Sammy parked her car in an empty spot close to the clothing store, dropping her keys in her purse after she locked the door. The small otter was wearing one of her better skirts, a nice knee-length navy blue, and a pale blue button-up shirt – she normally wouldn't dress so fancily just to go shopping, but this was one of the more high-end stores around, and she didn't want to look out of place. There was a Sunday sale going on, and though she had invited her friends, she'd ended up alone – Nina and Veronica had already made plans, and Lydia was waiting for a plumber to show up at her condo.

That left the short otter all alone on her trip, but it was probably for the best as she only really needed more work clothes. She'd worn another hole in the elbow of one of her shirts, and though Veronica had sewn it back up, it was an old shirt and she'd been looking for the excuse to get some more shirts anyway.

Once inside, it didn't take long for her to lose herself in the racks of clothing, occasionally staring wide-eyed at the price tags before putting the nicer shirts back. This was the kind of place Lydia shopped at, not so much for her, but there were a lot of heavy price cuts on some of the clothes. After collecting a basket's worth of good deals, she made her way to the changing rooms to check the fit, working her way through the stack of clothes.

'What do you think of this one?' Sammy swiped out on her phone, sending a message to Lydia before taking a picture of herself inside her changing stall, wearing a white silk shirt with floral patterning. It was smooth and soft to the touch, she liked the swirling stripes on the buttons, and it had a breast pocket – something she never thought of much until she wore a shirt without one and found herself frustrated by its absence. She looked a little silly in the picture since the anti-theft tag was still attached just a few inches under the collar, but other than that, she thought it looked nice.

'Lydia is typing...' showed up on Sammy's phone, and she took a moment to sort the clothes she'd already tried. As short as she was, it was rather hard to find a good fit sometimes, especially on pants, so she'd collected several with the expectation of putting at least half of them back.

She glanced back at her phone. 'You look wonderful, darling.' was Lydia's response, making Sammy's cheeks flush as she typed out a grateful reply. After trying the rest, she put her original clothes back on, placed the 'keepers' in the basket and held the 'leavers' under her arm, putting them on the empty rack outside the changing rooms for one of the staff to return later.

Her stomach growled as she waited in line. There was only one register open, but then again, it was the kind of place that made its money through expensive sales rather than on volume. Even with a sale going on, there weren't that many other customers in somewhere as upscale as this. Sammy was still browsing through places to eat on her phone when she heard the cashier call "Next," and she put her phone in her purse quickly, scurrying forward with the basket of clothes hanging from her elbow, hefting it up to place it on the counter.

The cashier was a fox girl in her late teens with the top button on her shirt undone, with the appearance of someone who'd rather be anywhere else, boredom plain to see in her half-closed brown eyes. "Find everything?" She asked in a monotone voice as she mechanically took Sammy's clothes and scanned them before slotting them into the anti-theft tag remover and stuffing them into a bag.

"Yes, I did." Sammy answered meekly, rummaging in her purse for her credit card. She was pretty sure the cashier was chewing gum too.

"D'you have a rewards card?" The cashier asked as she turned a deep purple skirt over, looking for the price tag to scan its bar code.

"No, I don't." Sammy responded, doing her best to sound polite despite her curtness. She held up her credit card, and the fox plucked it from her grip, swiping it quickly through the reader and dropping it unceremoniously on the counter for Sammy to take. The fox's other hand went impatiently to the register, tearing off the receipt the moment it printed, tossing it in the bag with the clothes.

"Receipt's in the bag." She said with profound disinterest, holding out a big plastic bag with the store's logo on the side. The otter inhaled as she took the bag, getting more upset at the cashier's rudeness. "Ex-" she began, but the cashier cut her off.

"There's another lady behind you, could you move please?" The cashier waved Sammy forward, and she glanced back at the imposing frame of a large bear lady. Deciding not to make a scene, Sammy looked down and held her bag of clothes tightly as she left the store, heading back to her car.

--------------------

By the time Sammy got back home, she felt a little better – she'd vented her frustrations to Lydia in a series of messages, treated herself to a big fish sandwich and a large iced tea from her favorite take-out restaurant, and had stopped at a park near her home to sit on a bench and eat it while enjoying the nice weather. She closed the door to her apartment behind her and dropped her keys on top of the table by the door, heading into her living room to flop on the sofa.

She checked her phone as she leaned on the armrest, finding a message from Nina. 'lyd said you were clothes shopping. what'd you get?' After a quick response, Sammy started unpacking the bag of clothes to take some more pictures, but stopped midway and froze.

The silk floral shirt still had the anti-theft tag securely pinned to it, and her hopes that it was only partly secured were dashed as she carefully inspected it and found that it wasn't even partly detached. The otter's frustration with the cashier returned immediately as she realized that the cashier must have missed it while she wasn't paying attention.

Thoroughly annoyed, she explained the situation in a few pointed messages to Nina. Despite her friend's offer to remove it herself – 'just checked online, there's vids on how to remove them' – Sammy decided it would be better to take it back to the store.

The only problem with that was that it was a long drive, and it was Sunday – if she didn't do it now, she'd have to wait until Saturday to take it back.

<I'm going to give that cashier a piece of my mind!> Sammy resolved as she put the clothes back in the bag, grateful that the cashier had at least not forgotten the receipt. Grabbing her keys, she headed back out the door and got back into her car.

Another long drive later – which was promising to be even worse on the way back, judging by traffic – and Sammy had a new problem: The iced tea she'd gotten on the way home had made its way through her, and she needed to relieve herself. She was glad when she pulled back into the parking lot, though it took her longer to find a space this time now that it was mid-afternoon.

Grabbing the clothes and locking her car, Sammy scurried across the parking lot once again with biologically-induced urgency. To her dismay, when she came in, there was still only one register, and it was still staffed by the same fox from before. Without any customers to serve at the moment, she had her head propped up on one hand, elbow on the counter, as she poked at her phone with her other hand, even more bored-looking than before.

"Excuse me." Sammy said as she got closer, taking the shirt out of her bag. "I bought this earlier, but the tag didn't get removed."

The cashier sighed as she put away her phone, looking at the shirt. "Did you?" she asked incredulously. "D'you have a receipt?"

Sammy frowned, annoyed not that the cashier had forgotten her – it had been a few hours – but at her persistently bad attitude. "Right here." Sammy responded as she took it from the bag and held it up, whereupon the fox snatched it from her grip and squinted at it intensely, as if already convinced Sammy was some thief trying to rip her off and she just needed to find the evidence.

"...yeah, fine," she muttered after a few seconds of scrutiny, dropping the now partly-crumpled receipt onto the counter and taking the shirt. "Just give me a second."

She pressed the tag into the remover, which looked like a U-shaped hook secured to the counter, and gave the shirt a tug to no avail. "Stupid-" the cashier began, but cut herself off as she wiggled the shirt and the tag, trying to wedge it into place with her other hand. "This thing's finicky sometimes. S'like a magnet or something, just gotta-"

Sammy's sudden concern at the cashier's roughness was immediately validated as she heard glass crunching as the tag came off – in a spray of dark blue ink. The otter's gasp was covered up by the cashier's exclamation of "Shit!" loud enough for everyone in the store to hear; the tag had exploded just as it was designed to do. "Ugh, it's all over my fur!" The fox complained, her hand having gotten thoroughly stained. The shirt, of course, was ruined, bearing a large and exceptionally permanent stain across its front.

"What's going on over here?" Sammy heard from behind her as she stared at a loss for what to do. <A manager!> She thought to herself, hoping they could sort out the situation. Sure enough, moments later another fox stepped up to the register, wearing an expensive suit with a nametag on the front. 

"I broke a tag, and now there's ink everywhere!" The cashier whined, "It's on my pants too! Does this stuff even come out of fur?"

"It's all right, dear, it happens." The manager said reassuringly, and Sammy's heart fell as she connected the dots – both foxes, the same eyes, their less than professional relationship... they had to be related. "You'd better go wash your hand before it dries."

"Um, excuse me?" Sammy said, speaking up.

The manager turned suddenly, as if surprised by her presence. "Oh! Is this yours?" He responded as the cashier ran off, the bawling fox completely ignoring Sammy.

A little flustered, she took a breath to calm herself before replying. "Could I get a replacement, please?" She asked, "I really liked that shirt."

Delicately with his thumb and forefinger, the manager gripped an unstained part of the shirt, lifting it up to inspect it in the same way he might have done if it were soaked in mud, or sewage. "I'm terribly sorry," he said without a shred of sincerity, "but this is a discontinued line. If there's another on the rack, you can have it, but I don't think we have any more."

Sammy wasn't hopeful; she'd been through those racks thoroughly earlier, and it was the only one she'd seen. "Do you have any in the back?" she inquired.

"As per our policy, everything we have is out on the shelves, for the benefit of our customers." He responded a little too mechanically, as if reading from a script. 

"Then could I get a refund, please?" she tried, more disappointed with every passing moment. She'd driven all the way back out here, and still had to drive home again; she really didn't want to also be out for the money for the shirt.

"The best I can offer you is a store credit. It's the policy for incidents like this." His tone indicated he wanted her to just accept and leave him alone.

Her emotions warred; defeat won out over frustration, and Sammy lowered her head. "All right, I'll go look." As she turned, her other problem came back to the forefront of her mind as she felt a pang in her abdomen. "Could I use your bathroom?" she asked; the cashier had gone to wash her hands, so she assumed they had to have one.

"It's not for customers." The manager replied promptly and without compassion. "Company policy."

Sammy was growing increasingly displeased with the company policy, but didn't say so out loud. He was just doing his job, even if he could stand to be more polite. "I'll go find another shirt, then." She said quietly, "Thanks."

Ignoring the cramps in her belly as she rifled through the clothing racks, Sammy searched fruitlessly; it was all the same clothes as before, minus all the clothes that had been sold while she was gone. There was nothing as nice as the silk shirt, at least even remotely close the price she'd found. Lydia wasn't responding any more, either, which must have meant the plumber had shown up, so she couldn't ask her for advice. As she became more desperate to use the bathroom, she decided to cut her losses and took the first shirt she found that was almost the price of the previous one, a plain lavender shirt.

"...so mean to me! It's totally her fault!" She heard from somewhere to the side as she headed towards the changing rooms, hoping to quickly check that it fit her. Sammy recognized the voice of the cashier, and froze, her short stature completely hiding her behind the clothing rack.

"I took care of it, pumpkin, it's fine." She heard the manager saying, confirming her theory that the two were related.

"She just came up and was like, 'remove this tag!' and I-"

"I know, but you can't get mad at the customers, at least not where they can see or hear you. We get a lot of entitled and well-connected folks here, so you have to put on your best face for them."

Stunned, Sammy stopped and stood in place, clenching her fists for a moment. She wanted to storm over and tell him that that's not what happened at all, that the cashier was lying and it was her own fault she was covered in ink – but, breathing in through her nose and closing her eyes, Sammy knew it would be pointless. She just wanted to leave and never come back to this place.

Continuing on to the changing room, Sammy felt miserable. She'd wasted hours, and was only getting this shirt because she couldn't get her money back. She'd been antagonized by the staff and was bursting to pee. And all just because she'd wanted some more work clothes. The changing room wasn't large, but neither was she; to the left of the door was a little bench that she sat on as she started to change, opposite a tall mirror fastened to the wall.

Another cramp hit her belly, and she squeezed her legs together – at least she was trying on a shirt and not some pants. <I'm going to have to stop in at the first gas station, or I'm going to wet myself on the way home,> she frantically thought as she slipped out of her original shirt and started to try on the other one. Hanging her shirt up on the hook on the wall behind her, her frustration only grew as she turned around and noticed that the new shirt didn't have a breast pocket. <I haven't had to pee this badly since->

She cut that thought short, but it came right back. How could she ever forget that incident on Black Friday? Other than a crude joke from Nina when she'd had a bit too much to drink one night, none of them had brought it up again, but that wasn't the kind of thing you just forgot. She'd been so frustrated then, too, after the janitor had refused to let them use the staff bathroom, the irony of which was not lost on her in her current situation.

<Except that this place is even worse!> A moment later, as she felt another uncomfortable pang in her abdomen, the follow-up thought came: <I should pee on the floor of this place too!>

Initially, it was just a passing thought, borne of frustration. But her eyes widened as the idea took root; why shouldn't she? The staff had been rude, and hadn't even admitted to what was clearly their fault, had even blamed her for it, and brushed her off with excuses and 'company policy' to get her to go away but keep her money. And it wasn't like they had a line for the bathroom – they had one and just wouldn't let her use it.

She thought about maybe sneaking behind the building, but there were probably cameras there, and besides, they could ignore that. No, if she went somewhere else – like right here in the changing room – they would have to clean it up. If they ever figured out it was her, she'd never be able to come back, but she had no intention of ever returning anyway.

<Nina did it. I can do it too!> she thought, but that was about as far as her confidence went. Squeezing her legs together, she bounced a little on her legs – if she waited much longer, it wouldn't be her decision any more. She was all alone this time, without her friends to bolster her resolve. She flipped between desperation and a desire to get her revenge, reaching under her skirt with one hand and rubbing at herself through her panties to try and alleviate her discomfort.

Taking another deep breath, she slipped her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and started tugging them down, rubbing her legs together as she shifted on her feet. The changing room door was slatted, so she could see out of it but someone outside couldn't see in, and she could hear an air conditioning unit outside that would mask the noise a bit. More importantly, she didn't hear anyone else in the other changing room stalls. 

Once her panties were down halfway to her knees, she sat down on the bench, trying not to look at the mirror, a reminder of exactly what she was doing. She dared uncrossing her legs for a moment to take her panties off completely, setting them on the bench beside her. Her pussy was exposed, her heart pounding in her chest from a combination of fear and excitement, scared of being caught but eagerly anticipating the sensation of revenge, not to mention relief.

She bit her lip, whiskers trembling as she spread her legs and pulled her skirt up onto her belly. There was going to be a mess, she was sure of that. <Deep breaths, deep breaths...> her resolve didn't quite match her desire; however much she liked the idea of getting even, it was still quite another to pee on the floor. At least last time, she had been in a bathroom stall, even if there hadn’t actually been a toilet there at the time. This was...

Another cramp hit her, but this time, without her legs crossed, she couldn't stop a small squirting spray of pale urine from gushing onto the red carpet, her hand going to her muzzle to suppress a surprised squeak. She looked up, seeing a short otter with flushed cheeks staring back at her from the mirror, legs raised and spread with her loins bared. Her eyes lowered and fixed on the spot where her pee had landed, the carpet fibers darkened as her urine soaked into them, and she felt some slight satisfaction from the sight, a tiny bit of payback for the way she'd been treated... but nowhere near enough.

<This wouldn’t be happening if they had just let me use the restroom,> she told herself as she stared at the wet patch. <Or if they hadn’t blamed me for their own mistakes, or had just given me a refund, or... anything! They deserve this.>

Sammy took a deep breath, and this time, she closed her eyes, pretended she was sitting on a toilet, relaxed her muscles, and let her pee flow.

She had to suppress a groan as she felt a surge of relief wash over her as her bladder started to empty in earnest, a stream of piss gushing from her slit that broke up into a spray after barely a couple of inches, slightly yellowed droplets raining down onto the carpet and soaking into it. Opening her eyes, she looked down and watched as the red carpet turned darker, drenched with her urine, the gentle pattering of her piss slowly transitioning to a splashing sound as she saturated the carpet and kept on going. Her tail started to sway back and forth under the bench as she kept her legs spread wide, her breaths coming heavily as she savored her relief.

<This is what I think of your company policy!> she thought as she shifted her hips to cover as much of the carpet as possible, feeling vindicated as more of it was soaked and turned to a dark color. <This is for blaming me for your mistake!> She squeezed her muscles a bit as she leaned back, making her spray go higher and further so that it splashed against the mirror, sending numerous rivers of pale yellow urine running down the glass. <This is for refusing to let me use your bathroom!>

For the first time, Sammy was glad that she had such a broad spray – normally it was an inconvenience, and the excessive splashing made her self-conscious in public bathrooms. But now, it was helping her cover as much of the changing room as possible, splashing over half of the carpet in a short time. Not only that, but it was actually quieter, pattering against the wood, glass and carpet rather than loudly splashing and echoing in a porcelain bowl.

She turned to the side enough to hit the wall opposite the door, keeping her legs wide and tail down to make sure they stayed dry, purse clutched to her side as she braced herself with one hand. Her spray pattered quietly against the wooden wall and ran down it to the carpet, adding to the already soaked fibers.

Sammy clenched her muscles again, spraying higher on the wall before she started to run dry – to her incredible disappointment. She wanted to piss more and make an even bigger mess! When her stream ended of its own accord, she hopped off the bench onto the relatively dry spot just in front of it, then turned around and squatted, still holding up her skirt. Clenching her muscles, she forced out every remaining drop of pee onto the carpet under the bench until she was sure she was empty, then opened her purse and pulled out a tissue, wiping herself clean and tossing it under the bench as well.

As she stood up, the rush of it all started to wear off, and she realized she had to get moving quickly – the longer she stayed, the more likely she'd be discovered. Quickly putting her panties back on and changing back to her original shirt, she almost rushed out before she realized that she needed to play it cool and pretend nothing was out of the ordinary if she didn't want to draw suspicion.

Taking a breath, she opened the changing room door and slipped out, closing it completely behind her. There were no staff, no security guards waiting to apprehend her; she'd gotten away with it. Sammy stepped out from the changing room area, past the return rack, and made her way for the register.

The cashier was nowhere to be seen, her father apparently having taken over for her. "Did you get what you needed?" he asked in a dispassionate tone as she approached, holding out his hand for the shirt and all but tearing it away from her once she put it in his grasp.

Sammy couldn't bring herself to look at him, so to avoid being suspicious she fixed her gaze on a poster on the wall behind him that was advertising a sale on socks. "Yes," she answered, the otter suppressing a smirk as she added, "I got what I wanted."

After pressing a few buttons on the register, the manager handed her back the shirt without even bothering to ask if she wanted a bag, let alone put it in one. "Have a nice day." He said without emotion, and Sammy made her exit, taking a few steps away from the front of the building before running back to her car.

Messages from her friends awaited her in their little group chat, asking what had happened as she'd gone quiet for a while. She filled them in as she waited to calm down after the whole experience, safe and sound back in her own car – though she omitted certain details.

'I'm disappointed. I'll not be shopping there any more.' Lydia replied, and Sammy smiled to know her friends had her back.

'Wow, that's awful!' Veronica added. 'I hope you gave them a hard time, they deserve it.'

Sammy carefully considered her words. 'I did! Nina would have been proud.' A smirk crossed the otter's lips as she sent a quick farewell and started her car.

It was technically true, after all.

--------------------

Later that week, Lydia surprised Sammy by telling her of another store from a different company that might have had more shirts like the one that got ruined; she'd apparently been doing some hunting and calling around. Sammy was incredibly grateful, and when she asked Lydia what she could do in return, the vixen's response of "Just keep being a good friend" made her blush.

So when the weekend rolled around, Sammy planned out another trip. Not wanting to drive out to a shopping complex just for one shirt, she looked up what other stores were nearby, and did her grocery shopping at the same time. Lydia's research proved correct, and the surplus and salvage store had a few similar shirts from the same manufacturer, and Sammy was positively beaming as she headed back to her car with a pale yellow but otherwise identical floral shirt to the ruined one.

Her good mood didn't last long, sadly. She spotted a familiar face as she walked along the rows of cars, whiskers drooping when she recognized him – a taller leopard in a t-shirt and cargo shorts, a local mechanic, and her ex-boyfriend. They'd been together for a few months, right up until Sammy had caught him making out with another girl at a local bar. It had been a rough breakup due to her tendency to avoid conflict, but her friends had helped her get through it.

All those emotions came flooding back to her as she saw him now, arms linked with a cheetah woman in a form-fitting red dress. <That scumbag!> she thought to herself, <That's not even the same woman he cheated on me with! How many women does he go through in a year?>

She clenched her fist around the handle of the bag holding her shirt, glaring daggers at him as he passed by, oblivious to her presence. She wanted to tell him off, but what good would it do? Even if she could convince his latest piece of arm candy that she was with a deceptive and unfaithful jerk who would ditch her as soon as he found someone more attractive, he'd just go find someone else. Guys like that always did. Chances were, he ALREADY had someone else on the side.

Sighing and taking a deep breath, she shook her head and kept going towards the back of the parking lot. He wasn't worth her time. Shortly thereafter she got to her car and put the bag with the shirt in the back seat amongst all the bags of groceries. Closing the door, she walked around the back of her car towards the driver's side, but stopped as she saw something else familiar nearby.

Parked under one of the trees at the back was a red SUV that Sammy recognized by the obnoxious bumper stickers. Her suspicion was further confirmed by the license plate and the terrible parking job – it was her ex's SUV.

Her barely-cooled anger boiled up again as more memories came back. She tried to turn away and leave, knowing she ought to just drop it, but after a furtive glance around the parking lot to confirm nobody else was around and that her ex was long gone, she headed over as nonchalantly as she could manage.

<I wonder, how many more women have ridden in this?> she wondered to herself as she approached, fiddling with her car keys in her hand and contemplating scoring a line or two across the driver's side door. Looking at it, she saw the keypad lock on the side – he'd bragged openly about how much the car had cost, in what seemed like an obvious warning sign in retrospect, likely to boost his own ego. Though he'd never told her the code, she'd seen him enter it more than once – but with how quickly he went through girls, there was no way it was still the same one, right?

Then again, anyone who thought they were clever for using '2345' instead of '1234' couldn’t be that security-conscious.

She was curious now, and reached over to the keypad, resisting the urge to glance around and look suspicious as she pushed the buttons. With the code entered, she heard the lock disengaging, and after a surreptitious glance into the wing mirrors to confirm that her ex wasn't on his way back for some reason, she quickly opened the rear door and climbed into the back seat – standing around outside would look suspicious, but getting in wouldn't.

Twirling her car keys on one finger, she thought of maybe scratching up the tan leather interior or ripping up part of the carpet, but then she got a better idea. In the shade inside the car, she grinned to herself, whiskers perking up, as she stashed her keys inside of her purse.

She had something more personal in mind. She'd leave that jerk one heck of a surprise for when he came back.

After one more glance through the tinted windows and into the rear-view mirror to check outside, she unclasped the side of her skirt and pulled it off, immediately working on sliding down her panties and stashing both inside her purse, though the skirt was too big and stuck halfway out of the top. Every reservation and objection her mind raised was quickly quashed by yet another memory of how her ex had hurt her, and no doubt other women too, her surge of confidence coming entirely from a desire for revenge. She shuffled forward to the edge of the seat, her tail behind her as she spread her legs, resting one on the inside of the door and the other on the raised area between the front seats, ensuring she wouldn't spray herself. Taking a few more breaths, she tried to will herself to pee, though some lingering nervousness remained – not about what she wanted to do itself, but about getting caught. One more glance to the sides confirmed there was nobody around, and thus reassured, she inhaled deeply and let it out as a slow breath.

<Take this, you asshole!>

As she felt her muscles relaxing and her pee leaving her bladder, she felt immense satisfaction – not from the relief itself but from finally getting tangible revenge. After some pointed text messages she had broken contact, but not anything else, to her regret. But now, she watched as she sprayed messily on the floor and the bottom of the driver's seat, satisfied to see herself showering the tan carpet as her shower of piss made a big dark brown puddle in the fibers. A devious, mischievous gratification filled her as she kept peeing until the carpet was saturated, her spray splashing loudly inside of the car, the first time the noise had ever brought her satisfaction instead of embarrassment.

<But I can do more...>

She shuddered as she clenched and cut off her stream, leaning back in the chair and raising her legs up, placing one on the driver's seat headrest and leaving the other in the air. She could only hold it in for a couple of seconds before she resumed peeing again with a soft groan, watching closely. Her stream now arched upward for barely an inch before breaking up into a wide spray all over the back of the seat, making a satisfying pattering sound on the leather. Her eyes followed the droplets running down the seat into the pocket on the back, staining the fabric mesh covering at the top. Her spray was so wide that some of it went right past the seat, stray drops landing on the center divide up front around the gearstick.

She felt something against her tail and realized that it was wagging slightly against the seat back. She briefly felt embarrassed for enjoying this so much – but it felt so good to get her revenge on someone who deserved a whole lot worse than a cleaning bill. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden noise outside, making her squeak and sit up sharply, frantically glancing around to see if she needed to run for it, groaning in discomfort as she cut off her stream again, this time squeezing her legs together to prevent another leak.

Fortunately, it was just someone shutting a car door a few spots over, and she saw them walking towards the store, none the wiser to what she was getting up to. Sammy's cheeks flushed again as she lowered her head in embarrassment; if someone had been watching, she had been in an extremely compromising position, able to see right between her legs at her pissing pussy.

She shuffled back on the seat, squeaking again as the felt the leather against her damp slit, leaving a streak of urine behind. She needed to finish up to alleviate the discomfort from having cut herself off, and then leave as soon as she could. The otter spread her legs again, preparing to dump the rest of her pee on the carpet below, but as she looked down, she frowned; it was already drenched, and adding more to it wouldn't do a whole lot. She needed something else.

Starting to shuffle over into the other back seat, her hips bumped against something, and she looked over. On the other rear seat was a messenger bag, and she curiously reached over and unzipped it. Inside was a change of clothes, probably for the gym, or more likely for a night at his current girlfriend's place.

Though her cheeks were still blushing, she grinned again; this was perfect. Grabbing the bag, she tossed it onto the floor in front of her where it landed with a splash in the puddle of her urine, repositioning her feet once more to rest one on the inner door, the other hovering awkwardly in the air as she realized she hadn't left anywhere dry to set it down. She looked up and to the sides, now paranoid not that she would get caught but more that someone was silently watching her, her realization that she had been exposing herself having made her more self-conscious. Tugging her skirt out of her purse and leaving the panties inside, she folded her skirt over her lap just enough to keep her pussy hidden from any prying eyes, even though someone would have to be practically standing right outside to see anything in this position.

Because she had cut herself off mid-stream, it took almost no effort to pick up again, the otter letting out a little groan as she felt the discomfort disappear when she resumed urinating. Peering downward, she watched past the hem of her skirt as her broad spray splashed all over the duffel bag and the clothes inside of it, soaking the fabric within as well as the bag itself. Wet spots became more numerous and grew in size until the dry parts had all but disappeared as she kept pissing for several seconds more, listening to the pattering sound of her pee on the bag. She finally felt herself running dry, and clenched her muscles to try and keep her spray going as long as possible. But eventually, she couldn't get any more squirts out, and she leaned back with a sigh.

<Too bad I didn't have more to do the front seats too,> she thought remorsefully.

Quickly realizing she needed to make her escape, she leaned over with the intent to zip up the bag, but backed off when she realized her spray had covered the zipper and handles too. Besides, given the state of the car interior, it wouldn't make things that much less obvious to move it back where it was – so instead she quickly pulled a tissue from her purse to clean herself with, chucking it onto the floor in front of the other back seat. Hastily, she re-fastened her skirt around her waist, foregoing her panties – it would take a while, and would be awkward to put them on in the back seat while trying to also not touch anything wet. As soon as she was decent, she took one last look around before opening the door and climbing out, taking one last look back at her handiwork.

The soaked bag rested on an equally soaked carpet, the back of the driver's seat still glistening from her piss. A little spot of pee was on the seat she had been on too from where she was sitting. Had she been more daring, she would have taken a picture with her phone, but instead she just committed that scene to memory and reveled in the feeling of having gotten her revenge on that jerk, her heart pumping and her body full of adrenaline from the rush of it all. He'd gotten away from the breakup without any real consequences, until now, and with a smirk of satisfaction she closed the door.

Sammy walked back to her own car with the fastest walk she could manage that didn't involve breaking into a run, doing her best to look incognito and keeping her eyes down toward the ground. She quickly climbed into her own car, squeaking softly as her bared loins came into contact with the seat on her car, reminding her that her panties were still in her purse.

She subconsciously reached down as if to cover herself, cheeks flushed deeply. She was surprised at how she had put herself on display to accomplish her deed, but she swelled with pride for getting back at her ex and standing up for herself, even if it was in such an unorthodox way.

<I don't think I'm going to tell my friends about this one, though,> she mused to herself as she took her car keys from her purse, wanting to leave as soon as she could.

--------------------

The next day, Sammy was back at work as usual at the huge office tower her employer owned, happily wearing her new shirt. After parking in the underground car park, she headed over to the elevators and called one for the 14th floor – it was a 'smart' elevator, so she had to push a button for her destination floor from the panel in the car park itself, rather than from the inside of the elevator. As she waited, she shifted about on her feet; she'd had to rush out of the house that morning and hadn't had time to use the bathroom before she left, intending to go as soon as she got to work.

Supposedly the 'smart' elevator was more efficient, but she wasn't so sure that it actually worked. What it did do, though, was stop on as many floors as possible on the way up, resulting in her getting squished in near the back wall with everyone else heading up. Fortunately, it cleared out by the time she arrived at her floor, and she scanned her badge to get through the turnstile to enter the office proper.

She immediately knew something was wrong; the early risers on her team weren't at their desks, which were suspiciously barren of their personal effects. As soon as she approached her own desk, she heard her team lead calling her. "Sammy, come over here for a moment, please."

Inwardly panicking, but outwardly restraining it to her whiskers and tail drooping as her brow furrowed, she put down her purse and followed her team lead into the small conference room. She'd expected the other early-bird team members to be there if there was some sort of emergency, but instead it was just her, two members of security, and her team lead, Jack. He was a pure-white stoat in a short-sleeved shirt and slacks, who looked unusually serious today. Far too serious.

<Oh no...>

"G-good morning, Jack." Sammy mustered as she sat down across from the table.

"It's anything but." He replied grimly, staring into his coffee mug for a few seconds before looking up at her. "I'll get straight to the point, Sammy; the whole team's gone. I'm only still here to let people know and to finish up paperwork."

"Gone?" She squeaked out, clutching the edge of the table and leaning forward. "W-what happened?"

"They decided they could find graphic designers more cheaply overseas." He responded solemnly. "They handed off our projects and are firing- sorry, 'Downsizing'," he said as he made disparaging air-quotes with his fingers, "the whole team. It's nothing against you, personally. We all got shafted."

She frowned more; he must have been mad to be so candid instead of his usual friendly self, especially with the security guards standing right there. Her gaze lowered as she stared past her feet at the floor at a loss for words.

"You need to quickly clear out your desk and say your goodbyes." Jack said, breaking the silence. Sliding a post-it note over to her, he added, "Here's my phone number if you want a reference for your next job. Sorry, Sammy. They axed me too, there's nothing I can do."

--------------------

Sammy wandered in a daze back to her desk to gather her things, escorted by the security guards. She knew the phone numbers and email addresses of a few of her coworkers, and she'd have to use them to say her goodbyes and get contact info for the others, because the guards wouldn't let her away from her desk, even when she protested that she needed to use the bathroom.

The only things at her desk that didn't belong to the company, she was able to fit into her purse. Once packed up, one of the security guards took her badge, and they both escorted her back through the turnstiles to the elevators before leaving her there, bewildered, dismayed, and in desperate need to pee.

She pressed the button for the third basement floor, and as she waited, it hit her; this was it, she was going to be leaving the building for the last time, and she was going to be unemployed. She had some savings, sure, but it was going to be rough. She had no idea how long it would take to find another job. Since it was with no notice, she didn't even have any interviews in progress – it could be weeks or months before she found another place.

<They fired me without notice! Who even does that?> she thought angrily, glaring at the closed elevator doors. <What jerks! They fired my whole team just to save a few dollars! This is so unfair! I couldn't even say goodbye, and->

Sammy felt a pang of desperation, and squeezed her legs together. <And they wouldn't let me go to the toilet – did they really think I'd somehow steal a bunch of company secrets from a bathroom stall on my way out? I'm just a graphic designer! What am I going to do, leak their new slogan?>

Her disbelief at having been terminated rapidly transitioned into anger, her fists clenching as the elevator doors opened and she stepped inside past some executive who was getting out – she imagined kicking him in the shins in retribution, but settled for glaring at his back as she waited for the elevator doors to close. She wanted to get some kind of revenge on her way out, and as she stepped inside, she realized she was all alone in the elevator. Looking up at the screen, she could see it was going straight to the parking garage; with the morning rush over, almost everyone (well, everyone still employed) was at their desks already.

That meant she had 17 floors' worth of complete privacy.

As she felt the fullness of her bladder, Sammy was reminded of what happened to her at the clothing store – and how she had gotten her revenge on them. As bad as that store and her ex were, neither of them had fired her on the spot just to be cheapskates!

"If you think you're getting away with this," Sammy muttered under her breath, "You can think again."

As soon as the elevator door closed and she felt it descending, she turned to the side of the elevator, spreading her legs far apart and squatting down so that her skirt was held up by her legs. With one hand she tugged her panties to the side as far as she comfortably could, her other hand grasping the rail on the side of the elevator to give herself support.

<I've got to be quick,> she thought to herself as she tried to relax her body, <I don't want to still be going when I get down there!>

As she heard the panel beep for passing the 16th floor, Sammy let out a sigh of relief as she felt herself starting to pee, easing the pressure in her bladder while also getting a twinge of satisfaction. It was getting easier and easier for her to pee away from a bathroom each time she did it, and she watched with glee as her piss came out in a broad spray like it always did. The numerous droplets of pale water rained heavily on the metal paneling on the side of the elevator, noisily pattering against it, but with nobody else to hear the noise it was music to Sammy's ears, the sound of her revenge. From there her urine ran down the stainless steel to the floor, spreading outward in a steadily expanding puddle.

Squeezing her muscles, she pissed at full force, both to account for the limited time she had – she was already passing floor 13 – and because it just felt so incredibly good. With each passing second that she continued to pee, she felt both the relief just from how desperate she had been, and a sense of justice for paying back the company for what it had done to her. She only regretted she couldn't do something worse than mess up an elevator.

Floor 9 – Sammy bit her lip as she glanced at the screen, still unleashing a heavy stream of otter urine. Letting go of the railing, she dug in her purse preemptively to pull out a tissue, continuing to relieve herself all the while. She was going to leave behind such a huge puddle! She watched with excitement as it grew, listening to the elevator beeping with each floor she descended, her head swimming with adrenaline from the thrill of getting her revenge on someone else who had wronged her.

But when she got to floor 3, she began to get worried – she could feel that she wasn't empty yet. Was she going to finish in time? If she didn't, would she have enough time to finish before someone caught her? Surely there wouldn't be anyone else in the parking garage at this time of day. She took a deep breath and continued to piss as hard as she could, hammering the side of the elevator with a spray of her pee.

Floor B2. She panted for breath from exhilaration, her tail-tip flicking back and forth behind her, but her worry only grew.

<I'm not going to finish in time...!>

The elevator came to a stop at B3, and the panel beeped once more. She squeezed her eyes shut, but refused to simply cut off her stream and make a break for it – she had to finish what she started. She squeaked as the door opened, expecting someone to yell at her, her spray only just beginning to wane as she finally ran dry.

Nothing happened for a moment. She only heard the pattering of her own piss against the elevator wall, and splashing as some of it hit the puddle below her. Cautiously she opened an eye, pulling herself closer to the wall to remain hidden behind the panel – there was nobody outside.

She let out a sigh of relief and let her stream come to its natural conclusion, only to squeak in panic as the elevator doors began to close, making her stab the 'door open' button with her index finger. Clenching her muscles to get every last drop out from her, she felt like she was expressing every last bit of her anger at the company for her treatment. As soon as she felt she was empty, she immediately began cleaning herself with the tissue she'd been holding at the ready, and hastily dropped it in the puddle.

Peering around the corner cautiously, she saw that the coast was clear, and without stopping to put her panties back in position, she quickly exited the elevator and made her way back to her car at a brisk walking pace.

She was almost dazed by the excitement of what she had just done, and how much better she felt for getting her revenge. Halfway to her car at the opposite end of the floor, she overheard some voices, almost hiding in surprised reflex before she realized she was far enough away that she didn't have to hide.

Glancing over, she saw two people she didn't recognize heading towards the elevator, either late arrivals or perhaps working on a team with a more flexible schedule, neither of them looking in her direction. She lowered her head as she blushed furiously – they were going to discover her deed sooner rather than later, and that pair would have to either walk or share a ride up with her puddle.

--------------------


Sammy's friends showered her in condolences after she told them what had happened (minus what she did in the elevator), even taking her out to her favorite restaurant that night. When she woke up the next day, she resolved not to let it get her too down, and started hunting for a new job right away.

Still, she wasn't used to suddenly having so much free time. She caught up on chores and errands, tried cooking new things, worked on her backlog of books, and stayed in closer touch with her friends, but even then she still had time to spare. When Friday came around, as she was collecting her mail from the apartment building's lobby, she found a flyer for a local gym that had only just recently opened.

<Why not?> she thought as she read over it, checking the address and finding that it was only a few minutes' drive away. <I have the time now, and it'll be good to get in shape and lose a few pounds.>

In lieu of 'real' workout clothes, she found an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt that would be no great loss to get all sweaty. Armed with a backpack she dug out of her closet, her clothes, a towel, a big bottle of water, a case for her phone that clipped onto her shorts, and a pair of earbuds, she headed over to the gym. After getting checked in, she got changed in the locker room – to her surprise, the women's locker room was practically empty with no signs of anyone else's bags, but she shrugged it off; it was the middle of a workday, after all, so the patrons were probably all at their day jobs, not to mention that it was a relatively new establishment.

Once in the gym proper, she found lots of unfamiliar and intimidating equipment carefully laid out in neat rows, with the cardio and weight training equipment separated into two halves of the room. She hadn't thought to do much research ahead of time, so she simply headed for one of the treadmills – some running would be a good way to ease herself into it, and she could try other things later. Nina would probably know more. To her relief, it was mostly but not quite completely empty; there were a few guys using some of the other equipment, but they were minding their own business, so she didn't feel quite as self-conscious as she thought she was going to.

Sammy took a moment to figure out the treadmill buttons, starting a preset sequence that would switch between fast and slow speeds every minute. She had barely gotten started, though, when she heard a voice from behind her as she was putting her earbuds in.

"Hey there, cutie. Haven't seen you around here. Need some help with that?"

Sammy's skin crawled, but she tried to keep her emotions controlled as she looked back over her shoulder. She'd expected one of the other patrons had come to bother her, but it was actually a janitor, the tall but spindly weasel leaning on his mop as he checked her out none too subtly.

"I'm fine." She said as firmly as she could manage, though the short otter didn't sound nearly as confident as she had hoped. She turned away from him and did her best to ignore him, putting in her earbuds and jogging on the treadmill.

Unfortunately, he didn't take the hint, and when she got back to a low speed section a little over a minute later, she glanced back over her shoulder and found he was still standing behind her, having barely moved except to produce the illusion of mopping the floor. "Are you still there?" she said, trying not to snap at him, but getting increasingly frustrated.

"Just cleanin' the floor." He responded nonchalantly, making exaggerated motions with the mop over the linoleum. "There's a spot here that's real hard to get out."

Flustered, Sammy turned away again and focused on her jogging, glancing around the room – she was starting to understand the real reason why there weren't any other women at the gym. <I'm never coming back here again,> she vowed inwardly, intent on just finishing her exercise so that the trip wouldn't be a total loss.

Finally, the janitor left to go elsewhere, but she kept a close eye on him whenever she could see him, getting anxious when she couldn't. <I could have just gone outside for this, without having to deal with this creep.> She sipped at her water bottle as she started to sweat from the exertion, turning up the speed a bit in the hopes of tiring herself out sooner so she could leave that much quicker.

Eventually she calmed down and focused on keeping her breathing steady, watching the distance increment on the treadmill's display. Not having realized she lost track of him, she almost jumped when she heard the janitor speak up again from behind her. "You live near here?" He asked, and even when she ignored him, he continued, "Got anything going on after you're done?" When she still said nothing, she gasped in surprise when she noticed him leaning on the side of the treadmill at an uncomfortably close distance. "You and I should-"

Sammy had had enough. "No, and I'm done." She blurted out in frustration, grabbing her water bottle and getting off the treadmill to head back to the locker room. To her great relief, he didn't follow her, and she slipped into the women's locker room with a sigh. What a mess.

<Plenty of other gyms around,> she reassured herself as she sat on a bench and wiped her brow, drinking heavily from her water bottle. She was surprised at how out of shape she'd gotten, but an office job where lunch often came from a food truck or take-out hadn't done her any favors.

After catching her breath and draining the water bottle, she took her towel from her bag and went into the shower to clean herself off. As unpleasant as it had been to exercise, especially with that leering janitor hanging around, she had to admit that the shower afterwards felt refreshing. As she was finishing up, she felt the beginnings of a need to pee, and contemplated letting loose in the shower where she was standing. She decided against it, though – there was no telling when someone else might show up, and she wanted to leave and put as much distance between her and the gym as she could.

After drying off, she wrapped her towel around her body, partly from force of habit, but also just in case someone else came in. Even though she was safe in the women's locker room – or at least, she hoped she was – she was still quite self-conscious and didn't want anyone to see her naked.

She decided she'd stop in at the bathrooms to take a leak, get dressed, and head back home, likely before leaving a review of the place as a warning to others, and letting her friends know too. She padded across the locker room floor towards the bathrooms – she'd seen the door to them from the gym itself, but there was another door that connected directly to them from the women's locker room too.

As soon as she stepped in, she turned and saw the janitor there with his mop, half-heartedly cleaning the floor. She let out a shocked squeak and scurried backwards, clutching her arms around herself to ensure the towel preserved her dignity, cheeks flaring red from embarrassment. "Wh-what are you doing?" she squeaked out in a mixture of shock and anger.

"Just cleanin', sorry about that." He replied without a shred of an actual apologetic tone in his voice. "But I put up a sign, you know." He pointed over to the side, and Sammy looked – he'd followed the letter of the law but not the spirit, as the sign was located on the bathroom's side of the door, off to the side, in such a position that it would be impossible to see until someone was fully inside already.

"Go on and do your thing," he commented as he stuck the mop head into the bucket, making a show of wringing it out. "Don't mind me, just doin' my job. Takes a while to clean a place like this, you know?" He flashed her a grin that made her skin crawl, whiskers drooping downward as far as they could.

"I-I'm fine." Sammy stammered out quietly before she managed to turn and open the bathroom door again, leaving as quickly as she could without slipping on the floor. Panting heavily, she took a seat on one of the benches, trembling as she tried to collect herself. <He's even worse than I thought! Is that even legal? What a creep!>

There was no way she was going back in there, that was for certain. Which meant she wasn't going to be relieving herself before she left, either; it was bad enough normally in the women's restrooms in public, her invariably loud splashing making her self-conscious, but the thought of the janitor being nearby and listening made her squirm in disgust.

Shaking her head, she got back up and went back to her backpack to get dressed. Why was she having such rotten luck recently? First the clothing store, then her job, now this! But as she stared into her bag, she recalled how she'd dealt with the last two – and with her ex, though that payback was a longer time coming.

<Just doing your job, huh?> she mentally taunted, glaring at the wall separating her from the janitor, her frown slowly turning into a devious smirk, whiskers lifting. <I'll give you something to do that'll make you get the real cleaning supplies out, you disgusting pervert!>

She moved away from her bag and sat diagonally on the edge of the bench, facing the very center of the room and spreading her legs. After a moment of consideration, she leaned back as well, moving her hands behind her to hold the bench and brace herself on it. Needing only a few seconds of breathing to relax enough, she pushed her muscles as she felt her release starting, watching her piss shoot up and out from her urethra, breaking up into droplets in the air that rained down all over the floor in the center of the locker room, away from the drains in the floor that were at the sides of the room.

This time, she wanted to make as much of a mess as she could, so she started wiggling her hips back and forth, sending her lightly yellowed pee all over the place on both sides, where it fell onto the tiles and echoed around the room. She was coming to greatly enjoy hearing her piss hitting things other than water – every time she heard it, it meant she was getting revenge on someone.

She clenched and unclenched her muscles to send her piss all over the center of the floor, her pee flowing into the gaps between tiles and filling them like channels of a river. Sammy watched with glee as her wild shower sprayed over such a large area of the floor – until she shivered as she cut it off early, squeezing her legs together. That was the only problem – she was only hitting the floor, and that would be easy to clean with a mop.

Glancing to the side, she saw the row of lockers against the wall, and spun herself on the wooden bench to point her tail end towards them, quickly resuming the stream she had cut off. As her shower of pee rained down on the lockers it produced a range of echoing sounds, making her grin and clench her muscles again to spray harder, wiggling her hips. She tried to hit as many lockers as she could, going back and forth in a spray, watching her piss roll down the front of the lockers towards the floor.

As soon as she felt her stream waning, she cut it off again just long enough to stand up, straddling the bench, raising her arms over her head and letting loose. Since she was almost done, the rest of her pee trickled out of her without much force straight down onto the bench, forming a puddle that spread until it rolled off the edges of the bench and onto the floor below.

Sammy let out a sigh as she finished up, walking back to her bag and grabbing her towel. Standing with her legs spread again, she wiped herself clean, rubbing herself between her legs, bending over as well to get the insides of her legs where a few stray droplets had splashed.

Suddenly, she heard the door opening, and froze in panic, still completely naked and holding a towel between her legs amidst a room liberally sprayed in piss. Sammy squeaked as she looked up sharply – if it was the janitor, she was going to scream for help, dignity and humility be damned. But she noticed the bathroom door was still closed, and she sharply turned her head to look at the gym door instead, seeing nobody. Finally, she looked to the other entrance, and there, she saw someone entering.

It was another otter, wearing a blue skirt and a white t-shirt with the logo of some company named "Carport" printed over the front of it, holding a messenger bag over her shoulder. The other otter stopped in mid-step as she, too, caught sight of Sammy, both frozen as they stared at each other, one naked, the other pressing her legs together under her skirt from arousal, both of them blushing intensely.

<Someone beat me to it!> Felicia realized.