okay but like… imagine harley quinn being super super desperate to pee during a bank robbery but the joker won’t let her go
so she’s just crossing her legs as hard as she can muster and hopping around on one foot just trying to hold it all in. unfortunately, the running fountain near the entrance way definitely isn’t helping with that.
she’s been holding an entire liter of green tea for over four hours now and she feels like she’s about to explode.
and the more she whimpers and writhes around the angrier joker gets and he keeps telling her to stop being so childish and just stand still and focus on the robbery but she literally can’t
“Mistah J, we’ve been here an awful long time, don’t ya’ think? And…and I know I already asked, but… I really, really gotta go to the bathroom, so do ya’ think maybe I could–.”
“Oh, Harley girl. What on Earth gave you the idea that I gave a damn about your needs?” Joker turns to look at her with a glare that would’ve made her freeze had she been able. “Do you know why we’re here tonight?”
Harley moans softly and hurriedly nods her head. Her hands are clasped behind her back to keep herself from holding her crotch, and she can’t think of anything besides how badly she needs to pee.
It had been over six hours since she’d last used the bathroom, over four since she’d drunk all that stupid tea. It’d started getting bad about two hours ago, when they’d first gotten out of the car. She’d been able to feel the liter of tea spilling into her bladder like it was being poured through a funnel, building what had only been a slight urge into an unbelievably pressing need. She’d asked Joker several times if she could relieve herself, but each time, he was furious at her for even asking. She’d been dying for a pee then, and that was two hours ago.
“Allow me to refresh your memory. We’re here to steal tonight, to kill, to have a good laugh. but you know what we’re not here to do?”
The sound of splattering water hitting the basin of the fountain is almost enough to push her over the edge. She can’t help but wiggle. “Puddin’…” More than anything, Harley wants to grab herself until her knuckles go white, but she doesn’t dare. Instead, she settles for rubbing her legs together like she’s attempting to start a fire.
“We’re not here to become the punchline of our own joke, so unless you’d like to stand over there with them,” he waves his gun toward the group of hostages and an elderly woman in the front cries out, “you’d better hold still and do as your told.”
Harley nods and tries not to cry. She can’t keep this water inside of her for much longer. Her legs are tangled around each other in some impossibly air tight knot that helps a little but not nearly enough. She can feel the fullness of her bladder pushing into her stomach, see the prominent bulge poking out of her snug-fitting suit. All she wants to do is release the urine trapped inside of her, but she can’t.
When Joker has his attention turned back to the hostages again, Harley immediately starts shuffling. She inhales sharply as her bladder contracts and a strong aching sensation spreads throughout her whole abdomen as her pent up pee searches for an escape route. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, she clenches her muscles for all their worth. She has to go to the bathroom so badly its making her almost delirious. She can’t think of a single time when she’d needed to go worse than she needs to go now. She indulges in another desperate pee dance, her hands grasping her hips to keep them out of her crotch. It hurts so badly she can hardly stand it. Tears form in her eyes and she begs herself to hold on.
“P-Puddin’ please, can I go–”
Joker whips around, his eyes narrowing into nasty little slits. “What did I just say?”
“Oh God,” she wails, digging her hands in between her legs as tears begin to spill down her cheeks. She’s humiliated beyond belief and she knows that she’s just making him angrier, but she can’t help it. She can’t hold it. “I’m-so-sorry-I’m-so-sorry, but I can’t hold it any longer I can’t I really can’t. I’ve been holdin’ it in for hours now and…and…Oh God, I gotta go I gotta go.” Her legs are shaking with the strain of holding in all of that urine. She knows it’s only a matter of time before her body completely gives way, before she floods her suit and releases a stream as free as the fountain’s, but she begs herself to hold on. She can’t wet herself; she just can’t. Not in front of Joker, dear God, not in front of him.
Joker walks up to her and grabs her by her suit collar. She squeaks, unable to do anything but moan and clench her legs together.
“Let her go.” Harley barely notices Batman slip into the bank, but sure enough, there he is. For a split second, she lets herself hope that he catches them. They have bathrooms at Arkham, bathrooms she’d be allowed to use. The thought just makes her urge worse. Right now, all she can focus on is the weight in her bladder, throbbing with the full load inside of her and threatening to spill out at any moment. She wants desperately to feel that release, the heavenly freedom of allowing the lake of pee inside of her to exit. She needs a toilet. She needs one.
Without her consent, a few drops of pee dribble out of her trembling body and into her underwear. She gasps and knows for certain that she needs to get to a toilet very, very quickly before…Her cheeks go bright red just thinking about it. No. She won’t wet herself. She can’t. She won’t. The idea absolutely terrifies her.
Giving no thought to anything other than the immense pressure in her bladder, she struggles to make a bolt for the bank’s restrooms, but Joker is still holding onto her. He pulls her face so close to his she can smell the tobacco on his breath.
“Harley, if you don’t get a hold of yourself right this second, I will pull the trigger.” he wags the gun at her and gives her a wild smile. “Keep the hostages in line while I deal with the Bat. Are we clear?”
Harley nods frantically and he lets her go. Removing a hand from her crotch, she reaches into her bag and pulls out her hand gun, pointing it at the group of hostages. She’s half doubled over with the strain of keeping her bladder under control as another contraction sweeps through her body. She knows that she hardly looks threatening in her current state, so she doesn’t understand why the hostages still seem so afraid. If anyone should be afraid, it’s her.
From somewhere behind her, she hears a groan and the sound of something falling to the floor.
“Harley, I can see that your struggling.” Batman sounds out of breath, and she knows immediately that he’s got Joker. “I’ll tell you what– put the gun down and I’ll let you use the bathroom before I take you back to Arkham. Sound like a deal?”
The offer is light years beyond tempting. She wants nothing more than to sit herself down on one of those wonderfully white, porcelain toilets and relieve herself of all the water inside of her. This image, combined with the gurgling hiss and splash of the fountains, makes her feel as though she’s about to explode. Still, she holds the gun at the group of hostages with some semblance to steadiness.
It isn’t a second later when she feels another few drops squeeze their way out.
“Harley, do not put that gun down,” Joker says raggedly before Batman can cover his mouth again. “You put that gun down and it’s the last thing you do!”
Harley moans and her knees lock. Her pee is threatening to come rushing out at any moment.
“Quinn, don’t listen to him. I can see how your…issue…is affecting you, and I imagine that fountain isn’t helping. Am I right?”
Holding still isn’t working, so she starts hopping desperately from foot to foot, trying to tune out both Batman and the fountain. Her cheeks are a brighter shade of red than her suit, and wishes she were anywhere but here. The thought of needing to grab herself not only in front of Joker, but in front of Batman, makes her want to disappear. She says nothing.
“What? Really? The fountain doesn’t bother you at all?” Harley can’t see him, but she can hear the furrow of his brow. “If I had been forced to listen to all that running water, all that splashing and pouring and dripping and gushing, I’d have run to the restroom ages ago. I’m impressed that you’re still holding up.”
Suddenly, she’s even more keenly aware of the fountain than she was before, of how it streams into the basin and sounds a lot like what she so desperately needs to do and oh fuck does she ever need to pee. She’s absolutely dying, doing everything she can to hold it in and still keep the gun pointed at the crowd. Still, even with her body in utter agony, she’d sooner die than let her Puddin’ down. She can do this. She has to. She has to hold on.
“Wouldn’t it feel nice to just…release?” She can hear Joker trying to get a word in again, but Batman isn’t letting him this time. “You look like you’re having a lot of trouble there. You must be bursting! There’s a toilet maybe 20 seconds away. Why hold on when you could just hand over the gun and be done? I imagine it would be quite the relief, no?”
He’s taunting her, playing games with her, and unfortunately, she’s losing. She anxiously rubs her foot against the back of her calf, then curtsies a little to help her stay in control of her tortured bladder. However, Harley knows that even her best efforts won’t be enough to contain the torrential hurricane of pee inside of her forever.
“This could all be over if you’d just put the gun down. I’m a man of my word. Kick the gun over here and you’re free to…to relieve yourself to your heart’s content.”
Harley’s swollen bladder is screaming for relief, but she tells herself that it will just have to wait. It has no other choice than to wait. She can’t kick the gun over. If she surrenders, Joker will kill her, or worse–leave her. And she can’t wet herself either because then he would definitely leave her. It would be okay. She’s waited this long, she can wait a little more. She can wait. She can.
She stands there, trying to hold her thoughts together, trying to hold her pee inside of her. Her hand is gripping her crotch so tightly it’s trembling, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. She wants to hide and cry, but none of those are an option; she has to pee so badly she can barely hold still.
The struggle is continuing behind her, and she hears Batman grunt in pain.
“Oh, Harley, come on. Just listen to that fountain. Listen to the water and tell me we don’t have a deal.” Another grunt.
She knows he’s just trying to get her to surrender, to push her to her limit so she’ll give up, and hell is it ever working. Batman is right: the sound of splashing water is everywhere and Harley gasps as she feels herself beginning to lose control. The realization sends a wave of terror crashing through her chest: she’s going to wet herself.
She feels herself starting to pee, and there’s nothing she can do about it. She’s clenching her muscles as tightly as she can, as tightly as she ever has.
Harley manages to stop the pee from completely pouring out, but only after she has already leaked a little. Not much, maybe. Her underwear feels no more than a little damp between the legs–for now. But she knows she won’t be able to hang on for much longer.
“My offer still stands. You must have a bladder of steel to not have taken it yet.”
Harley’s trembling with the effort of keeping her muscles clenched tight enough to keep from wetting herself. The horror of losing control causes tears to pool in her eyes. This can’t be happening. Not here. Not now.
Suddenly, she tenses and squeezes her thighs together as a short, quick spurt spills out of her. Before she can fully cut it off, she feels a gentle trickle of warm pee running down the inside of her thigh. Her underwear feels decidedly wet now, as does the crotch of her suit. Her eyes are watering terribly and she’s in so much pain she can hardly bear it. She has to hold it somehow. She can’t wet herself, not now. Joker would never forgive her, never.
“Harley, we both know you can’t last much longer. Please, just give the gun up.”
“Can it!” Harley shouts, feeling another little trickle run down her thigh. Grimacing, she struggles to bring her bladder back under control, but she’s fighting a losing battle here and Batman knows it, the smug bastard.
She’s full to the brim, fuller than she’s ever been. Every muscle in her body is screaming at her to let go, begging her to release her reservoir of hot, pent up pee and give up this whole damn thing. It hurts so badly she wonders for a moment if she’s doing permanent damage.
Joker would forgive her for leaving her post–eventually. Sure, she’d probably get roughed up, but he’d forgive her. He always did. If she wet herself, she doubted he’d ever be able to look at her the same way again.
A terrible wave of desperation seizes at her bladder then, and she knows she can’t wait a second longer. She tosses the gun over to where Batman has Joker in a headlock and immediately begins to hobble to the bathrooms. Her ears are ringing with the strings of profanity Joker is shouting at her through Batman’s palm, but she can hardly hear what he’s saying. The only thing on her mind is how direly she needs to relieve herself.
By now, Harley is too far gone to hold everything back, and she’s peeing little spurts into her underwear at virtually every step. By the time she reaches the bathroom door, there are steady little rivulets coursing down both her thighs. Her face is flushed with the humiliation of it all, of being reduced to grabbing herself like a child in front of Batman and letting down her Puddin’. She’s crying tears of frustration and sadness and desperation all at once, but things are about to get worse.
Being so close to relief proves to be too much for Harley’s bladder, and suddenly it’s all gushing out. With an embarrassingly loud hissing sound, pee explodes from her tortured bladder and completely floods her suit. Trembling uncontrollably, Harley begins to sob as stream after stream of hot urine burns down her legs and pools around her feet. It feels good, stupidly good, to relieve herself after holding for so long, but she hardly notices. She can feel everyone watching her, which makes her cry even harder. It’s pouring out of her so quickly it’s splattering back up onto her calves.
Out of the corner of her teary eyes, she sees one of the Robins leading Joker out of the building and she supposes that she’s next. “You’re useless, Harley! Useless! Can’t do a single thing right! Never! Can’t even hold your own damn pee!” Joker is shouting back at her.
Harley’s crying so hard she can hardly breathe, still peeing at full force. “Puddin’, I’m sorry! I didn’t–didn’t mean to!” She wails after him, but he gives no indication that she’s spoken at all.
She hears someone clear his throat and jumps to see that Batman is standing in front of her. More humilated than she’s ever been, she clenches her muscles as tightly as she can, but the urine continues to flow. She’s powerless to stop the pee pouring out of her, so she covers her face with her hands until it’s over. Even though she can’t see him, she can feel him watching her, waiting patiently for her to finish. She pees for a full two minutes before her stream trickles down.
Unable to bear looking at him, Harley keeps her face hidden in her hands and continues to bawl her eyes out. She wants to be bitter, say something snappy to him, but she feels too broken to do anything but cry.
Batman says nothing, only awkwardly wraps his cape around her shoulders and tries his best not to step in her pee.
Bewildered, Harley uncovers her eyes and pulls the cape tighter around her shoulders. She gives him a bleary-eyed, grateful smile and looks down at the floor.
“If it makes you feel any better, Robin just picked up Ivy before I called for back up.”
“Ya’ mean she’s here?” God, does she ever hope Ivy’s here. She needs a friend more than ever right now.
Batman nods and puts a tentative hand on Harley’s shoulder before cuffing her and leading her out to the squad car. “I’m sorry for…that,” he says with a strain of discomfort in his voice.
Harley nods and waits for him to open the door for her.
And sure enough, Poison Ivy is sitting in the back seat.
Her eyes soften the moment she sees Harley. “What happened?” Then, noticing Harley’s puffy, tear-strained eyes, “Did Joker do this? Did he hurt you? Because if he did, I swear to God I’ll kill him.”
Harley says nothing, just blushes furiously and waits for Ivy to put the pieces together.
Iyv looks down at the wet, shiny fabric of Harley’s suit and furrows her brow. “Wait, did you…? Is everything okay?”
“No.” And suddenly Harley is crying again because oh God she just completely wet herself in front of Batman and Joker and every single hostage in that room. Joker will never forgive her. Batman will never be able to see her as a capable villain, or anything other than the girl who peed her pants during a bank robbery. The thoughts make her chest feel like it’s sinking in, and what’s worse is that her clothes are visibly soaked with pee. She’s smelly and wet, but Ivy doesn’t seem to care. She shushes Harley and tries her best to wipe away her tears with a pair of cuffed wrists.
“I couldn’t hold it anymore, Red. I just couldn’t. I had to pee so bad. and Mistah J wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom, no matter how many times I asked. I held it for hours and hours and I just couldn’t-couldn’t…” Somehow, she’s sobbing even harder than she was in the bank, if that’s even possible. “And now he doesn’t want anything to with me, nothin’ at all! He thinks I’m useless and ya’ know, he’s right, too. God, why couldn’t I hold it? I-I…”
“Shh. It’s okay, Harl. Don’t listen to that deranged clown. You’re not useless, not at all. So what if you couldn’t hold it? No one can hold on forever, and he made you wait a ridiculously long time, the sadistic pig,” Ivy says with a touch of disgust. Then, soothingly, “It happens to the best of us.”
The officer starts the car and backs out of the bank’s parking lot. “Has it ever happened to you?” Harley sniffles. She can’t picture anyone as beautiful and poised as Ivy ever getting caught up in something so shameful, but she asks anyways.
“Well, no, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure you’ll feel much better after you have a shower.” Ivy smiles sweetly but then wrinkles her nose. “Honestly, I think I’ll feel better after you have a shower, too, because no offense, Daffodil, but you stink.”
“Gee, thanks, Red.” Harley nudges Ivy with her foot and giggles.
“But I meant what I said about this happening to other people, too. It seems like a huge deal right now, but it’ll be okay. I promise.” She smiled kindly at her and sighed. “It really wasn’t your fault, you know.”
Harley’s heart surges with warmth and she lays her head on Ivy’s shoulder. “I wish I could hug ya’ right now.”
“Maybe after you shower,” Ivy says, and the two start laughing again.
