DsGSilver

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DsGSilver last won the day on March 1 2017

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About DsGSilver

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  1. DsGSilver

    Wetting/Messing Scenes in Games

    If I'm not mistaken, desperation and wetting, fear wetting in particular, are practically staples of the Corpse Party series.
  2. DsGSilver

    Virek's Servitude

    I vote regular messing first.
  3. And here we go! Only several months later, but clocking in at a whopping six-and-a-half-thousand words, is part 2. To be perfectly honest, this one didn't focus on Ashe as much as I initially planned for it to, so I might write more of her later. Also, can you tell that I like Moira? Anyways, I hope you enjoy! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brigitte’s armor was very high-quality. It was powerful, durable; it afforded much more protection than most military-grade armor. It was custom-made for her, by her. It made her a menace to her enemies and a galvanizing saviour to her friends. Nothing’s perfect, though. The one feature her armor lacked, much to her dismay, was a bathroom. Frankly, she would have settled for a diaper. Even just some more absorbent lining. Many times, in many battles, she’d found herself frightened or simply startled deeply enough that her bladder gave way, soaking her panties and the insides of her metal greaves. More than once, the intensity of whatever predicament she found herself in was immense enough that she soiled herself, as well. That was much more embarrassing. The worst, though, was when she relieved herself in her armor simply because, well, because she couldn’t very well just ask the bad guys to stop being bad guys for a few minutes while she wandered off to take a leak. Wetting your pants because a sniper almost takes your head off is perfectly reasonable. Forgetting to visit the ladies’ room before a protracted battle, and having to just piss down your legs because you couldn’t hold it anymore, now that was heartbreaking. However, in this hastily-constructed tier list of humiliation, Brigitte was one-hundred percent certain her current situation would take the cake. Here she was, walking alongside the one-and-only Angela Ziegler, the Mercy, a longtime hero of hers and an icon of everything Overwatch stood for. Here she was, touring Winston’s old lab in the long-abandoned Watchpoint at Gibraltar, being more-or-less inducted into the reemerging Overwatch. Here she was, in her powerful and resplendent armor. Her armor with no bathroom, and no diaper, and no absorbency. And wow, did she have to pee. It was honestly all she could do to not cross her legs and jam her hands between them. “And in here,” Mercy spoke, momentarily taking Brigitte’s attention away from her bladder, “is where Winston and the others made many of our weapons, armor, and other tools.” A wistful expression played across her face, “Hopefully, this is where he’ll be able to do it again.” Even on the verge of piddling herself, the young engineer completely forgot her troubles as she looked in awe at the dozens of experimental devices littering the room. Chalkboards covered in complex mathematical equations lined walls. Brigitte could’ve happily spent the rest of her life in here, just tinkering with all that old stuff. “Woah-ho!” Was all she could say for a moment, before her brain calmed down enough to speak again, “Winston was a busy guy, huh?” “From what I hear, he still is,” Mercy said, with no small amount of respect in her voice, “He never wanted Overwatch to end, and I’m pretty sure he just kept on going as if it hadn’t.” Brigitte knew that she really shouldn’t be just picking up and shaking random devices in a weapons lab of all places, but she couldn’t resist. “Just- just look at all this stuff!” She exclaimed, as she picked up a strange spherical device about the size of a baseball. “If we can get me, my dad, and Winston in here, we could… ” She struggled to imagine just how productive it would be, “Well, we could make anything.” Lost in her excitement, she loosened her hold on her bladder for only a second, but even so, she peed a little. Her orange panties dampened, and the heat between Brigitte’s legs signalled one thing: abandon all hope. Her armor took several minutes to remove, and if she was already leaking, there was no possible way she was going to make it. Her face turned red, her cheeks burned, and she could feel more than a couple of tears threatening to well in her eyes. She was going to wet herself, and in front of Mercy, no less. “Er, Brigitte?” Mercy intoned, apparently having noticed something was amiss, “Are you all right?” She set the old contraption down, trying desperately to think of a way out of the shame she was in for. The most she could hope for was that the hissing sound and the stain wouldn’t be noticeable from within her armor. “Er, nothing! Why?” She answered, wearing what must’ve been the fakest smile ever. “I’ve been a doctor for a long time, Brigitte, I can tell when something’s wrong.” Brigitte chuckled lightly, trying to downplay the severity of her emergency, “Did Winston happen to have, say, I dunno, a bathroom?” Even as she was speaking, Brigitte was dribbling, losing drop after drop into her underwear. Mercy looked relieved that that was all it was, “Oh, of course!” she gestured down an unassuming hallway, “Right down there.” Her heart skipped a beat with the promise of potential relief. A strong jet of urine escaped her, wetting her panties even further. A small trail of pee began soaking into the lining of her left thigh. Of course, she knew in the back of her mind that it wouldn’t be real relief; she was essentially just finding a more isolated room to finish pissing her pants. Even if sh made it, her underwear was already drenched. She just didn’t want Mercy to know. “Awesome!!” Brigitte almost shouted as she hurried as fast as her aching bladder would allow her to go. She approached the door leading to her salvation, and tapped a button on a little keypad next to it, and waited for it to slide open. Only, it didn’t. Locked. That was all the keypad said. She was about to try and input a random code or two and hope for a miracle, but her hand froze halfway to the panel. Hisssssssssssss… Her already wet panties were flooded with her pee, the orange fabric darkening immediately. The lining of her armor tended to saturate slower than regular pants (a fact she hated that she knew), and this meant she felt the tide of hot wetness slowly creeping down her thighs, as if it was a pants-wetting in slow motion. It crept past her knees, and spilled into her boots. Her stream began to die down, but there was no way Mercy hadn’t noticed what happened. She choked back her tears, and turned back to face one of her heroes. Mercy, compassionate as ever, had evidently been pretending not to look or understand what had happened, but Brigitte was making no effort to hide it at that point. After an awkward few seconds of silence, Mercy looked at her with a guilty expression, “Brigitte, I’m so sorry! I forgot that most of these doors are still locked! I didn’t mean to-” “I-it’s okay, it’s okay!” Brigitte held up her hands to stop her, “I, uh, kinda maybe had to go for a while now, anyway… ” “You could have just said so,” Mercy replied in a tone like a mother scolding her child; which was appropriate, because boy did she feel like a child. “I know, it just… Woulda been a little… ” “Embarrassing?” “Looking back, it really would have been less embarrassing than… this, but yeah.” Another short silence followed, “Hey, could you not, y’know, tell anybody?” “My lips are sealed!” Mercy smiled reassuringly. “Besides, you’re hardly the first person I’ve seen have an accident.” “Pardon?” Mercy proudly put her hand on her chest, “I’m a battle medic, Brigitte. My job was to rescue injured people from terrifying battlegrounds. I swear I’ve seen more wet pants than dry!” “Yeah, I guess you probably would have, huh?” Brigitte smirked a little. “And it’s not as if… I, myself… don’t have any, er, experience with such things.” “You’re joking,” Brigitte replied, wide-eyed. “Completely serious. When Lena and I first joined Overwatch, we actually had to wear ‘protective garments’ because we had so many accidents,” the medic blushed, recounting this. “Tracer had to wear diapers?” She asked, incredulous. “That girl couldn’t keep her underwear clean for a single mission.” Brigitte actually was starting to feel better, “Least I’m not alone, huh?” “Far from it. Now, I think some old clothes and suits should be around here, somewhere. Let’s see if we can find you something to change into.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Siiiiiiiiip… Hana Song loudly finished off the last of her Nano Cola, and tossed the can off the high ledge she was sitting on. It smacked the ground with loud, tinny sound. Hana was sure that Mercy wouldn’t be happy that she was littering in one of Overwatch’s old bases, but she didn’t really care. She was bored. Very bored. Hana had already seen most of Gibraltar, and was no stranger to Overwatch or its equipment, so the welcoming tour was pretty much entirely for Brigitte. Which left her here with nothing to do. Mercy and Winston had been pretty explicit about not streaming while at the Watchpoint, to keep “the wrong people” from finding out what they were up to, so that was out. For at least a couple hours, she’d just been burning through the “emergency rations” she kept stowed away in her mech. These rations, naturally, were just various flavors of sodas and potato chips. She reached for another can, but stopped when she felt her bladder protest. She’d poked around a little when they all got there, and discovered most of the facility was still locked up tight. This included all the bathrooms. However, D.va did have a certain ace-in-the-hole when it came to her bathroom needs. Early on in her career, Hana learned just how important it was to be diapered pretty much any time she was streaming or on duty. It meant she could stream for long hours without having to take bathroom breaks (at least, not any that the viewers could see); and it meant that, should she have an accident while in combat, it would be hidden, and not be broadcast to the entire world. As often as she tended to fill her pants in combat, the diapers had become an essential part of wardrobe. While it might’ve just been a side-effect of how frequently she used them, she’d also come to enjoy wearing diapers, as well. They were comfortable, and provided a feeling of security. And of course, the inner pervert in Hana enjoyed the act of using them, too. Knowing that she was urinating, or even messing in her clothes while the hundreds of thousands of viewers were none the wiser… Once she’d gotten used to wearing them, it wound up turning her on quite a bit. She considered just letting go then, and wetting her diaper while she waited, but ultimately decided against it. As much as she needed to go, and as much as she would enjoy wetting herself, she needed to actually stay focused. They had gathered at the Watchpoint to talk about some important matters, and she would barely be able to listen if all she could think about was her wet diaper. She decided to just wait until they got the bathrooms unlocked. I’ll make it up to myself later… She thought, already planning future releases. Maybe I’ll stream a horror game, see if it can scare it out of me. Hana stood up and stretched, squinting as the light of the setting sun nearly blinded her. But she noticed something in the corner of her eye: something glinting, reflecting the light back. Something that hadn’t been there just a little while ago. Forgetting her lewd plans, her hand darted to her pistol as she attempted to discern the source of the reflection. She was able to see a humanoid shape clutching a long rifle. She suddenly felt quite vulnerable as she scrambled to climb back inside of her mech. A bullet raced by her, and pinged off the bright pink armor of the robotic suit. She jumped inside, expertly tapped a few keys, and the machine came to life. A couple more bullets impacted the mech, but were largely harmless. She prepared to activate thrusters and slam into the attacker when she came under fire from a different direction. And then another, and another. She activated her mech’s defense matrix to absorb some of the damage, and whirled around to face her attackers. She spotted four people in total. Nothing she couldn’t handle. Evidently, though, it was more than her bladder could handle. She wasn’t even sure when she’d started peeing, but as she was analyzing the situation, she was still going full force. She figured her bladder probably started emptying when she dodged the bullet out of her mech. Even in the middle of combat, as she activated the machine’s thrusters to go on the offensive, she found herself blushing and feeling stimulated by her accident. The space between her legs was warm, and the diaper was swelling. Ramming into one of the attackers, he was sent flying backwards, into a wall. He slumped over, out cold. Jumping back out into the open, D.va unleashed a salvo of small missiles on another, who managed to put enough distance between themself and the blast that it only threw them to the ground, and knocked them out. For the other two, D.va used the suit’s twin auto-shotguns to compel them to seek cover, and stay behind it. She was advancing in the direction of the two remaining assailants, when a hulking figure, the size of the mech, hurled itself at her from the roof a small building. It practically body-slammed her, completely ruining the groove she had going. She lost her grip on the controls, and accidentally hit several of the buttons lining the cockpit. She growled angrily as she pressed the auto-shotguns into the giant omnic’s midsection, and opened fire. “Nice try,” Hana said smugly, expecting the titanic omnic to go down any second. But he didn’t. Compartments on his wrist opened, revealing some impressively-sized gun barrels. He opened fire, and the bullets tore into D.va’s mech. She jumped back, activated her defense matrix to shield herself, and launched another salvo of missiles, all of them directed at the omnic. “Try this on for size!” She taunted as the thing was shrouded in fire and smoke. She went pale when the smoke cleared, only to reveal that the omnic was still alive. Riddled with holes and burned up, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. The guns along his arm emerged once again, and Hana prepared to retaliate when she noticed a little display on the mech’s largely holographic dashboard: a livestream. Her livestream. “Wait, am I streaming right now?!” She shouted. She must’ve accidentally hit the buttons to record when the omnic slammed into her. That wasn’t good. She’d gotten so distracted, she failed to formulate an answer for the Omnic’s guns. The heavy rounds tore the canopy apart. The protective glass on the front of her mech cracked, and prepared to shatter. All systems were failing, and she had no choice but to eject. The suit slumped forward, and launched her out the back. As quick as she could, she drew her pistol, and opened fire as she made for cover. Oddly enough, though, the omnic stopped firing. A woman, dressed in black leather and a wide-brimmed hat, stepped out of the shadow of a taller building. D.va moved to shoot at her, but the woman was far faster. She raised her rifle, and with a single shot, blasted the pistol right out of Hana’s grip. She clutched her hand in pain, and looked up to see the woman approaching her, the giant omnic following close behind her. A number of other people, dressed in similar outfits to the woman, surrounded them once again. “Give ya credit, kid,” The woman began, “Most people woulda pissed themselves by now.” D.va did not rush to correct her about that. Before she could finish closing the gap between them, D.va rushed behind a nearby wall for some cover. She looked around for something she could use to gain the upper hand, when an object flew through the air, and landed right next to her hiding place. A bomb. If she had any pee left in her body, she lost it then. She turned the corner again, once again coming face-to-face with the strange attackers. The bomb detonated behind her, throwing her forward. She landed only a short distance ahead of the bandit woman. “Well, look at that. Maybe I gave ya too much credit,” She said, smirking. D.va didn’t know what she was referring to until she noticed the breeze on her back. In a panic, she craned her neck to look at her backside. The bomb’s explosion had shredded her suit, exposing her back, and, more horrifyingly, her yellowed diaper. She looked around, and saw the bandits closing in, and- Please, no. Her downed mech, facing them. The light indicating an active camera still on. What was happening to her, and whatever was about to happen to her, the world could see. This was absolutely the worst that this could possibly go. Seemingly out of nowhere, a tall, orange-haired woman stepped up to the bandit leader’s side. “Well done, Ashe,” She said in an Irish accent, “go ahead and finish up here. Meet me inside when you’re done, and I’ll get you your information.” As swiftly as she appeared, she vanished into thin air. The woman, Ashe, looked around, appearing to confirm that the Irish woman was gone, “All right, little girl, listen up,” The woman began, “We’re the Deadlock Gang, and you’re about to help us settle an old score.” “Why should I help you do anything?” Hana’s voice was still confident, despite her predicament. She knew that she was not going to be very intimidating; not when she was on her knees, her wet diaper exposed, and without any form of weapon; but she knew something that could be very intimidating. Before she could bring anything else up, Ashe glared at her angrily and said, “Because we toasted your little toy robot over there, and we can drop you in the junkheap with it,” Ashe put on a cold smile, “But, if you were to help us out a little, then I don’t see any reason that this has gotta end as violently as it started.” “Do you know where you are?” Hana gestured to the old but still impressive structures around them, “This is an old Overwatch base. Where they designed all of their insane weapons.” “I could tell, bu-” “And it’s where the members of Overwatch have been meeting up. Like they are, right now,” She knew she wasn’t supposed to say something like that, especially not when her mech was recording it, but that cat was already out of the bag, and she needed a good bluff immediately, “That’s a fight you aren’t gonna win!” Ashe furrowed her brow in frustration, seeming to consider D.va’s words. In silence, she drew a sawed-off shotgun and aimed it at Hana, who gave out a short scream in shock before ducking. Her ears were ringing, and she hesitantly opened one eye to confirm that she wasn’t dead. It seemed that Ashe had intentionally missed the shot. D.va felt a sensation on her butt, and did not need any confirmation of what it was: she’d soiled herself in fear. Her mess initially flattened out against the resistance of the diaper, before she pushed more out and caused it to bulge out, and begin to droop. She knew that her diapers were not subtle when they needed changing, and anyone near hear would undoubtedly be able to see a large, brown bulge rapidly growing on her backside. … As would anyone watching her stream, she remembered, wanting to die. “I don’t much appreciate being told what I can and can’t do, kid,” She levelled the shotgun at Hana’s face, directly in front of her nose, “I also never miss twice. We clear?” “Crystal,” Hana answered with animosity. “Perfect. See, an old acquaintance of ours needs to learn some hard lessons, and I was informed that you Overwatch goons know where he’s headed.” “Who are you looking for?” “Jesse McCree,” Ashe said his name with pure contempt. “McCree? The cowboy?” “The cowboy.” D.va had absolutely no clue where to find McCree, but she was sure she could come up with some sort of bluff. But first, she had another idea, “Yeah, I know where he is, but unless you want every bounty hunter in the world to get to him first, I need you do something.” Ashe inhaled slowly, clearly losing patience, “And what might that be?” “Do you see that camera on my mech?” ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Mercy had barely begun the search for some spare pants for Brigitte when they started hearing gunfire and explosions on the other side of the base. She dropped what she was doing, and prepared her Caduceus staff, and disabled the safety on her pistol. Mercy had been in thousands of conflicts, and was well-versed in preparing for them, but they still unnerved her. Brigitte had almost none of that experience, though, and it showed. The young tomboy had already fetched her shield and flail, and was frantically looking around the room. The girl had a lot of talent, to be sure, but it was clear how nervous she was. Mercy decided to try and calm her down a little, “Brigitte, relax.” “What do you mean, ‘relax’? We’re under attack!” She frantically gestured out a nearby window. “Don’t worry, this is a defensible base, and Winston will return with more members before long.” “Okay… ” Brigitte said the word in the midst of a long exhale, “But what about Hana? Wasn’t she out there, somewhere?” “Yes, we need to go find her and help her. It sounds like whoever’s attacking this place is already engaged with her,” Mercy spoke with an authoritative confidence born from many years doing exactly this sort of thing. “Right!” Brigitte’s confidence was resurging, and she quickly flicked her energy shield on and off, ensuring it was ready for the battle to come, “Make you sure you stay close to me, Dr. Ziegler.” Mercy chuckled lightly, wondering how many times she’d heard the same thing from Reinhardt, and now how many times she was going to hear it from his apprentice. “Understood.” Just as Mercy directed her staff at Brigitte to support the young fighter, a voice called out from inside the room, one that Mercy hoped she didn’t recognize, “Going somewhere, Angela?” “Who’s there?! Show yourself!” Brigitte commanded, ready for a fight. In answer, the shard sound of footsteps echoed from a balcony above them. Mercy gasped quietly when she saw that it was, indeed, Moira O’Deorain. Once her counterpart in the espionage centered branch of Overwatch, and now one of the leaders of Talon. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Mercy could already feel sweat forming on her forehead; Moira was not an easy opponent, even with two of them. “Why are you here? Where’s Hana?” “That little girl with the robot? Don’t worry, my associates have already taken care of her,” Moira smirked diabolically. “You monster!” Brigitte shouted, “I’ll make you pay for that!” Brigitte dropped into a fighting stance, preparing to charge up the stairs. “As for why I’m here, well… ” Moira kept on smirking as she held up her hand, an ominous purple ball levitating just inches above it, “I think you know why.” With a flick of her wrist, the deadly orb was now flying towards them. “Brigitte, get away from it!” In preparation, Mercy began pouring healing energy from her staff into Brigitte as they both back away. Streams of energy surged from the orb, destroying whatever they passed by in the lab. The streams struck out against Brigitte’s energy shield, but were harmless. One stream, however, arced around the shield, and struck Brigitte in the shoulder. Almost instantly, her powerful armor’s shoulderpad disintegrated into dust, and the stream tore into her actual flesh. She yelled in sudden pain and surprise. But just as the wounds appeared, they vanished as the energy from Mercy’s Caduceus staff worked its magic. The orb then moved out of range of the two, and began bouncing erratically throughout the lab, wreaking pure havoc on Winston’s hard work. Unsurprisingly, Brigitte looked worriedly at her shoulder, trying to appraise injuries that weren’t there. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you!” Mercy assured her, “Just focus on Moira!” “Right!” Mercy was doing her best to remain calm and collected in order to keep Brigitte from panicking, but in reality, Mercy had peed a little when the nanite orb flew at them. Her white panties were now damp and warm between her thighs. Still, though, she was at least happy to not be in Brigitte’s shoes; or rather, her pants, since they failed to get her cleaned up before Moira’s appearance. The poor thing was going to have to go through the entire fight with piss-drenched legs. Well, she’s far from the first one to do so, Mercy thought, recalling how many battles she’d seen to the end despite how soaking wet and disgustingly full her pants were. Moira pressed her attack, a stream of the aggressive nanites poured from her hand and splashed against Brigitte’s shield. After a few seconds, the energy began to wane, signalling that the shield would soon fall. Seizing this opportunity, Moira moved quickly to the side, and shot another nanite orb, this one set to land directly between the two. Learning from last time, both of the women moved away from- but consequently, also away from each other. Brigitte ran forward while Mercy jumped backward. Mercy could immediately tell from Moira’s smirk that this was exactly according to her plan. With a quick movement of her hand, the nanite stream slashed apart the tethers holding up one of Winston’s larger experiments. It came tumbling down, right on top of Brigitte. She grunted in pain as the large contraption forced her to the ground. She tried to rise again, but found herself pinned. Before Mercy could try and help her, Moira had descended the stairs and was running towards her. She knew what to do, and how to react, but even with these assurances, the threat of imminent death compelled her bladder to finish emptying. She reach for her pistol, preparing to defend herself as her own hot urine flooded her tight orange pants. The wetness completely saturated her groin, and quickly flowed down her thighs. The long, tabard-like orange cloth that hung in front of her legs was not spared from the release; a large, circular stain formed near the top of it before it began to flow downwards. Even in the midst of mortal combat, it seemed Moira couldn’t help but be smug when she noticed the spreading wetness and growing pool beneath her, as she laughed arrogantly. Only a couple of seconds before Moira was close enough to kill her, Mercy produced her pistol, and fired repeatedly. In a haze of black smoke, Moira vanished. She reappeared a moment later, continuing to advance. Mercy had bought herself just enough time to activate her suit’s most powerful feature. Her armor’s angelic wings blazed to life, and Mercy lifted high into the air, narrowly avoiding the grasp of Moira’s nanite stream. She continued to fire on the renegade scientist, but the pistol’s weak rounds mostly seemed to do little damage to her armor. Mercy found herself feeling that the scene would be much more heroic if her urine wasn’t still dripping from her legs as she hovered in the air. Once again, Moira vanished from sight. Quickly and frantically, Mercy scanned the room, looking for her adversary’s reentry. All too late, she turned and saw the nanite orb closing in on her. She yelled in shock, and then turned around to try and fly away from it. She barely moved more than a foot or two before the orb struck her in the back with a stream of the devouring nanites. Like her armor was ice in a furnace, the wings melted away, and she fell to the ground. She began to pick herself up, but could not rise any higher than having her hands and knees on the ground, and even that was strenuous. Looking up, she saw Moira approaching her, preparing to deal the finishing blow. Unlike before, where she knew what to do, where she had a plan, now she had none. She could hardly blame her body when her bowels voided themselves. With a soft crackle, her white panties and orange pants tented sharply, not offering much resistance to her mess. More mess followed, and her orange pants bulged out considerably. Even despite the large cloth that hung behind her, covering her backside, the lumpy mound could be seen. “You never could keep your uniform clean, Angela,” Moira taunted, “Didn’t they stick you and that other girl in diapers for most of your career?” “Oh well,” Moira mused, holding out her right hand, in which swirled a cloud of the deadly nanites, “There are worse ways to die-” The final syllable came out as a startled, choking sound as Moira turned her head in alarm mere instants before Brigitte’s rocket flail soared through the air, and smashed into her stomach. The mad scientist slid far back, the cloud in her hand dispersing. A pulse of powerful healing energy surged into Mercy suddenly, and she was back on her feet in seconds. Brigitte had freed herself from the debris pinning her, and now the tides had turned. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Moira knelt with one knee on the ground, both hands clutching her stomach very tightly. She coughed, and choked down a little air, since most of the wind had just been knocked clean out of her. The wind wasn’t alone, though, since Moira could feel that the contents of her bowels had also been forced out. Slowly but surely, mess was sliding out of her, and filling up her panties. It was very soft, and it condensed into a shape like a semi-flattened ball, somewhat covering her rear while still distending her pants. In the time it took her to stand back up, Moira could see that Brigitte and Mercy had both already regained their footing, and were preparing to push the attack. Where is Ashe?! Moira internally demanded, When I find her, I swear I’ll make a guinea pig out of every last one of those Deadlock reprobates. Moira flexed her fingers, smiling in delight as the clouds of nanites reformed. She took a menacing step forward, ignoring the squishing sensation in her pants. She raised her hand to unleash an attack, Brigitte raised her flail to retaliate, but both of them stopped mid-swing when the nearby wall exploded fantastically. In the same heartbeat that the truck-sized hole appeared in the wall, a truck-sized omnic stormed into the room, brandishing a series of heavy machine guns along his arm. Moira had managed to hide her surprise at the sudden entrance, but her opponent certainly hadn’t. As the colossal robot erupted into the room, Brigitte lost control of her bowels very audibly. A burst of flatulence was audible, even over the clamor. The sound grew wetter and was accompanied by loud crackling. Moira guessed that the little tomboy had probably just completely ruined her panties. Moira smirked when she saw Brigitte’s cheeks turn a burning red as she slowly fidgeted in her armor, clearly trying to take stock of just how badly she’d soiled herself. “Took you long enough,” Moira intoned, “Now, deal with the armored girl, leave the other one to-” “Hey punk!” Ashe shouted, entering through the new doorway created by Bob, “Our deal just changed!” “What are you on about?” Moira angrily swirled the cloud in her hand. “I got what I came here for! And now… ” She pulled her rifle from its holster, “I reckon it’s time for a little payback.” Simultaneously, Ashe and Bob levelled their weapons at the scientist, and opened fire. At what must have been the last possible moment, Moira blinked away, leaving only a cloud of smoke. The position where she’d stood only seconds prior was obliterated by the gunfire. She supposed this is what she got for trusting the Deadlock Gang of all things. Moira pushed herself as far as she could before she had to reappear, mercifully away from the site of the battle. She pressed her back up against a metal wall, listening for the sound of footsteps. While she did not hear anyone following her, she did hear a harsh hissing. She grimaced, and looked down. Sure enough, a wetness was blossoming on her black pants, and quickly racing her thighs. Moira always chided Sombra, Widowmaker, Mercy, and many others for their inability to keep their panties free of their own urine and waste, but she wasn’t exactly setting an example. In fact, while most others weren’t privy to such knowledge, Moira had a tendency to get so engrossed in her scientific work that she simply relieved herself in her clothes. At any rate, it was good she always wore black; the stain was nearly impossible to see if you didn’t already know it was there. And now, she had to leave. With the Deadlock crawling all over this place, it wasn’t safe. She made her way to their escape craft, vowing to finish this job another day. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Once the smoke and sparks had settled, Ashe was upset to not see what was left of Moira still there. What was still there, though, were two women who looked like they’d just had a fun time with the Irish woman. She could see that at least one of them had pissed herself pretty thoroughly, since her pants and the cloth in front of them were soaked. She was hardly in a position to judge, though; considering how long the trip to the base had been, Ashe had been steadily peeing her diaper little-by-little for hours. “Uhh, thanks?” The girl in orange armor said, clearly confused, “So uh, who are you?” “Name’s Ashe,” She said in a very disinterested tone. “Were you the ‘associate’ she was referring to?” Mercy inquired, with a judging look. “Probably. Why?” “What did you do to our friend?!” The armored girl almost shouted. “Who, the girl with the robot? Don’t worry ‘bout her.” “Is she hurt?” “Her pride, mostly,” Ashe chuckled, “We roughed her up a little, but that’s about it.” “I really don’t like when people ‘rough up’ my friends,” The armored girl said in a low voice, activating an energy shield on her arm. “I was just gonna leave, but we can do this the hard way, if you want,” Ashe cocked her rifle and smirked. “Oh please,” Came a deep, gravelly voice from behind her. She whirled around, and beheld a massive gorilla in white armor standing behind her, a large, menacing-looking gun in his hand. “You bad guys always want to do it the hard way,” With the press of a button, the gorilla’s weapon surged to life, large electrical arcs jumping between the two halves of it. Ashe felt the front of her diaper warming as her bladder well and truly emptied in fear. Ashe said the only thing she knew to say in a situation like this: “Bob! Do something!” At her command, Bob lunged forward, intending to crush the gorilla in melee combat. It wasn’t meant to be, however, as bolts of lightning jumped from the gun and arced into Bob. Electricity was dangerous to anything, but doubly so for omnics. With some twitching and sparking, Bob collapsed, attempting to regain control of himself. In a panic, Ashe began firing her rifle from the hip as fast as she could. The gorilla covered his face with his massive, armored arm, and turned the weapon on her. She was about to ask him nicely not to, but she was too slow. Who-knows-how-many volts of electricity stormed through her body, nearly knocking her unconscious then and there. She peed, hard, into her diaper. The wetness saturated her protective underwear so thoroughly that it began to spill through the cuffs. After a short few seconds, an onlooker would never have been able to tell she was wearing a diaper at all; giant wet stains had spread down her thighs. The urine had favored her right leg, and covered it much more thoroughly. She soiled herself at the same time. An enormous, wet mass filled the back of her diaper, puffing it, and her pants, out dramatically. If it weren’t for her diaper, it most certainly would’ve stained right through her pants. Just as she was preparing to give in to unconsciousness, Bob rose once again. The gorilla turned to zap him once again, but his infernal gun seemed to be out of juice. Seizing the opportunity, Bob scooped Ashe up, and charged away to safety. Ashe cringed, feeling the mush in her pants rearrange itself with every one of Bob’s huge steps. They had what they came for, and now they just needed to get out of there. Ashe felt sorry for Bob, considering that changing her and cleaning her up was going to be no small task. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- “Oh man,” Brigitte exhaled, “Are we glad to see you, Winston.” She really did think it was over when that giant omnic showed up. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d crapped her pants so hard. Wet mush filled her panties, and she knew she felt some of it sliding down the back of her legs. She was sure that her orange panties were not orange anymore. More embarrassingly, it had been loud, and there was no way Mercy hadn’t heard it. Oh well, She thought, It’s not as if she didn’t watch me totally pee myself, earlier. And besides, it looks like she could use a shower, too, Brigitte felt somewhat comforted as she appraised the wetness adorning the front of Mercy’s outfit, and the lumpy bulge in the back. “Looks like I got here just in time. Are you two all right?” “We’re just fine, thanks to Brigitte,” Mercy’s praise made her heart skip a beat. “Oh come on, I didn’t-” “Guys! Emergency!” Hana Song’s frantic voice interrupted her. The girl sprinted into the room, her jumpsuit pretty well shredded. Brigitte couldn’t help but notice the unmistakable shape of a diaper around the girl’s hips, exposed by her ruined outfit. She also couldn’t help but notice the brown stain in the back of it. “Wha-? What is it? More attackers?!” Winston guessed, reactivated his weapon. “No, but you know how you told me not to stream anything from this place? Well, the camera and broadcast maybe got turned on during the fight, and may have sent this location and what we’re doing all over the world, so we might need to-” “Actually… ” Mercy interrupted the frantic girl’s rant. “You see, Hana… ” Winston picked up, “We uh, worried that you might not be able to resist. So we actually had a jammer in place.” “You… You mean that… everything that was recorded didn’t go out?” She put a lot of emphasis on the word “everything.” “Nope. The signal wouldn’t have gone any further than the Watchpoint.” Brigitte didn’t know if she’d ever seen someone look so relieved in all her life.
  4. So I'm finally finishing up that Ashe story I started a long-ass time ago. The next chapter is long, and is about halfway done, but I'm powering through it pretty quickly now. Any OW omo fans can look forward to seeing accidents from Ashe, Moira, Mercy, Brigitte, and D.va.

    That will maybe be done tonight, or in the next couple of days. I just wanted to ask: since I've been way into Overwatch lately, I might do another story after this one. If so, which characters or scenarios are you guys interested in seeing?

    1. Captain L

      I got very excited from the first sentence, until I realized that we were thinking of different Ashes.

    2. pp123

      looking forward to it 🙂

      also will there be more Journey to Arnwick? I love that story

    3. DsGSilver

      Thank you! And yes, eventually, I do intend to get around to finishing Arnwick, since it isn't too far from the ending.

  5. DsGSilver

    Leaky's Art/Request Thread

    I absolutely like it! Thank you very much!
  6. DsGSilver

    Leaky's Art/Request Thread

    I'm glad you moved here. I was a fan of your tumblr page. If you're not too full on requests, don't suppose you could do Futaba Sakura from Persona 5 having an accident out of fear? Also, that Amazon pic is great.
  7. This was a request from Livinginfinite that took me entirely too long to complete. But, at long last, here is some omo of the best girl from Fullmetal Alchemist. Hope you guys enjoy! Prologue If General Olivier Mira Armstrong had learned anything over her years spent serving at Fort Briggs, it was that nothing- not guns, not bombs, not numbers- nothing was as crucial to winning a war as morale. Her soldiers’ willingness to fight, their bravery to march into the fires of warfare, these were the things that permitted victory. If these soldiers could only soil themselves and surrender, then all the guns, bombs, and strategies in the world couldn’t help them. It was for this exact reason that Olivier had to keep her own accidents a secret. After all, if the soldiers saw her spraying piss down her legs when they came under fire, or messily filling her panties with her own shit when they were ambushed, it would devastate their morale. This rather embarrassing secret all began some time ago. Being the overseer of Fort Briggs, the enormous military garrison tasked with defending the icy northern border of Amestris from its warlike neighbor, Drachma, was no small or simple task. While Olivier was certainly up to the task, she wasn’t invincible. Slowly but surely, the stress and fatigue of the job began to wear on her, until the night were it’d be fair to say it all started. She’d wet the bed. Her. Olivier, the fierce defender of Fort Briggs, had really, truly urinated on herself in her sleep. All because of a bad dream. A grown woman, the general of a deadly army, woke up encircled by a yellow stain of her own making. In all her life, she’d never truly felt shame and confusion of such a caliber. But it had only just begun. Waking up to soaked sheets became a weekly occurrence. It came to a head after a very disturbing nightmare. She’d dreamt of a surprise invasion. Drachma came in the night, while they weren’t ready. The fortress fell, the soldiers inside perished, and it had been because she wasn’t ready for it. The nightmare had been harrowing. Olivier, as she expected, awoke to the wet and warm sensation of pissing her panties. A sensation that had, regrettably, become familiar. However, a foul scent lingered in the air, and the muddy, squishy feeling beneath her was not the same as a wet mattress. She stood up to inspect herself, and confirmed her worst fears: she had soiled herself in her sleep. In the middle of the yellow stain on her sheets was a brown one, and a flattened bulge rested in the rear of her underwear. That had been the final straw for her, and she resigned herself to wearing diapers to bed after that. Of course, as stated, this was only the beginning. The rest of her story is better told through the General’s own perspective… Part 1 The contents of a number of Olivier’s nightmares had come to life today. While she and a small detachment of troops were away from the fortress, an attack had come. Olivier and her troops took shelter in a small, old bunker. The sounds of distant gunfire and artillery penetrated through the thick walls of the structure. Drachma… She thought with great contempt. Amestris’ northerly neighbor had always been an aggressive and imperialistic nation. Since Amestris’ founding, Drachma had labored incessantly to conquer them. Thanks to her efforts, though, every attack had failed. They must have learned that she wasn’t there to command her forces, and thought it was an ideal time to strike. How they learned that, she had no idea. A spy, perhaps. “Is the radio operational, yet?” She demanded from one of her technicians, who was furiously attempting to make some repairs on the bunker’s long-broken radio. “N-not yet, sir! Working on it!” The young soldier replied, stammering lightly. “Damn it all!” She swore, banging her fist on the table. The earth shook violently for a moment, and a thunderous sound filled the air, startling everyone. The artillery barrages were getting dangerously close to their position. A bunker this old and weathered wouldn’t last more than a few seconds under such heavy fire. The radio was certainly not working, and the bunker honestly left them just as vulnerable as if they were out in the open. There were no choices left. “Everyone!” Olivier shouted with her powerful voice, “Drop anything that isn’t essential, and prepare to leave! We’re returning to Briggs!” A chorus of men voicing their disbelief and disapproval greeted her. The general gritted her teeth and shouted, “Quiet, all of you!” As much as they didn’t want to go through with her plan, no one dared to speak after Olivier Armstrong told them to be quiet. As if to accentuate what she was about to say, another volley of artillery fire shook the earth, even closer this time. “That will reach us before long. There are paths we can take through the hills that will offer cover and mask our positions. We’re needed at the fort, and that’s where we’re go-” Her command was cut off as an artillery shell impacted the bunker. The thunder, once distant, was now deafening. The only things that broke through the wall of sound it created were the terrified shrieks of the bunker’s inhabitants. Though Olivier stood her ground longer than everyone else present, the shockwave it produced knocked everybody to the ground, even her. She was closer to the ordinance than anyone, and she certainly paid the price for it. She thought the heat was going to burn her alive, and had she been much closer, it certainly would have. Shrapnel and debris were launched in all directions, and Olivier felt the metal shards biting into what felt like every inch of her body. Perhaps it was the fear, the pain, or simply the shock of what happened that caused it, but Olivier had totally lost control of her bowels during the blast. It had probably even made quite a loud sound, but simply couldn’t compete. At almost the exact second the shell hit, she expelled a large quantity of waste into her white panties. It was soft and wet, and collected into a ball just behind her thighs. As she attempted to stand her ground against the force of the explosion, far more mess found its way out, and the seat of her panties filled very suddenly with her waste. Like the first release, it was wet, and she did notice some of the mess beginning to run down her thighs. When, at last, the explosion knocked her off of her feet, she landed on her back, her release getting flattened underneath her. As much as the general wished she could rest there, she knew that she had no such luxury. She grabbed her sword that had been dislodged by the blast, and used it like a can to pick herself up. As fast on the uptake as Olivier was, she quickly assessed the situation, and had a feeling that her men would be less hesitant to evacuate the bunker, now that over half of it was gone. It turns out that the decrepit old thing couldn’t even take a single shell without collapsing. A gaping hole provided them a view of the snow-blanketed warzone outside. It also only took Olivier a second to notice just how badly she’d filled her pants. She could feel her panties sagging under the weight, and knew that there must be a somewhat conspicuous bulge, even in the very baggy pants Amestrian soldiers wore. She cringed in disgust for a moment as she felt some of the mess still creeping slowly down her thighs, but quickly swallowed her emotions. This was no time to have a breakdown. Besides, she was far from the only one to have soiled themselves. Even a cursory glance around the room revealed a number of soldiers sitting in puddles (some even still making them) and plenty clutching at bulges on their backsides. “Anyone still want to stay put?!” She shouted. She was not met with any resistance, this time. “Then get moving!!” Everyone forgetting the states of their clothes, or their wounds or disorientation, they got up, grabbed their gear, and made for the back exit. Once the last of the soldiers had made for the door, Olivier herself followed suit. A stab of pain stopped her in her tracks. She tasted something metallic. Blood, she thought, being very familiar with the taste. Looking down, she noticed a slowly spreading red stain on her abdomen. Must’ve been the damn shrapnel. It would have to wait. The fort wasn’t too far away, and she could be more properly treated there. ------------------------------------------------------------- By the time they had reached the fort, Oliver was covered in so many cuts, bruises, stains, and other damages that the large, brown discoloration on her rear just looked like another dirt smear. While there was certainly nobody in the entire Northern region with the balls to comment on General Armstrong having an accident, she was still relieved that nobody would have cause to even think as much. The soldiers who had returned with her were rushed either to the medical bay or to their battlestations. Despite everyone’s insistence that she join the wounded for treatment, Olivier had gone to the top of the fortress to oversee the defense. The mess pressing against her rear had long since turned cold, bitterly reminding her of her lapse in control with every step she took. She reached the ramparts, where her snipers and artillery were hard at work repelling the invasion force. The soldiers were elated to have their general back, her mere presence galvanizing them to fight much harder. She issued commands to her soldiers, but it wasn’t truly that necessary; she’d already trained and conditioned her men to be killing machines, and it showed. Within hours, the Drachman army was soundly obliterated. What caught her by surprise, however, was the hot sting of liquid coursing down her legs near the end of the battle. She had pissed herself. But why? She wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t being attacked directly; her bladder just… let go. Streams of hot urine soaked her panties, and ran down her legs. She was once again very grateful she was covered in so much dirt and grime that the stains weren’t identifiable as her piss and shit. … At least, she hoped they weren’t. ------------------------------------------------------------- The news that the doctor gave her was unpleasant, but undeniable: the shrapnel that riddled her body during the explosion had damaged some of her organs, and severely diminished her continence. Pragmatic as she was, Olivier swallowed her pride, and asked what needed to be asked. “Is this permanent?” “Most likely,” The doctor began, “But, the way medicine and alchemy advance, maybe not. It’s certainly possible that either science could advance enough to mend your body.” “But you’re telling me that for the foreseeable future-” “That it’s either diapers or a lot of laundry for you.” Olivier gritted her teeth and sighed. She had been lucky enough that her accidents today were relatively inconspicuous. She knew that she couldn’t be lucky every day. Her soldiers depended on her, they relied on her, and it would be pretty hard for them to have faith in her if they constantly saw her wetting and soiling herself. She hated that it had come to this, but if this was what it took to keep the north in line, then it was what she would do. Part 2 Waking up to a wet, and occasionally even a full diaper had become a common occurrence for Olivier. She had long since become accustomed to nighttime accidents, since they had begun even before her injuries, and they no longer bothered her very much. What did bother her were her other accidents. ------------------------------------------------------------- Olivier and a number of officers of Fort Briggs had gathered to discuss their defensive strategies and changes to their patrol routes in light of the recent attack. In the middle of laying out the new tactics, Olivier’s weakened hold on her bladder failed, and she flooded her diaper. The hot wetness collected around her groin, and then saturated the fabric near her butt, bathing her privates in sickly warmth. The diaper swelled up between her legs. The others in attendance might’ve noticed their general’s scowl deepen slightly, but she managed to keep her reaction minimal. The meeting was adjourned, and Olivier headed back to her quarters to change. On the way back, she noticed a weight in her abdomen, and could feel her body already struggling to keep it in. Her room was still several minutes away. She growled in angry resignation, and stopped holding back. With a slight push, her mess came right out of her. With a disgusting squish, she felt the warm, soft mush press against her backside. The rest of the walk back was nerve-wracking, walking by many soldiers and officers, any one of whom could’ve noticed the foul smell the general left behind her. There had already been a rumor or two that Olivier had shit her pants during the attack, but at least that was an appropriate time to shit your pants. She would be beside herself with fury if word spread that the general could not even endure a simple meeting without going on herself. ------------------------------------------------------------- A couple days later, Oliver and some other officers had decided to inspect a number of their storage facilities in the fort. The plan was twofold: to ensure that they were well-stocked for another attack, and to search for signs of sabotage. Olivier was still confident that Briggs had been infiltrated by an enemy agent, and she wouldn’t rest until she knew for sure. One site in particular was suspicious given that it was largely avoided by most of the staff. It was presumed empty, and some structural instabilities left it unfit to be used for storing anything important. Away from everyone’s sight as it was, it would’ve made an ideal hiding place for a spy. A couple soldiers stood on either side of the general while another worked on opening the gate, which was rusted and difficult to move. With an ear-grating screech, the door slid upwards, dropping flakes of rust as it went. Inside were only old, broken boxes and some long-rotted food. The three soldiers moved inside, but provoked something as they did. Squeaks and squeals filled the air as a small family of rats rushed from the boxes, and scurried by Olivier’s feet. Having expected to encounter a spy, and having been prepared to fight him to the death, Olivier was already prepared to jump into action. It appeared her body was, as well. No sooner had the rats scurried away than Olivier noticed the small amount of shit she’d released into her diaper, or the still collecting warmth of her urine soaking into it. Have I really gotten so soft? She thought. “Sir! The storage unit is completely empty!” One of her soldiers reported. “Good. Keep searching inside for any signs of someone having been there. I’ll go check the other units.” “Yes, sir!” They replied in unison. None of them were privy to the fact that Olivier was still pissing herself as she gave them their orders. She left them to their search, and ventured towards the next storage unit, where a search would already be underway. As was often the case, she greatly wished she could go and change, but her duty meant she would have to stay in her soiled undergarments for a while longer. Approaching the next storage unit, one of the soldiers inside jumped at something, accidentally firing his pistol into the wall of the structure. Hearing the bang, Olivier quickly drew her sword, but as she quickened her pace, she noticed that the quantity of shit in her diaper had increased greatly, and was still doing so. Her bladder had even found new urine to expel. Still wetting her soiling herself, she moved inside the small warehouse, only to find that it was nothing more than one of the rats from the other storage site that had wandered in during the search. Perhaps she was being paranoid, and the attack had simply come at an inopportune time. Either way, it had been totally ineffective. ------------------------------------------------------------- Such incidents became commonplace for the unfortunate general. But, while rumors circulated about her tendencies to have accidents, the stories that more commonly got passed around were of the invincible woman who withstood an artillery barrage without a scratch, while her soldiers shit themselves behind her. While Olivier certainly preferred that version of the story, she was never one to judge her subordinates on their control, especially considering her condition. Greater than any military information, Olivier’s incontinence had somehow become Briggs’ best kept secret.
  8. DsGSilver

    [Fallout: New Vegas] Cass's Whiskey Habit

    A Veronica story would be pretty sweet. Best follower imo.
  9. DsGSilver

    Interactive comic idea?

    Interactive stories are pretty popular here, and basically any art is always appreciated. I say go for it.
  10. DsGSilver

    [Fallout: New Vegas] Cass's Whiskey Habit

    I never knew about that line, and it makes me very happy. Maybe I should use Cass more often.
  11. I love when male scenes are mixed in with female scenes. Great chapter!
  12. DsGSilver

    The Contagion

    The wait is over! So sorry for how it took, but here's a long chapter with accidents aplenty to make up for it! Hope you guys enjoy. Also, there will be a short follow-up minichapter that will actually contain the choices to vote on. That should be ready sometime in the next few days or so. “The shelter is extremely low on medicine, and we didn’t really find any. The stores are just across the street, practically on the way back.” You quietly suggest to Grace. “Have you both lost your minds?!” Grace shoots back, “Angie, have you completely forgotten what we just talked about?!” “No, but I-” Leo cuts you off, mercifully sparing you from Grace’s angry stare, “Well, just look!” He gestures out the window, towards the small cluster of shops. “There’s only a few infected around there, and they’re all out in the open.” “Leo… ” Grace says his name sternly and angrily, like a parent about to punish their child. “Gracie, these ones surprised us, those ones can’t.” “Oh good, so we can see our death coming!” “No, Gracie, just please listen-” “Leo Taylor, your life is worth a lot more than whatever off-brand ibuprofen those shitty stores have! Forget about it!” They continue to argue, but a quick and panicked movement down below catches your eye. Inside the convenience store, you see what looks like a fight breaking out. The two grappling individuals briefly land near the front window, and you can plainly see a young woman being thrashed about by a psychotic looking person, likely an infected. The fighting starts to attract the attention of the various infected on the street. “Oh my God, there’s someone in there!” You exclaim, which promptly ends the argument the siblings were having. They join you at the window, looking at the unfolding conflict below. “Holy shit! Grace, we need to-” Grace was already covering her face with her hands in stress, and groaned out, “Fuuuuuuuuuuck! ...Yes we do… ” You kind of suspect that if the lady down there survives, then she’s in for quite an ass-whooping from Grace. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The three of you had rushed to exit the building, and now found yourselves on the street, facing a small horde. Fortunately most of them are too busy attempting to break down the wall of the store. You start to question your decision when you look at all of them, though. You swear that their numbers have doubled since you saw them out the window. There’s easily anywhere in the ballpark of fifteen, twenty, maybe twenty-five infected gathered here now. Your guts feel icy cold with fear, and your legs have started to shake. You look to your friends for some reinforcement, but you see that Leo looks about as scared as you do. He’s gone a little pale, and has stopped in his tracks. Grace doesn’t even slow down, however. With a confident stride, she marches forward. She sets her baseball bat on the ground in front of herself, and then draws her pistol. She turns back towards you and Leo, “Listen up, we’ve got a life to save!” You momentarily stow your fear and pay attention to the only experienced member of your party. “You two get far behind me, and keep shooting. I’ll start shooting to lure them over, and then I’ll switch to the bat. Angela, do not even attempt to shoot at the ones that get close to me, for the love of God.” “Got it,” you reply. “Y-yup,” Leo manages to stutter out. Each of you draws your respective handguns, and takes aim. You involuntarily hold your breath, waiting for the first shot to ring out. Even anticipating as you do, it catches you off-guard when Grace finally shoots, and you flinch hard, nearly dropping your gun. Without missing a beat, Leo starts firing into the horde, and Grace quickly empties her magazine into it. Steeling yourself, you start shooting, as well. You can’t aim worth shit, and most of your shots looks to be totally ineffective, mostly just clipping or minorly injuring the infected. Grace wasn’t really trying to aim for killing blows, just to piss them off. Leo, though… Well, it’s obvious which bullets came from Leo’s gun. Almost every time you hear the sound of his pistol firing, an infected collapses to the ground. The boy has a seriously frightening talent with firearms. Looks like the gunfire is having the desired result, though: the horde has pretty quickly forgotten about the woman inside the store. In the span of only a handful of seconds, every last zombie has turned to face you, and broken into a sprint. Seeing the approaching force, that icy coldness in your guts returns, and you feel like your legs might just stop working here and now. You can’t help but let out a terrified whimper. Correction: a terrified whimper and some urine, as your panties warm up between your legs. You barely have enough control of your body to keep from fainting, so you really can’t do much about your bladder right now. You’re honestly barely even cognizant of just how much you peed yourself. You think it was just a relatively minor leak, but all you know is that your groin and some parts of your inner thighs feel warm and wet now. The horde is reaching Grace, now. She discard her pistol and picks up the bat. With a hefty swing and a meaty crack, the first infected to reach her goes down hard. Within seconds, though, she is surrounded, and they begin attacking her savagely. Your breathing quickens, and becomes unsteady. It starts to catch in your throat, and you feel tears coming to your eyes as the fear and panic nearly overwhelm you. You can feel the wetness around your groin continue to expand. You try to aim into the horde, but you’re so afraid of accidentally hitting Grace that you can’t bring yourself to fire. You clutch your handgun tightly, and command your fingers to start pulling the trigger, but your body isn’t listening to you. You manage to jerk your head over to look at Leo, and see if he’s having the same issue. While he looks very scared, he is continuing to fire at a steady pace. Looking back at the horde, you can see infected consistently dropping every time Leo fires. But then, Leo stops firing. He pulls the trigger several times, but to no avail; he’s run out of ammo. A look of dread crosses his face, but you, on the other hand, suddenly you knew how to make yourself useful. You charge over to him, and with no explanation (your mouth was too dry to speak) pluck the empty firearm from his hands, and hand him yours. Leo is only confused for a second before he understands, and promptly resumes firing. You take his empty gun, and begin trying to reload it as quickly as you possibly can, with your hands shaking as badly as they are. After a short moment, you succeed, and right on time, as Leo has just finished emptying what was left in your magazine. You swap guns again, and prepare to reload this one when a sound manages to rise through the clamor around you: snarling and rapid footsteps… from behind you. You whirl around to see an infected charging you and Leo. He must have been drawn in by all the noise. Leo’s been shooting so much, he likely can’t hear it coming. “Leo!!” you practically scream as you jump between him and the infected. It reaches you just as you do so. You try to hold it back, but it’s much stronger than you are. It pulls free from your grasp, raises its arm up, and slams it down on your shoulder, eliciting a sharp yelp of pain. Before you have a chance to respond, it slams its other hand into your gut, knocking the wind straight out of you. You fall forward, clutching your gut tightly. Your knees plant into the ground, and then you slump forward, until your face is resting on the pavement as well. At that point it became impossible not to lose control of your bladder, and sure enough, a rapid, warm stream starts spilling into your panties. The urine streams down your thighs before reaching your knees and puddling onto the ground. The piss follows along the creases in your jeans as well, covering much of the front of your legs in your release. You start trying to suck down air and pull yourself back up, but you’re expecting another attack to come any second now. But it doesn’t. After a moment of urine-soaked pain, you aren’t hit again. Finally you gather the strength to pick yourself up, and feel two arms help lift you back to your feet. Your senses finally come into focus once more, and you see the infected you’d held back dead on the floor, a bullet wound right between his eyes. Leo holds you and helps keep you standing, and you both turn around to see Grace, standing amidst a pile of dead infected, deliver the final blow to the last one left. She’s heaving and drenched in sweat. She takes a second and catches her breath, then strides over to you, gingerly stepping over the dead zombies. You notice a wet splotch on her groin. It’s big enough that the stain goes down both of her thighs a couple inches. While a lot more inches of your jeans got soaked than hers, it’s somewhat comforting to know that even Grace couldn’t keep from having an accident. “What?” She asks, having noticed you and Leo looking at something. She glances down, and mutters “aw, shit,” quietly. She rubs two fingers across the stain, and seems to verify that it is, indeed, her pee. “Are you hurt?” You wheeze out. Grace pats herself down very quickly, and shakes her head. You can see it in the way that she’s standing, though- she is in a lot of pain. She ignores it, and says “What about you two? You don’t sound so good, Angela.” You try to speak, but a rasping cough is all you manage, so Leo does it for you, “She stopped one from reaching me, and it hit her in the stomach,” He looks up at you, gratitude showing through his exhausted face, “Thanks, by the way,” It’s all you can currently manage to smile and nod back at him. “...Thank you, Angela,” Grace intones after a quiet second. “Well,” she begins, “let’s go see if that person managed to survive all of that.” You all walk towards the store, Leo still supporting you. Grace reaches it first, and peers inside. “Looks clear,” She says, emphasizing the word “looks”. She carefully climbs in through a window that the horde shattered. Leo then climbs over, and helps steady you as you do the same. The store is a mess of toppled shelves and scattered goods. Oh, and there’s a dead infected woman with a screwdriver sticking out of her forehead. “Hello?” Leo calls out. You hear something shuffle around behind the counter. Grace draws her pistol, and you can feel Leo subtly try to pull you away from it. “Is it over?” A nervous woman’s voice calls from the other side. “It’s over,” Grace assures, “Are you hurt? We can help you.” The stranger stands up, and you see she is a fairly young woman in a dark blue business suit. Her short, black hair is erratic and frizzy, and her clothes and skin are covered in dirt, scrapes, and cuts. She walks around the counter with an awkward, stumbling gait. “I’m fine,” she says. “We saw you getting attacked, so we… ” Grace begins, but drifts off. You suppose it does feel a little strange to say that you just killed a massive mob of zombies. “Wait, don’t tell me you three did all that just help me?” “Well we weren’t just gonna leave you,” Leo says. “I… ” She starts, “I don’t know what to say… Suppose I should begin with ‘thank you’.” She roots through her pockets very quickly, but doesn’t seem to find anything, “I’m afraid that I really don’t have anything I can give you.” “Not necessary,” Grace interjects, “I’m a cop, state pays me to do this.” The woman shakes her head at this, and seems to think hard to herself, trying to find some way to repay you. During the silence, a light breeze is carried through the shattered window, chilling your soaked legs, and reminding you that both you and Grace could use a change of pants. You were suddenly grateful to the stranger for not commenting on it. “No, I haven’t got anything… ” “Really, it’s ok,” You try to assure her, your voice having finally returned. “My ass, it’s ‘ok,’” She replies. “Well, at the very least, I’ve got a little advice: stay far away from the center of town. The streets there all caved in, and those plants are infesting the area. Probably how all of this started.” “I take you probably passed by?” Grace asks, “What more can you tell us? There’s a scientist from ODA at the shelter we’re heading back to, and she needs to know this.” “Uhh, near the church, right near the middle of town, that pollen stuff is so thick you can hardly even see through it. I saw some of those things with the flowers growing out of them wandering around.” “Thank you for the advice, Ms… ” “Mary. My name is Mary Holt.” “Thank you for the advice, Ms. Mary Holt,” Grace reaches out and shakes her hand. “By the way, we’re bringing all this stuff back to a shelter at the police station. I need to insist that you come with us.” “Thanks, but, I need to get back to my family. We’re holed up in our own little shelter there, but I got… “ she gestures to the dead infected on the ground, “Sidetracked.” “Are you really sure?” Leo asks, concerned, “It’s not safe.” “I know, I know, but it isn’t too far, and I should be able to keep hidden until I get there.” “If you’re really certain that that’s what you want to do… ” You say. “I am, and I cannot thank all of you enough for giving me the chance to make it,” Mary blushes a bit, and suddenly avoids eye contact, then speaks, “I… I do have one last favor to ask you.” “Shoot,” Grace replies. “If you guys have any spare clothes… I, er, could use some new… underwear… ”Her voice understandably goes pretty quiet at the end of the sentence. You suddenly understand why she stood and walk so strangely. At some point during the whole affair she’d lost control of her bowels and crapped herself. Which, given the circumstances, was not an unreasonable reaction. Honestly, the only reason you didn’t soil your panties, too, was because you only had to pee. “No shame in that, and you’re certainly not alone,” Grace comforts her, looking at the wet patch on her own pants, and then looking at your soaked jeans. “I got some extra clothes while we were scavenging,” you say, fishing out a pair of panties for her. “Thanks, but… Now I owe you double,” Mary chuckles a little to try and do away with the awkwardness. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A short few minutes passes, with you, Grace, and Leo getting any useful food or medicine you can while Mary cleaned up. Since you just needed to throw on a different pair of pants and underwear, you went first, and dressed into some clean jeans. Grace insisted that she was fine, and that her accident would dry on the way back to the shelter. Finally she emerges, now walking normally. “Thanks again. For everything,” Mary says. “Don’t mention it,” Leo replies. “I still think you oughtta come with us, but I understand why you can’t,” Grace says, “Good luck, Mary.” “Good luck to all you, too,” she replies. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The three of you are pretty quiet on the walk back. Everyone’s too exhausted to have anything to say. And you’re starting to worry about Grace. She got mobbed by so many infected, and you know she’s in pain. She’s limping ever so slightly, and wincing every other step she takes. The moment you get back to the shelter, you’re gonna make sure she sees the doctor even if you have to drag her there. A sudden roar overhead startles all of you as a trio of jet planes speed by, their engines obliterating the silence. They fly away, and the sounds of their engines promptly fade away, but the silence is again shattered when the planes’ payload makes itself known. Several blocks ahead, a deafeningly loud sound, like a thousand thunderclaps all at once, accompanies dozens of pillars of fire that reach higher than any of the buildings. The earth shakes hard, and even from this distance, you can feel a wave of heat wash over you. They’ve started firebombing the city. The shockwave passes over the three of you, and you and Leo hold each other tightly to prevent from being knocked down. That, and just because you’re both scared out of your minds. You look ahead of you, towards Grace, and see her doing her best to keep standing up. You also see a bulge growing in the seat of her jeans. Very quickly, almost immediately, she voids her bowels, the bulge jumping from the size of a golf ball to several times that size. The mess is large enough that it may well cover her entire backside. You can see some brownish liquid staining through the fabric of her pants. She takes a stumbling step backwards, and you quickly see why: there is now a massive dust cloud approaching the three of you. You all begin to look around for shelter in a panic. Your eyes settle on a house across the street. “This way!!” You shout. You reach the door, but it’s locked. Grace rams into it repeatedly, but it won’t budge. Running out of time and growing annoyed, she picks up her bat, and shatters the nearest window with it. She jumps inside, and then helps to pull you and Leo in. Since the the shattered window has compromised the giant-dust-cloud resistance of the living room, you all dart for a nearby bedroom, and slam the door behind you. You collapse onto the carpeted floor, not even possessing the strength to make it to the bed. Leo is much the same, sitting down with his back against the wall. Grace is hunched over with her hands on her knees, panting heavily. As the cloud passes over the house, it sounds like a thunderstorm is battering the neighborhood. “Angie… Leo… ” Grace rasps out. “Alive… ” Leo mutters, like a roll call. “Alive… ” You say, too. “Good… ” Grace’s eyes look somewhat unfocused, and after a second she falls down, and faceplants onto the ground. “Gracie!” Leo stands up as quickly as he’s able, and heads over to her. He turns her over, ignoring the large mess that this squishes against her rear end. She smiles very faintly, “Alive… ” she whispers in a pained voice, “Just had the shit actually scared outta me, and I’m hurting real bad.” You knew it. After that fight, there was no way that she wasn’t wounded. “Well, we did just grab some medicine,” you start to pull out some first aid equipment when Grace meekly reaches out to grab your hand and stop you. “For the shelter… ” She says. “Grace,” you respond, “Shut up.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In her state it wasn’t particularly easy to get her cleaned up, but you managed to help her get it done. While it was a little awkward to get all of it done in the same room with her little brother, you also managed to inspect her injuries. Sure enough, almost every inch of her body had a bruise, a cut, or something wrong with it. You’re honestly amazed she could walk at all. You treated some of the more outstanding wounds, handed her a generous dose of painkillers, and in minutes she was out cold, asleep on the bed. Once you’re done seeing to Grace, you walk over to Leo, who’s absentmindedly looking through some of the books in the room. He looks over at you, almost sick with worry, “Is, is she gonna be ok?” You pat him on the back reassuringly, “She’s just fine. After some rest, she’ll be back to normal. Takes more than that to finish off Grace Taylor, you know!” You say it so convincingly you almost fool yourself. You actually have no idea if her injuries might be more extensive. She could have broken bones, or internal bleeding, or who knows what else! You’re still angry at yourself for dragging them out here like this. “I-I just… ” He looks up you, and you can see tears forming in his eyes. “E-everything just… ” You’d wager everything that happened today was finally hitting him. He was attacked and could’ve been killed; he watched the horde almost kill his sister; the bomb that almost hit all of you. This has not been the easiest day of your lives. He hugs you tightly, crying. You hold onto him just as tight, and feel the tears come to your eyes, as well. “I know, Leo, I know,” Is honestly all you can think to say. You remember what Grace had mentioned before, that you and Leo were the only people she had left, and honestly… you feel the same way about them. These two have pretty much been your family for years. You swear- to God, to the universe, and to yourself- that you’ll get these two back to the shelter if you have to carry both of them. [No choices available for this chapter.]
  13. DsGSilver

    Anymore art like this?

  14. DsGSilver

    The Contagion

    I'm glad you like it! Don't worry, this story is far from over, I'm just ridiculously slow at updating things. I do actually already have the planning done for it, I've just been working on some other things, as well. As a teaser, I'll say that Grace's first accident is fast approaching.
  15. DsGSilver

    The Contagion

    “Angie, Leo,” Officer Carl Summers begins, “I really hope you appreciate how much effort Grace put into convincing the Commander to let her bring you two along.” You, Leo, and Summers are standing in the fortified yard just outside the shelter. While Grace finalizes the last few requisition orders and other forms this expedition apparently requires, Officer Summers had come over to talk to the two of you. He was an old friend of Grace’s, and has known the Taylor siblings for several years now. You’re less familiar with him, but you’ve seen him at enough bars and parties to know that he does not behave the way one would expect a cop to behave. “What did she even say? There’s no way whoever’s in charge was just cool with this,” Leo asks. He rubs his eye as he talks, having only woken up a very short time ago. “Oh, y’know,” Summers starts, and no, you do not know, “Blah blah,’I trust them the most,’ Blah blah, ‘my responsibility,’ that sorta stuff.” Summers and Leo strike up a chat about some recent game or movie or something in that vein, but you zone out, and start tugging at and adjusting all the equipment you’ve been loaded down with. From what you understand the police commander here is trying to remain largely hands-off with the scavenging operation, maybe trying to avoid the liabilities. Even so, they were generous enough to provide you and Leo with some pretty nice armor and weaponry. Perhaps a bit too generous, you think, feeling like your legs are going to give out if you have to lug this stuff around for more than twenty minutes. Each of you was given a suit of kevlar body armor. While no one expects that the infected were going to start shooting at you, it would still protect your vitals from a lot of damage. You wear your vest underneath your sweater, and Leo wears his underneath his green hoodie. You were also fortunate to have received some well-fitting jeans to replace your skirt. You were less fortunate to now have an almost comically huge backpack strapped to you. You’re thinking about it now, and you suppose this is a (slight) step up from just carrying the supplies back in your arms, but you feel like you’ve got a minivan piggyback riding you. You were also granted a first aid kit, since you’re the only one in the party who knows the first thing about medicine. And finally, you and Leo had been given weapons. A standard police handgun and baton to both of you. The guns you two had arrived with were still in a storage locker somewhere in the shelter, and the requisitions officer decided that the standard, police-issued armaments were better, anyway. After what feels like an eternity, Grace saunters up to the three of you. She looks the two of you over, and before she even speaks, you can just feel the doubt and regret emanating from her. “What took you so long?” Leo inquires. “Had to listen to about three hundred lectures, and fill out twice as many forms,” The tone of her voice makes you think she isn’t exaggerating. “What forms did they make you fill out?” You ask. “Basically just had to verify that this is my idea, and if you guys die, it’s on my head,” She answers in the most cavalier tone possible. “Ok, then,” Is all you have to say to that. “For real, though, Grace,” Summers interjects, “Are you a hundred percent on this? Leo’s, like, what? Sixteen?” “Seventeen,” Both Leo and Grace correct him simultaneously, but only Grace goes on to say, “And yes. I’m sure about this.” “Uh-huh,” He says skeptically. He sighs with a worried expression on his face, and says, “Look, just be careful,” Grace opens her mouth to say something, but he quickly speaks again, “And yes, I know you’re planning on being careful, but saying it makes me feel better.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Crisp morning air leaves you feeling somewhat cold, but what truly chills you is the eerie silence in this part of town. Your mission is to scout out some apartments, and some convenience stores next to them; but now, looking at the buildings, you wonder if anything is left inside. At least half the windows are shattered into splinters. Scorch marks and bullet holes dot the walls. Occasional blood splatters are visible. From the brief glimpses inside that you are given each time you pass by a window, the interior of the building is in a similar state of anarchy. “So uh… ” Leo says, breaking the silence, “Think it got like this before or after the zombies?” “Got called out to this place a lot,” Grace replies, “Trust me, if anything, the zombies are an upgrade.” You reach the main entrance as she finishes talking. Grace tries to open the door, but it stops almost immediately. Through the crack, you can see a rather pitiful barricade on the other side. Grace takes a few steps back, plants one foot on the ground, and drives the other into the door with all her might. With the sound of splintering wood, it swings open. A number of chairs that had been stacked against the door go flying into the lobby. The sound is deafeningly loud in the otherwise silent building. “Uhh, nice work,” Leo quietly intones, looking impressed. “Nah, shitty barricade,” She says. In one fluid motion she draws and readies her pistol, then enters the building, rapidly scanning the lobby for any threats. Both you and Leo attempt to emulate her movements; Leo is somewhat slower than her, and you’ve barely even pulled your gun out by the time they’re in the building. The air inside the building is musty and not particularly fragrant. There’s dirt and grime on a lot of surfaces, though, like Grace said, you get the feeling that this is not a recent development. Much of the furniture is overturned or broken, and it looks like everything valuable in and around the main service table has already been looted. “I don’t think we’re gonna find anything on this floor,” Graces notes, “Let’s head upstairs.” She starts towards the stairs when a thought seems to strike her. She whirls around, pointing a finger at the both of you, “I do not want either of you to be alone, got it? Do not go too far away from the party. Not even for a second.” “Understood,” You reply. Leo nods. It’s honestly extremely comforting to have someone like Grace here with you. Even when nothing was happening, you just felt so nervous and terrified when it was just you and Leo. You feel much safer with Grace here. On the second floor, many of the doors seem to have been left open. Some of them even look like they’ve been broken down. With the precision and skill of a highly trained and experienced professional, grace begins a routine of entering and surveying each of the already opened rooms. “Looks clear,” She states after checking the last door in the hallway, “Let’s start scavenging.” You and Leo enter one room while Grace heads next door. The living conditions here look to have sub-par. The room is serviceable enough, but almost everything inside is rather obviously cheaply made. You reach the kitchen, and, to your delight, see a decent helping of canned and bagged food inside. “Oh yeah,” Leo says, satisfied. “Watch my back for a sec while I grab all this.” Your pistol held tightly, you turn around and keep watch. Leo drops his backpack to the ground, and sets about shovelling any food that still looks edible into it. “So far, so good, huh?” You say with optimism. “No kidding. First room outta the bunch and we’ve already got a couple days’ worth of food.” Once he’s taken everything of value from the pantry, he throws the pack back on, evidently straining under its increased weight. You leave the room and return to the hallway. You look into the room Grace was looting, and see her merrily giving a metal baseball bat a few test swings. “New toy?” You ask, catching her attention. “New toy,” She replies with a grin. The next several rooms are much the same. Scooping up food and anything else that looks valuable, and then heading out. Before long, this floor is cleared out. Before advancing to the next floor, you and Leo were forced to split your hauls up and give Grace the bulk of it- your packs were getting too heavy for either of you to move. Grace barely seemed to even notice the extra weight. You continue the process on the next floor. You and Leo enter one room that reeks particularly powerfully. Both making disgusted noises, you reluctantly enter. The pantry appears to have been hit with something, and all the shelves are broken. Jars and other containers have burst open, and spilled their contents onto the floor. You spot a couple of mice picking through the mushy pile. “I’m thinking we don’t need anything from this room,” Leo says. “I’m thinking you’re right.” Before you can leave the room, Leo suddenly turns to look at something. “Hang on a sec,” is all he says as he veers towards the bedroom. You follow after him, curious as to what he’s found. He crouches down, and picks up a book of some kind. “Oh shit,” he says, pleasantly surprised by his find. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to read thi-” He stops in the middle of his sentence as a low grumble to his right startles him. Before either of you can react, an infected man slams into Leo hard. He screams as he’s thrown across the room. The infected charges at him again, picking up the small boy and slamming him against the wall. “Oh my God, Leo!!” You scream. You reach for your gun, but your shaking hands can’t seem to grasp it. You fumble with the little clasp holding the weapon in. A growl behind you makes your blood run cold, and you don’t even have time to turn around before you’re tackled to the ground. A flurry of fists begin pummeling the back of your head and torso as the infected tries to beat you to death. You most certainly no longer have the mental coordination to retrieve any kind of weapon, so you use your hands to cover the back of your head. Between that and the armor protecting your back, many of the infected’s attacks do very little real damage. Leo is not as lucky. The infected man attacking him is variating between slamming him into the wall, and driving punches into him. Unsurprisingly, you see the fabric of Leo’s tan shorts darken between his thighs. You can see glistening streams sliding down his legs, and his pants darkening with wetness along with them. From the cuffs of his shorts, little showers of pee droplets begin to fall. All of it is puddling on the ground below him. He’s kicking his legs, trying to resist the attack, but all this does is cause uneven, sporadic damp splotches to appear along his pants. It breaks your heart to see this. Leo’s eyes fall on you, and widen even further in alarm. He starts looking around himself, and spots a lamp resting a little table next to him. He just barely manages to grab it, and smashes it against the infected’s head as hard as he can. With a howl, it releases him, and begins stumbling around in a daze. He falls down into his puddle of urine with a splish. His legs are pulled close to his chest, and he is clutching his midsection in pain. From your position on the ground, you have a clear view of his butt, and you see his pants tent suddenly. It doesn’t take more than a second for you to realize that he’s just started soiling himself out of fear. The tent grows, and then devolves into a roundish bulge. His already soaked crotch glistens once again as a renewed stream of urine floods his pants. The wetness travels downwards, washing over the mess he just released on himself. He seems to take a deep breath, hold it, and then his terrified, agonized expression turns to one of furious determination. Almost as quickly as Grace, he draws his pistol, and plants one, then two, then three, then four, then five bullets into the infected that had attacked him. The man drops like a rock. Leo stands up, drops and streams of urine still falling from his pants. He takes aim, seemingly trying to hit the infected on top of you and not put you in any danger. But suddenly, the infected is no longer on top of you. You hear a grunt, and see your attacker get flung into the bedroom. You dare to look behind you, and see a very, very pissed off-looking Grace standing there, baseball bat in hand. She stomps towards the infected, who has gotten back onto its feet. Before it can even make a move, she drives the bat into its stomach, and uses it to push the thing back. Nearing the room’s window, Grace gives it a hard shove with the bat, and then swings it in an upwards motion, striking the infected in the jaw, and launching him out the window. You sigh in relief, still not off the ground. A moment later, you muster the energy to stand up, inspecting yourself for damage. You feel winded, and a little sore just kind of… everywhere. It’s like one giant fist managed to punch your entire body all at once. Once you’ve verified that you’re not severely injured, you look to Leo. He’s, well, it would be inaccurate to say that he’s necessarily standing, he’s mostly just leaning into Grace who is holding him up. Leo’s face is swollen and bruised, and he’s clearly having some difficulty standing on his own. You walk towards him, but Grace tightens her hold on him and pulls him away from you. You meet her gaze, and see that she is glaring angrily at you. “Grace I-” “Exactly what I knew would happen, Angie,” Is all she says as she looks back at her brother. She’s holding onto him tightly, and looking at her forlorn expression, you’d wager it’s more for her sake than his. “At least you didn’t get both of you killed… ” She mutters. You can’t even really dispute her words. Your insistence on going with her got Leo hurt pretty badly. “... my fault… ” Leo’s voice is barely audible as he murmurs the words. “What was that, Li’l Cat?” Grace asks. “My fault. Saw something I wanted… didn’t check the room first. This was my fault.” He sways while he talks, and his slurred speech gives the impression that he’s not quite all there, yet. “That really doesn’t-” Grace breaks off her retort, and just settles for, “Look, let’s make sure you’re okay, and then see about getting you cleaned up.” Leo nods his assent, and starts to walk for the exit to the room. Even though he seems to have recovered enough to be able to stand and walk just fine, he only gets to take a few steps before Grace scoops him up in a princess carry. She turns her head towards you before they leave, “Angela, please look around for some spare pants that might fit him. After we get him patched up, we’re heading back to the shelter.” “We’re not done, yet,” Leo intones, his voice still raspy. “Yes. We are,” Grace emphatically states. She leaves the room, still carrying him, and you are left alone. You doubt that you’ll find any decent clothes in this room, and, to be honest, you actually have an overwhelming desire to leave this room and never return. You figure it’s best to follow your instincts. You do bend over and grab the book Leo spotted, though. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A short while later, you’ve managed to scrounge up a few pairs of pants and some underwear that you think Leo could wear. In a somewhat spacious bathroom, Grace has had Leo remove his shirt and hoodie, exposing his heavily beaten back and chest. You can see more than cut that have left streaks and smears of blood on his skin and clothes. Nothing major, but Leo must feel like he’s been hit by a truck. Much to your disgust and, undoubtedly to Leo’s shame, you see that he’s still in his wet and soiled shorts. The room has begun to smell of it, too. You suppose that this is (only very slightly) more dignified than him just being naked, but still. You were forced to stay in soiled clothes for an extended time period just yesterday, and it is decidedly not an experience you would recommend. “I um… I found you some clothes, buddy… ” You know that tone that people get when they’ve fucked up everything, and can only offer something totally insignificant to try and make it better? That’s what you sound like. “Thanks Angie,” Leo sounds… better. Ish. “Thanks,” Grace says, in a calmer tone than she had earlier. You see that she’s trying to help his wounds with some medical supplies she found in the room, but she isn’t using any of the properly. You reach behind you, and pull out the hefty first aid kit you’d been given, “Here, let me.” Grace nods and moves out of the way. You begin cleaning and dressing his injuries. In a weird way, you’re actually kind of relieved to see all the cuts and bruises. You were worried that he might be really hurt, but this is nothing that won’t heal in maybe a week or two. Once the medical portion of the procedure had finished, it was time to move on to the other part. The part neither of you are willing to assist him with. “Can you stand, Little Cat?” “Yeah,” He stands up, no longer swaying very much, “I’m feeling way better than a little bit ago.” “That’s great,” You say, and mean it. “Go ahead and get cleaned up and changed, and then we’ll get out of here.” “Got it,” Maybe it was the thrashing he’d just taken, or the painkillers you’d just given him, but he’s taken a very nonchalant attitude towards his accident. You suppose that’s good. Better than him being embarrassed or ashamed because of your mistake. You leave him to it, and wait with Grace just beyond the bathroom door. “Grace,” You begin an apology, but fail to find the right words. You settle for, “I am so sorry.” “Say it to him, not me, Angela,” A vacant, pained look adorns her face. There is a long moment of silence. “Angela, you remember what happened to our parents, right?” Your eyes widen in surprise, “Y-yes, I do,” Grace never talks about she and Leo’s parents. They were killed in a car accident about seven years ago, and it was something that Grace did not like to think about. “So do I. I remember it all the time. When the outbreak started, it was all I could think about- that I’d see my little brother’s name on the casualty reports. I was so happy when the two you made it to the shelter, because I knew that you would be safe,” There’s another silence that didn’t need to be filled, your mind did the talking for her, Until I made you take us back out. “It’s… it’s not really all your fault. I was stupid to agree to it. Leo was too quick to agree to it. My boss only made me sign the papers, didn’t actually say anything about it. I’m… ” She stops for a second, then looks you directly in the eyes, “I’m sorry that I blamed you for this. I’m not mad at you, Angie. I just want to take what we’ve got, and get back to the shelter.” “I promise that I’ll find a way to make this up to both of you, Grace,” “I know just the way to it,” She says plainly, “I’m gonna be doing several more scavenging missions over the next few days. I want you to keep Leo safe while I’m away.” Looks like this is going to be it for your tagging along days, “Of course.” A moment later, the bathroom door opens, and a much drier, less smelly Leo emerges. He’s wearing his hoodie and some jeans you’d found for him. “Are you okay?” you ask him. “Yeah. Little beat up, but I’m doing better, now.” “Good, then let’s get going,” Grace picks up her pack. “No,” Leo says with a determined voice, “I want to finish the mission. Let’s go to the stores and finish looking for supplies!” A). “Leo… No. You just got hurt badly, and you could’ve been killed! We’ve got more than enough, so let’s just head back.” B). “The shelter is extremely low on medicine, and we didn’t really find any. The stores are just across the street, practically on the way back.”