Why exactly did a 68-ounce bucket of peach tea seem like a good idea? What was it that had compelled Bailey to not only buy such a thing, but also finish the whole thing well within an hour? She had no idea, but right now there were more important questions on her mind anyways; namely how long was she going to be stuck in traffic and where was the next rest stop?

She had stopped just an hour ago to refuel and get some snacks – fortunately she hadn’t needed to go to the bathroom at the time, since the only one there had been out-of-order – and already there had been a light drizzle coming down. But by the time her poorly-thought-out drink was finished, that had picked up into a proper rainstorm, and apparently caused an accident somewhere up ahead. Apparently a pretty serious one, too, considering that Bailey could see nothing ahead of her except too many red lights to count.

Hopefully things would start moving before she ended up in a serious accident of her own, though. Hopefully. It had taken her a week to get her outfit just right, so she couldn’t let anything happen to it. Maybe she should have worn something else for the drive, but with how much work went into every little detail about her appearance – turning her black hair into a very specific red, putting it up into a particular style of twintails, making her clothes herself, and even making sure she was wearing the exact underwear needed to complete the outfit – she wanted to show off what she’d accomplished. Especially when it was far from the most creative idea for a costume, and she’d likely just end up blending in when she finally got to the anime convention. If she could even get through this traffic to get there at all.

Of course, it’d clear up eventually, so that wasn’t going to be too much of a concern. It was a multi-day event, after all, so Bailey would have ended up staying in a hotel overnight anyways, and being late for one day of the event wasn’t going to ruin the whole thing.

Ruining her outfit, though, was a very real possibility if she couldn’t get moving soon enough. Somehow, in the span of an hour, she had gone from not particularly needing to pee to absolutely bursting. All because of one drink. One half-gallon cup of sweet tea.

Yeah, that had definitely been too much. Or, at least, Bailey had downed it all too quickly. Either way, this crisis was her own fault and she was painfully aware of it. She could have bought a more reasonable size of drink, or something not quite so diuretic. That snippy cashier lady hadn’t even tried to upsell her or anything; she just saw a banner advertising the massive drink size, and jumped on it.

Her jiggling legs, the hand between her thighs, and the absence of a bladder-crushing seatbelt were all the evidence she needed that that had been a terrible idea. But it wasn’t like she could just go back and undo her own bad decisions – no, she just had to deal with the consequences and hold it.

She could do that, couldn’t she? Of course she could. She was an adult; a college student; and technically in public. There was no way she was going to wet herself like a little girl for others to see; even if they had to see her squirming instead. If it would keep her clothes and seat dry, it didn’t matter if any of these strangers in the cars around her were watching. Anything would be better than pissing herself.

Anything…

So, maybe even that empty drink cup?

Bailey cast a longing glance down with watery eyes at the massive ex-beverage that just barely fit in her cupholder. It was right there, within arm’s reach, and whatever had been inside it before was everything inside her now, so it wasn’t like it would overflow or anything like that…

But no, she couldn’t do that. Absolutely not. She could hold it.

At least, she was pretty sure that she could. There was no doubt that her bladder was full¸ but… Well, she had been desperate on road trips before. She’d always make it through in the past, so why should this time be any different?

Maybe because this time this wasn’t just a case of covering a barren hundred-mile stretch without pulling over. This time, she was hardly moving, and there was no way of knowing when she’d get to the next rest stop. It could be hours, for all she knew, and she really didn’t feel like she had much more than a single hour to spare.

With a hand keeping the front of her skirt bunched up against her underwear, and the leg that wasn’t occupied with the brakes bouncing, Bailey looked out the window to her right, past the edge of the road and over at the thick bushes just a few feet away. They were looking quite tempting right about now…

Sure, that wasn’t exactly the most dignified or sanitary option, but it’d be private enough to be a perfectly valid emergency option – and this was certainly an emergency.

But Bailey couldn’t just leave her car unattended like that. The traffic was moving, after all, if only barely so, and if she wasn’t there to keep inching forward, she’d just cause even more problems for everyone behind her. Not to mention that getting her hair wet would leave her with more work to do drying it out and styling it again, and her white shirt was the least of her concerns when it came to her outfit getting rained on…

She just didn’t have any choice. She had to hold it. Her heavy, aching bladder felt full to bursting, but there was nothing she could do about it. She had to try to ignore it somehow, and focus on at least trying to drive, instead of on the feeling of pee begging to come out. The sound of rain falling and pattering against the road and her car wasn’t helping, instead only reminding her of how badly she wanted to imitate the clouds, but she had to find a way to block all that out.

The first thing she thought to do was to pull her hand out from between her legs, turn on the radio, tune to a station where she could hear updates on traffic conditions, and then jam that hand right back where it had been. She squirmed and tried to pay attention to anything that sounded like it could be about how much longer she’d be stuck.

After listening for a few minutes and moving forward another few feet, Bailey concluded that the news wasn’t going to be any good any time soon – whatever accident had happened a few miles up had been cleared out… but it had been in a construction zone, and the lane closures involved were going to keep traffic crawling until well beyond whatever work was being done.

But at least the voices were overpowering the sound of the rain… by talking about the storm and how it was only going to get worse; even by the earliest estimations, the weather wasn’t going to get any better until after midnight. That was still some six hours away, and there was no estimate at all on how long it would take for Bailey to get past this jam from where she was now. Or, at the very least, navigate through it to the nearest exit leading to a public toilet.

This traffic certainly wasn’t bad enough to be six hours’ worth of backup – hopefully – but either way it was definitely starting to look like however long it was would be too long.

Bailey groaned, sweat coating her forehead and tears running down her cheeks as she maintained a firm grip between her legs and stared at the blockade of taillights ahead. That peach tea had been a terrible idea, and each pulse of her bursting bladder made sure she didn’t forget, serving as a painful reminder that she needed to get to a bathroom very soon and that the nearest one was still a very long way away.

She couldn’t even remember ever needing to pee as badly as she did right now. Maybe that one football game where that cheerleader wet herself after the game went into overtime, and everyone else had to endure a frantic search for anywhere they could pee, all because someone thought it’d be funny to sabotage all the girls’ toilets. Only the girls’ toilets, apparently, since some of Bailey’s friends later mentioned their success with using the boys’ instead; but just as many refused to say a word about their own experiences with that. The common theme, though, was that nobody was laughing.

Certainly not Bailey right now. She had barely made it back to the dormitory bathrooms that day, and felt even fuller now than she had then.

Suddenly, she cried out as a spasm from her bladder forced a heavy jet of urine to soak her panties, and after trembling in her seat for a while as she fought back to make sure nothing more would come out, she started whimpering as she lifted her skirt and spread her legs to inspect the damage.

First she looked down at the skirt itself, noting a wet patch right where she had been pressing the fabric against her crotch, and then raised it even higher, fully exposing her distended lower belly and eliciting a whining groan as Bailey saw for the first time how bloated her overloaded bladder had become. She used the fingers on the hand holding up her skirt to massage the balloon and try to ease the pain and pressure it was creating, but only discovered that it was firm and that anything more than the lightest touch caused the pain to increase tenfold.

She brought the hand that had been on the steering wheel until now to tug at her panties as she finally looked past her bladder to properly assess the damage. There was a moderately-sized wet patch exactly where she expected it to be, and past even that there was the slightest dampness on the back of her skirt, since she had been sitting on it the whole time.

With a despaired moan she slipped that hand into her panties to grab at herself directly, a little dribble coming out and running through her fingers in response to her touch. She cried out again then groaned through clenched teeth as she squeezed every muscle possible in an attempt to keep anything more from leaving her bladder. She had to hold it.

Bailey was just barely paying enough attention to the radio to hear mention of flooding on the highway ahead, and an advisory for everyone to stay in their vehicles until conditions improved. Not that it really applied to her anyways, since by now she wouldn’t be able to get up out of her seat without having an accident even if it were safe for her to leave the car.

She wailed as she felt another squirt of scalding-hot piss running through her fingers and absorbing into her car's upholstery, sobbing as she tightened her grip on her maidenhood and hoped that by some miracle she would stop wetting herself and hold the rest in until she could get to a toilet.

But deep down she knew she was past the point of no return. Her bladder was pulsing continuously, sending shockwaves through her body as it tried desperately to pump more urine out through her failing defenses. She refused to admit it, though, until several more spurts broke through and flooded her panties, soaked the back of her skirt, and created a puddle in her seat.

She whined, unable to deny that she was having an accident, and pulled together whatever energy she had left to try to keep the situation from going completely south. First she used the hand that had been holding her skirt to shift into park – nobody was getting anywhere anymore anyways – and then reached for the empty cup that had been sitting in her cupholder and taunting her this whole time.

But just as she grabbed it, a thick stream ran through her fingers for a second, and at that moment what little cognitive function of hers had not yet been overwhelmed by piss told her she was out of time and that messing with the cup would only create more of a mess. Without even thinking, she instead pulled her hand from her panties, and just as an unstoppable stream started to pour through them and onto the seat, she leaned over to throw her door open and stumble out of the car.

With a loud groan, Bailey fell directly into a very unstable squat, leaning back with one hand on her seat as she added her own cascade to the already-drenched asphalt, no longer able to care about anything other than relief.

Sure, she had ruined the outfit she spent a week perfecting. Her hair was getting soaked and would need a lot of work to correct, her shirt was undoubtedly translucent, and there was still a puddle on her seat, but… At least her bladder wasn’t full anymore.

She sighed, tears continuing to run down her face, now for a different reason, as her torrent gushed through her underwear as if they weren’t there at all, finally relieving herself of the pressure of a bladder filled far beyond any reasonable limits. She was only barely aware of her surroundings; the headlights to her left, taillights to her right, and horns blowing from just about anywhere. Some of those complaints were probably directed at her, but she didn’t care.

All she cared about was making sure her bladder was good and empty, and after the minute it took for her waterfall to recede, she stayed in position for a little while to try and coax anything left behind to come out as well. Only when nothing left her did she finally sigh again and return to her seat, shutting the door and buckling herself up like nothing had even happened.

Lesson learned: the “Mega 68” size is not a solo venture.