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female The Bird's Bladder (Fullmetal Alchemist)


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Spoiler Alert: Fullmetal Alchemist spoilers. Episode 24 of Brotherhood, Chapter 50 of the manga.

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The streets and buildings of Central passed the black car by as it drove through the city, one of its command posts the destination. Sitting in the passenger seat was Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, in her full blue military uniform. “Are you sure about this, sir,” she asked to the driver, her superior, Colonel Roy Mustang, the same uniform with a higher rank adornment clothing his body.

“We don't have a choice, Lieutenant. If Fuhrer Bradley really is a homunculus, something must be done. And taking on the entire Amestrian government and military isn't something I can do on my own. I need the assistance of other high-ranking officers to stand a chance.” Mustang had a plan to overthrow the Fuhrer after the Elrics' adventures had revealed his secret as a homunculus, to free the country and take his position, but he needed help. That's why he was driving to Central Command, to meet with Lieutenant General Raven.

Hawkeye was silent for a few seconds, only the engine running to fill the void. Finally, she sighed sadly, and replied to the Colonel. “I know you and Brigadier General Hughes were close, but you don't need to go so far to avenge his death. You have others under your charge that you have to watch out for.”

“Hughes said that corruption was closing in, and it's starting from the top. I can't sit by while that happens, not when Hughes died to find it.” The car came to a halt as it parked on the curb in front of the gate, Mustang stepped out and Hawkeye followed, both slamming the door behind them. “Wait out here for my return, Lieutenant.”

That was a shock for Hawkeye to hear. “Sir, with all due respect, I'm coming with you.”

“No. Any number of things could happen to me while I'm in there, I need you somewhere else as a contingency. If I haven't returned in the hour, leave. And don't tell the Elrics about this, they'd do something stupid if they knew.”

Hawkeye closed her eyes and smiled. “Yes, they would, sir. Not unlike a certain Colonel. Very well, I'll stand guard.” She took position, standing at attention to the side of the entrance gate. Mustang began confidently walking through the open fence, until his subordinate stopped him with another statement. “Just remember, you don't need to protect me. I vowed to follow you, no matter the danger.”

Mustang didn't respond for a few seconds. “I know,” he eventually replied and resumed walking, more somberly this time. He disappeared from sight as the mechanical whirring of the elevator up to the building.

So now Hawkeye was alone, save for the common passerby that paid her no mind. She stood straight with her back to the wall, watching everything that crossed her sight, ready to respond to any threat. And while she had incredible focus, she had earned the nickname “Hawk's Eye”, she was also able to think about other things, at least until combat began. As such, she was dwelling on other matters.

Normally, she'd be contemplating the nature of her relationship with her superior officer. Not like that, it's just that the two had long history together, both of them occupied a large part of each other's self. Now that there an uprising coming that affected and would decide the fate of Amestris, it was only natural to be worried. And she was, Mustang would be on the front lines of the coming fight, any number of terrible things could happen to him.

But that's not what Hawkeye was thinking about now. Instead, her musings were occupied by a different dilemma, a physical, bodily one. The type that manifested and lingered just below her stomach, the kind that meant horrible things if she couldn't move. “Now I need to relieve myself,” she whispered, with a hint of disdain. Still, she stood perfectly upright with a blank face, keeping her discomfort to herself.

The Lieutenant was, unsurprisingly, incredibly good at holding her urine. She was trained and practiced, she was a sniper in the Ishvalan War, a job that necessitated laying perfectly still for very long periods of time. Not that it was mandatory for her to hold it, the duty came first so wetting herself was unavoidable sometimes, but she tried her best and it strengthened her bladder considerably. Even disregarding that larger than average capacity, she was military, she knew how to hide pain. A filling bladder would be nothing.

A filling bladder should be nothing. So why was Hawkeye's boot twitching against the concrete sidewalk? “How much am I holding,” she muttered again, cautious to keep her volume out of earshot. If it was bothering her, it couldn't be a negligible volume, she shouldn't be feeling it unless it was a substantial amount. She usually took her breaks at designated intervals before her body could bother her about it. This was bad.

“Keep it together, Riza. The Colonel said he'd return within the hour, surely you're capable of waiting that long.” Of course, one hour (plus the drive back) would be well within Hawkeye's ability, she just had to trust the Colonel's punctuality. Maybe it wouldn't be enjoyable, but that was the occupational hazard.

Still, no amount of reassurance changed the fact of the matter, which was that Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye needed to pee quite badly, so much so that her movements were starting to give her away, and she had nowhere to go. Right now, it was nothing more than a little foot twitching, but it would only get more obvious with time, she knew from past experience. It was easier to keep still in a horizontal position, when the sum of all drinks weren't pressing against the drain that would release them, but she couldn't very well lie down now.

For the time being, it felt like a cramp below her stomach, another feeling she was used to by now, uncomfortable and tempting Hawkeye to release it. Even with her legs pressed together, as standing at attention does, it was irritating. The thought briefly crossed her mind of using a hand to help, but she threw the idea away instantly. Her hands would stay firm at her side, where they could grab her gun at a moment's notice. She was an adult, she would remain stoic until a restroom was available in an hour or so.

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Well, at least an hour had gone by, and Hawkeye was still standing guard the same as before. And to say her condition had worsened would be a bit of an understatement. She was still standing tall, letting nothing show, but the pain inside was quite bad now. The worst her movements were getting was a little thigh-rubbing, which wasn't doing much to keep the pressure down.

Subtle movements were able to conceal themselves beneath the loose clothing she wore, but she had to consciously remain within that slim margin. Her pants were large, so little leg motions could work within the leg, and some shaking could be excused as wind. And Hawkeye was taking advantage of that, the only remotely secret thing she could do now.

“...This is getting a lot worse,” she mused as she continued to dance just that little bit. “What is taking the Colonel so long?” Mustang discussing a coup could very easily get him into hot water where he wasn't providing the fire, any number of horrible things could be happening to him inside that building. At any other time, the Lieutenant would be worried for her superior's safety, but now she was just irritated she was being kept from the bathroom.

It had to be closing in on red alert level, because she was no longer focused on holding, but instead how best to relieve herself now. Clearly, the best and most obvious option would be to enter the command center she was guarding, it wouldn't take long and it wasn't far, just a ride up the elevator, but there was the increasingly real chance that something bad had just happened inside those walls. If she entered, she might be subjected to the same thing.

She could use another building's toilet, but everything close to nearby was private residence, it would be an abuse of authority to forcibly enter for a stupid reason like that. Businesses were further away, to far to walk and she didn't have keys to the car, not that she would abandon her post (that far away) anyway. Hawkeye wasn't a diehard follower of orders, she would disobey if it was necessary, but she didn't consider this a suitable emergency, even if it was a type of emergency.

That left Hawkeye with one final option: not using an actual bathroom. Right across the street from where she was standing were dark alleys, that could work. But people were passing by it all the time, there was a high chance she'd be caught. On top of it being embarrassing, public urination was a crime, she'd be reported for sure. And she'd scold her dog Hayate for peeing where he wasn't supposed to, she wasn't a hypocrite.

“No! Why are you even considering this,” she reprimanded. “You are an adult and a member of the military, you will act accordingly and wait.” She had resolve, no doubt about that, but she was getting closer to her limits. Without even realizing it, she had pressed her legs tightly together, rhythmically standing on her toes, back to flat on her feet. It was incredible, she was trying so hard not to be obvious about how direly she needed to pee, it circled back around and became unmistakably clear. Now aware of it, she stood perfectly straight again, but the sweat forming on her face and the waves crashing in her bladder were sending a perfect message; unless she did something about this now, her hair wouldn't be the only thing yellow on her.

Just then, a large figure began approaching from the corner of her eye, so large that she knew it could only be one as she turned her head to look. Major Armstrong was walking towards the entrance to report for duty, nodding at Hawkeye as he passed. “Good day, Lieutenant.”

She tried, she really did, to salute the Major, but she couldn't move her arm up, like it was paralyzed. Even with his less than stellar people skills, Armstrong still picked up that something was off. “Is something bothering you, Lieutenant?”

This was it, do or die, Hawkeye had to do something if she wanted to avoid an accident. “Could you please stand in for me for a minute? I need a restroom break.”

“But of course! It is the duty of all officers to assist others in time of need...” He was probably going to continue his speech (while removing his shirt), so Hawkeye walked away stiffly, stepping onto the elevator and slamming the up button. The platform began ascending, thankfully with only Hawkeye on it, allowing her to finally give in and grab her crotch fully and openly. She pressed her legs together, not that they had been apart much for a while, had both hands between them, and bounced on either her heels or knees, one at a time.

Now she had to wait for the elevator to reach its apex, and she couldn't do anything but dance and hope it would be enough. And now that she was doing everything in her power to hold, it was really sending the message to her body that she was on the edge, because now her body was giving in. Spurts and leaks were dripping into her underwear, slowly but still happening. “Gotta hurry, need to pee, come on, reach the top already.”

Finally, the destination was reached, and Hawkeye tried her best to straighten herself out. She didn't entirely succeed, but the path to the Central Command building was pretty empty, so no one to see her. Unfortunately, the walk was also long, a lot longer than she remembered. She couldn't help it, she whimpered at the sight, but still trekked forward. The bushes, trees, and grass were really looking tempting, but she resisted and kept the front doors her destination.

Somehow, she made it to the building okay, but getting wetter. She wasn't even attempting to remain subtle any more, the full holding now necessary to not wet herself. Thankfully she knew this building's layout very well, a right turn as soon as she entered, women's restroom on the left, an open stall, and she locked the door behind her. If anyone saw and looked at her funny, she didn't notice in her haste.

Now, she just needed to pull her pants down, which would no doubt be the hardest part. She could see the toilet directly in front of her, she was only a foot away, but she couldn't do it yet. Both her hands shot from her crotch to the waist of her pants to remove them, fumbling with the clasp holding the dress bottom of her jacket on. She'd love to just lift it up and yank down her pants, but the belt was keeping both pieces up, so it needed to come down.

“This would be so much easier if the uniform was a miniskirt,” she growled. Her hands weren't shaking, she was a sniper after all, but she was still having a hard time amidst the distraction. Just then, she got it undone, but right that second, she lost it. Completely. Her bladder couldn't take the fullness any longer and began emptying its contents into her clothing. A new fire in her movements, she threw the dress to the floor behind her, pivoted to face the stall door, ripped her pants and no longer white panties to her ankles, and sat down before the free-flowing stream could do much damage.

All that was left was the incredibly loud sound of her little waterfall pouring into the toilet bowl, leaving Hawkeye's mouth agape as every ounce of pain left her body, leaving her panting from the effort of making it that far. As great as it felt, she only had one word to say in response. “Better...” There really wasn't anything else to say, that breathy statement said everything.

But she couldn't very well do nothing but wait as her release was hitting the minute mark, so now that she was free from the throes of relief, she started looking over the mess made before she got to the toilet. The little puddles on the floor were nothing to worry about, some toilet paper would take care of that, it was the substantial amount soaked into her pants that worried her. Her panties were soaked, that wasn't the article of clothes that were the problem. The pants were also wet between the legs to halfway down the thighs, the lighter blue color dyed a dark color, unmistakable what could have caused it. She probably couldn't get away with claiming a spilled drink was the cause, especially with some on the rear of the dress too.

Close to two minutes after it began, Hawkeye had nothing more to give, her pee lowering to a trickle before stopping completely. She grabbed a few squares of paper to wipe herself, and extras to clean everything else a little, when the roll ran out with only a little more in her hand. “This is all I get?” Not nearly enough to dry her clothes a little, she resigned it to the more immediate drops on the floor, pulled her still wet pants back up as she stood, and clasped her dress back on where it belonged. It wasn't comfortable, but if she had to be stuck in wet clothes, she wouldn't try to hide them like a kid, she'd stand and face the punishment.

Washing her hands and at least attempting a quick exterior drying with some paper towels, Hawkeye left the restroom and exited the building, beginning the long return walk to her post. Once again, she didn't notice if someone else saw her, not when she was briskly shuffling back to lessen the shame. The lot in front of Central Command was just as empty as the first time, as was the elevator, giving Hawkeye the chance to brush her hair with her hands to restore it from the slight disheveling it got in the earlier rush.

The platform was almost at the bottom, now the Lieutenant could see the Major where she left him, and he was talking with the Colonel, who it appeared returned while she was on leave. Both of them looked at the approaching elevator, their gazes meeting. “Where were you, Lieutenant,” Mustang asked.

“Sorry, sir,” Hawkeye replied in her usual professionalism, like she wasn't standing with a wet patch on her pants. “I asked the Major to cover for me while I took a latrine break.”

Mustang looked her over. “Appears that's the truth. We'll have to make an extra stop at your apartment to allow you to retrieve another uniform.”

“Thank you, sir.” It sounded just as normal as anything else she said, but she was thankful he was understanding.

The loud humming of the elevator increased, as it drew near carrying another passenger. Hawkeye didn't even notice it went back up. “Get in the car, Lieutenant. Before you're seen like this.” She nodded and slid into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind her just as the elevator's cargo exited, a low-ranking officer approaching Mustang while looking around. The two exchanged a few sentences, inaudible through the car door, ending with the Colonel being handed an envelope. He nodded and strolled to the driver's side, opening the door and sitting down. He tossed the envelope into his subordinate's lap. “He had a letter for you.”

She picked up the package and turned it in her hands to open it, but stopped. Whatever it was to worry about, it could wait until she had a clean uniform on.

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