Taking deep breaths, Asteyr leaned towards the sink and rested his hands on the edges of the counter around it, closing his eyes. "Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it..." he repeated to himself like a mantra – but his body was not so easily convinced, and his mutterings were cut off by clenched teeth and bowed legs caused by a strong protest from his achingly full bladder.

Keeping his legs squeezed tightly until it passed, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at the mirror. An exhausted-looking gray-furred gremlin looked back at him, wearing a blue hoodie and navy blue shorts, the light blue glow of his eyes visible through his goggles. As he exhaled, so did his reflection, and he gave the mirrored gremlin a firm stare. "What, you're not giving up already, are you?" he taunted, putting on a haughtier voice than his usual tone.

He winced a little from a pang in his belly, his bladder making it clear that it was quite happy to give up on this little self-imposed challenge. Gritting his teeth, Asteyr grunted and forced out in a more subservient voice, "No, sir, of... course not. I can... hold it."

His gaze drifted over to his right where the toilet stood beside the sink; he could give in any time. Nothing was stopping him. But that would defeat the point, so he took a deep breath and stared back at the mirror again, keeping his legs pressed firmly together. He didn't have to go just yet, he could resist for a bit longer...

"Nngh...!" his legs buckled again and he held himself up with just his arms as he fought off a much stronger spasm in his lower belly. It kept going for longer, and just as doubts that he could last crept in, it passed, and he was left panting. He was closer to his limit than he would have cared to admit.

"I'm gonna... need a little relief... just a little..." he gasped between breaths, raising his head. There was a plastic bottle resting by the sink, already nearly full of golden fluid from his earlier 'pressure relief'. Only the neck and a tiny bit at the top of the bottle was still available; this would have to be the last one.

"No, Asteyr, you should've gone when you had the chance," he told himself with scorn, shaking his head.

"B-but..." he weakly protested, "I need... I REALLY have to pee...!"

In the most commanding tone he could muster, he growled, "Nope. Hold it."

"Nnh... but sir, you said I could use the bottle..."

"And you did," he reminded himself gruffly.

"There's... it's not completely full..."

"Then I suppose you can fill it up the rest of the way – but you'll have to hold whatever's left."

"Oh... thank you, sir!" he gasped out, trembling in place.

Looking back at the mirror, he sneered, "You'll have to make it count," then returned to his normal voice to say, "Yes, last one, I promise...!" as he unscrewed the cap from the bottle. Reaching down and opening up his pants, he pushed down his briefs to expose his sheath with one hand, while the other held the bottle with a trembling grip. He had to act fast or he might end up pissing all over the place.

Bringing the lip of the bottle downward, he rolled back his sheath to expose the tapered tip of his cock, noticing that the head underneath was glistening wet. Had he leaked a little without noticing? He rested his tip at the opening of the bottle and relaxed; his aching bladder was quick to start releasing, spraying a hard jet of urine into the plastic container.

"Looks to me like you've leaked a little bit," he taunted at himself, watching the fluid level rising in the bottle. "No, sir, that's just... sheath juices!" he protested in response, having to quickly clench his muscles again to cut off his stream – the neck filled up much more rapidly than the part under it, and he nearly overflowed the bottle. His bladder ached in protest of having its relief denied again so quickly, and a heavy tingling ran through his body.

Setting the bottle down without putting the cap back on it, Asteyr pulled his hand out from his shorts and closed them back up, crossing his legs afterwards. He hadn't gotten nearly as much relief as he had expected, but it would have to do. Resting his hands on the counter around the sink again, he lifted his gaze towards the mirror. "I, I don't know how much longer I can do this..." he murmured.

A firm stare. "Is that really the best you can do? Suck it up! You can hold it a bit longer!"

A glance to the side. "I don't... I don't think I can... I have to go, please...!"

"Oh? You're fine with everyone finding out that you're a quitter?"

"I'm... I'm not a quitter!" Asteyr asserted to his reflection, cut off from making further remarks by a sudden desperate pang from his still-straining bladder. It was less intense than before, but having ended his stream prematurely yet again, it was just as hard to avoid wetting himself. "It's getting really hard, though...! I have to pee, please...!"

After a few more breaths, he reached down and opened his pants up again, sliding them down. There was a wet stain on the front of his briefs, and as he inspected his pants, he saw a smaller wet spot on the inside of them too. He wasn't sure exactly when that had gotten there... "Well, well, well," he jeered to himself, "Looks like someone hasn't been holding it nearly as well as they thought!"

"It was just a little spill!" he replied to his own accusation, "I'm still holding just fine!"

"Then you don't need those pants, do you? If you're that good at holding it, you can go without, right?"

"I, uh..." Asteyr muttered, having to pause again to press his legs together to fight off another wave of desperation. "Nnh..."

"Giving up? Just gonna piss yourself, then?"

"N-No! Fine! I can do it!" Determined, the gremlin let go of his pants and stepped out of them as they fell around his ankles. Now bottomless, he glared back at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. "See? I can hold it just fine!"

In a mocking tone, he repeated "'I can hold it just fine'," to himself, then chuckled. "Well, we'll see about that."

Spreading his legs a little bit, he looked down at himself and the bulge at the front of his slightly stained briefs. Stepping back from the sink, he began rubbing his sheath through the fabric, taking a breath and letting it out slowly as his cock began sliding out. "You like this, don't you?" he taunted, then replied with "N-No, I'm just... it's easier to hold it while you're hard." "Uh-huh." "No, really!" "Yeah, sure, that's all..."

Idly rubbing his fingers over the bulge in his underwear, Asteyr turned and made his way out of the bathroom, stopping at the doorway to hold himself up and fight off another pang of desperation, tightly gripping his cock through the fabric for a moment as he shuddered in place. But once he had regained control, he stepped out into the bedroom in his apartment, his tail dragging on the floor behind him.

"Look at this place," he growled disparagingly as he looked around, "You live like this?"

"It-It's not that bad, sir!" he whined, stroking his bulge as his cock reached full size, teasing from the pointed tip to the sheath collar at the base.

"Clean it up, it's not like you've got anything better to do," he ordered himself aloud. "Do a good job and maybe, MAYBE I'll let you use the toilet."

"O-oh, yes, th-thank you sir!" he stammered. Another strong pang of desperation in his bladder kept him in place for a moment as he pressed his hand between his legs firmly, panting a little, and then he stumbled towards his bed.

"God..." he muttered under his breath, in neither of the personas he had been impersonating, "I can't believe I'm doing this..."

Starting on something easy, he used his left hand to grab onto the messy blankets and straighten them out, while he kept his right hand on his tent to stroke and jerk at his shaft idly. Just as he had made the bed he was hit by another wave of desperation and let out a groan, bracing himself with his left hand as he closed his legs around his right, holding onto himself tightly to stop any leaks.

Panting a little, he straightened back up. "If you think you're done, think again!" he sneered at himself. "Keep going! I want this place spotless!"

"Y-Yes, sir..." Asteyr mumbled quietly back to himself. Starting on the laundry next, he fetched a plastic basket to put it in, but just as he set it down by his closet and bent down to grab some of the dirty laundry piled up there, his straining bladder protested again, and strongly. Groaning, he fell to his knees and put both hands between his legs to press his cock against himself hard, panting and squeezing his legs together. He felt a tiny bit of moisture against one hand and clenched harder, shuddering for a brief moment until the desperation passed.

Pulling his hands free, he kept his legs together as if to try and hide the fact that the stain was a little bigger now, grabbing onto a shirt and pressing his damp palm against it to dry off before tossing it into the basket, moving the whole pile into it quickly. Picking up the full basket, he headed for the washing machine – but halfway there as he crossed the kitchen he groaned and fell forward from another sharp pang in his abdomen. Slamming the laundry basket against the tiled floor as he fell to his knees again, Asteyr tried to hold his bladder in with just his crossed legs, but it wasn't quite enough, and he felt a little spray of hot liquid against his legs, soaking into the fur on his inner thighs.

He stayed there, panting, even after he had fought off his bladder's attempt to empty itself. "What's the matter?" he jeered at himself, "Get up!"

"I... I need a moment, sir..."

"I said, get up!" he ordered, and stood, lifting the basket again. The fur on his thighs was matted against him, the stain on his briefs had gotten much bigger, and there was a small puddle where he had been kneeling that he saw when he looked downwards. "I knew it," he growled, "You couldn't hold it after all."

"P-Please, I'm bursting, I really have to-"

"No! You're not getting out of it that easily." He gave a whimper of protest to his own words. "Try harder next time. Get back to it, you can clean up that mess when you're done."

"Y-yes, sir..." he muttered as he continued walking again. He made it to the laundry machine and stuffed the clothes into it, but just as he was about to measure out the detergent he was struck yet again by a harder, stronger wave of desperation. Resting one hand against the washing machine in an attempt to keep himself upright, he still couldn't stop himself from slumping to his knees, knocking the empty laundry basket aside. Another spray of his own piss escaped his cock and shot through the thin fabric to run down his legs – even though he managed, albeit barely, to stem the flow, he could feel the puddle spreading underneath his legs, wetting his fur.

"'I can hold it just fine'," he said in the mocking voice once again.

Taking a heavy breath as he tried to stand, Asteyr replied to himself, "O-Okay, I admit it... I can't... I need to use the bathroom..."

"Not until you've done all your chores. All of them!"

"B-but..."

"No buts!"

With a shaking hand, Asteyr quickly poured some detergent into the machine and started it, staggering away with one hand between his legs, keeping it wrapped around his cock – with how desperate he was growing, even the covered erection he was stroking didn't matter much for stopping him from spilling. At the kitchen he had to stop and hold himself against the counter to brace against another pang in his bladder, but it didn't feel so bad – at least, compared to the last one. But he only made it a couple more steps before a much stronger ache in his bladder struck and he almost fell to his knees again, saved only by clutching tightly to the edge of the kitchen counter as he groaned and shuddered. A spray of piss splashed down his legs, and he stopped it only for a few seconds before another escaped, forcing him to clench yet again.

His muscles were weakening after straining them so much. It was only a matter of time. The front of his briefs was thoroughly soaked now, the now-yellowed fabric partly transparent. "What a weakling," he taunted to himself, "Unable to hold his bladder."

"I have to go so badly..." he whimpered.

"Then hurry up! Go clean the messes you've made. There's piss everywhere, now. Go get a mop."

"Y-yes, sir..."

Staggering off to another closet, Asteyr fumbled to open it with his left hand as he kept his right wrapped around his dick. "Man, I'm messed up," he mumbled quietly in his normal voice with a little chuckle afterwards as he reached out for the mop, retrieving it from the closet.

Before he could grab the bucket too, however, he shuddered heavily from a spasm in his belly. Gripping the mop, he tried to prop himself up with it as he brought his legs together yet again, trying to stave off yet another fight with his bladder. Another spurt escaped him, his body trembling as he fought to get it back under control, yet even after cutting off the flow his bladder continued to try and forcibly empty itself. He slumped a little, legs going weak, trying to brace himself on the mop, but it slid on the floor and he fell to his knees again. "Hold it... you...!" he tried to growl to himself, trailing off when more hot fluid sprayed from his dick and against the hand he was trying to hold it with. Trying to buy just a little more time, he gripped the base of his sheath firmly to try and stop the flow...

...but it wasn't enough. The pressure was too great to contain and a hard, thin spray of urine escaped past Asteyr's pinching fingers, further soaking his lap. He hunched over, instead pressing his hand at the base of his cock to try and stem the flow, but it was to no avail. His exhausted muscles could barely clench any more, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't completely stop his piss from forcing its way out of him. Pressing his legs together only served to make a bigger mess of his lap, and the puddle underneath him grew bigger and bigger as he emptied onto the floor.

Panting and gasping, he continued to cling to the mop futilely as a heavy shiver ran through his whole body from the relief he was finally getting, his stubby tail flicking around behind him. He couldn't fight it any more, and slumped further, putting a hand out in front of him to brace himself as he gave in and let the last of his bladder drain itself onto himself.

His stream finally trickled off and left him panting for a brief time. Slowly, he struggled to stand, trying not to slip on the wet floor. "You're... cleaning that up, too," he forced out, "And... no taking a shower... until you're done."

"Yes... sir..." he followed up, swaying in place, his legs copiously dripping more urine on the floor.
