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  • Recent Blog Entries

    • By DerivativeWings in The big Magic: the Peeing project
         0
      Today will be a different kind of update; art. As I mentioned previously, I only plan to use art if I can get permission directly from the artist. This means it's far from guaranteed all cards or even a majority of them will actually have art. However, I was recently given permission by Biku to use their art (Biku's excellent art can be found here).
      I've decided to share a few of these newly-arted cards. If you know of any Biku art you think would fit well on a card, by all means tell me about it!


       

       
      I hope you enjoy this card/art showcase! I'll be able to reach out to more artists I'm familiar with in the future, but if there are any other omo artist out there who would permit me to use their art in this manner, I would love to hear from them.
    • By DerivativeWings in The big Magic: the Peeing project
         0
      Another day, another Art Talk! I was extremely happy to get permission from Sunflower, as not only have they produced some of my favorite omo art out there, they've also worked with many fantastical creatures that other omo artists don't usually touch.

      This first piece shows an Overworked Servant at the moment at the moment of her relief... Though there's no guarantee she will actually get that happy ending in play!
       

      The Motionless Model card was actually directly inspired by this art piece! Looks like she's pretty much about to burst at the time of playing her...
       

      Finally, the Lake-Maker Giant seems to be in the process of doing her namesake. I wonder how many other creatures are getting washed away this time?
    • By DerivativeWings in The big Magic: the Peeing project
         0
      Hello again! This is another card art showcase, this time for Bombality's art. Some of the characters in the art are from other franchises (it's really really hard to find fitting art that isn't a lot of the time). Still, I was fairly pleased with how some of these matched up!

      For the Lined-Up Maiden, it is obviously a good idea to find her a toilet soon - she is bursting after all.

      With Bladder Channeler on the other hand, you want to build up those pee counters for a big wetting!
    • By DerivativeWings in The big Magic: the Peeing project
         0
      So... project has been advancing a lot faster than I was expecting. It is now very nearly feature-complete at ~200 cards total, and is in a fully playable state as a result. I plan to run as much playtesting as I can find people to play with, and potentially make changes as a result though. I also got permission from a second artist to use their stuff (who will get a separate art talk blog entry soon).
      Later into the project, I plan to post repositories containing;
      -The entire set in image form (to use for online MTG software like Cockatrice, which it can be played on. Or, to print physically if anyone is insane enough to do that)
      -A Cockatrice-friendly export of the set
      This would let people both look at the entire set, but also potentially set things up so that they can play with it. I have some other ideas for things to do as well, though those aren't as set in stone yet. The image repository would obviously get updated if/when it gets more card art.
       
      Today, I figured I would also share some more outlandish card designs.

      First is a Massive Queue! With this card, you can quickly create a ton of desperate creatures. However, if they wet themselves, they will all disperse...

      Second, the Confident Challenger. She'll initiate a holding contest with one of your opponent's creatures, and will gladly show off her bladder bulge when she wins.

      Finally, a proud angel in Lateja. She'll gladly smite your foes when she's gotten some proper relief, but don't incur her wrath by witnessing her wetting...
    • By FUBOT in Golden Machinations
         1
      Back in November I was working part time on a National Novel Writing Month Omorashi story. I wanted another convoluted reason why a character would have to deal with a lot of Omorashi situations. An old interest of mine is how complicated old undergarments were, and how impossible it must have been for a fancy woman to just go and take a piss. So I did some research, watched some videos, and was pleasantly surprised. 
      This was one of the first videos I watched. It seemed that as we got closer to 'modern' times, women's undergarments were often two legs strung together. As long as their legs weren't spread eagle, visually they were decent down below. But that means that they didn't have to undress a whole bunch to use the restroom. They could just pull up their dress and the cage underneath, and find a proper sitting position to let loose. This did sort of spoil my Omorashi fantasy of a woman so flustered with her layers that she wets herself, but that is okay.
      As time went on, women started to wear different combinations of leggings, split drawers, bodices, camisoles, cages, and bustles. All in the hopes of staying ahead of fashion. In a story set during the late 1800s early 1900s, your characters can wear pretty much whatever kind of funny underwear you want and it would probably be 'correct enough'. So I decided to just know about a few of them and run with whatever I liked most.
      So I knew I wanted a story set around the 1900s, but since I couldn't have the problem of layers I needed some new crisis that lead to a woman constantly being in a desperate and humiliating situations (focus on the humiliation). My solution was to go toward horror. Not the absolutely grotesque like blood from the desiccated corpse, but more like an ominous dread that hangs over the characters. The sort of lingering insanity story. It would allow me to have wettings related to fear without any blood or gore ruining the mood. I'm not a huge fan of fear wetting relatively, as I like desperation. But when combining the two, I'm okay.

      Enter Halifax Manor. Can't even remember how I got to that name. Either way I went with an old trope for easy entry. Character is going to inherit property, but she has to stay at a creepy property first. Except in the case of this story, Halifax Manor is far away from any town (for isolation), has a small staff (for witnesses), and has an odd shortage of bathrooms (for drama). There is a small staff there, including the lawyer that is judging if our MC is 'brave enough' to inherit the property. 
      I've written out a fair chunk, and I'll be working on more over the next couple of days. I'll post it and a couple of other stories over the next couple of days maybe...
      The language I'm using is mostly to avoid the sort of 'improper' language that the character herself would avoid. So you'll notice me sort of talking around the desperation at hand.
      -------------------------------------------------
      The journey to Halifax manor was a long one. After the journey through Blackburn forest and through the foothills, it requires going up a rather steep mountainside. There was a small village about halfway up the mountain, by the name of Saint Martin, where simple people seemed to live their life oblivious of the world going on below them. Then the rest of the journey was avoiding falling off the side of the mountain as you weaved back and forth along the S-shaped road toward the manor. Occasionally a sign would remind you that you are heading to Halifax manor, and literally nowhere else. 

      Megan counted the signs, there were 10 before she saw the manor peeking over the treetops. Black tiles on a steep rooftop that slowly came into view. She looked out the carriage window and could see that further down the dreary road through the mountain forest, there was a large black iron gate. This was it, she was finally here at Halifax. 

      The wagon slowed down some 100 yards from the gate, then came to a stop.

      She didn’t know why, so at first she just waited. Then she heard the driver jump down and come around the side. It was middle-aged man, mustache too large for his face as if it stole hair from the top of his head.

      “Sorry miss, this is as far as I go,” he said with a nod and a tip of his hat.

      “As far as you go?” Megan snapped, leaning back as if he reached out to slap her, “the gates are right there. Do you expect me to drag my luggage all the way over there?”

      The man opened his mouth as if to say something, but then thought better. He looked over to the gates, and she could see his eyes lower to the ground before he turned back. She assumed he thought better of his idiotic comment.

      “I know better than to get any closer, miss. I can unload your luggage here and I’ll wait with it until you get all of it of course. But uhm…” 

      She could see that pushing him on this wasn’t going to work. It must have been some policy for his carriage company. Maybe it was a disagreement with the previous owners of the manor. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to budge. She let out a huff, and opened the door to the carriage before hopping out.

      Her shoes sank into the dirt a bit. Of course the road here would be unpaved, but it was also uneven and soft. One more problem she would have to look at, if she got the chance.
      Megan stood by as the older man pulled her pieces of luggage down and stacked them in the dirt. She stood with arms crossed, making sure her displeasure was known. If she was going to have to suffer at the hands of this stickler, she wouldn’t pretend to enjoy it.

      “You need help there ma’am?” A man shouted. 

      She turned and saw a large man approaching wearing a thick wool coat with a burlap sack over his shoulder. His face was shaved, but seemed to have turned to stubble since the last clean shave.

      Megan stood from the carriage, “I’m fine. I mean, you are?”

      The man came over and without answering grabbed a bag from the hands of the driver and brought it down to the road.

      “Thank you, sir,” The driver said, “some of these are rather heavy.”

      “No kidding,” the man said with a laugh. 

      “Excuse me,” Megan said while looking between them, “those are my bags. I asked who you are.”

      The man chuckled, “just a helping hand. You need to get these up to the doors?”

      Megan looked down the road, and then to the man. He didn’t seem dangerous, but it was a mystery why he was all the way up here. It made her a little nervous. Then again, he didn’t look like a dangerous man. His features were strong, his hands were worked but he had a charming smile. It seemed like he could be trusted with this much. 

      “Sorry,” Megan said with a nod, “yes, please. It seems the driver here isn’t able to take us any further.”

      The man grabbed two bags and started to walk. He made a motion with his head for her to follow. She did, walking beside him as they went along toward the gate.

      “It is a superstition thing,” the man said, “they think this place is cursed. Bad luck kind of stuff, you know.”

      Megan looked over her shoulder. The driver was standing super close to his carriage, as if the slightest fright would send him back behind the reins and he would flee. It seemed ridiculous, a house like this actually being cursed?

      “I didn’t know,” Megan said, “I knew this place was out of the way, and falling apart, but to think the locals think it is cursed as well.”

      The man shrugged, “it happens with people like this. They don’t get out much. Going to pick you up is probably the furthest he will get away from home all year.”

      Megan looked up at the man, “well, thanks for helping then. Since it seems help around here will be scarce.”

      He looked back down at her, and didn’t say a word for a few steps. Just before she got nervous from the attention, he said, “Name’s Byron, by the way.”

      “Megan Unsworth,” she replied, “sorry if I seemed standoffish earlier. It has been a rather long journey and I thought I was finally at a point where I could unwind.”

      Byron chuckled, “well ma’am you’ll have plenty of time to do whatever you wish up here. Not much else to be done I’m afraid. This place isn’t much for entertainment.”

      Megan was going to ask exactly what Byron was doing out there, but she didn’t know if he would take offense. If this mountain was his home, then it would seem odd to question why he was here at all. So she kept the thought to herself.

      They made it to the iron gate. It arched up and had a giant crowing rooster at the peak of it, along with the name Halifax in the bars themselves. The rest of the way around was a simple-pike like design that rose up. It would be hard for anyone to climb without ripping themselves up. That was some small security.

      “You’re expected, I assume?” Byron asked as they got to the gate.

      Megan snapped out of her thoughts, “Yes, I have to meet with a Mr. Lee this afternoon. Glad I made it here as early as I did. Maybe I can unpack before we proceed with matters.”

      Byron nodded, put down one of her bags, and then went over to the gate. It had a lock at the center, the kind that looked like it required a sturdy metal key of old make. Byron grabbed the gate and pulled, but the gate rattled and stayed put.

      “Strange, it should be open if you are expected.” Byron looked past the gate, hoping to spot someone from between the bars. On the other side was the manor itself, a large dark house three stories high. The windows were dark, the grass was dried out, fall leaves covered the ground leaving bare trees. The place gave a grim appearance. 

      “I’ll go grab your other bags,” Byron said, “see if you can get Mr. Lee’s attention by rattling the gate. Someone should hear you and come on out.”

      “Are you sure?” Megan asked.

      But Byron was already on his way back to the carriage. Leaving Megan there at the gate by herself. Byron seemed to know what he was talking about, so she rattled the gate as loud as she could. The sound of the metal screeching was loud enough to grate on her nerves, and it echoed over the grounds. There was no immediate response. She looked back toward Byron, he was walking backwards, motioning her on to keep doing what she was doing. Then he turned and started to pick up his pace back toward the carriage.

      Megan took a deep breath, and rattled the gate again. There was nothing at first, then she thought she could hear the sound of approaching steps crunching through leaves. She tried to see where they were coming from, but there was no sign of anyone.

      “Hello! Anyone here?” she asked before banging the gate around again. 

      The steps increased in kind. Megan tried to squeeze her head between the bars to see better. She could pinpoint the origin of the sound better now, it was coming around the house on her right. Something was coming, but it wasn’t a person.

      It was a hound, massive and black. It was rushing toward the gate with teeth bared and reckless speed.

      Megan froze in place. It was coming straight for her. Could it get through the gate somehow? The bars were close together, but maybe it could. Her heart started to pound, and she felt a cold sweat start over her whole body. She wanted to look back and see if Byron was coming, or the driver, or anyone. Someone had to know that this was happening, someone had to be there and ready to help her, surely. But she couldn’t move, she couldn’t take her eyes off of the approaching beast. Its eyes were locked with hers, it knew its target, and nothing was going to stop it from hurting her. 

      Then a terrible dread took hold of her. The long journey, the exhaustion, and everything together put her at risk of doing something absolutely mortifying before she was also mauled.
      Her whole body tensed as if to resist that notion of absolute defeat. But that was one problem delayed, and another was still heading toward her at a breakneck pace. 

      “Byron!” Megan screamed at the top of her lungs, her eyes closing as she shouted up to the heavens, “Byron!”

      There was a terrible clash against the iron, and immediately the black beast let out a rancorous snarling and gnashing. She could hear it crashing and hear teeth snapping. If it was going to be able to squeeze through the gate, she had to know, what if she had to run?

      Her eyes peeked open, and she was met with teeth reaching out for her from a muzzle pushed well past the iron bars.

      “Aaaaaah!” Her scream was pure instinct as fear swept down her body. She wanted to hold herself tight, keep every muscle constricted as if that would maintain some sort of dignity. But something instinctive knew better, knew that she had to be loose, ready to run, ready to flee from this terrible creature. That she had to let everything go.
      So as cold fear spread down her body, from waist down there was a disturbing warmth that began as a spray so powerful that she could swear it was audible. Then it flowed from there, down the right leg more than the left, dampening her leggings immediately.

      “Ma’am!” Byron appeared at her side, standing between her and the dog. 

      Megan fell back into the dirt, landing hard on her rear with mortifying squishing sensation. 

      “Are you okay?!” Byron shouted as he looked over his shoulder to her.

      The realization of what she had done sank in. Her butt was soaked, and her leggings were hot. She stopped her humiliation temporarily, but she knew there was more to come. Her eyes burned with tears.

      “It… it showed up out of nowhere…” she was gasping as she tried to talk. 

      “Miss Unsworth?” Said another man’s voice. Both Byron and Megan turned to a man now standing at the side of the dog. He was wearing a brown suit, and had short and styled brown hair. His skin was pale, and his eyes were narrow behind his glasses. He grabbed the dog at the collar, and it immediately calmed down.

      “Mr. Lee?” Byron said as he turned to Megan and held a hand out for her, “where were you? Why was the gate locked?”

      Lee’s eyes were locked on Megan, watching her as she took Byron’s hand and was pulled to her unsteady feet.

      “My apologies,” Mr. Lee said, “there was a problem on the back half of the property in the garden, and I didn’t want to leave the front unattended. I didn’t expect our guest to be this punctual.”

      Megan steadied herself, locking her knees and getting her body under control. She could feel the rapidly cooling shame on her legs, but her dress was long enough that she wasn’t sure anyone else had noticed. Her fear was under control now. But her needs were still there, just more natural. If she could get them to stop arguing so she could make it to a washroom, there was still a chance, though growing slimmer by the second.

      “Can we take this conversation inside?” Megan asked, wiping the tears from her eyes, “that beast gave me quite the fright, and I would love to compose myself.”
      Mr. Lee stood without saying a word for a moment, his eyes scanning Megan up and down. 

      She wondered if her humiliation was already obvious. 

      “Agreed,” Mr. Lee said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key as archaic as she expected. He unlocked the gate and pulled the dog far back. Byron opened the gate, and Megan wobbled her way through.

      “Mr. Mack, see that her luggage gets inside while she gets comfortable.” Mr. Lee said as he made a motion toward the door.

      Megan looked from Lee and the dog, to Byron.

      Byron gave her a touch on the elbow. While the action was definitely meant to be kind, in her current state any physical contact was unnerving in itself. But he nodded to her, “go ahead, I’ll bring your bags in right away. Mr. Lee is a good man, if a little preoccupied.”

      She tried not to visibly fidget. Her body felt weak, shaken. The dog was calmer now, but still looked ready to strike if Lee gave the command. She stepped past them, and headed for the front door. Her clothing was cooling rapidly, wadding up. She had to force herself not to waddle as she made her way up the long cobblestone path to the double doors. 

      They were talking behind her. About what, she didn’t know, and she didn’t dare stop long enough to find out. She reached the door, and when she went to open it she found it was also locked. But before she could panic further, there was the sound of someone unlocking it, and the doors pulled back to reveal a plump woman with long black hair and rosy cheeks.

      “Ah, you must be Miss Unsworth?” The woman said. Her voice was young but still had a motherly charm. She looked into Megan’s eyes, and immediately stepped in and whispered, “Is something wrong dear? Are you okay?”

      Megan nodded, “Yes, I could just use a place to freshen up.”

      “Ah!” The woman said, “the lavatory. Of course, you’ve had a long journey ma’am. I’ll show ya’ the way.”
       
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