Private Jones and the rest of the women soldiers in her room at the Army barracks were awoken by alarm bells. The sergeant had come in through the door.
“Wake up, you’ve got twenty minutes to make your bed, get washed and changed,” he said.
All the women were struggling to get organised. Jones reminded herself that today was the day of the big parade, and she had to prepare her uniform for later.
At breakfast, she was slightly more nervous than normal, and she felt her mouth was a bit dry, so she drank three glasses of water with her meal. She needed to be rehydrated as she may not be able to eat or drink anything else until later in the afternoon. She felt a slight twinge in her bladder, but she wasn’t desperate, so she didn’t go to the toilet.
After the regular kit, room and other inspections, the women prepared to change into their uniforms for the parade. Private Jones put on her uniform and looked in the mirror. The uniform was a khaki green with one stripe (for Private) on each sleeve with gold buttons covering a white blouse and black tie, a khaki green skirt and black Dr. Martens boots, which had to be polished so thoroughly that they shined. There was also an officer-style hat which they had to wear on occasions like this. She kept making small rearrangements of her uniform when the twinge in her bladder came back, but again, she ignored it, and felt that she could hold it.
However, when she had to travel with the other women on the bus to go to the parade, she began to fidget a little. She should have gone to the toilet while she was back at the barracks. The journey took an hour, but her need to pee now was becoming urgent. She sat in the bus with her legs crossed tightly. She also tried to clench her muscles and tried not to think about it too much.
When they got to the parade area, there was no time for the women to either go to the toilet or do anything else, and had to get ready for the parade, in which all of the soldiers had to march in their battalions down to the recreation ground. Private Jones was bursting now. She had been clenching her muscles for some time and didn’t know how long she can hold on. She couldn’t sigh or do anything like that, and felt she had to be in control of her faculties.
Across the recreation ground, there were large rows of soldiers lined up, and the crowds were cheering them. His Holiness the Mayor was there to meet each of the battalions in turn. As hers was near the end, Private Jones had to wait until the Mayor had seen them, which made matters worse. She found it extremely difficult to keep still, and needed to pee very badly. She couldn’t fidget or cross her legs… she had to stand completely still with her hands on each side, and stare in front of her. She was clenching her bum cheeks and flexing her bladder muscles in order to maintain some sort of control.
It took a long time, at least thirty minutes, for the Mayor to come to her battalion, and by then Private Jones felt she was going to lose it. She was so distracted by her desperation that she did not notice the Mayor standing next to her.
“Hello, young lady,” the Mayor said.
“Er…. er, sorry,” she replied. For a split second, she felt a little pee seep into her panties. She felt horrified, but tried not to show it. Some more pee leaked again, then soaked her panty gusset. The Mayor had spoken to her for five minutes, but she wished he would move on. However, after several hours of holding her pee, Private Jones just couldn’t take any more. Pee started trickling rivulets down her inner thighs. She was so relieved of letting it go, but as usual, she could neither show it to the Mayor, nor to anybody else.
When the parade was over, she dashed to the toilets at the ground, and locked herself inside one of the cubicles to inspect the damage. To her relief, only the panties were wet, not her skirt. However, she may not be able to disguise the smell when the soldiers get on the bus to go back to the barracks.