Cassiopeia Gets a Job Pt. 02

Cassiopeia finished sweeping the wooden boardwalks of the dockyard at about five in the afternoon. She didn't have her watch, but her boss, Mayra, had come over to inform her that once the walkway was swept, she was off for the day.

It was a clear, sunny late-summer afternoon. Cassiopeia was dressed appropriately: wearing a sun hat, knee-length red dress that matched the strange bright crimson of her irises, and a sturdy pair of shoes. Her waist-length green hair had been pulled back into a braid, with stray strands escaping and clinging to the sweaty skin on her face and neck after a day of hard work.

It had been almost two weeks since Cassiopeia's interview; after her nap, she'd awakened refreshed, had a short pee, and made her way back to the stairs snaking down the sheer side of the plateau. Since then, she'd still been staying at the inn near the base of the plateau, but it was beginning to get expensive. She'd needed to spend her first paycheck on new clothing and supplies, and found that morning that she hadn't had enough to stay another night at the inn. It was for that reason that her scant belongings were stowed in a backpack in the supply shed nearest to the entrance to the docking yard. Cassiopeia had figured she could camp in the trees somewhere around the docking yard for a few days, as long as it wasn't on her employer's property. She'd miss bathing, she supposed, but she'd always liked peeing outside.

As Cassiopeia stowed the broom in the supply shed near the dockyard's radio tower, she pressed her legs together. She needed to pee again for what felt like the dozenth time that day. Pushing past the urge, Cassiopeia turned to a blue cooler on a narrow work table next to the brooms and retrieved a water bottle from it. The sides were cool and wet with condensation, contrasting the burning afternoon sunlight outside. The water inside was even cooler when Cassiopeia tipped her head back and took a long drink from it. She was tired from the long day and still needed to scout out a campsite, but she needed to relieve herself first. She'd held out so long that when she finished her drink, she had to press her legs together harder to prevent a leak.

Cassiopeia exited the supply shed and hurried toward the closest trail into the trees.

"Miss? Miss?! Hello, are you the owner of this docking yard?" asked a voice somewhere behind her as she hurried along the grid of raised boardwalks that crisscrossed most of the docking yard. "Miss?"

Cassiopeia froze and turned around. Behind her was a woman who appeared to be slightly older than she was, in her early to mid-'20s. Cassiopeia couldn't tell whether the newcomer was renoige or human: she looked human for the most part, with tanned skin, round blue eyes, and a slightly upturned nose, but her ears were pointed and catlike, the same yellowed white as her coarse shoulder-length hair. Her clothes were formal but crumpled, as though she'd slept in them, and she had a fluffy knee-length ringed tail that swished subtly behind her as she jogged along. Cassiopeia glanced around, figuring that she could point the newcomer to Mayra and get away to relieve herself, but her bird-winged employer was nowhere to be seen. Cassiopeia's bladder gave a throb of protest. She had to clench up her kegel muscles, and to her vague dismay, it felt good.

"I'm not the owner, no. That's Miss Mayra," said Cassiopeia, walking forward as casually as she could while trying not to pee herself. "Have you checked the airship at the entrance?"

The woman shrugged. "It's the first place I went. I knocked at both the front and back doors but nobody answered."

Cassiopeia bit back a groan. "She's probably in her workshop."

"Where is it? Can you show me?" asked the woman, pulling a small notepad and a pen from her hip pocket.

Cassiopeia wanted to ask about the notepad, but she had to clench up again as another urge to pee hit her. She avoided leaking, barely, while trying to navigate the raised grid of boardwalks. The small outbuilding that housed Mayra's workshop wasn't far, but the maze of paths leading up to maintenance docking structures and around the larger stalls made it difficult to approach without finding oneself at a dead end four meters above the ground.

"My name's Saoirse, by the way. Saoirse Sylls," said the woman, falling into step next to Cassiopeia. She'd pronounced it "seer-sha," and Cassiopeia immediately knew that she'd never be able to spell it.

"Is it alright if I ask you a few questions?" prompted Saoirse. "Nothing super personal or anything."

Her urethra straining, Cassiopeia didn't have it in her to say no; most of her concentration was going toward not wetting herself. "Sure."

"I'm trying to find some equipment," said Saoirse. "I need a part for a Silverling series airship, and I was told that your boss purchased one from the local scrapyard."

Cassiopeia tried to think back to the last time she'd been to the workshop, and ended up leaking when the next urge to pee hit. The brief, warm trickle dripped down her leg under her dress. "She has a gutted airship behind the workshop," panted Cassiopeia. "I don't really know anything else though."

The dock yard's workshop came into view. Mayra wasn't outside it, but the door was open. Cassiopeia made for the small building, forcing Saoirse to quicken her strides to keep up.

"I never asked your name, by the way," said Saoirse, pocketing her notebook.

"C-Cassiopeia," panted Cassiopeia. In the workshop ahead, there was a tinkle of glass breaking. Cassiopeia's bladder gave a taut, painful throb of anticipation. She suppressed another leak, only for a small squirt to escape her, dripping down into her socks.

"Found her," panted Cassiopeia triumphantly, jogging forward-

A hand grabbed Cassiopeia's arm, arresting her progress. It had been Saoirse. Cassiopeia wanted to sob in frustration, but the effort would've made her lose control and wet herself.

"Cassie," said Saoirse earnestly. "Thank you so much for your help, but I know you need to pee. Just go, I'll be able to find your boss on my own from here."

Pressing her legs together and shaking, Cassiopeia felt her face redden. She also hated being called Cassie, but everyone called her that and there didn't seem to be an alternative. "H-how did you know I needed to-"

"I'm a half-breed, in case you haven't noticed." Saoirse poked at one of her catlike ears. "My mom's renoige, and I inherited her sense of smell. I can tell you've been holding it."

Her face burning, Cassiopeia thanked Saoirse and ran off at a quick waddle toward the nearest set of stairs down from the boardwalk. She took a trail into the trees, but they were too thin to hide her, so she kept moving, leaking with each step.

Cassiopeia followed the trail downhill and to a small sheltered area underneath a stone outcropping, pulled up her skirt, squatted, and let fly. As usual, she wasn't wearing any underwear - an intentional decision made for situations just such as this one - and the desperate drip from her vulva quickened into a stream, pounding into the dry dirt beneath her.

Warm drops splashed her legs and butt, causing Cassiopeia to reach down and use her fingers to control the flow of clear fluid. Looking up, she found herself in the same spot she'd peed at two weeks ago. Like before, the outcropping had a panoramic view of the lake and town below the high-cliffed plateau. The spot was sheltered and shady in the mid-afternoon. It would make a perfect campsite, she decided, and twisted to get a better look around, letting the consistent flow of piss arch from side to side as she did so. With that matter settled, Cassiopeia finally allowed herself to relax. She turned her attention downward; she was still going strong, making a sizeable wet patch in the dirt. Her bladder was too stretched out and full for her to get enough pressure for some distance, but she didn't mind. Being back at the outcropping made her vaguely horny; her vulva throbbed warmly as she spread her lips, and she was about to tweak her clitoris with one finger when something rustled above.

A thin stream of urine arched over the side of the rock face a few meters to Cassiopeia's right, followed by a long sigh. Still evacuating her bladder on her haunches, Cassiopeia froze. A familiar voice seemed to chant something quietly, and it took Cassiopeia a moment to recognize that it was Mayra.

"Four-millimeter wrench, small socket, sixteen-millimeter hex bolts..." Mayra repeated this several times in a low voice in a slow cadence. It took Cassiopeia longer than usual to finish, but when she did Mayra was still going.

"Oh, there you are!" Saoirse's voice echoed off the rocks. "May I join you? I'm about to burst."

There was a brief, awkward silence, which Mayra broke. "Uh...sure. I don't think we've met?"

More rustling preceded another stream of pee from above, slightly further down than Mayra's. Saoirse gave a long sigh before replying: "I'm Saoirse Sylls. I've got a rare model of hovercraft, and I was hoping to buy some spare parts from you if you have them."

"Oh, you mean from the Silverling," said Mayra, her tone cooling. Her flow tapered off, stopping just before Saoirse's. "Are you looking for the thagomizer or self-sealing stem bolts?"

Saoirse let out a sudden, bark-like laugh. It caught Cassiopeia by surprise and she fell from her haunches onto her butt, gasping before thudding to the ground just clear of the puddle she'd made. The voices above stopped, and Cassiopeia's pussy throbbed stubbornly as her stomach twisted in horror.

Mayra dropped down directly in front of Cassiopeia, spreading her blue and tan feathered wings to slow her descent and landing gracefully. She was still in her work coveralls, with her dusky blue hair twisted up into a compact knot at the top of her head. All Cassiopeia could do was stare, mortified, as Mayra turned to look at her. On the ground with her skirt raised and legs splayed, Cassiopeia felt the color drain from her face in cold pinpricks; she'd been doing so well at hiding how often she had to pee, and this time she'd been caught after only two weeks. Her mind raced: would she be able to collect her last paycheck? Where would she stay? Where could she go? The plateau was out in the middle of nowhere, and interworld transportation wouldn't be possible for the next eight months-

"You're still here, Cassie?" asked Mayra. Cassiopeia was starting to get lightheaded, and didn't have time to register the look on Mayra's face before Saoirse skidded down the same trail around the outcropping.

"It's my fault," interjected Saoirse. "I asked her to help me find you and held her up."

Mayra turned to Cassiopeia, first giving her a thorough look-over, then the wet patch in front of her. Mayra's hawklike amber eyes didn't linger on Cassiopeia's exposed vulva, but it still made Cassiopeia's stomach flutter. Frowning, Mayra turned to Saoirse and said something in a jarringly sharp tone. Cassiopeia didn't understand it: she could feel unconsciousness approaching like a train, and all she could do was lean back to control how she fell when the world faded rapidly to black.