT, vRISKA

AG: Oh, ho ho, WOW.

AG: Someone's pissed off, huh?

The word choice is enough to make you grab your crotch so hard it hurts and drop your head down again with a soft moan, legs pressing together tightly.

You decide, though you wish it wasn't so, that you'd probably better at least see what it is she wants. Swallowing, you click on her flashing troll tag.

--arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling adiosToreador [AT]--

AG: Puuuuuuuupa.

AG: No response, huh? You're usually so o8ediently prompt! I must 8e losing my touch.

AG: If you won't respond, we can always do this the hard way. :::;)

A little pling from your husktop gives you great idea for passing some time; responding to those messages you've allowed to build up all day. Maybe your friends can offer some counsel.

You walk over to your desk and almost unthinkingly plop down, stopping yourself when you remember how very uncomfortable your jeans made you just from bending over. You decide to undo the button of your fly to alleviate some pressure, and do so, hissing in a breath when your accidentally put some extra pressure on yourself with a fumbling hand, but letting it back out slowly as you get your button undone and your bladder is able to expand, just a little.

A hopeful tug at the zipper to see if it's changed its mind is unfruitful and rather disappointing.

Sitting down sends a few mild shock-waves through you, but nothing too major, and once you've got one leg tightly crossed over the other, it's not any worse than standing up. (You try to not think about how very uncomfortable standing up was to begin with.)

You open up your chat client and see who's messaging you. Hmm... his meandering, easy way of talking might be good to distract you, and he might be up for a slam, but he probably won't be of much help; she's one of your nicest friends, but you're not sure you have the wherewithal to roleplay and her advice is probably limited to litterboxes and trees; oh, you definitelydon't want to talk to herwhen you're in this state, but if you don't answer soon, she might t8ke control, and that would be even worse.

Nope. You are not noticing the bottle of water next to Tinkerbull. You are not thinking about how much water, not to mention Faygo, you just had to drink and how most of it's probably not even in your bladder yet. You are not thinking about how good it would feel to piss into that bottle, even just enough to fill it back up, let yourself relax for just a moment, if only you could get your pants down.

You're sorely, sorely tempted to just dig through the mess in your room for some scissors and cut yourself out of your cloth prison. But you're not sure how well you'd do bending over or reaching up or kneeling down to wherever they might be located. Besides, a voice in the back of your head is stubbornly telling you ruining a pair of pants without at least enlisting Tinkerbull in an attempt to fix the zipper would be childish, silly and not level-headed of you at all.