A Moment of Weakness

This is Dances-Among-Leaves, more succinctly referred to as Dancer - but she doesn't seem to be in the mood for dancing right now, not with three gallons of bitter, boiling urine churning about in her excruciatingly-bloated bladder. Dancing would just make it start sloshing, crashing against her taut bladder walls and generating waves of searing agony.

No, she'd much rather be standing still, disturbing her delicate burden as little as possible. Or, well, what she'd really prefer is to be sitting on a toilet, but it's been three days since the last time she's so much as seen one. Her drinks have just been trickling through her ever since, never getting the chance to trickle out of her, instead just constantly adding more and more to her increasingly-overstocked gold reserves.

Of course, she doesn't need a toilet to give her raging waters a taste of freedom, but, well... suffice it to say it's too late now for her to just squat and forget her troubles. By Sithis does she wish she'd dropped her pants when she had the chance, but the group she's been travelling with have, as usual, appointed her to be lookout - and she's the only one among them who could be counted on for protection, so there would be nobody to protect her if she were to be caught unleashing her ocean onto the ground. Even worse, it'd take a long time to spill three gallons with even her most forceful gushing, during which time the others would be left unguarded.

So we arrive at the situation she's in now: standing guard, trying to stay strong for her comrades' sake, doing whatever it takes to hold herself together - even if that means letting her choking pants fall to her knees so that she can use her tail to apply some pressure to counter the force of a flood trying to break through to the outside. She just has to stay strong and hold it in, despite the monstrous pressure driving her to tears, and her hands caressing her back and her bulging bladder to try and ease the pain.

Just stay strong. Stay full. Stay right on the edge of bursting. Stay in agony.

For as much as she would love to do otherwise, she could not give in to that temptation. Even a moment of weakness could spell disaster.

One moment. One little trickle. One overflowing bladder. One scalding cascade begging to flow free.

One distraught but determined defender.