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This is the request I did for @Dededesciple!

It wasn't a long class. Fifty minutes is standard for university courses, after all. But this was her first week of classes and her first year. She'd just finished setting up her dorm room the night before, and it was perfect. A cheap bookcase proudly displayed the creased, tearing-in-places spines of her entire manga collection. The club expo would be next week, and she was ready. Maybe she'd even meet a cute boy there... That morning she had slipped into a navy off-shoulder sweater, pulled on a pair of mint thigh-highs, and unfolded a pleated mini skirt to match. Now that she was officially out from under her parents' control, she could finally express herself in the way she wanted to: a little sexy with a bit of her personal, eclectic flare! She grabbed the 32oz water bottle that served her well over the past two days of going over the syllabuses in her classes; that August heat was killer. Literally. The Sunday headlines had stated that at least six students had already succumbed to heat stroke. And everyone else she'd seen had had a bottle... Which is why she hadn't considered exactly how much she was sucking down during the first two classes. She'd refilled it twice already! And with it nearly half-gone she topped it off before last class too. While watching the arc of water dribble down the transparent edges of the bottle that last time, she noticed an uncomfortable desire to urinate, but decided she could wait through her third class. It was only fifty minutes... Ten less than an hour! She was a fully-grown woman with adult responsibilities, and a trip to the little girl's room would make her several minutes late. In the first week of classes, there was no way in hell she would subject herself to being ogled by the peanut gallery for being late! Never mind her absolutely not wanting to start off on the wrong foot with her instructor Rumor held that college instructors could ruin any chance she'd have at passing a class if they so much as found her even slightly unlikable. She was an adult now... at least, now she was an independent adult. And she'd decided to use the interim time between classes filling her water bottle. If she had to pee, she should have thought about that before taking up that time. At least she wouldn't be thirsty. She held onto this fantasy up until the moment she sat down in that warm, plastic-seated chair. An icy chill of reality seized at her sides the moment she leaned forward to open her notebook. She needed to pee. But the pressing feeling didn't keep her from subconsciously swigging from her bottle to bring much needed moisture into her mouth. OK, so what? As if this was the only time she'd ever had to pee when starting a class. She'd just do what she'd done all throughout high school: hold it. Uncomfortable memories bubbled up from the faint, stomach-twisting concern she felt. There had been more than a few times where she'd left class shaking with desperation. But she reassured herself, and pushed the anxiety down into her gut: while those times were uncomfortable, she had always made it to the toilet. But as the instructor opened the class for the day's session, that concern erupted full-force from wherever she'd managed to keep it... She badly needed to pee. And as much as she wanted to keep her focus on her instructor, her mind wandered toward escape strategies. She'd stupidly taken a seat front-and-center. There was no way she could duck out unnoticed. The thoughts were fond ones, though. She realized that she didn't exactly know where the bathrooms were, but surely there was one somewhere on this floor. At half-way through class, she was folded at her desk with her hands pressing hard against her thighs. Every time she moved her legs, a nauseating wave of boiling, excessive desperation crept across her abdomen. She sweated both from the heat and intense anxiety. She'd made a mistake. A really big mistake. She would have taken being late, so long as she could have released the ocean of hot urine from her twitching body. Her mind played over and over again the torturous, sensation of letting go... but each time, it ended with burning, stinging fullness and not relief. It was as if her body was repeatedly urging her: "This. You need to do this. Remember this? Are you ready to do this?" No. Hold it. Hold it. Part of the problem she faced was a question as to whether or not she had to ask permission. She was in a classroom of a sort, and the instinct was there from all her years in school... But what if she wasn't supposed to ask? She was an adult, now. What was she supposed to do? Hold it. She wondered what it would be like to pee her panties as the instructor wound down the class. The horrifying pulses of her defiance of nature came closer and closer together, like waves against shore stones during a hurricane. "Alright! See you all next week!" Horror snapped away in a bolt of lightning as only sensation remained. Hot, scalding pressure. She shifted upward and out of her seat with a notable lack of grace and briskly exited the room. Her mind was blank, and her vision flew with sparks at the exertion. She cared only about making it to a toilet. Her back was angled stiffly away from her hips to provide as much room as she could for her quivering bladder. First... "Restrooms" was listed on a sign next to a hallway name. Then the little, black plastic rectangle that carried the familiar, female symbol. It denoted that sweet, sweet place where humanity had designated it appropriate for females to empty the bladders that their kidneys had so rudely filled to burst. Then, there was a problem. Physically, she was so close. But the line of women on the inside kept her painfully distant. Again and again, different toilets flushed. Other women emerged. But the line scarcely decreased in length. Two over-worked stalls just weren't enough for the post-class rush. The pulses rolled constantly, like a penny winding down its spin on a counter top. "You've gotta pee. Don't you think you should pee? You're in the room... don't you think it's time to... pee?" That last one didn't end with the now uncomfortably familiar stinging. No. It ended with a hot jet that caused her thighs to instinctively clamp together. She shifted, hoping to spread the little wet mistake thin and thus save her thigh-highs. She pulled with all of her internal muscles and breathed shallow, panicked breaths. She wasn't going to make it. The ferocious disconnect between her iron-clad will and her body had at last made itself terrifyingly known. Soon, she would disgrace herself with unstoppable squirts and a deluge of ecstasy. Her legs carried her out of the room in some futile hope that she could make it to another restroom in time. But without thought, she found herself entering the men's room... The boundaries of society melted to the heat of her desperation. Two men stood in line for the stalls. She didn't have time. Already, her mind clambered to explain exactly how she was supposed to do this. But as the man at the urinal finished up doing what she needed to do... she turned to do the best that she could. Here's a request I did for someone on Discord!

The one time she tries to stay dry.

Couldn't hold it through the whole movie?

My first attempt at drawing digitally. (I made literally 99 versions of this image)