Arthur Quits His Job

Arthur Deepuin sat up. His bedroom was chilly, dark, and felt abandoned. His entire house had felt that way for exactly two weeks now, since his nineteenth birthday.

He'd gotten up late, but could still get to work on time if he hurried out the door. Sweeping his dark wavy hair back, Arthur noticed how long it was - almost to his shoulders. He pulled it into a ponytail, stretching his black-feathered wings behind him. He'd slept in his work clothes, a drab beige button-up shirt and a pair of dark jeans, so he didn't have to worry about getting dressed. As Arthur tied his bootlaces, he registered that he had a very full bladder, but he couldn't bring himself to care. If Arthur's father, who had just packed up and left the night before his birthday without warning, didn't care about him, then why should he care about himself?

Arthur drowned out the thought with a splash of cold water to his face and hurried out the front door, not sure why he was bothering to lock it behind him before starting down the hill to the brewery.

Entering the facility through its front gate, Arthur made his way to the warehouse next to the main brewhouse. He was scheduled to spend the day there, moving boxes to and from delivery trucks. Arthur was a few minutes early, so he figured that he should pee before putting pressure onto his bladder lifting the heavy boxes of beer, grain, supplies, and whatever else he had to move that day.

"Deepuin!"

Arthur's blood boiled for a split second, but he kept his face blank as he turned around. The person who'd spoken behind him was the brewery owner, Tacca Chantrus. Chantrus was a large, catlike Renoige man, slightly shorter than Arthur but twice as muscular, covered in long fur with mottled black and brown markings. He had a long, fluffy tail and his pointed ears were slightly smaller than normal for his size.

"Deepuin," Chantrus barked again, and Arthur's bladder gave a protesting throb. The other workers around them - mostly renoige, and most around Arthur's age - looked over at them. "Where were you last night?"

Arthur bit his tongue. He needed to use the bathroom more than he wanted to start any conflict, but Chantrus was standing between him and the men's bathroom. Arthur knew he could hold it for several more hours with some effort, but he hadn't had a pee in almost a day and a half. That wasn't abnormal for bird-winged Andyne folk like himself, who had notoriously strong bladders, but he was beginning to get painfully full.

"I was here until close last night, then I went home," said Arthur blandly.

"Can anyone confirm that?" Asked Chantrus. His watery blue eyes narrowed at Arthur.

Arthur sighed, "What's going on?"

"Stop playing dumb, Deepuin. I know you're the one who's been 'sampling' the product. Again."

Despite how drained and tired Arthur was, he found his face heating up: he'd been accused of drinking from the brewery's vats of beer several times before, but those times he'd been pulled aside by his lower supervisors into the operations office. This time, it was Chantrus, out in the open where everyone could watch. Arthur's stomach did a nervous backflip, increasing the intensity of the pressure in his lower belly.

"You're an outsider so you may not be aware of this," said Chantrus, his tone turning patronizing. "But us Renoige have a very keen sense of smell. From just a person's urine, I can tell a lot about them: their overall health, their stress levels, and what they've been drinking. I can even smell when they're holding it." Arthur, who had lived on the Renoige homeworld for just over thirteen years, already knew this and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At that moment he just wanted to work his shift and leave, and a snarky retort would only make Chantrus keep him there longer.

"I know how full your tiny bladder is," said Chantrus, glaring at Arthur. "If you can prove you haven't been drinking my product, you can go back to work for the rest of the day without me bothering you."

"Oh good," thought Arthur with a bitter edge. "I just have to pee in a cup and I can get on with my day." He started toward the bathroom, only for Chantrus to step in front of the door.

"Outside, Deepuin," Chantrus snapped. Arthur followed Chantrus out the nearest door to the timeclock, presumably for another lecture. Arthur didn't know or care what it would be about, he just wanted to get to the bathroom faster. Thinking about peeing wasn't helping him hold it.

Outside, the day was clear and sunny. The trees around the warehouse were almost skeletal, going through their regular twice-yearly shed. Their oblong-shaped yellow leaves cluttered the ground. Unexpectedly, Chantrus stopped and turned to Arthur, pointing at the ground directly in front of him. Arthur did as Chantrus seemed to be directing him and stopped where he'd pointed.

"Well?" Chantrus demanded. "Do you mean to keep us here all day?" There were a few bystanders on their way into work, though only one or two workers had followed them outside. Chantrus didn't seem to care that others were watching, and a small crowd formed around them. A few workers, Arthur saw, were hurrying past without looking in their direction.

"Only until you're done yelling at me," replied Arthur, finding it increasingly difficult to keep his voice toneless.

Chantrus frowned. "Oh, I'm done yelling at you, you hairless batsquatch. I want you to prove that you're not drinking out of the vats. Now."

"By pissing in a cup?" asked Arthur.

"No, Deepuin. Right here," said Chantrus, pointing at the ground again. "I want to know you're not tampering with it."

Arthur couldn't feel it, but he knew he was blushing because Chantrus smirked. A few of the people watching did too. It wasn't uncommon for people to relieve themselves out in the open in Renoige culture, but Arthur normally tried not to. In his thirteen years on the Renoige homeworld, Arthur had learned that most renoige boys had retractable penises, which could be long but were usually rather small. Arthur's penis was neither small or retractable, and people tended to gawk at it - he was a little embarrassed to think about it, but he'd measured himself: seventeen centimeters soft. Someone giggled derisively in the crowd around them, and something snapped in Arthur's head.

Arthur mapped out the next few seconds in his mind, and locked eyes with Chantrus as he unbuttoned the front of his shirt. It hung open as Arthur unzipped the fly of his jeans. He kept his black-feathered wings relaxed at his back instead of using them to shield himself from view. When he let go, the first burst of hot urine splashed the ground between him and Chantrus. Arthur did have to break eye contact for a moment so that he could reach down, pull back his foreskin, and aim. It picked up into a strong stream that pummeled the damp dirt, quickly forming a puddle on the ground. Satisfied that was in order, Arthur looked back up into the blue gaze of his boss. Chantrus frowned, and his eyes drifted pointedly toward Arthur's midsection before he spoke:

"That's enough, you can stop now," said Chantrus. "There no beer on your-"

"I can't stop," said Arthur steadily. He couldn't help a small sigh of relief: at first his abdominal muscles had been aching from holding it so long, and it was finally starting to feel good. With his free hand, he fumbled with the buttons at the back of his shirt: he'd had to modify his uniform shirt for his wings himself, and had decided to use wooden toggle buttons. They were easy to grab but difficult to unhitch without twisting around to see what he was doing.

There was plenty of time for Arthur to undo the buttons: he'd been pissing for well over a minute, showing no sign of slowing down. The puddle in front of Arthur was getting so big that Chantrus stepped back a little, and Arthur suppressed his own smirk as he freed the last toggle button at his hip. The people around him, including Chantrus, had lost their smug air, and their expressions became sheepish and awkward.

After another few seconds, Arthur's stream stopped abruptly and he looked down, shaking off. He still felt like there was still more in him, but it was good timing: his dick was starting to swell as a knot of excitement tightened in his stomach. Having it out was embarrassing enough; he didn't want to get a full-on erection in front of his peers.

"Mr. Chantrus," said Arthur, zipping up. "I'm going home. You can have this back." He pulled off his shirt, wadded it up, and dropped it into the puddle he'd just created. Chantrus's mouth fell open, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to say anything. Arthur didn't wait for him to reply, turned on his heel, and strode away toward the gate.