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Bound by the constraints of modesty, he clings to his resolve, his bladder aching with each passing moment. The pink, sheer fabric of his sukumizu outfit offers no respite, instead, it clings to his body, outlining his predicament. His desperation grows, his grip on his bladder weakens, and in a final, blissful surrender, he lets go, his golden nectar soaking his clothes and the ground, a testament to his moment of weakness.