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  1. A/N: Starring my OTP, Cyborg and Grid. Enjoy! "W-where am I...?" Cyborg woke up unable to move. His sight not yet clear, the poor teen titan groaned as he shook himself in an attempt to break free. But to no avail. Eventually, as his vision sharpened more and more, Cyborg could make out his surroundings. He was a few feet off the ground in a dark laboratory of sorts. He also realized his groans sounded a bit muffled, like something was blocking his mouth. That's when he heard the unmistakeable cackle of his arch-nemesis, Grid. "You are beneath me, Cyborg!" he snarled, reiterating something he'd said so many times before. But only this time, Cyborg began to genuinely believe his enemy's words. There was nothing he could do to escape his restraints, which had him confined to the wall Grid had tied him to. Cyborg tried to issue a muffled cry in response. Grid simply laughed at his gagged captive's pathetic vocalization and continued with his monologue. "By the end of this procedure, your shivering, frail self shall collapse with no way to recover, and your body will be in my hands," he said. He suppressed a laugh, and then took a few steps toward the weak Cyborg. "Let's get right to it," he mocked. Soon enough, Cyborg was unbound from the wall, only to be bound to a chair in another part of the room. His mouth still covered, poor Cyborg felt useless as his cybernetic powers were almost impossible to utilize in this predicament, and struggled against resigning to his fate of lending Grid his body. At that moment, Grid strutted into the room, his chest up haughtily. He cleared his throat, and then he huffed as he snapped his fingers. Cyborg was directed towards Grid's mechanical, skull-like visage. "If you disobey," Grid warned Cyborg, "you shall experience severe repercussions which will not allow you to live another day." A brief moment of silence passed, and then Grid resumed. "Now," said the sentient cybernetic system, "forget everything and pay attention to me, and me alone; lay back and close your eyes, let your mind drift away." Cyborg hesitated, but he did as he was told, as there was nothing inherently bad about it. His head, which he was ever so trying to clear until he was in peace, lay against the headrest of the chair obediently and his eyes were shut. Grid clenched his left hand into a fist and aimed it between Cyborg's legs, laughing to himself. Suddenly, Cyborg felt an onset of pressure grow in his bladder like a weight ton sitting dormant on his pelvis. As the sensation pressed down on his lower region more and more, Cyborg grimaced and couldn't help trying to squirm a bit. However, he didn't want anything to leak. So he relaxed his muscles, save for his continuously tightening bladder muscle, and tried to remain perfectly still. A few agonizing seconds passed, and then Cyborg decided he couldn't take it anymore. His eyes opened, bloodshot, and he tried as hard as he could to sit up in the chair he was tied to. "Grid..." Cyborg said as best as he could with his mouth taped. Suddenly, he realized it was Grid that was causing him to feel like he had a full bladder. Risking repercussion, Cyborg angrily looked Grid in the grill. "I can control you," Grid taunted, trying to intimidate Cyborg. "I will make your urinary urgency so strong, you would do anything to escape the discomfort and pain. Unless you are able to suffer the humiliation of urinating, of course." During this, Grid continued to increase Cyborg's need to go. Cyborg felt hell raising in his privates; a flow of urine rushing through, and trying so hard to break free from, his bladder. But, of course, Cyborg held it in, as he didn't want even further torment. Eventually, the pressure became too painful for Cyborg. One more minute like this, and it was going to explode. So Cyborg closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and let it all go naturally. A stream of urine came pouring out of Cyborg's bottom, soaking the chair he was in. The steel sentinel had no regrets about it. He needed to find a way to end his misery. Grid watched the puddle of urine form at the bottom of the drenched chair and chuckled. "I knew you were going to do it," he said quite mockingly. He strode over to the heavily relieved hybrid and tore the piece of tape gagging him off his mouth. "Why would you do that to me?" said Cyborg as he found himself able to speak again. "For my amusement. We're not done yet." Cyborg gasped as even more trouble awaited him. He'd already went through that painstaking experience of holding his urine; what more could Grid possibly have in store for him? He was about to find out...
  2. Raiden scanned over the compound, noting the patrol routes of the PMC soldiers. From what he had gathered, the main database inside held important intel pertaining to the Patriots... and any intel he could get his hands on was invaluable. Though it was dark and rainy, he needed to keep as low a profile as possible, for fear that someone might order a wipe on the database should the alarm raise. Tossing his leather trenchcoat aside, he dropped down onto a roof inside the compound, making nary a sound. As he landed, a small red warning lit up on his heads-up display, "Nanomachine purge required" it read. A slight grunt, silently cursing as he felt a slight pressure in his lower abdomen. It was a small price to pay to become a cyborg like him; the majority of his body, and even his very blood replaced by nanomachines and cybernetics. For familiarity and convenience, the process of releasing damaged or spent nanomachine fluid was done in the same manner as urination in an organic human... although he had much 'harder' fail-safes in place. Shaking his head to clear it of stray thoughts, he returned his attention to the mission. He dropped to the ground and moved to the door of the building in front of him. The database was inside, he was sure. Entering, he moved over to what appeared to be the console, pulling a USB drive from a small pouch at his waist. Tapping into the console he used his nanomachines to bypass the password screen, and set the computer to copy all data to the drive. Otacon could sort through it later. The estimated wait time: ten minutes. Raiden let out a groan, but knew it was the faster choice. Peeking out of a window he noted that the masked soldiers outside seemed content to stick to their posts or patrol routes, which was fortunate. Suddenly, the notification appeared in his vision again, and this time it remained constant. He could only hope that his systems would hold out until he could get clear. He began to pace slightly, not having anything else to do until the download was complete. Minutes passed, although they felt like hours, and the download still wasn't done. Worse yet, the purge indicator in his vision was flashing quickly, and he felt an intense pressure between his legs besides. Tapping his foot he glared at the console as if it would speed up from intimidation value, but it merely loaded another tick on the bar as if to mock him. He resisted the urge to kick the machine in frustration. A minute later, and suddenly, the indicator went from red, to yellow, reading "Commencing emergency purge protocol..." and his heart sank. Feeling the pressure shift in his lower belly, he instinctively reached and clutched at himself, as if to hold his cybernetic urethra shut, but he knew it was no good; the purge had begun, and he felt the first warmth of spent nanomachine fluid enter the tight confines of his bodysuit, quickly spreading across his lap and beginning to trickle down his thighs. "N-no! Nonononoooooo..." He whined, feeling absolutely helpless... and for the first time in years, he was! The 'purge' continued for three minutes, every agonizing second counted down on his heads-up-display as he stood there, relieving himself and unable to stop. By the time the indicator hit zero and turned green. A puddle four feet across on average had formed under him, consisting of pale, lightly-glowing fluid. Had Raiden the blood to do so, he would have been blushing... instead, he was filled from head to toe with heat and embarrassment. He looked to the console and, noting that the download was complete, he ejected the drive and slipped it back into the pouch. He quickly made his way back to the roof... though the mission had been successful, he had hoped to leave less of a trace. It seemed he still had a long ways to go before he could live up to the legend of Solid Snake...
  3. Cyborg slowly raised his eyelids and awoke to see himself laying in bed, in his room, in the apartment the newly-formed Justice League called their headquarters. Most of his surroundings seemed no different than usual; however, something wasn't quite right, and that was a wet sensation he noticed stemming from underneath his body, like he was sleeping on a puddle. Lifting the covers, Cyborg sat up and realized where this mysterious water had came from as soon as he inhaled. "What the hell..." How could Cyborg, someone who'd never done it in his youth and was currently a college-aged young adult, suddenly wet the bed? The black teen felt his face flush. "I-I can't..." he stammered to himself. Immediately, he sprung off the bed like it was a trampoline, grabbed the damp sheets off it and stuffed them in his arms, and quickly ran as fast as he could to the laundry room, where he'd wash all evidence of his bladder failure right off. He had to make it downstairs before anyone saw him, which would probably be impossible. And indeed it was; Barry came in and saw the beet-faced Cyborg holding his bedsheets. "What's wrong, Cyborg?" Barry asked. "N-n-nothin'. I swear. I'm f-f-fine," nervously muttered Cyborg. Based on his expression and the telltale red blush, Barry deduced that Cyborg had wet the bed. "Did you... go #1 in the middle of the night?" A brief pause, then "YES! Yes I did." Cyborg's embarrassment grew stronger, and he felt like wanting to die, right there, right at that moment. "P-p-please don't tell anyone. Please." "I promise I won't," said Barry. "Trust me." "Okay, if ya say so..." Cyborg replied with an air of suspicion. Having the entire Justice League know of his new bedwetting problem would be the end of the world for him; he'd no longer be able to take seriously. Combined with the robotic equipment grafted onto him, which made him look like a weird mismatch of human and machine, the incident had Cyborg pretty ashamed of living on this Earth. He decided to talk it over and try to have himself move on. "Come on, Cyborg," he said under his breath. "Even adults wet the bed once in a while. So what? It happened just once. There's no way it's gonna be a recurrin' problem like you're a little kid or somethin'..." Then he resumed his trip to the laundry room to wash his sheets. The day went by with no question from Barry or the rest of the Justice League about what had happened that morning. Barry did promise not to tell a soul, after all. Strangely, Cyborg didn't have to use the bathroom at all. The average human went at least once or twice per day, and even though Cyborg was, well... he was still an average human. That night, Cyborg cautiously laid down to sleep. His mind was focused on possibly wetting the bed a second time. Trying to quell his worries, Cyborg reiterated what he had told himself earlier that day. "C'mon. It happened ONCE and that's it," he said before he dozed off. Cyborg dreamed a relatively mundane dream like he always did; this time, he was tossing a football in the air and catching it. During this, he was slightly humming a vague tune to himself. Suddenly, a wave of water the size of a tsunami barged into Cyborg's living room and caught the poor young adult hero in its grasp. Cyborg desperately struggled to stay afloat, gasping for air as he felt the water level rising. His cries for help went unheard by everyone. His dad nor the Justice League were there to save him; it was just Cyborg vs. the tidal wave surrounding him, sucking him in. Eventually, Cyborg felt himself becoming weaker and weaker as the water got in his mouth, disrupting his breathing; he hadn't got it in his bones to continue fighting against the torrent he was immersed in. He had no choice but to finally succumb and drown, his last "words" being a gurgling wail of agony. Cyborg woke up with a jolt; catching his breath to reassure himself he hadn't actually drowned in a humungous pool of water and it had all been a dream. The cause of the giant wave's appearance in his dream became more apparent when he glanced downwards... he had wet the bed again. The iron-fisted man became speechless at the puddle of urine he'd made in his sleep, knowing this was the second night he'd done it. He got off the bed and took the wet sheets, heading downstairs toward the laundry room, hoping he wouldn't awake anybody. Part 2 is comin' soon...
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