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NothingLeft

Ammonia Apprentice
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  1. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to DesertTortoise in Own your fetish   
    Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ve noticed that many of you seem to be slightly embarrassed by your fetish. I see posts asking for advice on how to break the news to their significant other. I see posts talking about how embarrassing it would be if you ever got caught. I’ve seen posts from married people talking about hiding from their spouses.
    I used to do this. I was embarrassed about what I like. I was afraid that someone would walk in on me wetting, or my pissy pants would be seen in the laundry. I had to date a woman for months before I’d bring it up.
    One day I just kinda said Fuck It. I’m pretty open about it now. Most people don’t care. It occasionally gets brought up as a joke, but I’m not subjected to ridicule or anything. The real magic of being open with it lies with how word spreads. If you’re open, you might meet someone who’s into this as well. I’ve met the love of my life partially because I don’t hide what I am anymore. Even before her, you’d be stunned at how many people are ok with a little piss play if you just bring it up like any other fetish.
    Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you 
  2. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to russkere in My ArtWork!   
    The Disney OMORASHI PROJECT: Belle
    As a result of fan feedback , I'm gonna do a series of disney omo pics the goal is to get all of the disney ladies done , or until I get bored, whichever comes first!

  3. love
    NothingLeft got a reaction from BlushyBby in Marvel/MCU Stories   
    Pepper
     
    Stark Laboratory, November 2024
    Tony was typing quickly on a small keyboard laid within a table, running diagnostics on his two most recent suits, the Mark XC and the Mark XCI- his and Pepper’s ‘Iron Man’ and ‘Rescue’ suits respectively. Apparently there was a mishap with the circuitry when the nanobots formulated, causing the left-hand repulsor to expel more heat than it was meant to which led to easy overheating when used repeatedly. Luckily, the bug was found before Rhodey’s Mark XCII War Machine suit was manufactured, which featured more powerful repulsors. If the bug had gone undetected, Rhodey would have had minor burns after just four shots in a close time frame.
    “Circuitry diagnostic completed, boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.- Tony’s female-voiced, Irish-accented AI assistant commented. Tony nodded and sipped some black coffee from a square black ceramic mug.
    “Excellent. Continue diagnostics and check all system health within the major OS, then import all relevant OS data, statistics, battle strategies, as well as facial recognition and UI preferences from Marks eighty-four and eighty-five respectively, please.” Tony asked- the four gap suits had been prototypes for a more complicated and advanced nanobot structure, intelligence, simulated material and integrity- before he turned to a 3D hologram of his own suit. The entire suit was the same translucent light blue, part the circuitry within which was highlighted in green and the malfunctioning parts in red. The suit became opaque once more, with a shiny red-and-gold colour scheme.
    “Yes boss.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied obediently despite the- to an average human mind- tall and complex order. Tony nodded and spun the hologram on his suit to analyze the back. It was a few minutes before F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke again.
    “Boss, I found somet’n… Interesting, perhaps,” Tony looked to the diagnostics screen, seeing nothing on his suit highlighted.
    “Pep’s suit?” He asked. “What’s ‘interesting’?”
    “Well,” The AI began. “All other systems are healthy and operational in Marks ninety and ninety-one, but when I import data and statistics from Mark eighty-four- missus Stark’s suit-” Tony smiled with pride “- I’ve found that two of the four waste recycling systems have never been activated, boss.” Tony turned back to the diagnostics screen and swiped over to Pepper’s statistics and data. Indeed, two hadn’t been used.
    “Do we have records for doubleyou-are-esses one, two, three and four?” Tony asked, sipping his coffee again.
    “Boss, we do. Waste Recycling System Four- otherwise known as ‘The Hurler Protocol’- was used once, five months and three days ago, boss.”
    “Right, the Hulk-Out. When Nat got shot, I…” Tony trailed off, shivering at the memory. “I remember I used more than that when that… PR disaster happened,” He commented.
    “Indeed, boss, you made use of three then, and all four over the suit’s lifespan.”
    “And doubleyou-are-ess three?”
    “Waste Recycling System Three, known as ‘The Gas Passer Protocol’ is used regularly, last used four days ago, boss. But if I may, boss, I believe the lack of use of Waste Recycling Systems one and two- ‘The Party Emergency Protocol’ and ‘The Terror Protocol’ respectively- may serve to explain missus Stark’s sporadic disappearances from the field.” Tony sat in consideration, nodding slowly.
    “Why? Why hasn’t she used them?” He asked.
    “She reports that ‘they’re gross and weird’, boss, despite the recycling. I have also checked the recycler health with the added artillery functionality, and the systems are a-hundred-percent functional,”
    “Hmm,” Tony mumbled, preoccupied with why Pepper hadn’t used the recycling systems. “We gotta get her to try the systems, if only to increase combat presence and efficacy,” 
    “I could lock her suit, boss,”
    “No, she knows ‘The Canopy Protocol’- Could we,” he paused, working his way through the answer in his head. “We could move the OS’s soft-open system signaler to... My suit, that way I could…” He paused and ran his hand down his face. “I could control the soft-open mechanism, and pretty much… That’s not, that’s not cruel, is it?”
    “Ethically?”
    “Rhetorical,” He was thinking, what would Pepper’s reaction be to this? Well, she would obviously be pissed off- nothing new there- and the suit would absorb the result, so she wouldn’t be angry about that, at the very least- the way the suit recycled was admittedly a small bit invasive. When the signal of release of any bodily function would be released, a nanobot tube would snake into the wearer’s clothes and attach itself to the urethra or anus and… well, simply be there to absorb and transfer anything to a small recycling system. The waste would be separated into its useful parts- in this case water- and the true waste, the useful parts being recycled and reused or reintroduced to the wearer when necessary.
    “Even so sir, ‘The Canopy Protocol’ would still override soft-opening,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. pointed out, Tony nodding as he worked out a safe way to effectively force his wife to go in her suit, without trapping her in it. He would never forgive himself if Pepper died because her suit was locked out of her control.
    “Yeah, I guess do it- move the soft-open system from her OS to mine, but leave ‘The Canopy Protocol’ untouched. If she ‘Canopy’s, she ‘Canopy’s.” Tony finally commanded, though he added a hasty “Mute,” when Pepper came racing down the basement stairs.
    “Tony! Tony, there’s a problem!” She sounded out of breath.
    “What?”
    “Code Green!” Tony’s face dropped and dam well nearly turned white.
    “Son of- F.R.I.D.A.Y., forget the tests, apply all changes and enter Emergency Mode, green! We need the armour now!” Immediately, two pillars in the wall spun, revealing two shiny, full-body suits. One was red and gold with a light blue, glowing circle in the chest. The other was blue and silver, the circle identical but white in colour. The blue suit was slimmer with a slightly larger chest and ever-so wider hips. 
    “Morgan?” Tony asked quickly.
    “Happy’s still here and May’s on her way,”
    With a nod Tony ran into the red-and-gold as Pepper ran into the blue-and-silver before two valves above the suits opened. The couple engaged the flight systems and blasted through the valves.
    As they accelerated through the air, Tony spoke “F.R.I.D.A.Y., news or footage- keyword; Hulk!” Many pieces of both professional and amateur camerawork popped up on both Tony and Pepper’s in-helmet heads-up-display. They were all of similar events: A huge, green monster in a tight black bodysuit leapt across New York towards a construction site. Some angles even showed the beast had a redheaded woman in black, a long-haired brunette woman in everest green, a long-haired brunet man dressed in black and a helmeted man in blue in his grasp. Behind him was the Falcon, flying at his fastest possible speed and still only barely keeping pace.
    “Head to those co-ord’s, Pep!” 
    “Yep!”
    “And F.R.I.D.A.Y., call in Vee-Three and Vee-Four!” Thanks to emergency mode, F.R.I.D.A.Y. obeyed, but one thing Tony had missed when he had left his home had been a message on the screen relating to his changes to the OS.
    ‘Executive Password Required’.
    Two Hours Later
    As Red Hulk leapt away in defeat with Red She-Hulk in his arms, Tony and Pepper could finally breathe easy. The skirmish had lasted a while longer than either had anticipated. The threat Natasha had called in to them had been Thaddeus Ross and his daughter Betty Ross- the Red Hulk and the Red She-Hulk. Usually, it wouldn’t have taken eight of them- Hulk, Black Widow, Agent: Genesis, Falcon, Captain America, White Wolf as well as Iron Man and Rescue- more than more than ten minutes, as Tony and Pepper could easily take them on with nothing but their Hulkbuster suits, but there had been a slight deployment error and they never came.
    Hulk had done the most damage to the pair, obviously. Natasha, who had been distracting them with an occasional peppering of gunshots, had gotten cornered by Betty. Hulk, seeing his lover in danger, had reacted almost too harshly. He had grabbed Red She-Hulk by the arm and threw her away, but the force of his rage-fueled throw had accidentally ripped Betty’s arm off in the process.
    That and he had forgotten to let go.
    She and Thaddeus had fled to allow Betty’s arm to regenerate, leaving the Avengers victorious again. Sam and Peggy were catching their breath, Natasha was Hulk’s arms as he worried over her and Steve and Bucky were surveying damage, both of the site and of the others. No one was badly injured; Natasha was practically untouched as was Hulk, Sam and Peggy both had a few scratches and Sam had a rough bruise on his head, Steve and Bucky were both healing from their injuries and the worst that Tony and Pepper were experiencing were dents in their suits- they had both caught rather wicked blows from Thaddeus, but it was nothing Tony’s incredibly advanced nanobots couldn’t protect against.
    “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., we can deactivate ‘Emergency Mode’.”
    Silence.
    “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”
    Still silence.
    “Shit, there must be some interference,” Tony whispered, already thinking of ways to remedy it when he returned home. Pepper sighed in slight irritation at F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s absence- with a groan Tony recognized. He had to stop himself from smiling when Pepper looked around uncomfortably. He switched his voice from the Avengers-earpiece to the in-helmet communicator that only transmitted between him and Pepper.
    “You okay?” Pepper switched her voice over as well an responded with,
    “Yeah, I just need to get home,”
    “Uh, okay. I’m sure Morgan’s okay-”
    “It’s not that, Tony,” Pepper groaned.
    “Oh. You know the suit has a function for that,” Tony suggested, excited that the situation he had planned was finally playing out.
    “Oh my God, Tony- no, I’m not… going in the suit,” Pepper spoke incredulously. 
    “Alright, fine. Let’s get home, then,” Tony complained, activating his thrusters. Well he tried to. Nothing happened, however. “What the Hell?”
    “What?”
    “The thrusters… The thrusters aren’t working,”
    “What? Why not?” Pepper asked, her voice rising in pitch a little bit.
    “I-I don’t know. Maybe it’s a bug,” Tony mumbed,  looking at his gauntlets. He aimed his repulsor at a steel beam and fired, a blast indeed coming out from his palm. Hulk growled protectively at the shrill noise, turning Natasha away from the sound ever so. The redhead shifted in Hulk’s arms to look at Tony before questioning,
    “What’sa matter, shellhead?”
    “Nothin’, I was just…” Tony fell silent for a moment, considering another option. “Hey Nat, you wanna visit Morgan?”
     
    Tony and Natasha were perfectly alright as Hulk soared through the air from his titanic jump, having been used to the feeling of flying for years. But Pepper- who had only been using her suit for a year- was not acclimated to flight she couldn’t control. She had a death grip on Hulk’s arm and her suit’s eyes never left the reapproaching ground. Hulk hit the ground hard- though he kept his cargo secure- and dashed along the ground at a near-train speed before leaping again, the ground giving a crack sound as he did. Pepper gave a tense gasp when, from the height of Hulk’s jump, their cabin came into view. They hit the peak of the jump before they slowly began falling again. The ground got closer and closer before Hulk slammed into it, slowly bringing his momentum down as he came to the Stark Cabin. When he came to a stop near the front porch, Morgan, Happy and May were all outside.
    “Daddy!” Morgan rushed towards her father, still in his suit. He embraced his daughter in a hug.
    “Hey Morgan. Look, me and mommy are having a little trouble with our suits, so go warm up Auntie Nat and Uncle Hulk, okay?” He then motioned for Pepper ro follow him. The two entered the house and into the basement. Tony moved over to the screens he had been working on prior to the mission.
    “Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Tony called, though no response came. F.R.I.D.A.Y. had apparently been shut down. “How…” He rebooted the AI, and she responded with a- 
    “Hello boss,”
    Pepper spoke to the AI, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., I can’t open my suit.”
    “That’s because the suits have been locked, miss.” Pepper recoiled from the words in surprise.
    “What? Why?” Before F.R.I.D.A.Y. could respond, the couple were suddenly met with a screen they were taken aback by.
    ‘Executive Password Required’.
    “Exec password? Why?” Tony questioned confusedly.
    “Some settings have been altered for possibly detrimental reasons, so an executive password is required to unlock Mark ninety and ninety-one suits.” Pepper groaned and the sound of metal-on-metal clunked together. Pepper had her legs squeezed together in desperate need. The Hulk’s jumping had clearly agitated her bladder far more.
    “Tony, I have to pee!” She whimpered in embarrassed admission, her suit’s mask duplicitous to her needing movements and groans. “It’s bad,” She groaned, her armoured hands over her crotch.
    “I know, I know,” He replied. He moved his hand to the panel of letters, but paused.
    “What’s the matter?” She asked desperately, rocking her body back and forth. She whined again, her hands desperately clawing at the crotch of her suit in a fervent attempt to grab herself.
    “I… Uh, F.R.I.D.A.Y., what systems are offline?” A list appeared as the AI read them, one by one.
    “Soft-lock opening systems, weapons systems, flight systems-”
    “What protocols are offline?”
    “All protocols, boss,”
    “Shit!” He cursed, shaking his head. Pepper whimpered again, once again shakily asking her husband what was wrong. Tony sighed with consideration. “Shit…”
    “No, no no! Fff… Tony! I just… Please!” Pepper cried. Tony’s breath hitched when Pepper gasped shrilly, telling him the smallest drip of sunlight-coloured urine had rolled down the inside of the shiny, sapphire-shaded surface of her armour’s thigh. He turned back to the password screen, his fingers only now realizing what exactly was wrong.  
    “I...” He sighed again.
    “Tony!” Pepper cried.
    “Maybe-” 
    “God, Tony please, I’m gonna-”
    “I forgot the password!”
    “What!” Pepper froze. Another spurt, a larger one, rolled down her thighs at the thought that she was stuck in her suit.
    “Look, I have a lot of passwords, okay!” Tony defended. F.R.I.D.A.Y. backed him up as she confirmed with,
    “It’s true, he does.”
    “Tony, did you write it down?” Pepper asked, her voice breaking with pain. Her bladder was so full and it stung- no, it didn’t sting, not entirely. It burned. It was like fire was below her stomach, and every leak- one rolled from her pussy and trickled down her inner thigh, soaking into the fabric of her suit at the mere thought- felt like flames bursting forth. The groin of her undersuit was damp and hot, and the wetness and warmth was only spreading with every- fuck, not another one- leak, and the leaks were growing more and more common. The warmth was disturbingly accommodating, almost as if her expelled pee was beckoning the rest of it out of her, quite against her will. It was also... Hot. Both in the temperature and the sexual appeal, but Pepper absolutely would not piss her pants because she suddenly felt a little horny for whatever reason.
    Her bladder pulsed again, bringing a cry and the tears that had budded in her eyes rolled down her cheeks from a whole matter of things; Fear of wetting herself. Shame of her need. Shame of admitting she wasn't opposed to losing control. Pain from her bladder’s constant crying. Her muscles were beginning to ache from holding, and she was truly wondering how much time she had left before the worst happened. It hurt so much. Her bladder pressed against the metal contact prevention suit- her undersuit- and the way the fabric rubbed against her tummy, her bladder, her dampened nether lips and her heated thighs was torturous, but not only in a negative way.
    “No, that’s an easy way to forgo security-” Tony argued, testing out one password. It was rejected.
    “Tony!” Pepper cried, her voice cracking again.
    “Pep, I’m trying-” Another password, still rejected.
    “Tony!”
    “I’m doing my-” ‘Nope.’
    “TONY!” Pepper screamed.
    “Maybe…”
    ‘Got it,’
    “Executive password accepted. All suit functions, systems, and protocols reengaged, boss,” Pepper laughed desperately and whimpered before asking,
    “Tony! My suit-” she whimpered again, her legs squeezing together once again from within her armour “- still won’t open!” Her thighs were shaking and cries echoed from her helmet.
    ‘Yeah, I know, Pep,’ Tony thought with a smile. But, still, he knew it would be best to play along with a facade rather than admit, at least until Pepper finally used her suit’s capability. “What do you mean, Pep?”
    “It won’t- Oh, god! Canopy, canopy, canopy!” She shouted desperately. Almost immediately, Pepper’s suit opened, releasing the redhead from her locked prison. Tony’s throat bobbed as he saw the dark spot covering his wife’s crotch. It was coating her vagina and dipped below onto the inner parts of her thighs. The fabric immediately over her vagina grew briefly shiny, and a few more strings of dark urine bled down from the large mark. 
    “No! Fuck, no, come on!” She begged, falling down to a squat in a last-ditch attempt to hold herself. The movement caused- either from her darkened undersuit or from another loss of control over her overfilled organ- a spurt of hot urine to spray onto the concrete floor. “...Fuck!” She cursed, her hands gaining a slight sheen as they tightened around her wet crotch with a slightly drawn-out squlch. 
    “Pep, the suit. It has a recycle function-”
    “I’m not pissing in your suit, Tony!” She blushed ever so at the thought, but she pushed the disgusting- if she convinced herself it was gross, her mind wouldn't get aroused at it, right?
    “C’mon, Pep,” He soothed, rubbing her shoulder. “It’s better than the alternative,”
    Pepper grew silent apart from whimpers of desperation, telling him she knew he was right. She rose with a whimper, and another leak came with it- a larger one that caused the woman to whimper and hold her stance, slightly bent over and tears slowly running down her face. Her fingers were interlaced and crushed against her damp crotch, her fingers covered in a web of shiny urine. The feeling of wetness on her exposed skin only made the desire to empty more powerful, and that only made her disgusting fantasy more electrified.
    In truth, Pepper had always been morbidly fascinated with... Pee accidents. When she had been a teenager, she had experimented with it. Nothing serious, though there was one night that would never leave her mind. Regardless, she would not allow something she had buried for so long to come back to haunt her now.
    “Pep, come on,” Tony whispered, carefully wrapping his armoured arms around Pepper’s shoulders. Pepper’s eyes were glued shut, her thighs were stuck together at an impossible tension and her mouth was sucked in. She nodded and opened her eyes, turning to her suit in a final collapse. she would use the suit. Tony turned back to the control panel for the suits. There was silence for a few moments, part Pepper’s desperate whines until she spoke again.
    “No… No, God, please…” She whimpered, with the slightest undertone of haughtiness. Tony turned to his wife confusedly before he prompted her once again to enter her suit. But it was then he heard it.
    Drip. Drip. Drip. And it was slowly accelerating. Tony looked down and froze on the spot. The dark spot that barely presented on his wife’s rear was slowly, slowly growing. The darkness was shiny as liquid spilled down her slender, long legs at a pace envious of molasses, no doubt from Pepper's weakened attempts to hold her accident back. It crawled down her slender thighs, across and down her calves before creating a puddle at her feet. The small puddle also caught the liquid that fell directly from her crotch, and the golden-ish puddle was growing similarly to the darkness on and down her legs. Pepper sobbed quietly as a faint hissing began to come from her urethra to accompany the running liquid. Pepper’s hands clamped back down on her clothed pussy in a last-hour attempt to stem her incredible flow, however they only became more soaked. As time passed- it seemed like hours, day even, as Pepper sprayed- and the slight trickle was slowly morphing into a steady flow. The puddle beneath Pepper grew larger as lava-like urine poured down her legs, flowing gently yet with reckless abandon.
    “Pep?” Tony asked quietly, not quite ready to face her wrath. Pepper sobbed a gasp of desperation and a fast-returning past she had long wanted to bury and her legs gave out, allowing her to collapse with a small splash in her hot pee, yet her flow was quite ceaseless. Tony came to her side and she collapsed into his shoulder. He couldn’t help but stare as his wife’s puddle grew, alongside a disturbingly arousing hissing. There was a bubbly splishing as her pee ran down out of her urethra, from her vagina, down her trembling thighs- absorbing into her undersuit as much as the already heavily saturated material allowed- and over her bent legs before pooling noisily in her puddle, which was already large. Pepper sobbed again, though the sob held a gasp of relief, no doubt thanks to the increasing lack of pressure on her other organs.
    “It’s okay, Pep. Just get it all out,” Tony sighed when he eventually broke his trance with his wife’s desperate accident, rubbing her back. Pepper gasped in another sob as her vagina sputtered noisily. The volume of the hissing accelerated into a guttural tccch as she forced the remaining pee inside of her out of her sore, weakened bladder, into her undersuit and into her puddle the forceful push lasted several seconds and halfway through a golden-tinted jet even burst through her crotch to splash into her puddle. The sound was hellacious yet arousing, unknowingly to the both of them. Finally, the flow began dying. It was slow, but eventually the forceful blast faded to a steady stream to a slight, everlasting trickle. The trickle seemed to drag out time, only punctuated by Pepper’s saddened yet satisfied gasps and sobs. Eventually, the trickling, accentuated by the eponymous and alluring noise, ceased. 
    Pepper’s chest was shuddering with sobs and gasps of relief and peace, despite her sopping wet undersuit and the puddle that lay beneath her. It was still warm and the warmth brought an alien but sure comfort and... The arousal she knew was inevitable.
    “Oh God…” Pepper sighed, as if just realizing what had occurred over the past few minutes. “I… I didn’t make it,” She sighed, though not in utter discontent, disappointment or despair as Tony had expected, but with… A compromised sigh. Yes, she had wet herself. Forcefully. But, the warmth radiating both into and away from her entrance was not only comforting- as was Tony’s embrace around her, which she felt like he could melt into at any given time- but it was… Well, it was making her a whole other kind of wet, and she definitely would die of embarrassment if her husband knew she was getting turned on by a pee accident she easily could have avoided had she listened..
    But, a sudden shame took over her mind when a squelch came from between her hot, soaked, trembling thighs. Subconsciously and very much out of her control, she rubbed her legs together, feeling her vagina grow more heated. She bit back a moan when her movement stopped. Her haughy mind had thrown years of discipline and abolishment of her horrid... fetish as her clitoris pulsed subtly against her swollen, reddened, soaked- in both ways- lips.
    Tony seemed oblivious to her pleasure and whispered, “Come on, Pep, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” She nodded wordlessly, nestling into his armoured shoulder before she suddenly realized that he was still in his suit.
    “I thought it would’ve been awkward to, y’know, get it in the middle of… Are you okay? That was more than I thought your petite little body was even capable of holding,” Tony laughed, his suit evaporating to the circle of light in the center of his chest.
    “Well, I think I just proved I couldn’t hold it, Tony,” Pepper pointed out, her face heating at the rather... there was just away that saying felt to her that tickled a part of her... interest a bit too much. Tony scoffed a laugh and nodded with,
    “Touché. Though, why didn’t you get in the suit?” He asked, giving her a look. She merely shrugged, unable to formulate an answer to his very legitimate question. It was a combination of her body had sheerly given up, and had drained her pressured organ of its own volition. But another part was that she didn’t want to get in the suit. It was like…
    Like…
    Like she wanted this, though she’d never say it.
    “Anyway, come on, I’ll run you a bath, okay?”
    “Okay.” 
    “Would you like… company?” He asked carefully, knowing he'd be stepping on eggshells of anyone else.
    “I would, yes. I…” She sighed. “I kind of have another problem, too,”
    “Oh? Are you turned on because you wet yourself,  missus Stark?” Tony asked with a smirk. The immature and fetishized term made Pepper’s face catch fire with embarrassment. “Oh, really? I suppose, my love, you have a fetish,” The salacious way he lathered the filthy, stigmatized, taboo word into the air to carelessly and casually sent a shock up the redhead’s spine- a shock that soon jetted down to her vagina, lubricating it even further.
    She sighed in defeat. "I know. I've known since high school, but I just... Wanted to bury it. It's so..." She trailed off, too embarrassed to continue. Well, she had just admitted to her husband that she had pissed her pants in her teenage years and liked it, it didn't get anymore embarrassing. 
    "Pep, you don't bury these things. I've got them, y'know-" at the mention, Pepper poked her cheek with her tongue in a salaciously suggestive manner- "-and they just... they don't need to be shunned. But, that’s for another day. Come one, Pep, bathtime,” Pepper rose with Tony as he offered her his hand, and the stch that came from the still-warm fabric only tickled her embarrassing but amazing rediscovery. Tony roped her into a chaste kiss before beckoning her to follow upstairs.
    So, yes. Virginia ‘Pepper’ Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, wife of the world-saving Iron Man, proud mother and powerful Avenger Rescue…
    Liked peeing her pants, and has since her high school days,
     Funny how that sounds, but… she wasn’t at all opposed to truly exploring this… Part of her.
     
    So, a quick 'Request Granted' to @Kitty Angel for their Pepper chapter, and then... The elephant in the room, my disappearance. Well, I'll just be truthful, because they are very weak reasons. The first was this chapter. I wanted to stay loyal to the prompt given while also not violating either Tony or Pepper's characters too much, and that in combination with making sure all of F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s protocols and mannerisms were consistent and sensical, et cetera, et cetera. Regardless, this piece went through, I shit you not, seven rewrites before I settled on this turn of events. I know it ends in a cliche, with the wetter "aCtUaLlY bEiNg InTo It", but I felt by adding history, it was given validity. Maybe not, but now I'm prattling. The second reason was, again, quite bullshit, and that is burnout. I have been burned out of writing projects before, and when I felt burnout creeping in on this, I panicked and stopped posting for it. So, I'm most likely not going to be able to support a piece a day, which I apologize greatly for. I promise, the other requests- Natasha wetting and then Emma and Wanda forcing someone else to wet- are underway, as promised, I just can't give a concrete date. Again, I'm so sorry for disappearing, and I hope this chapter can begin to make amends.
    Regardless, enjoy this chapter. I can't be sure when Natasha is coming, but it is in the works. In the meantime, feel free to request any character, prompt or both, as long as they adhere to the first post's rules. Thank you for reading and putting up with my fussy bullshit.
    Best regards,
    NothingLeft
     
    I am sincerely sorry for my disappearance.
  4. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to BedwetterStacy in Ask LCpl. Juliet Roberts (Q&A)   
    Lance Corporal, can you show us how you stand at attention and give a salute?
  5. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from phoenix80803 in Marvel/MCU Stories   
    Nebula
     
    Just For Now?
    The Benetar, On The Way to Earth
    Holy.
    Shit.
    That was the only phrase going through Nebula’s machine mind as the door to the main room opened to her, revealing her team; the prestigious Guardians Of The Galaxy, ever ready to defend innocents and fight the evils of space and galaxies beyond.
    They all looked like shit.
    Peter Quill, their leader, was propped up by his two strong arms, heavy bags under tired bloodshot eyes. His shirt was on the table beside him as his torso was covered in light-but-bleeding wounds. Gamora pulled the needle away from his back, finishing stitching a particularly bad slash he had received. His jeans were muddy, bloody and torn, and his face had the odd bruise and cut decorating his features. His hair was ruffled and messy, even singed in some places.
    Gamora was no better. Her eyes were barely open, her face was dropping with tiredness and outfit torn and bloody. Her hands were subtly shaking and she could barely stand, often having to adjust her stance to stay upright.
    Mantis and Drax were already asleep, with Mantis laid along Drax’s lap. Drax’s snoring was impossibly loud, as always, but it would hardly keep them up at all. Rocket was trying to work on a piece of machinery, though he wasn’t getting anywhere as he had to pause and yawn almost every thirty seconds. Groot was nearby, his head falling with his eyelids before jerking awake, the process repeating every minute or so.
    ‘The fight,’ Nebula thought with hazy disdain.
    The fight had been agonizingly arduous. Nearly thirteen hours of a mission involving climbing, running, fisticuff combat, hiding, running, climbing, running… Never mind the blaze of the planet’s two suns that had nearly put Groot, Rocket and Mantis into early graves.
    “Guardians…” Quill stifled a yawn with his hand, though the sight brought a yawn to both Nebula and her sister. “Fuck it, time to... sleep.” He finished unceremoniously, smiling almost deliriously at the word ‘sleep’. Gamora gave a half-hearted ‘woo’ and a slow, careful fist in the air, while Rocket limpy dropped his hopefully-inexplosive workings onto the floor. Groot smiled and finally let his eyes close, which brought a careful smile to Nebula’s face as well. She leaned herself against the door, tiredness overtaking her conscience for a brief moment. She quickly snapped herself up with nearly the last of her resolve and shook her head, though it did nothing to clear the fog in her head. The fog was heavy and it carried a whisper she couldn’t discern in English or any other language, though her body interpreted it for her.
    ‘Rest. Sleep. Shit, just lie down- something.’ She was in no position, physically or willingly, to deny her body its call. With the most limp, pathetic wave she’d ever seen, much less given, Nebula turned on her heel, exiting the center room of the Benetar. A door to her left carried a matching whisper to the one in her head and her body, summoned by the whisper, immediately went into an autopilot. Her hand, disconnected from her mind, waved the door open and she entered, her vision bobbing unfamiliarly. 
    Nebula’s eyes closed before she could even land them on her bed, though she knew her room very well enough to know where it was. Across from the door, behind her desk. Her feet, suddenly heavier than the ship she was within, never left the ground as she kicked off her boots, her brain never even remembering to bother with the rest of her battle-scarred uniform. She narrowly missed the corner of her desk and her arms just caught the edge of her mattress. 
    With the trembling last wisp of her strength, Nebula lifted herself onto her bed, laughing tiredly despite her back hitting the wall. Her head on a pillow, she curled up in a fetal ball as usual, but then she remembered nothing.
    But, as her mind slipped into the deepest sleep she had felt in practically her entire life, Nebula’s body resumed functioning. Despite her father’s cruelty, her body still retained a complete anatomy, despite its mechanical pieces. She still had a stomach, intestines, liver, heart. And especially critical as of her current, she still had a bladder. Quite a capacious one, granted, though it still had limits. And the mission that had exhausted them all so thoroughly had done such through all the fighting, running and climbing they had to do to save their own lives and that of the people native, but it had also been damn well lethally hot.
    Nebula hated heat of any kind. The room in which her father had replaced so much of her body with machine had been hot. The blade he had used to cut her up had been hot. The metal had been hot. The pain itself had been so hot, when she recalled the memories of her recreation, it burned so bad she wish she had died.
    To fend off the ravenous, all-consuming swelter, Nebula had consumed nearly as much water as Groot. So much that she had peed nearly twenty times in the thirteen hours she had been en mission. But, when the adrenaline and pain had worn off, it was quickly and wholly replaced with an excruciating exhaustion, leaving any bodily function peacefully unacknowledged. 
    As Nebula curled up, her muscles sore and tired, she didn’t even notice the dull ache of her churning bladder shoot up from underneath her robotic stomach. It was perhaps half-full, and if she rested for a normal- for her, at least, she still had night terrors of her father’s eyes- five or six hours, she would be able to brush it off and just go. 
    Easy.
    Eleven Hours Later
    Groot felt a warmth on his face and couldn’t help but lean toward it. As he opened his eyes, the harsh glare of a close star was coming in through a large porthole. The tree smiled and allowed the warmth to help him awaken. The light and warmth in the fight however long ago had been pleasant for the first three or four hours, but after that it had just been overly drying for the foliage resting on his hard wooden body, and he had absorbed a lot of water to make it up. This smaller amount of sun felt very nice, and he had no worry of running out of water, as Peter always said he functioned kind of like a Terran cactus; he consumed water and then contained it for later absorption. 
    Groot sighed and began to loosen his joints from their rest. They gave some resistance, but the water inside of him and the gentle glaze of sun helped them wake up similarly to his mind. He carefully stepped forward, though through the serene peace of mind he had awoken in, his mind had allowed him to forget the pipe running along the ceiling. His wooden crest bumped into it with a quiet tunk and a brief groan of irritation from him.
    It truly felt like nearly yesterday that he, Rocket and the pirate-angel had taken off from Nidavellir, him just a ‘teenaged sproutling’. He was now at his- at least, what he believed to be- full size- due in no small part to the odd, rapid growth his systems had gone through when he had returned from the purgatory of the Snap. That and Terra, or Earth, was so rich in minerals and good soil that just a week planted within “New Asgard”, he had grown exponentially.
    The porthole with sun was coming through was rather small, and as Groot moved into a small kitchen room, a larger window bathed even more of his hard body in the warm glow of the star. He moaned in a low, happy tone and smiled as greenery on his shoulders rejoiced at more of the gentle light and warm, especially compared to that of ten hours ago.
    Groot was nearly still for almost ten minutes before the quiet shuffling of a single pair of feet swayed him from his serenity. He turned with a gentle smile to see Nebula, barefoot though still in her battle garb, rubbing her left eye with one hand and stifling a yawn with the other. She clumsily pulled out a chair and hastily seated herself, nearly missing the seat altogether. Groot smiled as the woman, still clearly enraptured in tiredness, tried to wake her body.
    “I am Groot,” He greeted, facing the sun again.
    “Mmm...” Nebula attempted, her mind not fully adept enough yet to actually respond in full. “G’morn-” Her speech was ended by a long, large yawn that surely stretched her mouth to the absolute largest it could be. Groot just chuckled, absentmindedly pressing a red button on a machine beside him. It was a small, black box with a glass pot with a handle within. It was a ‘coffee machine’ Quill had in his ship since Groot had known him. He never favoured the bitter taste over simple water- even with copious sugar- but the smell was pleasant for him.
    “Mm, thanks,” Nebula mumbled, her head resting in her palm as her elbow rested on the table. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and Groot could help but smile when a light, gentle snoring began leaving Nebula’s nose.
    But, beneath Nebula’s sleepiness, her body was at war with itself, and it was one almost as brutal as the one that had put it there in the first place. On one side, Nebula’s artificial muscles were purely aching, barely able to carry her. But, on the other side, an alarm was blaring that just didn’t reach Nebula’s mind through her haze. Her bladder, which had already been cradling an adequate amount of liquid, was now brimming full with it- so full, in fact, that it was even creating the slightest of bulges under her tummy. The warnings, the alarms, the bad of her full bladder was all being blocked out by the cloud of not-quite-awake-yet in her head. The good, how little there may have been- like the feeling of utter fullness, the large ball of warmth in her belly and the tautness of her uniform felt very… relaxing- was even further teasing her mind with just another brisk period more of shut-eye.
    One that Nebula didn’t deny. 
    Groot quietly moved next to Nebula, smiling as he loomed over her. She, opposed to the disposition she always gave off, looked almost cute- like a sleeping animal- as her chest rose and fell gently with deep, relaxed breaths. This is how he liked seeing his team, he had no trouble admitting, but seeing Nebula in such serenity was oddly gratifying in particular, as she had such a hard, unfair life that she deserved peace, maybe more than anyone else he knew- except perhaps Rocket, but even then he thought them equals.
    Groot moved his hand, which he softened with a gentle layer of plush, green moss onto Nebula’s back, smiling even wider when he felt nearly no tension. Nebula was constantly tense from all kinds of stress- physical, mental and emotional- and it was so rare for her body to be so slack.
    It was another few minutes, perhaps fifteen, until Nebula’s brief nap was interrupted by a shrill-but-quiet beep. Nebula started awake, though she still wasn’t fully awake. Groot quickly stole his hand away, though when the cyborg woman’s deep, entrancing, half-lidded black eyes met his, it was clear that she had felt his hand on her back. 
    There was a gentle, peaceful silence as they simply looked at each other. Nebula gave a careful smile and a gentle nod, though her gaze turned down to the face of the table. Groot turned to the machine that had emitted the noise, seeing the glass pot now nearly filled with a rich dark brown liquid with a thin layer of light froth and bubbles around the rim of the glass pot.
    The eponymous coffee.
    A blue metal mug with ‘Nebula’ inscribed on the side in blocky, grey paint was beside the machine among four others similar in shape, and another smaller mug. They all had names on them in differing colours and hands; A chestnut-brown mug, and ‘Captain Star-Lord’ was written in quick, large but clean strokes of an orange-yellow. A dark green mug, emblazoned with a precise, careful ‘Gamora’ in cursive black. A larger grey mug with ‘Drax’ in messy all-capitalized black. A white mug with ‘Mantis’, in a messy handquite similar to Drax's- Mantis didn’t know how to write much, though she was doing her best to learn Ego apparently hadn't deemed it necessary for her- and Rocket’s smaller mug, though his had no name, instead sporting a general schematic for an explosive.
    Groot grasped Nebula’s cup and brought it before him, also taking told of the handle of the coffee pot. The pot was heavy as the hot, steaming coffee sloshed about inside, though he managed quite easily. He slowly began to allow the liquid to plummet from the pot into Nebula’s mug, the kitchen then being filled by a quiet, thick splashing. The splashing became duller the more filled the cup became and Groot eased the pot from its tilt as waves of hot coffee licked the top edge of the mug. Among the sound, Nebula sighed heavily, enjoying the wafted scent of the coffee.
    But, when he stopped pouring, the splashing of the coffee was replaced by another sound, one that wasn’t there when he began. The best way he could describe it was a hissing. It was quiet, and at first Groot thought that there was a pipe leaking. It continued on for a few seconds, nearly silent though somewhat satisfying to listen to in its consistency. Then, it was joined by another subtle sound, though this one was slightly more pronounced. A dull, quiet pattering, like liquid dripping onto the floor cascaded into the air, the faint hissing still continuing and even growing a bit more violent. The hsss became a hkkk, like it was hitting fabric with a decent amount of force. He stood, confused, as the sound perforated the corners of his mind, almost becoming background noise as he held both the coffee pot and Nebula’s full mug. 
    The sound continued as Groot shook his head, prioritizing the tired girl at the table. He placed the coffee pot within the machine’s compartment and moved to Nebula’s seat, placing the coffee before her. The noise got louder, leading Groot to believe that, yes, a pipe in the main room may have burst and is now leaking. He grunted to the sleeping girl kindly before making his way past her.
    Barely missing the puddle underneath Nebula’s seat.
    Nebula shifted in her seat, unaware of the splish of her thighs in the well of liquid beneath her that caused a wave of her warm, recently-expelled pee to be sent to the ground into a slightly golden puddle. Her butt was soaking wet, her crotch was hot and still noisily squirting urine that splashed down her legs and readily fell to the floor over the edges of the chair, pattering a bit louder than before. The pressure of the lava-like urine was increasing, hitting the fabric of her uniform with such power that it made Groot halt.
    No, the sound was getting quieter the further he got from the room. Couldn’t be anything beyond. Groot turned back around, though this time he found what was causing the noises, which were all getting louder and more intense, even if it was just slightly so. He was… completely stunned by what he saw.
    Nebula’s mind perked up at the scent of coffee, though it was still fuzzy and most of it wasn’t awake. Her visibly machine left arm hit the table, hazily trying to find the base of her cup. A few waves of her hand, she found the cup with a dull metal-on-metal tunk. She found the handle, gripping it lazily. She didn’t yet have the strength to lift it, but her body slowly began coming to. The first thing she sensed was the sudden cacophony of noises even though they blended into the background of her mind. There was violent hissing, splashing and spraying piercing her ears, though she paid next to no mind to it. Her fingers tightened around the metal handle of the mug, letting her know she was now capable. With a shaky wrist she brought the mug to her lips, almost drunkenly taking in the nostalgic, comforting bitter taste. She sighed with comfort, the sounds still probing at her mind constantly.
    'What the hell is that noise,’
    “Groot… ” She mumbled, suddenly recalling his presence from earlier. He softly grunted in response from behind her, not much like himself. Nebula took her face off of her palm and sat straight, her ears picking up a loud splash with her moves. She groaned again, knowing she would be one of the first called to fix what seemed to be a leaking pipe.
    But, as Nebula awoke in her seat, more of her body began to communicate with more of her mind. Her stomach- was it her stomach? No, no it was just below that- was aching, almost like it was in relief. Her thighs were trembling and the muscles within felt sore, like she had just been running. Her legs, thighs, butt and crotch felt hot, wet and squishy, and Nebula had to look at her coffee to ensure she hadn't spilt anything already.
    Nope, still full. So why…?
    Nebula sat still for a moment, pondering just what she was soaked with. When her mind gave no conclusive answer, the woman glanced down under the table. Flooding her seat, staining her uniform with dark, coagulating on the floor beneath her and still actively spurting unevenly from her vagina was very warm, glistening urine, slightly tinted a lovely gold. She felt the bottom curve of her thighs tingle with the liquid brimming around them, watching as it quickly evacuated from inside her an into her seat, then further onto the floor, sending golden splash droplets onto the chair's- and her own- legs as the puddle that enveloped her chair ballooned uncontrollably. 
    ‘Hm.’ She looked back up and took a calm sip of her coffee, careful to not tip the mug back too far. She rested the mug on the table again, sighing as her body procedurally came to. She sighed, the decreasing pressure in her belly bringing a quiet peace to her inner systems.
    Wait.
    Nebula’s black eyes went wide and she almost threw herself out of her chair, though her legs gave out from underneath her as they quivered like weak branches in a storm from holding so much liquid back for so long without her even knowing. She looked, almost angrily, at her legs as they shivered, shimmering with a soaked golden glimmer in the star’s light. The puddle underneath her chair- and the one that was beginning to bloom from the sporadic hkkkkk-ing of urine spurting from between her trembling legs- caught the light almost beautifully, though Nebula was too appalled and angry with herself to admire.
    ‘Again… No, not this again...’ Nebula thought, fending off her thoughts. Though, as much as she tried, she just could not look away from the spritzing yellow liquid dying her maroon outfit’s crotch even darker, streaks of shine injecting into the disgustingly huge patch by the flowing liquid. She tried to stop it, she tightened every muscle in her body, but the flow was barely stunted, only fizzling slightly before Nebula had to give in from the suddenly onset weakness. Her muscles felt too damn weak to hold anything that was escaping her, despite her best efforts.
    The sounds only made her stomach turn inside out more horribly. The violent sound as it gushed out of her and against the rough red material of her uniform. The splashing and pattering as her piss settled into the puddle around her. The staggered, stifled gasps escaping her as she realized that all hope was lost.
    She sat for another fifteen seconds as her bladder confidently emptied onto the floor, accentuated vomit-inducingly by a powerful, hellish squirting. The stream, luckily enough for her psyche, was dying, the violating hkkk slowly reducing to a quiet hsss, and slower further as the stream now lacked the power and pressure to even reach her uniform, now simply leaking along the gentle curve of her ass to reach the floor. The organ once keeping all of the urine that now coated the floor was aching with a painful relief as her urine finally began to cease with an eternal trickle of burning urine.
    She sat, shuddering and breathing sharply and harshly for an amount of time her mind absolutely couldn't fucking care to quantify, her vagina leaking like a hose with a hole in it at a pace almost matching her breathing. With a crackling gasp exiting her lungs parallel, her trickle slowed to a stop, searing drops rolling down the most intimate curves of her thighs on occasion.
    Nebula's chest rose fully up and down with her humiliated breathing, but when she heard a soft, long groan, her entire consciousness nearly cut itself from existence out of pure and unabashed shame. Her head turned certainly too fast and her eyes crossed with Groot’s, whose jaw was slack with surprise and eyes wide with surprise and subtle something, Nebula was too on fire from embarrassment to care- at a glance, it looked like mortification.
    Nebula tore her gaze away from Groot’s, though it just landed on her puddle again. She could see the steam rising from it die to the light streaming against her, and the sight of haze and vapour made her just want to fucking puke- almost as much as the sheer wetness she felt on her ass, in her crotch and down her thighs and calves. She couldn’t bear the sight, and placed her eyes back to Groot, closing her jaw apprehensively. She shook her head marginally, deeply afraid to fully move lest more burst forth from her, though she knew she was empty as the corner of her eye kept a golden shimmer bright and evident..
    She wanted to leave. She wanted to jettison herself out of the ship and into the vast expanse of space. She wanted to die, then and there, because this was all too much. The last time had been a dare, but this… This was not okay. Groot was staring, she was still sitting in it, and this… Just, no.
    Groot carefully stepped towards Nebula, acknowledging how much her eyes were darting and how her entire body was shaking. But, just one step was enough to attract her attention. Her jaw was clenched tight, her hands were in trembling fists and her eyes were trained and hard. Groot closed his mouth, anticipating yelling, violence or literally something to be thrown his way, but he was only met with a hoarse grunt and Nebula's quiet voice whisper, 
    “Go away.” It wasn’t a request nor a demand, it was in fact a command, but not one Groot was poised to obey. He shook his head, though his expression stayed soft. But, both his and Nebula’s faces broke into panic when they heard Peter and Gamora's shared room door hiss open. Groot suddenly felt ethereal instincts bite into his inner being, his very core, his absolute center and there was no combat as they took him over.
    Not a thought passed through his head as he stepped into the warm, steaming golden liquid glazing the floor- sympathetic to Nebula’s shaky cringe at the unapologetic splshh- before he began absorbing it, the puddle slowly thinning and shrinking quickly yet soundlessly. Nebula’s eyes met his, to which he could only offer a quick smile.
    The puddle, much to the woman's simultaneous shock, disbelief, mortification, joy and morbid surprise was disappearing quickly, almost like she was… wetting... herself in reverse. The conjoined puddle under the chair- and, indeed, in the seat, which she hadn’t noticed prior- were disappearing parallel thanks to Groot’s arm-branches. They both heard Quill and Gamora mumbling incoherently just around the corner, and again Groot’s instincts kicked in without any forethought.
    He quickly scooped Nebula into his arms, smiling ever so at the small grunt mixed with a light gasp of surprise. He turned, making sure that the admittedly huge, soaking mark on Nebula’s uniform was as hidden as it could be. He then used his very monstrous height to quickly sidestep Star-Lord and Gamora, though they barely noticed due to their tiredness. Groot nearly clocked his head again as he ducked into Nebula’s room, laying her on her bed gently.
    He turned to the closed door, vines erupting from his shoulders and his back as they gripped the door, warping it out of shape so Nebula could process her accident and change in undisturbed peace. However, in his instinctual eruption, Groot failed to remember one very critical fact;
    He had trapped himself within as well, defeating the entire point of “in peace”. As the rush of his actions began to wear off nearly as fast as it had come, the shuffling of fabric made his stance straighten like steel. He dared not look behind him, knowing what lay in store would- certainly this time- be Nebula’s staff across his face. So, he stayed facing the twisted door wrapped in his shedded wooden tendrils, the shuffling of clothes being far too noisy to be simple movement anymore. 
    “Don’t turn around...” Nebula’s voice was harshly, almost painfully quiet and nearly drowned out by a monotonous ziiiiip as the cyborg woman dragged the front zipper down her body. The tone in her voice was painful to him, especially as it was one she rarely spoke through. Even when she spoke of her father, the same one who had tortured and mutilated her, she spoke only with resentment and a blazing hatred far more bitter than any coffee. But this? Her voice was meek, disdained and humiliated. That was the only term that fit.
    Humiliated.
    Nevertheless, Groot didn’t move at all, wincing slightly as a moist, waterlogged stchkkk peeled off of Nebula’s thighs. He heard her groan and quite possibly stagnate a gag, though he said nothing. There was a lighter, more subdued sthck as the wet fabric hit the floor. There was a dull, matted, thick flap, like a dense towel was shaken, and the sound of rough-fabric on flesh. Nebula accentuated the sounds with groans and disappointed sighs. The towel hit the ground, though lighter than that of her uniform. It was followed by airy fluttering, like a loose flag set in a warm breeze.
    There was a few more moments of fluttering and awkward, thought calm silence. After what seemed like too long of studying his own work in the destroyed panel before him, Groot was summoned by the quietest whisper.
    “Okay…” He hesitated. He didn't want to make things impossibly more awkward between them, but he felt as if eye contact right now would do just that, his resistance already shaky. But, when the gentle brush of her thin, skilled finger feathered along his arm, he couldn’t help but turn to her.
    She stood uncharacteristically meekly, her head bowed down to her feet, which were pointed only noticeably inward. He was a tall being, and she was by no means short, but her unusually embarrassed figure made her appear much smaller than he was used to. Her blue skin was covered by loose, baggy dark blue fabric- which made her seem even smaller- looking soft to the touch. It was clearly too large for her as the hem of the sleeves came to her first knuckle and the hem of her bottoms almost entirely covered her feet. Her jaw was still clenched and her fists were tight, and her face read that she was still heavily berating herself for her… accident.
    “I…” She tried to speak, but it barely came out a murmur. “Don’t tell anyone-” her voice gained its usual strength- or as close to it as she could muster with her current headspace- for a moment “- about this, or I will kill you again.” Her black, gleaming eyes stared up at him, threatening as possible. But, with her current dress and what he had just seen, he barely believed it. But, he nodded solemnly nonetheless. He turned to tear away the tendrils blocking the door, but his large hand was caught in hers, though hers was far smaller.
    “No…” She begged quickly, her voice staying as straight as possible. “I… I don’t want anyone… I don’t want anyone else to know…” She trailed off her voice trembling despite being nearly inaudible. She also quickly tacked on a docile “- about this...” Her left arm gripped her right elbow gently. “You can’t tell them about this, Groot,”
    “I am Groot,” he assured readily. He would never break a secret so humiliating for her, even if she did first. She nodded, her jaw relaxing for what seemed like the first time that morning. There was a break of silence between them, with Groot caringly looking down on Nebula, like a mother hen to its peeping chick.
    Groot, almost too easily, allowed Nebula to nestle into his arms, pressing against the hard wood that made up his chest. Though, he padded himself as light, plush moss- the same he had padded his hand with earlier- cushioned his body for the woman in his arms. He allowed the both to rest against the bent and dented door, slowly sliding to the floor. Nebula, as if they were thinking in the same beat, rested her legs along Groot’s, curling up in his gentle hold.
    “This isn’t… anything, this is just…” She muttered, almost as an afterthought.
    “I am Groot,”
    There was a few harmonious beats of silence. “Yes. Just…”
    “I am Groot.”
    “Just for now. And soon, I’ll purge this entire morning from my memories.” Nebula chided with a hint of sadness. But, as she ran her hands along the soft, pillow-like moss she rested against, she carefully corrected.
    “The bad parts. You're coffee's better than Quill,” she tried to joke, a half-smile lifting a corner of her mouth.
    “I am Groot,” he agreed softly, rubbing her back in a slow, comforting motion.
    “Yes. Just for now,”
    Though, unbeknownst to the both of them, the “for now” of their agreement extended long into their time, until Star-Lord came knocking on their door an apparent five hours later. They had remained awake, though in silence. Calm, hospitable, regenerative silence.
    Just for now.
    I surely didn't expect to get another piece out so fast, but I have to, again, thank @Dynamic for his incredible words of wisdom. I can't actually express how much his words have helped me to get past the roadblock that's, admittedly, been plaguing me since my first piece with The Scarlet Witch.
    I see Omo.org as a community, as do most. And, as a community, we have guidelines, rules and, more personally, unique normalities (what we perceive as normal and acceptable) that form us. However, what we sometimes fail to make note of is that normality, the most malleable rulebook we live by in a community, often stagnates content. I'm glad to say that the vast variety of content here on Omo.org is far from stagnant, though I will admit, I have recently been feeling like my content has been growing such. As I said, the guidelines and hard rules are unbreakable without punishment, and therefore we only have normality to break from holding us back. But, one devastating thing that comes with normality, especially as esoteric as the normalities embedded within each and every one of the people in a community in such a diverse content ecosystem as this website, is fear. Personal fear.
    Fear is what holds all humans back, sometimes to benefit and other times to deficit. As a writer, the largest fear I personally cradled was fear of imperfection and fear of displeasing those who indulged in my work- either leaving them dissatisfied, empty or simply unhappy. But, as @Dynamic so beautifully enlightened to me, you truly can't please everyone. But, if you please even one likeminded person, you've succeeded in your medium. 
    Fear is what holds people back, and personal normality generates personal fear. To break the cycle, you have to realize- with the help of those around you, in your community- that your normality, your content's normality, may be generating a stunting aura of fear of evolution. But, to conquer personal fear, you have to be unafraid- unfortunately paradoxically- to evolve your normality to, in fact, out-evolve your fear. In essence and less proseful saying; You have to be able to recognize your fears, your normalities, your rules and your guidelines to determine what you can do if you push to the limits. And, ever critically, you have to be able to recognize that personal fear only exists to hold you back. 
    Fear always holds us back. To push beyond, to grow and to evolve past it, you have to bow not to fear nor to evolution, but you have to keep your head high and innovate through it. You have to reach outside your comfort zone with anything you do once you feel you've grown stagnant as I feel I have. You have to use human's uncanny superpower of ingenuity, whether or not you see it in yourself, to innovate, to evolve past your personal fear.
    In summary; You have to evolve your normalities through your fear to recognize what you're capable of, to recognize what you're happy doing. Only you can break your fear and create new normality that will not bow to fear.
    Nor can you. Fear, and the normality that generates it, exist to hold you back, to keep you in place and to grow you stale. Bow to neither and innovate yourself and your medium, your work, to a place that breaks stagnation. And then, from the ashes of you fear like a phoenix from its own, create your best work.
    Apologies for the painfully long speech, It needed to be said and I couldn't write it except for here. With all that said, I will be damning myself to create my best work, and if you have constructive criticism it's greatly appreciated. As an aside, feel fell to request any character from the list of twenty-three, alongside scenarios, settings and causes. With all that said, take these words and the words of @Dynamic (Seriously, I cannot than you enough for what you said) under advisement going forward- Lord knows I will- and I hope you all have the best of days.
    Best regards,
    NothingLeft
    Fear, normality and convention exist to bind. Break the binds. Innovate. Push. Create. Bow to none.
  6. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from 124578 in Marvel/MCU Stories   
    Hela II: Ragnarok
     
    Death’s Prison
    Hela was carried in chains through the dark seemingly endless void that was, unknowingly to her, Death’s prison. She had been in this realm just weeks before the victory over the Valkyries, though she could not recall why. She tugged her chains in an attempt to at least grant herself a bit of room to fight, but the large skeleton monsters had their grips otherworldly tight. They were walking for what felt like ages before they came to a doorway, formed seemingly from the black mist that fell against the ground, fluttering away from any footstep. The doorway opened, and as they entered, Hela felt her breath exit her. 
    She was kicked to the ground before one of the massive monsters threw her into the room, the doorway disappearing behind her. Hela swore revenge and attempted to rise, but the black, seemingly glass chains were far heavier than she expected. Still, she managed to stand. She seemed to be in a large chamber, fit for a king or queen.
    “Mmm…” She heard. A large, black throne, made seemingly out of the mist, suddenly formed in the center of the room. Its back was facing Hela, but she could see wisps of a dark cloak ghosting the hard edges of the light-absorbing seat.
    “You! Who are you!” She shouted, her chains rattling as she moved. The woman in the chair laughed in a low, sultry voice before Hela collapsed on the ground. When her bearings came to her, she was at the feet of the woman. 
    Her flesh was death-white and her cloak was black and shadowy. The woman was considerably voluptuous, with large breasts held by a taut, open corset showing off much of her pale cleavage. Her legs were crossed over, the right planted on the misty ground, and she wore tall, black heels over dark garters that receded into the odd whore’s cloak- of which had a slit in the left side, revealing almost too much of the being’s pale, substantial thigh. But, the most unnerving detail of this woman was her face.
    Or lack thereof. Her face was a clean, polished white skull, with vacant, impossibly dark crevices. Hela was not intimidated by… whatever this woman was as the Goddess stood before her, though she seemed preoccupied with a yellowed photograph.
    “Who are you?” The woman paused, the skull moving to ‘look’ at Hela. She held her chin high as the skull studied her, the photograph fading into black mist. The cloaked woman rose to stand before Hela, meeting her exactly at eye level despite her heels. The cloak she wore fell some distance past her feet, ghosting along the floor behind her. 
    “I am… Death.” The woman answered. While the jaw of the skull moved with the words, her voice- which sounded oddly warm and sultry- came from everywhere around her. Despite the illusion, Hela shook her head and scoffed.
    “Please, I am the goddess of Death. I have conquered the Nine Realms and Asgard’s Valkyries. I shall conquer you too.” She said, her voice condescending and commanding. "Unless you would like to join my side," She offered, raising an eyebrow.
    Death scoffed at Hela before a supernatural force pushed the woman in chains to the ground. She was then lifted up, and black glass bars suddenly formed out of the mist, harder and stronger than any metal. The chains welded and melted cleanly to the bars, locking Hela’s arms above her head. Realizing what had happened in the brush of a moment, Hela writhed and struggled in the chains, however it turned out fruitless.
    Death placed her hands against the bars and leaned her body to the right side, pushing the left of her curvaceous hip out. Her solid, pale thigh and shadowy, curvy calf emerging from the slit in her cloak.
    "You really don't know what's happening, do you?" Death laughed sultrily. Hela groaned when the chain didn't relent, gritting her teeth in her best attempt to show her dominance as her horns refused to come forward.
    "You're a captive. A prisoner. You’re my prisoner, a gift from your father,” Death smiled at the Goddess’ rage. “Don’t worry, this prison is tied to Odin’s life force, so… We have until Odin dies, to have some fun…” Death smirked dirtily, though Hela knew she meant nothing fun for her. “But…” She whispered, stroking a bar of the cage almost erotically, “Unfortunately he doesn’t want you too old when this prison fades, so I promised that the fifteen-hundred-or-so years he has left-” she sighed dramatically “- will only be a few hours, to us…” She sounded disappointed but stood nonetheless. “So, I guess we’ll wait for it, hm?” She sighed, turning back to her glassy throne. Her round, firm butt swayed back and forth slightly before she faced Hela again and sat, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her elbow, which she rested on the arm of her throne.
    Hela felt a swell of confidence knowing how short a time she would be here. “You think mere hours will torture me?” She asked incredulously, looking the voluptuous woman up and down in slight disgust. Death laughed breathily.
    “I think that’s up to you, Goddess of death.” Death asserted.
    Some Hours Later
    It had been… Hela had no idea. She knew it had to have been a few hours at least, as Death had been filling her in on centuries worth of happenings. Apparently, her father had traded her life for a safe opportunity to gain a new wife. They had a boy of theirs, calling him their firstborn. Hela felt only more anger and murderous resentment enter her being as she learned of her half-brother, Thor: God of Thunder. Her loyal weapon, Mjolnir, was bestowed upon the child, Death commented. 
    “Mm, he’s good with it- kid can already summon lightning. Better than you, I imagine.” Hela felt the uncomfortable feeling of her dominance being threatened, but she kept her face as neutral as possible- well, her ‘neutral’ face was still very pissed off in this whore’s presence, but it was the best she felt she needed- despite her half-brother’s successes. Death was obviously expressionless, but she still looked bored as she sat there. Her leg on top of the other was bouncing with boredom as the green flames in the eye sockets of her skull told her all that happened. 
    It was a few empty minutes before Death spoke again. “Oh, Thor’s first real battle, how exciting,” Her tone was duplicitous to her words. Death ran her soft palm down the hard ridges of her skull and sighed dramatically. “We still have a few hours, Goddess, get comfortable,” she mumbled as Hela rustled her dark chains again. Hela was feeling the slight beginnings of another uncomfortable feeling, and one that she definitely didn’t want to have while she was restrained in such an exposing manner.
    Hela was beginning to feel her bladder complain. It wasn’t anything extreme yet, and she could definitely hold it in for however many hours she had left in the prison, but with no other distractions than Death’s lusty, breathy commentary, she knew it would be the only thing she’d be able to concentrate on. It felt more awkward as of now and Hela couldn’t stop a groan of impatience and rising stress.
    “How much longer, demon?” She asked irritatedly. Death seemingly looked her over and chuckled to herself. She rose from her seat and approached Hela’s cage, her hips swaying with every dull click of her dark heels- every other step, her pale leg flashing out of its home.
    “We’re going at about two hundred years an hour, I’m working this as fast as I can,” Her bottom jaw clicked against her top with frustration and boredom. “We have to get to the very end of twenty-seventeen for Odin’s death. Why, getting antsy?” She asked, tilting her weight onto a single leg. She put her small hand on her hip, causing her leg to once again present itself through the slit in her cloak.
    Hela would not admit to this… lesser being- of who’s force she was in control of- of her need to relieve herself. However long they had left, she could hold herself out. As Death analyzed Hela’s retrained body, she saw a slight shift as the goddess tightened her thighs together and pulled her hips back and in.
    “Oh, already?” Dammit. “Well, we’re only in the twelve-hundreds, so you got around four hours left. If you don’t make it… don’t worry, this place will be gone when Odin dies. If you do, that’s when you should probably find somewhere to…” She trailed off, using her free right hand to motion to the Goddess.
    Four hours. She could wait four hours. Hela felt her bladder pulse lightly and tightened her jaw. Four hours, that was all that was left.
    Four hours.
    Two and a Half Hours Later
    She wasn’t so sure anymore. It had, by her estimates, been only two, maybe two and a half hours and Hela’s bladder was worsening. It felt heavy and needing, and it took much of her impressive willpower to resist crossing her thighs- at least her legs were free. She was growing angrier as time passed, resenting Lady Death for feeling the need to bind her hands above her head when she was already in a cage. At the very least, she wanted to be able to remove her outfit so as to not ruin it. 
    “We are now in the seventeen hundreds, only an hour and a half left, Goddess. Can you still hold on?” She asked tauntingly, taking pride as Hela flinched at the verbal mention of her need. 
    “I’m… confident I can reach that goal, I’ve gone longer, you being,” Hela spat, drilling holes into Death’s pale flesh with her steel-coloured glare. Death scoffed with what could’ve only been a smile by the sound of it. There was a sudden drop in her bladder- almost as if it had decided to take its matters into its own hands- that Hela instinctively and immediately had to cross her legs to avoid an early disaster. She bent over as much as her restraints would allow and groaned lowly. Death exclaimed in a similar tone when Hela bent herself.
    “Confident, huh? It’s starting to look a little rough there. Why not just let go, it would most likely be easier,” Death considered. This time it was Hela’s turn to scoff. The drop in her bladder faded, and the Goddess carefully took her proper stance. She looked to Death, who had her chin on her fist as she studied Hela.
    “That would be… childish, unbecoming and disgusting, though I don’t expect such a primitive being as yourself in under stand,” Hela commented roughly, though the intensity brought a poke from her bladder. She crossed her legs in her best attempt to hold it.
    Death teleported to the cage’s edge in an instant. Her stance angered by the insult and her cloak fluttered around her, almost like it was mildly windy. “Primitive? I’m not the one in the cage, I must remind you,”
    “As much of a displacement and disappointment as that is,” Hela quipped.
    “At least I’m not going to shame myself with failure,” Death spat back. Hela clenched her jaw in response. She wouldn’t allow the reality to sink in quite yet, but the very back of her subconscious warned her of its truth. She warded it off and responded with,
    “I assure you, I will make it,”
    “Then what? You won’t be returning to Asgard, I can assure you. You may as well do it here, where no one can possibly know it happened,” Death proposed.
    Hela took but a second to consider Death’s idiotic idea. “I would never do it before the likes of you, and never within my uniform,”
    “I could turn around,” Death mocked.
    “And the uniform?”
    “Oh, that’s something that I don’t care about. In uniform, out of uniform, doesn’t matter to me,” Death sighed, clearly growing apathetic.
    “How am I to get out of my uniform?” Hela asked, eyeing Death with incredible caution.
    “Well…” She held the ‘el’ far longer than necessary, “You could ask really nicely,” Death offered falsely.
    “You are scum,” Hela spat, tensing her legs as her bladder ached with pain.
    “I am Death.” With that, Death turned back to her throne and returned, sitting in a relaxed position as she silently resumed studying Hela’s now-desperate form with interest. A few minutes of occasional squirming from Hela later, Death commented, “I could make you, you know. Would that be easier?” It was mocking and high-held, but Hela could tell that it would be more of a forceful ‘make’ than a gentle.
    “I already stated- I can make it. Get yourself a pair of ears,” She jabbed, tightening her thighs. Her bladder quivered with need, and Hela’s upward stance didn’t help her. The goddess bowed her head and did her absolute best to fold her body in an attempt to hold it.
    “Well, you better be doing your best to hold it, because we still have two hundred more years to go. That’s an hour, last offer,” Death proposed again.
    “I’d rather fail.” Hela spat bitterly. Death scoffed and simply said,
    “Well, okay.”
    Thirty minutes passed before Hela felt the first leak. She tightened her legs impossibly further as warmth filled her crotch more, spreading into the tight fabric that made up her uniform. She bit her tongue to resist groaning, though Death noticed the movement when the glassy chains rattled- her interest had fallen off Hela and back onto her photograph.
    “Oh, is it happening?” Death asked, crossing one pale leg over the other in interest. Hela breathed hard before looking up to her captor. 
    “No… I’m making it, despite you.” Hela swore, looking into the soulless eye sockets with contempt thicker than Death’s milky thighs. Death laughed before rising. She moved to Hela’s cage and began circling it like a vulture ready to steal its prey away.
    “Are you so sure? It’s only nineteen-oh-nine, we still have a half-hour left. Will you make it? Will you make it, even if you think of fast-moving streams?” Hela swallowed at Death’s words, her bladder pulsing with need. “Bubbling rivers, trickling along so freely?” She moaned at the end of those words, mimicking the relief and freedom that would come so easy if Hela were to just-
    “Stop,” The goddess warned threateningly, despite the fact she had no power.
    “Even if you think of tall waterfalls, sending splashes of warm, warm water everywhere? Even if you think of  a small trickle, drip, drip…” Death was now popping her voice with every 'p'. "Dri-puh..."
    Drip, drip. Almost perfectly synchronized to Death’s words, Hela felt her bladder leak a few small sprays of its vast contents.
    “Think of a hot, beautiful geyser, just gushing with water, absolutely losing its control, like if your legs were to be uncrossed. Like a dam just bursting, I’d bet,” Death moaned. Hela felt her bladder beg for its release as Death tormented her with the sounds and the images her mind generated were almost more merciless.
    “Imagine slow, steady squirts just escaping you… spsh, spsh…”
    Hssss…
    Hela screamed in rage as her legs fell apart, her damn shattering. An ear-ripping hkkk emanated from her urethra as her bladder drained into her uniform. The goddess thrashed her chains as her legs turned inwards from a loss of control, hot streams running down her thighs and her calves before it pooled at her feet. There was a relentless splashing below her as what piss didn’t flow into her uniform spilled from her clothed vagina and fell, growing the puddle around her.
    Death cheered in surprised amazement. “So much for making it,” she commented slyly.
    “I, am going to kill you!” Hela shouted, though all the bite in her threat was stolen by her ferocious piss slapping the puddle of the same beneath her and her cheeks heating with shame and rage. Hela had to fight a groan of relief, but it slowly morphed into deep, sharp rage. She stood there for seemingly minutes as she wet herself uncontrollably, her anger only growing as did her puddle. Her bladder slowly began running itself empty, and Hela spread her legs slightly to coerce the rest out, now acknowledging that it was better to be completely empty than preserve just that much dignity and control. As the blast reduced to but the thinnest rivulet along her inner thighs, Hela promised vengeance against her captor.
    The stream finally faded with a final shiver firing lightning up Hela’s spine. She roared as she stood on quivering legs, weak from relief. Her cage, her chains and the throne disappeared, leaving only the Goddess and the Embodiment.
    “Me?” Death asked glaringly as she knelt next to Hela. “No.”
    “What makes you so sure?”
    “Because first, you have to kill Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson, and anyone else who crosses your path to them.”
    “Why would I listen to you?”
    “Because I am your commissioner, and Thor Odinson is the greatest threat to my greatest prize!” With an otherworldly strength, Death grabbed Hela by the throat and heaved her up off the ground. “Am I clear, Goddess of Death!”
    With but a reluctant nod, Death, the prison and the wetness in her crotch, on her as and covering her thighs disappeared, and Hela was left in darkness. But, from far away, she saw a splash of green, hearing her father’s voice emanating indiscernibly. She moved, slowly towards it, as with the knowledge she had of her banishment, she was prepared to kill.
    To kill him, Thor, Loki and anyone else who crossed her path. 
    There you are @diokno44x, my best representation of 'Thor: Ragnarok's Hela. Apologies for the late post, many things took up my time.  Regardless, I hope this representation is more satisfying and accurate to your expectations. If another Hela piece is requested, I recommend requesting either 'Redeemed' or 'Ragnarok', as 'Redeemed' will hereby the default. The next piece set to release is 'Pepper Stark/Rescue'. And, if you want to read a piece with your favourite Marvel woman, a certain situation, or even both, write it down and I will eventually get to it. I write down every request and load them into a backlog where I then work on them in the order of 'oldest to newest'- essentially, first-come, first-written. Either way, I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading.
    Best regards,
    NothingLeft
    P.S.- I wanted to quickly mention that, as some may have noticed, there has been a request for a 'Bathroom Line' piece, and I have acknowledged it and plan to write it. But, I want to have at least one solo piece for each woman- as all will be in that piece- and wanted to preface; You are fully welcome to request a character's second piece, as the pieces I write for myself will be for then-unrequested characters. I apologize again, but I wish to explore every character's personality, desperation stages and reaction to wetting before writing such a monumental task as all twenty-three characters. Regardless, thank you again for reading this and have a good day, you beautiful lovely.
  7. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to OmoDeviant in The Student Teacher   
    Almost immediately as the classroom finally settled down, the teacher cleared his throat and addressed his class. "Good morning everyone...I have a brief announcement to make before we begin today. We have a new student teacher that will be helping us out today and for the foreseeable future." He announced and motioned with his hand towards the back of the class where Lily was seated. 
    Taking the cue, Lily prompted stood up from her seat and approached the front of the class through the narrow passageways. She stood a few feet away from the teacher and gave a small wave before introducing herself. "Hello...my name is Lily...you can just call me by my first name...it's fine with me. As Mr. Lawson said...I'll be your student teacher for the rest of the year. I'm an English major right now at the nearby university...so I love reading and writing and I'm eager to work with you all." She spoke out to the class with a polite smile on her face.
    The rest of the class murmured and nodded their heads as Lily promptly returned to the back of the class. Most of them never had a student teacher in their classes, most certainly not one that was relatively young and attractive as she was. A few of them swiped glances at the young student as she walked back and sat down before diverting their attention away in fear of being seen.
    Lily promptly took her mug of coffee and sipped from it. She gulped a steady stream of coffee before setting the quarter filled mug back down on her desk. She was used to drinking this much coffee in the morning and it really helped to wake her up in the morning. Of course, this led to her having to make frequent trips to the bathroom but with her focus solely on her new job, she hadn't given the slightest thought to it. 
    As the main teacher informed her, the first class was doing a reading of a book. Lily wasn't required to do anything besides listen in and so as they read, she took constant sips from her heated beverage. Only about a half hour in, the mug was completely empty and within little more than an hour, Lily had consumed over half a liter of coffee. With nothing else to drink and no other task to do, Lily focused in closer to what the students were reading.
    The text was a bit older and being an advanced class it was a more in depth reading. From what Lily could gather, the main character was an 19th century detective who was following the trail of a missing treasure of some sort. The story was taking place in the deep jungle and had quite the bit of sensory details to go along with it.
    As Lily listened in to the various students who were picked to read, one particular bit triggered a reaction within her. A student was describing a scene of the protagonist advancing through a waterfall and he read aloud clearly from the text.
    "The splashing water hit the top of his head, crashing around in various directions in a torrential flood. Even as he advanced further, the torrential current of water continued gushing down from below in an endless stream."
    Almost instinctively, Lily felt a soft ping from her lower abdomen, directly where her bladder was. Simply hearing the terms involving water had incited a response and it reminded Lily of how much she consumed in such a short period of time. She could feel the weight of her morning's drink beginning to fill up her bladder but she wasn't too concerned yet. 
    However, even with her earlier consumption of a mug of coffee, Lily still found herself thirsty. With the frosty air still outside, the heater was being blasted inside of each classroom and Lily soon found herself thirsty, especially after consuming a hot beverage earlier. She quickly grabbed her empty water bottle and quietly slipped out of the room and back into the hallway.
    Outside of the class was eerily quiet and there was hardly anyone around. Lily had no idea where to go to fill up her water bottle so she decided to meander around the hallway in search of a water fountain. She walked for a few minutes before arriving outside of a bathroom where there was a water fountain situated on the outside in between the different bathrooms.
    Lily quickly filled up her water bottle and turned to head back before another tingle from her bladder made her rethink it. "I guess I might as well stop at the bathroom since I'm here." She thought to herself and turned back the other way. She was just about to open the door when a voice called out to her.
    "I wouldn't go in there if I were you." The voice called out from down the hallway. Lily turned and found a taller blonde student approaching her. Lily raised a slight eyebrow and took a step back from the door. "Why can't I? It's open..." 
    The student promptly shook her head and walked over towards the water fountain. She took a quick sip of it before turning her attention to Lily. "The water pipes on this floor are all screwed up...the toilets for the bathrooms on this floor are never working right and the school is too lazy to fix them." She responded with a slight shrug of her shoulders. Lily was tempted to head inside and find out if the girl was telling the truth. However, she decided against it, after all the blonde seemed a bit older and likely knew what she was talking about. 
    "So if the bathrooms on this floor aren't working...where are the ones that do work?" Lily inquired with a curious tone as she took a cautious sip from her water. 
    "Well...there's the ones on the bottom floor near the cafeteria and the ones on the third floor too...but those are almost always busy..." The student responded with a slight shrug as she turned back to return to her class. 
    Lily frowned at the thought of having to travel a bit further to use the restroom but she promptly shook her head. There were plenty of breaks within her day, especially during the lunch period. "I'll be fine..." She reassured herself as she started walking back to her own class. She took the occasional sip of water, only partially quenching her thirst. She gently opened the door and returned to her seat at the back of the room. 
    By now, there was only a little bit of class left and the students by now were reading on their own. Lily was still seated in the back of the class, now exposed to the heated room. She was a little bit more apprehensive about her liquid intake but her thirst was growing by the minute. She was unaware of how much she consumed until the bell finally rang to signal the end of the class.
    Looking down at her water bottle, almost half of it was gone in such a short period of time. The previous occasional pings were now replaced by a steady dull urge instead. Lily could no longer ignore her growing urge to relieve herself. However, she knew that she wouldn't have enough time in between classes to visit the bathroom, especially with having to travel to another floor and to likely wait in line. Her situation was confirmed when the teacher walked on over towards her.
    "Alright Lily...I'm just going to be giving a little bit of a lecture...I'm just going to have you stand up at the front of the class and answer any questions that the students may have...it should be basic enough to where you can answer it."
    Nodding her head slowly, Lily promptly walked up to the front of the room as the new class started to pile in. The noisy crowd shuffled in and within a few minutes, everything returned to its previous silence as the next bell rang to signify the next class. Like she did with the first class, Lily gave a brief introduction about herself in the politest manner possible. 
    However, instead of being able to return to her quiet corner of the room, Lily had to stand up in front of the class with her bladder being continuously filled up. 
  8. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to OmoDeviant in The Student Teacher   
    (This is my first part to my first story, so let me know what you think about it!)
    It was a cold January morning and various cars and buses were piling into the parking lot of a moderately populated high school. Most were teachers and other faculty while some were high school students who were old enough to drive themselves. However, on this particular day, there was one car pulling in who had never been to the school before. Inside of a small silver sedan sat a young woman who had never been inside the school once. 
    Quickly checking her watch, the woman sighed a deep breath of relief. "Phew...6:45...I'm not late...I would hate to start my first day being late..." She acknowledged to herself as she observed the trickle of students walking into the building. "I guess that's my cue to head inside now." She nodded to herself as she exited her car. Walking over to her backseat, she pulled out a small backpack, not to dissimilar to what most students had. Adjusting the brim of her glasses and pulling some strands of her brunette hair out of her face, the young woman quickly mulled over anything else she thought she might need.
    "I have my backpack...phone...oh wait!" A quick gasp escaped from her mouth. She quickly opened her door and reached towards the center console, pulling out a mug of coffee. "This is an absolute lifesaver." She giggled to herself as she shut her door and started to make her way into the building. On this cold morning, she was donned in a warm jacket with a long sleeve shirt underneath. Combined with a pair of tight jeans, the young woman could easily have been mistaken for a student, given her stature and her close match in attire. As she walked in, the woman quickly took off her jacket as she was greeted by the warm heat of the school. She soon turned her attention to the receptionist office and walked in.
    There was a small line of students waiting in front of her, so the young woman quickly fell in line. As she waited, the young woman took a few sips from her hot beverage as the line slowly shuffled forward. When it was her turn to talk, the receptionist greeted her with an annoyed look.
    "Yes...what can I do for you?" The receptionist grumbled aloud.
    "Hi...my name is Lily...I'm one of the student teachers from the nearby university...it's my first day here." The young woman informed the receptionist.
    Pausing for a brief second, the woman behind the desk clanked away on the keyboard before turning her attention back to Lily. "Ah yes...you'll be in room 209...it's on the second floor, close to the library." 
    Lily thought about asking for directions to the room, after all she had never set foot in the school once. However, sensing the receptionist's unpleasant tone and the growing line behind her, she quickly filed out and returned back to the hallway. "Room 209...second floor...I guess I should find the stairs first." 
    The school was much larger than the one Lily attended a few years ago. The hallway she was currently in flowed into the cafeteria where small congregations of students were located, waiting for classes to start. Lily quickly walked through the cafeteria, avoiding as many students as possible. Not that most of them were interested in her, they had their own friend groups to attend to. However, a few loner students stole a few glances at the college student. Lily paid no attention to them, she had received a similar treatment many places she went. She had a very nerdy look to her which was only accentuated by her glasses and her short straight hair. She didn't have the biggest bust in the world but she had very smooth skin and a very innocent appeal to her.
    After an extra minute of searching for the stairwell, Lily finally located it and ascended up a floor. Arriving on the second floor, she turned to her right and was immediately greeted by the room she was supposed to find. "How convenient..." Lily remarked to herself as she gently cracked the door open. 
    Inside, she found a relatively normal classroom that one would find in any school. There were posters of various authors darted along the walls combined with neat rows of desks for students to sit. There were one or two already inside but they were preoccupied with being on their phones. Up at the teacher's desk sat a gentleman whose attention was engrossed in a book. Lily approached his desk and started to introduce herself.
    "Err...hello...my name is Lily...I'm a student at the local university...and I'm a student teacher here for the day..." She introduced herself as polite as possible, a genuine smile spread across her face.
    The man slowly set his book down and made immediate eye contact with the young woman. He had a stern expression on his face as if he was judging whether or not she was telling the truth. However, his expression soon dropped and he reciprocated the friendly smile. "Ah yes...I was told you would be coming...it's a pleasure to have you in our class." He greeted politely. Now that his face wasn't covered by the book, Lily got a much closer look at him. He was around his late 30s and he had a slight beard growing. As he stood up, he rose several inches over her but he extended his hand out politely.
    Lily promptly shook the man's hand and he nodded his head slowly. "I'm Mr. Lawson...I'm one of the advanced English teachers here...I take it that it's your first day here?" He inquired curiously.
    With a quick nod of her head, Lily promptly responded. "Y...yes...I'm an English major right now and my internship is to be a student teacher here for the semester...I figured it would be nice to get out instead of being stuffed in the library all day." She responded politely as she took another sip from her coffee.
    "That's good...I am very fortunate to have several excellent classes...and you're lucky that today is a relatively simple day for us. Our first class is just doing some independent reading, the second class is a lecture, then its lunch...and then the third class is a project, and then the fourth class is a test." He informed her. 
    "Alright...I think I can manage that..." Lily responded confidently as she turned her attention to the few students in the classroom. "So...where should I sit? Or do I have to stand the entire time?" 
    The teacher let out a slight chuckle before motioning to the back. "Most of the seats in the back are empty...you're welcome to use my chair too if I'm not in the room if it's more comfortable. Otherwise you can just move around if you need to stretch your legs." 
    Lily nodded her head as she promptly moved to the back of the classroom. She set her belongings down adjacent to her desk and started to drink from her coffee mug. After all, it was still early and she needed her caffeine boost as most people did in the morning. She also reached down and pulled out her spare water bottle that she would be using later on in the day. After all, it was doubtful that her coffee would even survive past the first class without it be consumed. With the room still relatively quiet before class, Lily enjoyed the peaceful time to herself before the rush of students would come charging up.
    Sure enough, the alarm bell rang out throughout the entire building and a cacophony of students making their way to class broke the peaceful silence. The room itself started to fill up with students, mostly those of an older year as they took their seats. Most glanced at Lily for a few passing seconds but didn't bother approaching her. Many of them assumed her to be a new student, which based on her young age was a fairly close prediction. Even as the students took their seats, they were still chatting with one another and it was only when the next alarm rang out to signal the start of the school day, was when things finally quieted down.
    It appeared that Lily's day as a student teacher had finally begun.
     
  9. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to Gothes in Desperate art in desperate times   
    Everytime I see people wearing those protective COVID suits in the news I can help myself but fantasize about how a desperate nurse must look like while being desperate for relief. Therefore, I decided to make a sequence of three illustrations of exactly this just to make those images in my head visible to ma and of course all of you 🙂
     



  10. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from phoenix80803 in Marvel/MCU Stories   
    Nebula
     
    Just For Now?
    The Benetar, On The Way to Earth
    Holy.
    Shit.
    That was the only phrase going through Nebula’s machine mind as the door to the main room opened to her, revealing her team; the prestigious Guardians Of The Galaxy, ever ready to defend innocents and fight the evils of space and galaxies beyond.
    They all looked like shit.
    Peter Quill, their leader, was propped up by his two strong arms, heavy bags under tired bloodshot eyes. His shirt was on the table beside him as his torso was covered in light-but-bleeding wounds. Gamora pulled the needle away from his back, finishing stitching a particularly bad slash he had received. His jeans were muddy, bloody and torn, and his face had the odd bruise and cut decorating his features. His hair was ruffled and messy, even singed in some places.
    Gamora was no better. Her eyes were barely open, her face was dropping with tiredness and outfit torn and bloody. Her hands were subtly shaking and she could barely stand, often having to adjust her stance to stay upright.
    Mantis and Drax were already asleep, with Mantis laid along Drax’s lap. Drax’s snoring was impossibly loud, as always, but it would hardly keep them up at all. Rocket was trying to work on a piece of machinery, though he wasn’t getting anywhere as he had to pause and yawn almost every thirty seconds. Groot was nearby, his head falling with his eyelids before jerking awake, the process repeating every minute or so.
    ‘The fight,’ Nebula thought with hazy disdain.
    The fight had been agonizingly arduous. Nearly thirteen hours of a mission involving climbing, running, fisticuff combat, hiding, running, climbing, running… Never mind the blaze of the planet’s two suns that had nearly put Groot, Rocket and Mantis into early graves.
    “Guardians…” Quill stifled a yawn with his hand, though the sight brought a yawn to both Nebula and her sister. “Fuck it, time to... sleep.” He finished unceremoniously, smiling almost deliriously at the word ‘sleep’. Gamora gave a half-hearted ‘woo’ and a slow, careful fist in the air, while Rocket limpy dropped his hopefully-inexplosive workings onto the floor. Groot smiled and finally let his eyes close, which brought a careful smile to Nebula’s face as well. She leaned herself against the door, tiredness overtaking her conscience for a brief moment. She quickly snapped herself up with nearly the last of her resolve and shook her head, though it did nothing to clear the fog in her head. The fog was heavy and it carried a whisper she couldn’t discern in English or any other language, though her body interpreted it for her.
    ‘Rest. Sleep. Shit, just lie down- something.’ She was in no position, physically or willingly, to deny her body its call. With the most limp, pathetic wave she’d ever seen, much less given, Nebula turned on her heel, exiting the center room of the Benetar. A door to her left carried a matching whisper to the one in her head and her body, summoned by the whisper, immediately went into an autopilot. Her hand, disconnected from her mind, waved the door open and she entered, her vision bobbing unfamiliarly. 
    Nebula’s eyes closed before she could even land them on her bed, though she knew her room very well enough to know where it was. Across from the door, behind her desk. Her feet, suddenly heavier than the ship she was within, never left the ground as she kicked off her boots, her brain never even remembering to bother with the rest of her battle-scarred uniform. She narrowly missed the corner of her desk and her arms just caught the edge of her mattress. 
    With the trembling last wisp of her strength, Nebula lifted herself onto her bed, laughing tiredly despite her back hitting the wall. Her head on a pillow, she curled up in a fetal ball as usual, but then she remembered nothing.
    But, as her mind slipped into the deepest sleep she had felt in practically her entire life, Nebula’s body resumed functioning. Despite her father’s cruelty, her body still retained a complete anatomy, despite its mechanical pieces. She still had a stomach, intestines, liver, heart. And especially critical as of her current, she still had a bladder. Quite a capacious one, granted, though it still had limits. And the mission that had exhausted them all so thoroughly had done such through all the fighting, running and climbing they had to do to save their own lives and that of the people native, but it had also been damn well lethally hot.
    Nebula hated heat of any kind. The room in which her father had replaced so much of her body with machine had been hot. The blade he had used to cut her up had been hot. The metal had been hot. The pain itself had been so hot, when she recalled the memories of her recreation, it burned so bad she wish she had died.
    To fend off the ravenous, all-consuming swelter, Nebula had consumed nearly as much water as Groot. So much that she had peed nearly twenty times in the thirteen hours she had been en mission. But, when the adrenaline and pain had worn off, it was quickly and wholly replaced with an excruciating exhaustion, leaving any bodily function peacefully unacknowledged. 
    As Nebula curled up, her muscles sore and tired, she didn’t even notice the dull ache of her churning bladder shoot up from underneath her robotic stomach. It was perhaps half-full, and if she rested for a normal- for her, at least, she still had night terrors of her father’s eyes- five or six hours, she would be able to brush it off and just go. 
    Easy.
    Eleven Hours Later
    Groot felt a warmth on his face and couldn’t help but lean toward it. As he opened his eyes, the harsh glare of a close star was coming in through a large porthole. The tree smiled and allowed the warmth to help him awaken. The light and warmth in the fight however long ago had been pleasant for the first three or four hours, but after that it had just been overly drying for the foliage resting on his hard wooden body, and he had absorbed a lot of water to make it up. This smaller amount of sun felt very nice, and he had no worry of running out of water, as Peter always said he functioned kind of like a Terran cactus; he consumed water and then contained it for later absorption. 
    Groot sighed and began to loosen his joints from their rest. They gave some resistance, but the water inside of him and the gentle glaze of sun helped them wake up similarly to his mind. He carefully stepped forward, though through the serene peace of mind he had awoken in, his mind had allowed him to forget the pipe running along the ceiling. His wooden crest bumped into it with a quiet tunk and a brief groan of irritation from him.
    It truly felt like nearly yesterday that he, Rocket and the pirate-angel had taken off from Nidavellir, him just a ‘teenaged sproutling’. He was now at his- at least, what he believed to be- full size- due in no small part to the odd, rapid growth his systems had gone through when he had returned from the purgatory of the Snap. That and Terra, or Earth, was so rich in minerals and good soil that just a week planted within “New Asgard”, he had grown exponentially.
    The porthole with sun was coming through was rather small, and as Groot moved into a small kitchen room, a larger window bathed even more of his hard body in the warm glow of the star. He moaned in a low, happy tone and smiled as greenery on his shoulders rejoiced at more of the gentle light and warm, especially compared to that of ten hours ago.
    Groot was nearly still for almost ten minutes before the quiet shuffling of a single pair of feet swayed him from his serenity. He turned with a gentle smile to see Nebula, barefoot though still in her battle garb, rubbing her left eye with one hand and stifling a yawn with the other. She clumsily pulled out a chair and hastily seated herself, nearly missing the seat altogether. Groot smiled as the woman, still clearly enraptured in tiredness, tried to wake her body.
    “I am Groot,” He greeted, facing the sun again.
    “Mmm...” Nebula attempted, her mind not fully adept enough yet to actually respond in full. “G’morn-” Her speech was ended by a long, large yawn that surely stretched her mouth to the absolute largest it could be. Groot just chuckled, absentmindedly pressing a red button on a machine beside him. It was a small, black box with a glass pot with a handle within. It was a ‘coffee machine’ Quill had in his ship since Groot had known him. He never favoured the bitter taste over simple water- even with copious sugar- but the smell was pleasant for him.
    “Mm, thanks,” Nebula mumbled, her head resting in her palm as her elbow rested on the table. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and Groot could help but smile when a light, gentle snoring began leaving Nebula’s nose.
    But, beneath Nebula’s sleepiness, her body was at war with itself, and it was one almost as brutal as the one that had put it there in the first place. On one side, Nebula’s artificial muscles were purely aching, barely able to carry her. But, on the other side, an alarm was blaring that just didn’t reach Nebula’s mind through her haze. Her bladder, which had already been cradling an adequate amount of liquid, was now brimming full with it- so full, in fact, that it was even creating the slightest of bulges under her tummy. The warnings, the alarms, the bad of her full bladder was all being blocked out by the cloud of not-quite-awake-yet in her head. The good, how little there may have been- like the feeling of utter fullness, the large ball of warmth in her belly and the tautness of her uniform felt very… relaxing- was even further teasing her mind with just another brisk period more of shut-eye.
    One that Nebula didn’t deny. 
    Groot quietly moved next to Nebula, smiling as he loomed over her. She, opposed to the disposition she always gave off, looked almost cute- like a sleeping animal- as her chest rose and fell gently with deep, relaxed breaths. This is how he liked seeing his team, he had no trouble admitting, but seeing Nebula in such serenity was oddly gratifying in particular, as she had such a hard, unfair life that she deserved peace, maybe more than anyone else he knew- except perhaps Rocket, but even then he thought them equals.
    Groot moved his hand, which he softened with a gentle layer of plush, green moss onto Nebula’s back, smiling even wider when he felt nearly no tension. Nebula was constantly tense from all kinds of stress- physical, mental and emotional- and it was so rare for her body to be so slack.
    It was another few minutes, perhaps fifteen, until Nebula’s brief nap was interrupted by a shrill-but-quiet beep. Nebula started awake, though she still wasn’t fully awake. Groot quickly stole his hand away, though when the cyborg woman’s deep, entrancing, half-lidded black eyes met his, it was clear that she had felt his hand on her back. 
    There was a gentle, peaceful silence as they simply looked at each other. Nebula gave a careful smile and a gentle nod, though her gaze turned down to the face of the table. Groot turned to the machine that had emitted the noise, seeing the glass pot now nearly filled with a rich dark brown liquid with a thin layer of light froth and bubbles around the rim of the glass pot.
    The eponymous coffee.
    A blue metal mug with ‘Nebula’ inscribed on the side in blocky, grey paint was beside the machine among four others similar in shape, and another smaller mug. They all had names on them in differing colours and hands; A chestnut-brown mug, and ‘Captain Star-Lord’ was written in quick, large but clean strokes of an orange-yellow. A dark green mug, emblazoned with a precise, careful ‘Gamora’ in cursive black. A larger grey mug with ‘Drax’ in messy all-capitalized black. A white mug with ‘Mantis’, in a messy handquite similar to Drax's- Mantis didn’t know how to write much, though she was doing her best to learn Ego apparently hadn't deemed it necessary for her- and Rocket’s smaller mug, though his had no name, instead sporting a general schematic for an explosive.
    Groot grasped Nebula’s cup and brought it before him, also taking told of the handle of the coffee pot. The pot was heavy as the hot, steaming coffee sloshed about inside, though he managed quite easily. He slowly began to allow the liquid to plummet from the pot into Nebula’s mug, the kitchen then being filled by a quiet, thick splashing. The splashing became duller the more filled the cup became and Groot eased the pot from its tilt as waves of hot coffee licked the top edge of the mug. Among the sound, Nebula sighed heavily, enjoying the wafted scent of the coffee.
    But, when he stopped pouring, the splashing of the coffee was replaced by another sound, one that wasn’t there when he began. The best way he could describe it was a hissing. It was quiet, and at first Groot thought that there was a pipe leaking. It continued on for a few seconds, nearly silent though somewhat satisfying to listen to in its consistency. Then, it was joined by another subtle sound, though this one was slightly more pronounced. A dull, quiet pattering, like liquid dripping onto the floor cascaded into the air, the faint hissing still continuing and even growing a bit more violent. The hsss became a hkkk, like it was hitting fabric with a decent amount of force. He stood, confused, as the sound perforated the corners of his mind, almost becoming background noise as he held both the coffee pot and Nebula’s full mug. 
    The sound continued as Groot shook his head, prioritizing the tired girl at the table. He placed the coffee pot within the machine’s compartment and moved to Nebula’s seat, placing the coffee before her. The noise got louder, leading Groot to believe that, yes, a pipe in the main room may have burst and is now leaking. He grunted to the sleeping girl kindly before making his way past her.
    Barely missing the puddle underneath Nebula’s seat.
    Nebula shifted in her seat, unaware of the splish of her thighs in the well of liquid beneath her that caused a wave of her warm, recently-expelled pee to be sent to the ground into a slightly golden puddle. Her butt was soaking wet, her crotch was hot and still noisily squirting urine that splashed down her legs and readily fell to the floor over the edges of the chair, pattering a bit louder than before. The pressure of the lava-like urine was increasing, hitting the fabric of her uniform with such power that it made Groot halt.
    No, the sound was getting quieter the further he got from the room. Couldn’t be anything beyond. Groot turned back around, though this time he found what was causing the noises, which were all getting louder and more intense, even if it was just slightly so. He was… completely stunned by what he saw.
    Nebula’s mind perked up at the scent of coffee, though it was still fuzzy and most of it wasn’t awake. Her visibly machine left arm hit the table, hazily trying to find the base of her cup. A few waves of her hand, she found the cup with a dull metal-on-metal tunk. She found the handle, gripping it lazily. She didn’t yet have the strength to lift it, but her body slowly began coming to. The first thing she sensed was the sudden cacophony of noises even though they blended into the background of her mind. There was violent hissing, splashing and spraying piercing her ears, though she paid next to no mind to it. Her fingers tightened around the metal handle of the mug, letting her know she was now capable. With a shaky wrist she brought the mug to her lips, almost drunkenly taking in the nostalgic, comforting bitter taste. She sighed with comfort, the sounds still probing at her mind constantly.
    'What the hell is that noise,’
    “Groot… ” She mumbled, suddenly recalling his presence from earlier. He softly grunted in response from behind her, not much like himself. Nebula took her face off of her palm and sat straight, her ears picking up a loud splash with her moves. She groaned again, knowing she would be one of the first called to fix what seemed to be a leaking pipe.
    But, as Nebula awoke in her seat, more of her body began to communicate with more of her mind. Her stomach- was it her stomach? No, no it was just below that- was aching, almost like it was in relief. Her thighs were trembling and the muscles within felt sore, like she had just been running. Her legs, thighs, butt and crotch felt hot, wet and squishy, and Nebula had to look at her coffee to ensure she hadn't spilt anything already.
    Nope, still full. So why…?
    Nebula sat still for a moment, pondering just what she was soaked with. When her mind gave no conclusive answer, the woman glanced down under the table. Flooding her seat, staining her uniform with dark, coagulating on the floor beneath her and still actively spurting unevenly from her vagina was very warm, glistening urine, slightly tinted a lovely gold. She felt the bottom curve of her thighs tingle with the liquid brimming around them, watching as it quickly evacuated from inside her an into her seat, then further onto the floor, sending golden splash droplets onto the chair's- and her own- legs as the puddle that enveloped her chair ballooned uncontrollably. 
    ‘Hm.’ She looked back up and took a calm sip of her coffee, careful to not tip the mug back too far. She rested the mug on the table again, sighing as her body procedurally came to. She sighed, the decreasing pressure in her belly bringing a quiet peace to her inner systems.
    Wait.
    Nebula’s black eyes went wide and she almost threw herself out of her chair, though her legs gave out from underneath her as they quivered like weak branches in a storm from holding so much liquid back for so long without her even knowing. She looked, almost angrily, at her legs as they shivered, shimmering with a soaked golden glimmer in the star’s light. The puddle underneath her chair- and the one that was beginning to bloom from the sporadic hkkkkk-ing of urine spurting from between her trembling legs- caught the light almost beautifully, though Nebula was too appalled and angry with herself to admire.
    ‘Again… No, not this again...’ Nebula thought, fending off her thoughts. Though, as much as she tried, she just could not look away from the spritzing yellow liquid dying her maroon outfit’s crotch even darker, streaks of shine injecting into the disgustingly huge patch by the flowing liquid. She tried to stop it, she tightened every muscle in her body, but the flow was barely stunted, only fizzling slightly before Nebula had to give in from the suddenly onset weakness. Her muscles felt too damn weak to hold anything that was escaping her, despite her best efforts.
    The sounds only made her stomach turn inside out more horribly. The violent sound as it gushed out of her and against the rough red material of her uniform. The splashing and pattering as her piss settled into the puddle around her. The staggered, stifled gasps escaping her as she realized that all hope was lost.
    She sat for another fifteen seconds as her bladder confidently emptied onto the floor, accentuated vomit-inducingly by a powerful, hellish squirting. The stream, luckily enough for her psyche, was dying, the violating hkkk slowly reducing to a quiet hsss, and slower further as the stream now lacked the power and pressure to even reach her uniform, now simply leaking along the gentle curve of her ass to reach the floor. The organ once keeping all of the urine that now coated the floor was aching with a painful relief as her urine finally began to cease with an eternal trickle of burning urine.
    She sat, shuddering and breathing sharply and harshly for an amount of time her mind absolutely couldn't fucking care to quantify, her vagina leaking like a hose with a hole in it at a pace almost matching her breathing. With a crackling gasp exiting her lungs parallel, her trickle slowed to a stop, searing drops rolling down the most intimate curves of her thighs on occasion.
    Nebula's chest rose fully up and down with her humiliated breathing, but when she heard a soft, long groan, her entire consciousness nearly cut itself from existence out of pure and unabashed shame. Her head turned certainly too fast and her eyes crossed with Groot’s, whose jaw was slack with surprise and eyes wide with surprise and subtle something, Nebula was too on fire from embarrassment to care- at a glance, it looked like mortification.
    Nebula tore her gaze away from Groot’s, though it just landed on her puddle again. She could see the steam rising from it die to the light streaming against her, and the sight of haze and vapour made her just want to fucking puke- almost as much as the sheer wetness she felt on her ass, in her crotch and down her thighs and calves. She couldn’t bear the sight, and placed her eyes back to Groot, closing her jaw apprehensively. She shook her head marginally, deeply afraid to fully move lest more burst forth from her, though she knew she was empty as the corner of her eye kept a golden shimmer bright and evident..
    She wanted to leave. She wanted to jettison herself out of the ship and into the vast expanse of space. She wanted to die, then and there, because this was all too much. The last time had been a dare, but this… This was not okay. Groot was staring, she was still sitting in it, and this… Just, no.
    Groot carefully stepped towards Nebula, acknowledging how much her eyes were darting and how her entire body was shaking. But, just one step was enough to attract her attention. Her jaw was clenched tight, her hands were in trembling fists and her eyes were trained and hard. Groot closed his mouth, anticipating yelling, violence or literally something to be thrown his way, but he was only met with a hoarse grunt and Nebula's quiet voice whisper, 
    “Go away.” It wasn’t a request nor a demand, it was in fact a command, but not one Groot was poised to obey. He shook his head, though his expression stayed soft. But, both his and Nebula’s faces broke into panic when they heard Peter and Gamora's shared room door hiss open. Groot suddenly felt ethereal instincts bite into his inner being, his very core, his absolute center and there was no combat as they took him over.
    Not a thought passed through his head as he stepped into the warm, steaming golden liquid glazing the floor- sympathetic to Nebula’s shaky cringe at the unapologetic splshh- before he began absorbing it, the puddle slowly thinning and shrinking quickly yet soundlessly. Nebula’s eyes met his, to which he could only offer a quick smile.
    The puddle, much to the woman's simultaneous shock, disbelief, mortification, joy and morbid surprise was disappearing quickly, almost like she was… wetting... herself in reverse. The conjoined puddle under the chair- and, indeed, in the seat, which she hadn’t noticed prior- were disappearing parallel thanks to Groot’s arm-branches. They both heard Quill and Gamora mumbling incoherently just around the corner, and again Groot’s instincts kicked in without any forethought.
    He quickly scooped Nebula into his arms, smiling ever so at the small grunt mixed with a light gasp of surprise. He turned, making sure that the admittedly huge, soaking mark on Nebula’s uniform was as hidden as it could be. He then used his very monstrous height to quickly sidestep Star-Lord and Gamora, though they barely noticed due to their tiredness. Groot nearly clocked his head again as he ducked into Nebula’s room, laying her on her bed gently.
    He turned to the closed door, vines erupting from his shoulders and his back as they gripped the door, warping it out of shape so Nebula could process her accident and change in undisturbed peace. However, in his instinctual eruption, Groot failed to remember one very critical fact;
    He had trapped himself within as well, defeating the entire point of “in peace”. As the rush of his actions began to wear off nearly as fast as it had come, the shuffling of fabric made his stance straighten like steel. He dared not look behind him, knowing what lay in store would- certainly this time- be Nebula’s staff across his face. So, he stayed facing the twisted door wrapped in his shedded wooden tendrils, the shuffling of clothes being far too noisy to be simple movement anymore. 
    “Don’t turn around...” Nebula’s voice was harshly, almost painfully quiet and nearly drowned out by a monotonous ziiiiip as the cyborg woman dragged the front zipper down her body. The tone in her voice was painful to him, especially as it was one she rarely spoke through. Even when she spoke of her father, the same one who had tortured and mutilated her, she spoke only with resentment and a blazing hatred far more bitter than any coffee. But this? Her voice was meek, disdained and humiliated. That was the only term that fit.
    Humiliated.
    Nevertheless, Groot didn’t move at all, wincing slightly as a moist, waterlogged stchkkk peeled off of Nebula’s thighs. He heard her groan and quite possibly stagnate a gag, though he said nothing. There was a lighter, more subdued sthck as the wet fabric hit the floor. There was a dull, matted, thick flap, like a dense towel was shaken, and the sound of rough-fabric on flesh. Nebula accentuated the sounds with groans and disappointed sighs. The towel hit the ground, though lighter than that of her uniform. It was followed by airy fluttering, like a loose flag set in a warm breeze.
    There was a few more moments of fluttering and awkward, thought calm silence. After what seemed like too long of studying his own work in the destroyed panel before him, Groot was summoned by the quietest whisper.
    “Okay…” He hesitated. He didn't want to make things impossibly more awkward between them, but he felt as if eye contact right now would do just that, his resistance already shaky. But, when the gentle brush of her thin, skilled finger feathered along his arm, he couldn’t help but turn to her.
    She stood uncharacteristically meekly, her head bowed down to her feet, which were pointed only noticeably inward. He was a tall being, and she was by no means short, but her unusually embarrassed figure made her appear much smaller than he was used to. Her blue skin was covered by loose, baggy dark blue fabric- which made her seem even smaller- looking soft to the touch. It was clearly too large for her as the hem of the sleeves came to her first knuckle and the hem of her bottoms almost entirely covered her feet. Her jaw was still clenched and her fists were tight, and her face read that she was still heavily berating herself for her… accident.
    “I…” She tried to speak, but it barely came out a murmur. “Don’t tell anyone-” her voice gained its usual strength- or as close to it as she could muster with her current headspace- for a moment “- about this, or I will kill you again.” Her black, gleaming eyes stared up at him, threatening as possible. But, with her current dress and what he had just seen, he barely believed it. But, he nodded solemnly nonetheless. He turned to tear away the tendrils blocking the door, but his large hand was caught in hers, though hers was far smaller.
    “No…” She begged quickly, her voice staying as straight as possible. “I… I don’t want anyone… I don’t want anyone else to know…” She trailed off her voice trembling despite being nearly inaudible. She also quickly tacked on a docile “- about this...” Her left arm gripped her right elbow gently. “You can’t tell them about this, Groot,”
    “I am Groot,” he assured readily. He would never break a secret so humiliating for her, even if she did first. She nodded, her jaw relaxing for what seemed like the first time that morning. There was a break of silence between them, with Groot caringly looking down on Nebula, like a mother hen to its peeping chick.
    Groot, almost too easily, allowed Nebula to nestle into his arms, pressing against the hard wood that made up his chest. Though, he padded himself as light, plush moss- the same he had padded his hand with earlier- cushioned his body for the woman in his arms. He allowed the both to rest against the bent and dented door, slowly sliding to the floor. Nebula, as if they were thinking in the same beat, rested her legs along Groot’s, curling up in his gentle hold.
    “This isn’t… anything, this is just…” She muttered, almost as an afterthought.
    “I am Groot,”
    There was a few harmonious beats of silence. “Yes. Just…”
    “I am Groot.”
    “Just for now. And soon, I’ll purge this entire morning from my memories.” Nebula chided with a hint of sadness. But, as she ran her hands along the soft, pillow-like moss she rested against, she carefully corrected.
    “The bad parts. You're coffee's better than Quill,” she tried to joke, a half-smile lifting a corner of her mouth.
    “I am Groot,” he agreed softly, rubbing her back in a slow, comforting motion.
    “Yes. Just for now,”
    Though, unbeknownst to the both of them, the “for now” of their agreement extended long into their time, until Star-Lord came knocking on their door an apparent five hours later. They had remained awake, though in silence. Calm, hospitable, regenerative silence.
    Just for now.
    I surely didn't expect to get another piece out so fast, but I have to, again, thank @Dynamic for his incredible words of wisdom. I can't actually express how much his words have helped me to get past the roadblock that's, admittedly, been plaguing me since my first piece with The Scarlet Witch.
    I see Omo.org as a community, as do most. And, as a community, we have guidelines, rules and, more personally, unique normalities (what we perceive as normal and acceptable) that form us. However, what we sometimes fail to make note of is that normality, the most malleable rulebook we live by in a community, often stagnates content. I'm glad to say that the vast variety of content here on Omo.org is far from stagnant, though I will admit, I have recently been feeling like my content has been growing such. As I said, the guidelines and hard rules are unbreakable without punishment, and therefore we only have normality to break from holding us back. But, one devastating thing that comes with normality, especially as esoteric as the normalities embedded within each and every one of the people in a community in such a diverse content ecosystem as this website, is fear. Personal fear.
    Fear is what holds all humans back, sometimes to benefit and other times to deficit. As a writer, the largest fear I personally cradled was fear of imperfection and fear of displeasing those who indulged in my work- either leaving them dissatisfied, empty or simply unhappy. But, as @Dynamic so beautifully enlightened to me, you truly can't please everyone. But, if you please even one likeminded person, you've succeeded in your medium. 
    Fear is what holds people back, and personal normality generates personal fear. To break the cycle, you have to realize- with the help of those around you, in your community- that your normality, your content's normality, may be generating a stunting aura of fear of evolution. But, to conquer personal fear, you have to be unafraid- unfortunately paradoxically- to evolve your normality to, in fact, out-evolve your fear. In essence and less proseful saying; You have to be able to recognize your fears, your normalities, your rules and your guidelines to determine what you can do if you push to the limits. And, ever critically, you have to be able to recognize that personal fear only exists to hold you back. 
    Fear always holds us back. To push beyond, to grow and to evolve past it, you have to bow not to fear nor to evolution, but you have to keep your head high and innovate through it. You have to reach outside your comfort zone with anything you do once you feel you've grown stagnant as I feel I have. You have to use human's uncanny superpower of ingenuity, whether or not you see it in yourself, to innovate, to evolve past your personal fear.
    In summary; You have to evolve your normalities through your fear to recognize what you're capable of, to recognize what you're happy doing. Only you can break your fear and create new normality that will not bow to fear.
    Nor can you. Fear, and the normality that generates it, exist to hold you back, to keep you in place and to grow you stale. Bow to neither and innovate yourself and your medium, your work, to a place that breaks stagnation. And then, from the ashes of you fear like a phoenix from its own, create your best work.
    Apologies for the painfully long speech, It needed to be said and I couldn't write it except for here. With all that said, I will be damning myself to create my best work, and if you have constructive criticism it's greatly appreciated. As an aside, feel fell to request any character from the list of twenty-three, alongside scenarios, settings and causes. With all that said, take these words and the words of @Dynamic (Seriously, I cannot than you enough for what you said) under advisement going forward- Lord knows I will- and I hope you all have the best of days.
    Best regards,
    NothingLeft
    Fear, normality and convention exist to bind. Break the binds. Innovate. Push. Create. Bow to none.
  11. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to trekkie in Marvel/MCU Stories   
    Since Vanessa was in the superhero-maker-chamber-thing and is Copycat in the comics, I like to think that offscreen she was also given some of that drug cocktail to see what happens much as was done with Pepper and might gain powers at some point. So, if you're still up for suggestions, what about Copycat's first day as a superhero (maybe even adjusting to having comic-accurate blue skin, white hair, and pointy ears - though I'd hate to see that in an actual movie, 'cause anything that makes you look less like Morena Baccarin is a bad thing!), with only Deadpool to show her the ropes, and she ends up wetting her costume due to some silly circumstance?
  12. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from LifeIsStrange in Marvel/MCU Stories   
    Valkyrie
     
    Ticklish
     
    New Asgard, Queens Quarters
    The Queen of New Asgard, the prodigious Avenger and a happily newly-wed bride, Valkyrie giggled with a clear note of haughtiness as she and her king, lover and now finally husband embraced against the wall. The heat between them was visible as Valkyrie placed her knee next to Loki’s hip. The God of Mischief, without even thinking, readily took hold of the supple, thick bottom curve of her thigh, hiking up the hem of her royal Aesir dress as his hand quickly moved for her ass. Valkyrie moaned and giggled simultaneously when Loki’s firm hand squeezed her flesh- half of his hand was on her heated, lustful flesh, but the other half’s touch was muzzled by the fabric of her underwear, which she felt so unanimously pleased and begrudged at that she couldn’t honestly tell if she was about to moan in pleasure or groan in disappointment.
    But when Loki pulled Valkyrie’s pelvis into his and gently ground his firm, thick cock against a divet between the plump caramel lips that lay underneath the tight, red cloth of his queen’s thin-but-still-too-thick underwear, she wholeheartedly picked her former option. Loki grinned with a breathy laugh when Valkyrie’s throat let flow a harmonious, low moan that seemed to blow up the very room they were set in like a balloon. Valkyrie now had only one foot on the floor, the ten-inch height difference they both eternally lusted for made slightly more bearable by her tall, elaborately crafted Aesir heels.
    Loki’s hands desperately grabbed at Valkyrie’s back, searching for the neck of her dress, a zipper, some buttons- just anything to get to more of her skin open to his hungry grasp. In tandem, he slid down from his lover’s hot, open mouth onto the curve of her jaw and further onto her throat kissing and sucking on the clear, unfettered light skin. Valkyrie sucked her luscious, shiny lips in as she moaned, allowing her eyes to flutter closed- had they even been open to begin with?- her thigh still pressed hard against Loki’s hip.
    “My love… I think it time to remove-” as he spoke, he fanned the fancy material of her white, flowy dress in mild, building irritation “- this, hmm?” The hand he still had clasped to her butt massaged with a squeeze, teasing the heat that ached just inches from the tips of his fingers. She knew he felt it when she saw his eyes somehow dilate even further. The heat between them had, some time ago, melted her vocal cords, leaving her unable to say much aside from moans and gasps. 
    Wordless they both were as Valkyrie strode quickly and shakily through the large hall, thanking the Gods that all of the citizens had departed to their homes again, as she could barely walk with the heat between her legs and she was confident there was a physical, inviscid boiling drip of her heat running down the silky surface of her thigh as her heels clicked against the dark wooden floor and bounced off of the tall stone walls. Through an ornate dark wooden door that was slammed loudly and hurriedly behind them and once again the lovers were caught in a hurricane of heat, passion and growing despondency as Loki took a fiercer hold of his Queen’s jugular, ripping a fuller, lower moan that rumbled her chest as it escaped.
    Loki’s hands found their way to her ass again, though this time they were blocked by the fabric of her dress. He growled in irritation as did Valkyrie when her small, skinny hand found the bulge of her lover’s penis, still restricted by the black dress pants he wore. And a belt. And underwear- fuck, why were either of them dressed, this was infuriating! She was getting mad now, and the deafening cacophony of feelings around her and inside her were blurring her vision and thought, only furthering her madness in identical parallel with her vivacious appetite for the man she was now uncontrollably, almost violently grating against. 
    The searing heat between her legs and inside her belly. The restlessness in her hands. The not-quite-enough groping on her ass. The varying suckling on her throat. The thick fabric on her body. The aching in her breasts as her nipples, sensitized by the desperate ache of need surging through her body, rubbed against the suddenly coarse fabric of her dress. The disembodied moans of both her and her lover. The sudden loss of control she felt as her hips ground against Loki with a passion so strong it could only be fuelled by the one deeper within her. Her voice was broken and incomplete as she begged,
    “Just take off- I- please-” Even she didn’t know what she was trying to say at this point, but Loki seemed to as he fumbled to undo the belt that was around his thin waist, somehow managing to do it with his mouth never leaving the sensitive, throbbing tube that ran through her throat. There was a metal clinking and thick leather shifting before Loki sighed against her very bloodstream, sending the cruelest of rolls throughout her entire body. Valkyrie pulled back from Loki’s maw as she tried to see his manhood, smiling lust-drunkenly when it twitched under her gaze. It was still restricted under a layer of dark grey underwear, but a small, dark dot on the fabric eluded to Loki’s own true hunger.
    Valkyrie’s smooth hands immediately pulled down the black waistband, and the large, veiny, reddening cock that twitched under her hot, ravenous gaze caused a manic flick of the Queen’s tongue to poke the edges of her shiny, inviting lips. Her brown eyes, heated with a most romantic lust, peered up from under her sleek, sensually heavy eyelids to the steely-green pair her lover looked down on her so lovingly with. A curt yet nearly wicked smile rested on him. The emotion she felt when his deft tongue ran across his lip caused her heart to all-too readily begin skipping more beats than it hit, hammering her ribcage irregularly but with the force of an iron-ball hammer.
    “My dear… “ He began quaintly, though her ears did indeed pick up a decently weighty quiver- a quiver of excitement, and perhaps even a little bit of playful fear- and when she heard her byname, she thought her irises would overtake her scleras. She looked into his eyes, her lust evolving into a primal, insatiable hunger, slowly but surely the longer they stalled. 
    Valkyrie slipped her slim, silk fingers into the waistband of her lover’s underwear, caressing the pale skin she found. His smile grew only more coy and excited, coaxing her further. She moved her hands to his front, and as her fingers brushed against his godhood she easily allowed her palms to curl around it. A green hue passed over Loki’s eyes, almost magically.
    She’d been had.
    Loki, the true Loki, suddenly materialized behind her, a very prominent erection also suddenly pressed against the soft, pronounced curve of her butt. The one before vanished with a haze of green light that trapped her against the wall. The sudden stimulation of his erection pressed against her caused a low, rumbling groan of unsatisfied need to quake Valkyrie’s body.
    “Bullshit, that’s not fair,” She complained, her hands tense against the wall, nails scraping with desperation, desperation to quell the beating, burning need broiling within her guts. It was tightening with each and every of his thunderous groans.
    “You didn’t listen- I asked you to remove it and you didn’t- you just… had to drag it out-” the way he held his ‘h’ with a hot, long sighing growl caused her heart to discernibly stop, her core running and very nearly overflowing with magmatic juices “- I had no choice, Val…” The woman underneath sighed in agitation. She was going to, but she had priorities, dammit. Though, as Loki’s hand caressed her side, she was struck with a sudden fear. Her throat suddenly caught up and she released a breathy, low gasp. She heard Loki chuckle and felt his hand again, this time closer to her side than before. 
    “I… Don’t,” She threatened, but the sheer sexual desperation in her face forced all of the bite she wanted to inject to remain in the ball in her throat. Loki leaned in closer, pressing himself against her sleek body. His erection was laid between the curves of her butt, but the sensation was muffled by the poofy fabric in between. Now both hands were teasing her soft sides, threatening her with something she viciously hated.
    The Queen of New Asgard was very ticklish, especially when she was aroused, as every sense in her body felt dialed up past anything she usually felt.
    “Hm. And what if I do…” He paused and ran his hands with a feather touch down to clutch her hips. “My dear?” The tone was salacious and positively filthy, certainly unfit for the ears of the New Asgardian rulers, yet Queen Valkyrie felt her mouth grow somehow warmer and her pussy impossibly more inflamed. Without thinking she responded,
    “Neither of us walk for a week.” The statement was final and definitive, yet her tone and a hunger-laden whine near the end when Loki ground his cock against her made it seem more a prophecy than a threat.
    “No... That sounds fun, and you know fun tempts me... almost as much as this does,” he moaned, his left hand moving from her hip to her tummy, stroking it carefully. He slowly moved down and brought the mountainous fabric with him as he pushed against his queen’s heated entrance.
    “Please,” Now she begged, her sexual desire regrowing in her tone. He sighed with a smile, but devilishly slipped his hands up her ribs, creating a spasm in the Queen’s abdomen and a girlish giggle that was quite out of her character.
    “Loki!” She yelled through an involuntary smile, her voice strained and angry, but the rest of her body traitorously quite opposed in a slew of ways. This wasn’t going to end well for either of them, Valkyrie silently swore.
    Though, if she knew what was about to happen, she would easily take that back. But for then, for that night, she did not- especially when she managed to turn the tides on her tricky husband- despite his salacious and confident promises of vengeance.
    The Next Day
    God, her thighs were sore. Not horribly, but the inner muscles felt an amount weak and strained from last night’s events. She wasn’t arguing in the slightest- the warmth that still held deep in her tummy, the glow that clung to her exposed skin, the smile that was constantly on her face, the dark purple and lightly throbbing blotch on the curve of her jugular and the wobble that had been in her walk earlier that morning told everything without a single word.
    There was sex, it was rough, she was pleased. The sun beamed down on her, her people and their land gloriously, signifying their grace, their resilience and their might. Granted, they weren’t as mighty as Asgard may once have been, but they remained, refusing to ebb in the face of time or any brutal, bloody hardship.
    Valkyrie wore distinctly civilian clothing- a black, longsleeve shirt with a yellow sleeveless waterproof vest, black slacks and knee-high rubber boots- which helped her not only integrate herself with her people- she believed that to be a good leader, she must know the struggles of her people, and she was damn intent on being the best leader she could be- but also be as helpful as possible in the dockwork her people did so diligently. 
    Now, she stood amongst her people on the docks as they reeled in their fishing nets- made out of thick but biodegradable rope- hauled in traded goods, wheeled out the hauls on carts to the people in the city square of New Asgard and whatever else the people needed done. She helped where she could, wherever there was room to help, and she had been since early that morning. It was now just past noon- with the sun shining down blissfully, fueling their efforts- and the Queen felt… Good, productive, helpful, all she wished to be when she took on the role of Valkyrie so many centuries ago. She breathed a deep sigh, the unique aroma of her home of over six years now deeply familiar and comforting.
    The salty scent of the sea. The somewhat rancid smell of fish. The crisp smell of evergreen trees far leeward. The refreshing scent of cool glaciers far, far away but brought by swirling ocean currents. Norway. It was beautiful, in some ways far more than Asgard could ever hope to be.
    “My Queen, a beast’s come in from the boat lure! Deep sea, my Queen- it’s a fighter!” One of the fishermen called to her from a group, handling one of the large nets that were cast into the vast ocean before them. The net seemed to withhold something quite strong- so strong, three Asgardians couldn’t reel it forth. Valkyrie smiled as she jogged to the net, taking one of the leather handholds in either of her skilled, calloused hands. With a nod to what seemed to be the impromptu leader of the group, there was a countdown from three to one before they all gave a hard, collaborated pull. The extra manpower pulled the net in and the four used the momentum to continue. Through her exertion, Valkyrie shouted to some others,
    “Hooks!” Three others, wielding thick metal hooks tied to long, half-foot-thick rope began twirling the hooks to build up speed. A few moments later, the three sharp hooks were sailing overhead before landing squarely into the lattice of the net, catching and holding taut. The Queen straightened her stance and tightened her grip for the strain to come. 
    “Heave!” One of the hookmen shouted. All seven- four on the net and three manning the hooks- began pulling as hard as they could to reel in the mass within the net. Valkyrie couldn’t yet tell what was within, but it was something big. Perhaps a large school, or even a single, very large creature. The Queen, as well as her people, began to grit their teeth from the effort. The net, slowly, began to come closer to shore, but whatever was within was not coming in at all easily. But it was near enough to the shore now that something could be done to ease the struggle.
    “Tranks!” The net-leader shouted. Finally, another Asgardian came, wielding what seemed to be a harpoon launcher loaded with what seemed to be a large needle. There was a pressurized blast of air when suddenly the struggle of the beast beneath the surface increased tenfold. Valkyrie and the other three netmen shouted as they were nearly yanked off their feet. Were it not for the Queen’s quick thinking and swordsmanship- as her invincible Dragonfang plunged into the sturdy, immovable dirt- the net would have flown away with the beast.
    But now, the Queen felt like her shoulders were to be ripped from her body. Her face was twisted in pain and effort, one hand gripping the rope and the other handling the Dragonfang’s hilt. Her face hardened further as she bore the effort with a combined cry of pain and exertion.
    “Ropes!” The leader shouted. Valkyrie heard wild shuffling before her effort suddenly became much easier to manage. The three others manning the net retook their leather holds, easing the load the Queen had to bear. She dug her heels into the dirt and sheathed her blade before retaking her right-hand grip on the net. The leader announced another heave, for which Valkyrie stood again. The seven men and women gave one last, torrential pull. Suddenly, the beast stopped moving, much to the thankfulness of the Queen and her six netmen. However, they were still pulling with all of their combined might, which accidentally yanked the beast entirely onto the dock. A giant, fish-like creature- black, slimy skin covering the main body with a white underbelly and a white portion over the eyes that made them seem far larger- slammed onto the wooden dock like a slab of mud. The creature had the harpoon-needle just plunging the flesh behind the dorsal fin atop its body, barely piercing the layer of blubber and therefore hardly fatal. Within the needle was an incredibly potent tranquilizer to make reeling in large catches, such as this beast, easier.
    The Queen panted lightly as she dropped her grips of the net alongside her other netmen. She knew this creature, it was an uncommon but recurring pull from their deep-sea lures. Among torrents of herring and the occasional minke or humpback whale, these “killer” whales were sometimes the largest- this one seemed above average, perhaps the length of nearly four grown men- and its species were some of the most bountiful catches they could secure on their ports.
    The beast lay there, salty water spilling onto the dock as the Queen brushed rogue locks of shiny chocolate hair from her face with raw hands. Her people looked to her for confirmation; would they keep this, or throw it back to the ocean and hunt for something else?
    “Good. Keep it- shit- and, y’know… Harvest it,” Her brain failed to think of the proper words as something else, something a little more pressing came to the front of her mind and her priorities. All that heaving, all that effort and all that strain brought up a necessary function of her life.
    Her bladder. 
    The people set to work on the beast as the queen turned to a path that led to New Asgard’s main square. Her need was manageable, certainly, but the exertion of the beast’s resistance had an unusually powerful effect on her control. Valkyrie breathed a shallow, tight-lipped sigh as she began back. She waved as her people sparsely moved to and from the dock under their agendas. The ones headed to carried rods, others paddles, some groups even hauling boats and canoes to help the fishing effort, while the ones moving away wheeled shallow carts of fresh herring, trade goods and lumps of fresh whale meat from other catches for refrigeration or packaging.
    The Queen paused for a moment and looked over the dock, full of working Asgardians. She felt a swell of pride in her chest as she truly digested the fact that, among everything else, she had helped these people rebuild, she and her King Loki had rebuilt, with the people of Asgard as unbreakable walls, a great nation that was destroyed by unpreventable forces set in motion millennia before they could even be realized into something that not only existed for the sake of existence, but existed in spite of every antagonistic force ever plied to them. She was proud. Proud of herself, proud of her king, but most proud of her people.
    ‘Oh god,’ she thought to herself, her bladder swelling against her tummy and pressing against her organs with a pinch, ‘How did I get so full?’ Another swell coursed through her being as her bladder pulsed under her belly. Valkyrie bent at her knees, her feet turned in as she rested her palms on her thighs. Oh, it was getting worse, she couldn’t be staring at water right now, not with her bladder aching like it was. She turned on her heel to move to the square, but as if fate hated her…
    The path to the square was a hill. Not a brutal one at all, but it was a sure slope that would affect her gait. The queen felt her throat bob unconsciously with a slight disquiet, but she furrowed her brow. Her need wasn’t that bad, and even if it was she would not be defeated by a measly hill, not after the crime ring after-party, not after everything that had happened over her life. 
    She began her trek, doing her best to not pay any mind to the large ocean to the left of her view. But, every second that she tried her best to not see the bobbing, calm, flowing ocean right next to her, the more it seemed to rise and overtake the horizon. The sky and ocean were very different colours- the sky a clear and serene light blue that brought her peace and calm, but the ocean dark, hazy dark indigo that seemed to be bottomless which brought her deep feelings of worry, light distress, but also… Flow. The ocean bobbed against the skyline, waving and dipping as the waters moved with the swishes of fish deep, deep within and winds from distant, distant air currents, ocean currents and breezes. Flow… 
    The Queen, only a piddly- no, no that sounded like puddle which is a thought Valkyrie couldn’t bear to think- halfway up the hill, had to stop in her tracks, again bending at the knees and pointing her feet, her hands inching closer and closer to the point she so hoped stayed dry the more she desperately- oh god- tried not to think of the… churning, swirling… flowing ocean next to her-
    She groaned through her teeth as a hand actually moved to her slack-censored crotch, squeezing herself to add pressure her urethra refused to offer. All of her mind was making her need so much worse when it really shouldn't have been all that bad. She stood there- thankfully, the traffic of the hill had ceased for now- clasping herself so shamelessly and trying not to let her mind overcome her will not to… fail. 
    Minutes passed as the Queen struggled to stay upright, groaning to herself. The flare was slowly, slowly subsiding, but the pulsing against her intestines that pushed up and against her stomach was disorienting, painful, catastrophically familiar. No, this would not happen again, she wouldn’t allow it. She grit her teeth- similarly to how she did holding the rope that had enabled all of this in the first place- and stood, powering through her wobbles and cramping spasms. It was getting worse, and she knew the more she stood around the worse it would get. She had to move.
    She had to go.
    She willed herself, moving all of the strength it didn’t take to walk into her bladder, hopefully fortifying it thoroughly  enough that she could make it… Somewhere. Hel, if she got into the square, at least there she could peek behind a building, find a dense shrub or even dart into the forest, but on the trail, where everyone could see her Not an option. So, struggling to regain her mind, she placed one of her feet in front of the other while also keeping her thighs painfully clenched, for she felt if she didn’t there would be… evidence, if not a disaster. Another sturdying puff of air and Valkyrie managed another, more confident step forward, still barely able to separate her thighs- remarkably, her thighs aching and clamping from last night seemed beneficial instead of detrimental now, how the tides- oh goddamnit!- turn sometimes. She smiled through the aching, throbbing sense of her filling bladder at her little revelation before she tightened her thighs, willing her bladder to recede for just five damn minutes. Just enough time to make it up the hill, please.
    She managed another step, breathing hard with the effort it suddenly took. Then another, the pressure equalizing and becoming more supportable, just… very slowly. Another, another, another and another until, this time, the step she took was daring; a larger, longer  one that required her thighs to separate more cohesively, seemingly a test. Luckily, the pressure had backed down to a point where she could walk almost normally, even if she had to bite her lip harder than what felt comfortable. She smiled and laughed deprecatingly when she felt a slick, hot bead of sweat roll down the back of her soft, strained thigh and into the cave of the back of her knee. This, this- walking, something so simple as bloody walking- was making her sweat? At first, it sounded ridiculous. But, when she considered just how much… cargo she carried, it seemed to reason itself out. Another deep sigh, and with tears of effort barely lining her vision, Valkyrie hardened herself. She was just over halfway now, she was so close.
    Breathing heavily and fists clenched so tight her knuckles were going between caramel, yellow, pink and white within seconds of each other, Valkyrie pushed her clenched, locking, tired, aching and straining thighs to push her, she pushed her feet off of the dirt ground, she pushed every muscle in her leg up and forward. Still no one passed her as she did, thank the gods. She dully heard her small feet podding against the dirt compacted so thoroughly by use as blood rushed through her ears and heated her chest with conflicting determination, anxiety, worry, self-assurance and pure will to make it. She nearly fainted when her foot hit the solid, flat ground of the square. She had to bite her lip nearly severingly to keep from laughing to herself. She was going to make it dammit- despite the forces that worked against her! She just needed somewhere private, unpopulated and discrete.
    Fast.
    The Queen crossed her legs tightly and put her hands on her hips, dedicating almost all of her energy to resist the primal urge to bounce, dance and fidget against the need to… Go. Even with all her efforts, though, she felt her right leg jiggle against the left as surges of desperation and need surged through it from the tight, coiled ball of boiling magma just under her stomach. A blast of panic from the swelling balloon surged through her, causing her legs to lock up further, forcing her to bend at the knees and push her butt out. The surge also caused her hands to tense up and grab the rough fabric of her slacks in a throttlehold sheerly to resist jamming them into her warm, vain and so-far-dry thighs.
    This needed to happen now.
    Valkyrie didn’t even bother to right her stance- she was confident that, at this point, she really couldn’t- and began panickedly searching the square for something- anything- that had a bathroom that wasn’t someone’s house. Her options were slim- the general store, the meat market and a fishing shop. Nothing that advertised a bathroom and she wasn’t sure she would be able to check to see just to find out there wasn’t one. What had once been a small calling was now true desperation; sweat was beading down her precious, shaking thighs and ever so gently down her forehead, rolling down like the liquid just inside her precious opening so longed to do with a bitterly forceful pressure. Her hands still held her slacks tightly in their iron grip, refusing to let go as if her hands would keep her bladder from erupting. Her teeth were clenched tightest of all, painfully grinding her teeth back into her head.
    Nothing, nothing, nothing! Holy shit- fuck it!
    With all the speed, power and control the Queen of New Asgard had left in her shaking, desperate and near-collapse body to dart from where she stood to the closest houses. When New Asgard had been built, the first thing that was considered was compactness, so the houses were built rather close to each other, with enough space for fences between properties, allowing- albeit somewhat limited-  privacy. The houses she darted between were somehow, magically empty- the right house contained no one, as the previous owners had been wedded and moved to another home, and the left house’s inhabitants were down on the docks. 
    As she almost collapsed against the house, Valkyrie finally allowed herself to crumble. He hands released her slacks and took a vicious, violent hold on her crotch, clamping down hard on the only exit her bladder had short of exploding outright- which felt very possible now. She let out a garbled mess of sounds; part moan, part groan, part laugh, part sob, part gasp as she did, her thighs trembling helplessly as they resisted the flood she held so passionately within her.
    Her hands crept up from her clothed vagina- though a desperate, warning beat of her bladder drew a sorry, sob-like pleading mess of a noise at their absence- to the button of her slacks as they desperately tried to flip the damn button out of the suddenly-far-too-tight slit. She moaned in worry as her thighs shook, her leg bouncing just to try to ward off the flood that was coming, it was so fucking close, just please, let her get her pants off first!
    As she struggled, she failed to hear light and plotted footsteps creeping up beside her bouncing, desperate figure. In a fit of sudden rage, Valkyrie peeled herself off the wall and unwittingly turned her back on whoever approached. She moaned again but this was fused with a desperate gasp of success as the button finally popped out of its hole. Her hands shot to her hips and into her slacks and the hem of her dark underwear before madly trying to ruff them down.
    Suddenly, two pale and thin hands latched onto Valkyrie’s sides, causing her to gasp and squeak in surprise, jerk her hands out of her pants so hard they almost slapped her in the face- the waistband of her jeans and panties only on the breach of her hipbones, her lusciously dark hair peering from over the band with a tease of the soft, serene lips were buried beneath her healthy patch of thick hair- and, devastatingly, a healthy leak to eject from her with an inaudible jet into her clothes, dying the lap of her slacks an even darker shade, sheening where the liquid trickled further down her thighs. With every ounce of strength she had left- which wasn’t much, rest assured- she halted the spurt, but the damage was done; there was a dark
    But, the hands didn’t retract. With a hellish, accented and deep laugh, the hands suddenly tensed and began spasming against Valkyrie’s soft, smooth sides. She squealed loudly, followed by a cacophony of giggles, harsh gasps and desperately sad moans.
    Before Valkyrie could turn around and murder whoever was doing this, before she could move- before she could even process her next rapid, laughing breath- all the sounds now encircling her spasming figure were joined and trumped by one that, had she not been laughing uncontrollably, would have petrified her. A steady, violent hkkk, like running water against hard fabric.
     Oh no.
    Through her giggling and against the tickling that was still assaulting her, Valkyrie managed to look down to her crotch, tears flooding the bottom of her vision. 
    Her vagina, exposed to open air thanks to her squirming, was hellishly funnelling hot- what seemed to be steaming- urine into her panties and the slacks that contained them. She felt her thighs grow hot, she felt searing drops, rivulets and rivers burning her flesh away as they flew down her calves, tickling her ankles before pooling both in and around her boots. Had she not been under a vicious attack that kept her laughing, fitting and squirming, she would have been mortified. Horrified. The tears in her eyes would be genuine, not forced from laughter she had no reign over. Her sides were electric, sending unpreventable signals dancing through the rest of her body- and they seemed to all be designated to both empty her bladder as soon, hard and loud as possible as well as short-circuit her diaphragm, making any rational breath impossible. 
    Finally, Valkyrie managed to wrench out of whoever’s grasp she had found herself damningly caught in, turning towards whoever it was but still giggling and shaking from the laughter. Her stream didn’t stop, it didn’t even stutter, it just continued flowing down her legs and onto the ground around her. Her panties were entirely dark with hot liquid and soaked through, her boots flooding already- hell, even the shirt she wore had caught some of the splash from her violent jerking. The hkkk didn’t relent any more than its source did- which, was to say, not at all- and the Queen couldn’t help but laugh and shiver at what was happening. Through her gasps, she managed,
    “Oh- oh god, fuck!” Her knees caved inwards and her feet turned in, but the flow only followed her legs, sometimes arching from one fold in her slacks to another. But, despite the giggles and the pain and mortification under it, Valkyrie felt her eyelids flutter closed for but a moment, accompanied by a satisfied moan.
    The pressure that had been compacting her tummy so intensely was quickly flooding out of her and into her clothes, amidst her noises and conflicted emotion. It was quickly leaving, quickly allowing her organs to relax. The feeling that grew in her torso as her bladder was squeezed dry could only be akin to a soft, gentle orgasm. Another moan left her lips, followed by giggles, and Queen Valkyrie couldn’t help but embrace the feeling, running her hands through her hair and tangling them, allowing them to rest there. Her head tilted back with a soft, long moan as she pushed hard, just wanting to get this travesty over with so she could kill her attacker with a slight shred of dignity. The hkkk, as violent as it was, grew harder, into a sound that lacked description. It was loud, almost as loud as the Queen herself. It was beyond violent, to the point she thought her slacks would have a hole in them. But, much to her shock, the sound was so intense, so hard, that it aroused her. She opened her eyes, her breathing erratic as she finally got out her last few giggles. Though, as the surprise from the tickling ended, she was overtaken by the shame. Her neck erupted into flame as she looked to her crotch. It was still flooding, fresh piss bubbling in the valley of her clenched, tight, shivering thighs, but the pressure was beginning to die, slowly. The pressure was almost fully gone from her organs, and her bladder was beginning to get a different ache, this one purely of emptiness. It hurt, but not in a bad way. It hurt good. 
    God, she couldn’t stop it. 
    Another moan left her, this one almost inaudible as she bent her head back. The shame was harsh, but the pleasure she felt from the fast-enclosing empty and the relief she got from her bladder draining overpowered it. She mewled as she fell against the wall, the now moderately-pressured stream rushing down her left thigh, wrapping around the hot skin in fiery brooks and into her boot, which splashed as it overflowed, warm urine rolling down from the lip of the boot.
    Loki was stunned. Truly rooted to the spot. This was not what he meant to do. He thought he’d get the revenge he swore so sweetly the night prior by forcing her to become complete putty in his hands, but this… He couldn’t stop staring as the hot, hot liquid ran down his Queen’s soft thighs before pouring into her slacks and funnelling down her pant legs before bubbling over the lips of her boots and streaming down to the dirt she stood shakily upon. Despite what he wanted to hope to think, he did notice that Valkyrie seemed to… she seemed to be enjoying it. Perhaps not the...accident, but she was enjoying some part of this- if the hazy smile that breached her face and the blissfully closed eyes she sported told him anything.
    Valkyrie couldn’t stop another light sigh escaping her. The pressure disappearing was so enticing, so erotic, so vastly different; the liquid and pressure flooding from her body as opposed to the embarrassment flooding into her. Both were so warm- not just warm, hot. The embarrassment was burning her spine, like a string of pure flame was running up and down her gentle, electrified spine, searing her bones with its everlasting imprint.
    But the urine that was still gushing out of her with wet, bubbling gurgles against her folded and shaking flesh, running down her leg and setting her skin on fire, was boiling. Heated past any temperature that was attainable through any other means, now rushing from her tired, aching, weakened and so arousingly empty bladder to where it shouldn’t ever have been.
    They were both silent- Valkyrie with a soft, absentminded half-smile and Loki with stunned, wide eyes- for the long, noisy seconds that were filled to the brim not with speaking, but rather two sets of intoxicating, deafening pattering; one set was the pee spraying directly into the taut fabric of the queen’s pants and panties while the other was the warm streams running down every fold, every dip and bump in the wet, dark fabric. Every stream glittered a light clear-gold in the soft, rare light that managed to seep into the passageway the king and queen were tucked within. The stream was slowly dying now, the flood that once was, now a decently-pressured rush pouring from her soft, shiny pink lips, bordered by the dark, meaty flesh of her crotch and the shiny, curly thicket of hair.
    Valkyrie rolled again the wall when the stream waving from her opening sputtered as she tried to clench her thighs, but they were too weak and almost gave out. She finally, feeling her thighs ache with tire, allowed her muscles to relax. Her shielded pussy emerged from the tight ‘v’ her muscles tautness had created, allowing the weakening flow to spread out over both of her legs. The narrow rivers of hot pee ran down her, passing through the overly waterlogged fabrics of her panties and slacks and into her boots, which already contained their own warm lakes of pee. What ever rolled over the edge of her boots just cascaded down into the slim muddy puddle that was growing around her. The hkkk was now a gurgling, messy hscch as it smacked the wet fabric below the soaked, dripping lips its liquid raunchily spurted out of.
    Loki watched intensely as the stream grew thinner and thinner, staring shamelessly as it dribbled small orbs of glittering urine down wet tracks on his Queen’s thighs, catching glimpses of light in artistically perfect ways, like a painting created by a most watchful eye that caught every detail, every glitter, every dripping, steaming, thin stream of pee rolling down the soft, meaty caramel thighs that were still lightly shaking from the exertion that had gone through- first the fishing ropes, then the sheer will of holding back her flood and finally, the effort to limit her battering loss of control.
    Slowly, the two stood as the flow became silent. Only the gentle trickling babble of small, thin streams dripping down her thick and well-muscled thighs and calves, with barely noticeable glitters of fresh-running pee peeking through her slacks. It was years, solid, dense, silent and tumultuous years before the stream, already thin, weak and bare, became soft, boiling drops rolling down, barely affecting the dark and water-dense fabrics or the pools in her boots.
    The silence rang in Valkyrie’s ears almost as much as the ensuing shame did as the ache, deep and thick in her bladder caused the pleasure seeping into her tummy created a light and airy sense in her head, making her almost dizzy. She pried her eyes open, her vision blurry with tears of relief.
    Loki’s steel-green eyes met her wet and earthy eyes, his filled with surprise, worry and  a slight bit of curiosity. After all he had just seen- caused, by accident- he had… just so many damn questions. Valkyrie’s lungs felt empty, breath stolen by the shame, pleasure and relief of her bladder’s unintentional release. As she looked to Loki, her mind’s airiness slowly began fading, allowing her mind to function through the mud her mix of emotions had created. The first thing that created a spark in her mind;
    Rage. 
    She cried out, her voice rough and tainted by a fading sigh of relief, and tried to dash forward in a tackle. But her legs were shaking, weak and fluttery, too tired to fully support her weight. She began to collapse, her boots sliding in the warm mud that was beneath her. Loki, sensing his wife’s sudden anger, dashed to her form and caught her, easing her in a careful, supporting grip. But, as both his arms were underneath her, she couldn’t do anything to repel a limp-wristed slap against his pale, sharp-boned cheek.
    “You son of a…” She breathed out, her eyes hazy and clouded. She made a few more noises that sounded like they were trying to be more insults, but died on her relieved breathlessness. A few moments of her chest rising and falling passed, with Valkyrie’s butt dropping to the cool, solid dirt as she laid her tired body on her husband’s lap.
    “Why…” She sighed, her eyes growing a little more angry with her question. Loki grinned sheepishly and moved a hand to caress his queen’s cheek. He wanted the surprise attack to be his sworn vengeance, but he hadn’t foreseen her bursting to pee. But, despite it all, despite her wrath he knew was well incoming, he felt… calm. From her moans and sighs, she had been desperate, and despite the somewhat rushed manner in which she released her balloon full of liquid tension, she seemed… Not happy about it, but blissfully relieved. Loki’s smile grew as he held his wife, his queen, his lover and his beautifully tired woman closer, thinking of just what to retort her with. He placed a gentle, feather-light kiss across her lips and, without any more thinking, whispered;
    “Revenge, love. My beautiful, desperate revenge. I swore it, and I keep promises.”
    “Dick.”
    “Mm, that could be arranged.”
    “You’re mean.”
    “Oh, it’s not my fault you’re ticklish…”
    Wow, it's been a while. Apologies, I'm working through a lot of stuff; my burnout, some personal stuff, procrastination and everything else that every writer ever has experienced. Regardless, off all of the negative shit that 2020's grand coronavirus dealt to the world, I can say that I myself have vastly improved in my writing, so... Nothing major in the grand scheme of things. Regardless, I promise I am working at this "series", just... At a sad pace. 
    If you have a character you'd like to see have an accident, please feel free to request them- even if they've already been written for. If you have scenarios or something similar, you can also suggest those- or both if you so wish (as long as they adhere to the rules listed in the first post of this forum). If you have any characters that aren't already in the list of requestable characters, feel free to suggest them, and once I complete at least one piece for all current characters, they may be added to the roster.
    Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed. This one was a messy production- I wrote sixty-five percent of it in about a single night- but the ending product is pretty decent, at least I think. But. regardless, thank you for reading and for hopefully enjoying. I probably won't be able to make another one of these for a while, so I'll say this now; Happy holidays, whichever you celebrate (and if you don't... I don't know, have a good day), happy New Year's, and here's hoping that 2021 is a bit easier.
    Happy Holidays, All.
    Best regards, bow to none, 
    NothingLeft
  13. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from The Shark in Omovember Sketches   
    Hello, all.
    I've, to the surprise of none, have been feeling incredibly burnt out of my Marvel writing pieces, but I still wanted to participate in Omovember. So, what's a burning man to do?
    Hone and display another piece of my art.

  14. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from Original Demon in Omovember Sketches   
    Omovember Day IV: Traffic
    Logan thought a drive down the I-65 would be a nice date for him and his girlfriend, Jessica. But, a heavy rainfall caused incredible flooding, slowing everything down. Jessica begins squirming and writhing as time goes on.
    Eventually, Logan pulls over to let Jessie go, but she's a bit bladdershy and can't, not on the side of a highway where everyone can see her. More time passes, and they don't re-merge into traffic. Eventually, Jessica begins apologising profusely, and Logan just prays she doesn't look at him, as all her sighing and heavy breathing from relief is... Well, affecting him.

  15. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from Original Demon in Omovember Sketches   
    Omovember Day IV: Traffic
    Logan thought a drive down the I-65 would be a nice date for him and his girlfriend, Jessica. But, a heavy rainfall caused incredible flooding, slowing everything down. Jessica begins squirming and writhing as time goes on.
    Eventually, Logan pulls over to let Jessie go, but she's a bit bladdershy and can't, not on the side of a highway where everyone can see her. More time passes, and they don't re-merge into traffic. Eventually, Jessica begins apologising profusely, and Logan just prays she doesn't look at him, as all her sighing and heavy breathing from relief is... Well, affecting him.

  16. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from The Dark Wolf in Omovember Sketches   
    Omovember Day III: Exhausted
    Now, while I cannot really display it due to my inability to draw faces, there will be existing characters in these drawings, from movies, video games, et cetera.
     This is Jane Foster from Marvel, in an activity she’s often seen doing in my drafts for my MCU omorashi stories; Running. Usually, Jane doesn’t go overboard, but life has been overly stressful recently, and when she’s stressed she runs harder and faster. She returns to her gym utterly exhausted, but when she sits...
    Distracted by her lungs crying out for oxygen, Jane hadn’t noticed her bladder’s own crying. Well- she did, but only when its contents began flowing around her butt, onto the bench and down her legs onto the floor.

  17. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from PStain in Omovember Sketches   
    Omovember Day II: Inconvenient Location
    My second piece for Omovember. Sophie's office is just around the corner, so she never really worries. Today, though, her colleague's developed mild food poisoning.
    "Five minutes!" She had asked.
    P.S.- Always spellcheck before inking your work.

  18. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to Peafowl in More Indian Desperation   
    Happy belated Halloween!

    Lailiya never outgrew her fear of the dark. She even keeps a small light on in her room at night. So Halloween tends to not be a fun time for her.
    She instead chooses to spend Halloween watching movies and playing video games with her best friend, eating pizza and drinking sodas. Before it gets too late she decides to head home for the night, and with an almost full bladder she decides to just wait until she gets home to use the loo.
    Normally walking around in her small Irish town is easy at night, but tonight an unusually thick fog kicks in. Her nerves start to get at her in the dark, whipping out a flashlight to see through the fog. Then she hears footsteps behind her....and an unholy gargle...
    (the monster is a Muhnochwa, the Face Scratcher, from Uttar Pradesh, and what it's doing in eastern Ireland is anyone's guess)
  19. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from The Shark in Omovember Sketches   
    Hello, all.
    I've, to the surprise of none, have been feeling incredibly burnt out of my Marvel writing pieces, but I still wanted to participate in Omovember. So, what's a burning man to do?
    Hone and display another piece of my art.

  20. Upvote
    NothingLeft got a reaction from The Shark in Omovember Sketches   
    Hello, all.
    I've, to the surprise of none, have been feeling incredibly burnt out of my Marvel writing pieces, but I still wanted to participate in Omovember. So, what's a burning man to do?
    Hone and display another piece of my art.

  21. love
    NothingLeft got a reaction from TheGiantDiaper in In Terms of 'Padded'   
    Thank you. And yeah, this kind of content is somewhat ambiguous sometimes, I just thought it best to receive some counsel from the community. Thank you, and have a good day.
  22. love
    NothingLeft got a reaction from Sucedáneo in In Terms of 'Padded'   
    In terms of 'padded', I have a question.
    Allow a hypothetical. A character is on the verge of pissing themselves, but their on a carpeted floor, or the floor is not their own, et cetera, and they have a cloth nearby. In a fit of panic, they shove the cloth into their pants to help absorb some of their ensuing accident. Would this count as padded/omutsu omorashi? I have a few prompts that contain this or something similar and I'm curious. 
  23. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to Empeeror in A R-omo-antic Fall Day   
    The wind outside howled, carrying the autumn leaves down the street. It was a quiet, overcast day. The sun barely peeked through the clouds, and there was a pleasant kind of chill in the air - not biting, but not soft enough to be gentle. It was the kind of weather that invited people to stay indoors, or if they were outdoors, to wear an oversized hoodie and toast marshmallows. It was the weather, in most people's eyes, of comfort. There was a house on this street with two inhabitants, boyfriend and girlfriend. It wasn't particularly large, though it did have two stories. 'Cozy' might have been the best word to describe it. At the moment, only one of the two was awake. He had slept in because it was Saturday, and trudged groggily downstairs in his pajamas. He was slightly muscular, though not to an excess degree, and he had a face that seemed kindly no matter which angle you looked at it from. His hair was a faded brown color, his eyes a shade of hazel somewhere between brown and gold. As he entered the kitchen, he gazed out the window, assessing the weather.
    "Well, James," he said to himself, "looks like it's that kind of day."
    He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. He reached for two packets of hot chocolate powder and started making them. His girlfriend, Jen, was still asleep in bed upstairs. After the coffee machine was finished, he put the cups on a tray, climbed back upstairs and sat on the edge of the bed, weighing it down a bit. He looked over at Jen's quiet visage. She had long hair that was mostly dark brown with streaks of light brown scattered throughout, olive skin, large eyes, and a small nose. She was wearing a thin, loose-fitting green pajama shirt and light grey pants.

    "Morning, love," he said as she rolled over, tangling her hair over her face.
    "G'mrbing," she mumbled, her face squished into the pillow.
    "I brought you hot chocolate."
    She rolled back over and positively beamed, her eyes still halfway closed.
    "Give it here."
    James handed her one of the chocolates, which drank through in barely a few seconds.
    Jen, doing her best Thor voice, said,
    "I like it! Another!"
    James smiled a bit and looked at the hot chocolate he had made for himself. Then he handed it over to her.
    She was sitting completely upright now, holding the second cup of hot chocolate with both her hands. She sipped intently on it.
    "Why'd you bring me this?"
    "'Cuz it's cold. And I like you, that too," he added as an afterthought.
    Jen climbed out of bed and walked downstairs, followed by James.
    "Hey, I think we should do your favorite thing today," he said.
    "What would that be?" inquired Jen.
    "Y'know, pajama day, cuddle and watch a movie or two."
    "How do you know me so well?"
    Jen smiled at James a bit flirtatiously.
    "It's not like we live together or anything," joked James.
    The living room in this house was more an extension of the kitchen that happened to have carpeting. There was a couch and a computer connected to a TV. The computer streamed movies from a media server James had created, and he was quite proud of it. On one side of the couch there was a small table with Jen's array of plants, which she was quite proud of.

    "I'm getting a fuzzy blanket and sitting on the couch. I get to be the big spoon," announced James.
    "Okay, gotta do my morning pee first," responded Jen, who was about to enter the bathroom.
    "Well, movie's starting in two minutes, if you're not here I'm picking without you!"
    "Hey! We are not watching another documentary about Victorian architecture." Jen rushed back over to the couch and sat down on it, curled up with her knees to her chin.
    "How about the deep sea?" asked James.
    "Yeah, that's pretty cool. Alright, I'm lying down, but I get first dibs on the bathroom when this is over."
    James pulled the blanket over her shoulders, wrapped his arms around her and laid himself behind her in a similar position. He twirled a bit of her hair, then clasped his hands together over her stomach. David Attenborough's voice rang out from the speakers. The couple was warm and content, and mesmerized by the bizarre creatures of a thousand leagues dancing on the screen in front of them. After a few minutes, Jen shifted her weight a bit. James knew what that meant, and he cuddled up closer to her. The documentary passed slowly, covering the topics of deep sea vents, migration patterns of fish, and the evolutionary advantages of translucent skin.
    Jen squirmed a little more. She turned her head over to look at James with her deep brown eyes.
    "How much longer?" she questioned innocently.
    "Forever," mumbled James.
    "Well, I think the hot chocolate's gone through my system. I really gotta go!"
    "I'd like it if you stayed here for the rest of the show. Just the two of us, curled up together."
    "I can hold it a little longer..." she admitted.
    James tucked his head to the side of hers, so it leaned over her shoulder, and whispered in her ear.
    "You know what I want to happen, but try to hold on. Big girls don't have accidents."
    Jen realized what he meant, and her complexion darkened with embarrassment. Then she smiled, relieved to know that she wouldn't be judged for what would happen later.
    "I'm getting some popcorn," announced James.
    "Should I take a potty break?" Jen responded.
    "You can hold it."
    Jen fake-pouted but continued to lie on the couch while James made the popcorn. Eventually, he made his way back over and resumed his position.
    "Here, turn your head, that way I can feed popcorn to you."
    The two of them under the blanket continued to watch the movie, with James putting popcorn in Jen's mouth every once in a while. For about five minutes, they sat in silence.
    "I'm kinda thirsty now," said Jen.

    "You want something with caffeine? That way you don't fall asleep?"

    "Mhm," replied Jen.

    "I'll get you some tea."

    "Get back here fast! I like you hugging me."

    James poured the tea carefully and added some honey.

    "Oh, I can't take that sound!" Jen exclaimed, referring to the tea being poured.
    "You'll make it."
    Jen moaned and put one of her hands between her legs. James clambered back onto the couch, and positioned himself behind her. He put his hand over hers.
    "Ohh. Tea now, please!"
    With her free hand, Jen received the glass from James, raised it to her lips, and drank from it. She could feel James' heartbeat behind hers. It just felt so nice to be in a comfortable position, under a fuzzy blanket with someone who cared about her. James patted her hand and then moved his hands back to the clasped position over her stomach. The next ten minutes were fairly uneventful. Then the documentary ended.
    "Hah! I made it!" said Jen, who tried to get up.
    "Not just yet, miss." James' arms were still around her, and she couldn't fully stand.
    "Lie back down."
    She was excited but a little nervous.
    "I drank a whole bottle of water before I went to bed last night plus everything this morning. Omigosh I gotta peee!"
    She sank back into the cushions, now holding herself with both hands.
    "Help me hold?"
    She made her best puppy dog eyes.
    James smirked a bit.
    "What if I do this instead?"

    He moved his hands from over her stomach to over her bladder and pressed them down into it. Jen audibly gasped and James heard the undeniable trickle of urine. The warm wetness radiated out from Jen's crotch and spilled over her left leg. It flowed down both sides, soaking both her light (now dark) grey pajama pants and James' sweatpants. At first she was only letting out a trickle, trying to fight it, but once she remembered how good it felt, she actively pushed the warm pee out of her bladder, desperately seeking relief. Her face was blushing deeply, but her smile betrayed her. James ran one of his hands through her hair and looked at the massive, dark stain on the blanket that they were under. He let his eyes wander to the now yellowed spot of carpet beneath the couch.
    "It's okay, love. Everyone has accidents sometimes. Run along and get changed like a good girl."
    "What are you gonna do if it was on purpose? And what if I keep wearing the same panties?" challenged Jen in a mock feisty tone.
    "Oh, dear. I think that means you might need to be punished later." James winked at her.
    Jen felt her soaked nether regions with her hand, then stood up from the couch, her pants still dripping, so wet that the loose-fitting fabric clung to her, highlighting her curves. James watched from the couch, his own pants somewhat damp from her accident. He smiled encouragingly at her, and she twirled around, showing off the stain and her figure.
    We're going to have lots of fun soon, thought James.
  24. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to desperation_fan in Marvel/MCU Stories   
    Ah, I didn't realize Tandy was still underage in the tv/movie universe. That was actually why I didn't suggest Rogue, because I wasn't sure of her age in the movies. And I completely understand on Sue.
  25. Upvote
    NothingLeft reacted to Luxanna in Hi, a new member here!   
    Hiya!!
    I'm Luxanna, I'm brazillian and super into omorashi. I already did a few ex-boyfriends and crushes of mine get into wetting, but I guess no one compares with me and my love for this practice. 
    Well, being a really shy person makes me only appreciates other people pee instead of wetting myself, but getting into this forum maybe helps me having courage to start practicing omorashi! 
    Thank you for reading this (poor written, I guess) message, feel free to talk to me when ya see me around! 
    Bye! ❤️
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