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"I suppose it would be pretty be fair to say that, by the time the apocalypse came, nobody was really surprised. The first outbreak was the Green Scare back in 2013, where a sudden, violent mania suddenly took control of a small town in South Carolina, driving all of the residents insane. In a panic, the Office of Disease Analysis was created to isolate and neutralize the cause. And they succeeded. ODA prevailed when everyone else thought the zombie apocalypse was upon us. In 2015, another epidemic arose in Georgia, much more resilient than the first. ODA once again responded and terminated the threat. In 2016, Louisiana was struck. Amid the panic, ODA began to expand its power, creating new sub-organizations such as the Public Health Commission and the Ministry of Epidemiology. Don’t let the professional names fool you, these were tyrannical parties, bent on containing the infection and exterminating the infected. The rest of the world watched with bated breath, all were terrified of the spreading disease, now ominously known only as “the Contagion”. Then, in late 2016, an outbreak erupted in the UK. That was all it took to blow the house of cards over. Nations everywhere shut down their harbors and airports, fearing they, too, might suffer an outbreak. It is 2018, now. Over the last 2 years, outbreaks have gone from being a yearly occurrence to being monthly, and now only weekly. People have become isolated and paranoid, and ODA is losing control of the situation. There is a lot to know about ODA, the Contagion, the crumbling world around us, but our story has a more humble beginning to it. Our story begins with a small group of three people whose evacuation didn’t quite go to plan…" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to my interactive story, The Contagion! A terrible plague has ravaged the land, and begun the zombie apocalypse that every gun nut has always dreamed of. There’s just a few points that I want to cover before we can truly begin: 1. This story will be told from the perspective of 1 of 3 characters, and you guys get to decide who that is. While every character will remain in the party, and they will still have accidents, you will only be able to fully control a single character. There will be times when the perspective temporarily shifts to a different character, and there may even be times when the option to completely permanently change perspective is available. 2. This story will feature a main male character who is subject to accidents, along with 2 females. More characters may join the party as it progresses. 3. This story will absolutely feature messing. A lot of it. 4. This story will most likely wind up considerably darker than most others that I’ve written. Characters will get hurt, do bad things, and be put in very horrible situations. 5. And lastly, just to add some risk and unpredictability, the results of a lot of the actions you guys select will be determined via d20 roll. Not all, but a lot. With all of that out of the way, let’s introduce our cast. Leo Taylor Bio: The younger brother of Grace Taylor. His quiet, reserved speech on top of a decisively unimpressive stature and musculature makes Leo the last person anyone would expect to survive any kind of disaster. Despite his physical shortcomings, Leo has managed to survive thanks to his shortness, speed, agility, and quick wit. He always manages to find some way out of any trouble that comes his way. Though the thought of being alone terrifies him, both Grace and Angela know that he’s likely the only one of them who could survive alone. Appearance + Equipment: Leo is younger than his companions, being only 17. He is short for his age. He has light skin and shaggy, messy brown hair. Currently, he wears a green hoodie and some blue jeans. He possesses a small pistol, some ammunition, and a combat knife. Continence: Bladder control - Low, prone to leaking. Bowel control - Medium low. Fear/Stress Tolerance - Low, he will lose control easily. While Leo may always find or invent a way out of dangerous situations, he hasn’t yet discovered a way to do so without needing a change of pants. Being the timid, nervous sort of person he is, he’s always had a little trouble keeping his bowels and bladder under control. After the apocalypse, this has manifested itself in him being too shy to ask his companions to stop for a bathroom break, along with him being pretty easily scared to the point of leaking, if not flat out voiding himself in his clothes. Grace Taylor Bio: The elder sister of Leo. Grace is a respected and admired individual. Prior to the end of the world, she was a police officer, and one with a stunning record. Talented, intelligent, and strong, she was very well suited for her line of work. Evidently, she was pretty well suited for the apocalypse, too. Granted, a whole lot of her survival knowledge comes from video games and movies, but it’s served her well enough so far. Appearance + Equipment: She is 25. Similar to her brother, Grace has light skin and brown hair, though hers is kept tied in a small ponytail. She is fairly tall, and fairly fit. Currently, she wears an unbuttoned blue shirt on top of a white tee shirt, and dark blue jeans. She also wears an old, gray baseball cap that she’s owned for many years. She is the most well-armed of the group, carrying a bolt action rifle and her police handgun. She also carries a police baton. Continence: Bladder control - High Bowel control - Medium Fear/Stress Tolerance - Mixed, fear is high, stress is low. Details are below. Grace is no stranger to terrifying and dangerous situations, considering her line of work. Undoubtedly, during the early days of her career, the more intense conundrums saw her pissing or soiling her pants, but those days are long past. However, Grace has always had stomach problems, ever since she was a kid. Today, performing exceptionally strenuous physical activity will often cause her bowels to leak, or even totally empty. Angela Blake Bio: While she is unrelated to the Taylor siblings, Angela has been a close friend to both of them for many years. Before the apocalypse, she was a librarian. Like Leo, she is not the type of person you might expect to see outlive everyone else in a disaster. And, well, you wouldn’t really be wrong to think that way. Angela is not a skilled fighter or survivalist. At all. She has survived mostly by doing whatever Grace tells her. She is, however, fairly good at keeping the others going. She is decently skilled at mending clothes and wounds. She is also an excellent cook and organizer, so she is generally left in charge of supplies. Even beyond those skills, though, she is simply a very charming and optimistic person, and is usually able to inspire her friends to keep going, no matter what. Appearance + Equipment: She is 23. She has pale white skin, due to all the time she spends indoors. Her hair is black, perfectly straight, and stretches down to her back. Currently, she wears a light pink sweater and a long purple skirt that reaches nearly to her ankles. A slim pair of glasses adorns her face. She is equipped with a small revolver and a switchblade. Generally speaking, she carries their supplies, due to her skill at managing them, unless an item proves too heavy. Continence: Bladder control - Really low. Bowel control - High. Fear/Stress Tolerance - Extremely low. Angela has somewhat of a weak bladder, and it’s always been a bit of a problem for her. Scary movies or games, Halloween haunted houses, even just startling pranks, all of them had a tendency to leave her slightly damp. When the end of days rolled around, Angela found it nearly impossible to keep herself dry. Curiously, however, neither Grace nor Leo have ever seen her shit herself, nor even mention the need to relieve herself. For whatever reason, despite her weak bladder, her bowels are stronger than anyone’s. Which character will you control? A). Leo Taylor B). Grace Taylor C). Angela Blake

I saw Ashe, and knew what I had to do. This story also includes some fine art of our favorite cowgirl done by Livinginfinite. You can see more of his excellent art on his tumblr: https://thelivinginfinite.tumblr.com/ There will be a part 2, I just decided to split it up because it was really long and it was taking too much time, so I figured I'd just post the first Ashe part for now. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “All right, saddle up, everyone!” The commanding voice of Ashe issued over the clamor of the Deadlock gang. The various thieves, crooks, outlaws and other vagabonds stopped in their tracks as they heard the voice of their leader, “We got a score, and soon. I want every gun loaded, every bomb prepped, and I want everyone to know the plan!” Ashe stood atop a tall stack of crates, overlooking the crowd gathering in front of her. Her colossal Omnic guardian stood to the side, watching on. There was not a peep from the gang once Ashe took the stage; everyone in the Deadlock knew better than to piss off their fierce leader. There was no shortage of tales of her chaotic, spiteful and vengeful nature. Everyone in the gang knew that Ashe’d have Bob wring their necks if they so much as looked at her funny. Ashe, naturally, adored the fear and respect her underlings had for her. She began to outline their plan; it was a relatively simple one, just a smash-and-grab on a nearby bank. However, as Ashe laid out the plan to her crew, she began to feel the urge to pee, and this was a problem for her. She was one of the last people you might think would have troubles with any sort of bathroom matters, but you’d be in for a surprise. Years of fighting, drinking, firefights, and explosives had taken their toll on Ashe, and left her with certain… “weaknesses” in regards to her bladder and bowels. Weaknesses that required the young woman to wear diapers. No one except for Bob knew about her protection, and she aimed to keep it that way. Fortunately for her, her long coat obscured anyone’s view of her rear, preventing them from seeing the bulky garment bulging through her pants. Still, though, Ashe greatly preferred to avoid using the thing when in front of her crew, which became a problem as she felt her need to relieve herself rising. She had very little control over her bladder, and in the middle of her speech, she felt the space between her legs begin to grow hot and soggy. Her cheeks reddened, and she found herself stuttering slightly while speaking. She cleared her throat, and continued speaking, doing her best to ignore the fact that she was still urinating on herself. Her diaper happily soaked up her pee, growing and swelling as it did so. The hot wetness spread around, thoroughly saturating her privates before travelling to her backside and soaking into the fabric there. Astoundingly, she was still peeing, too. Ashe was just wrapping up her speech when she felt something that nearly made her heart stop: a drop of urine slowly winding down her thigh. Her diaper was leaking. “Er, and that’s about everything,” Ashe hastily concluded her speech, “So start gettin’ ready, we’re headin’ out ASAP!” She jumped down off the crates, wincing as her diaper squished from the movement. She and Bob walked away from the crew and, when they were out of earshot of anybody, Ashe leaned over to ask, “Bob! I peed while I was talkin’, was it noticeable?” In response, her silent partner simply gave a thumbs-up, signalling that she was good. Ashe exhaled in relief. Now she just needed to get changed, then she’d be ready to head out on their excursion. They came upon a two-story building near Route 66 that the Deadlock had appropriated as a temporary headquarters; the upstairs of which was being used as Ashe’s room. “Just gimme a sec, Bob, I just gotta changed,” she said, ascending the stairs. Bob held out his hand in a sort of “wait for me!” gesture, but Ashe stopped him, “It’s not that bad, Bob. I’ll be fine,” she said, still grateful for his concern. Entering into her room, Ashe tossed her coat to the side, and prepared to further undress in a way that had become routine since her incontinence had fully manifested… only, she stopped when she saw what was in her room. An exceptionally tall, slender, orange-haired woman stood imposingly in her room. Around her were several unconscious Deadlock members, several of them lying in puddles with lumpy bulges in their pants. The tall woman turned quickly to face Ashe. Ashe reached for her rifle, but did not draw it when she realized that the woman had no weapon, and was simply smiling and steepling her fingers at her arrival. She kept her hand on her gun, just in case. “Ah, at last,” the woman began, her Irish accent only raising more questions about who she was, “I was growing tired of waiting for you.” “You got five seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t blow you away here and now, lady!” The Irish woman chuckled before putting her hand on her chest, “I am Moira, I represent a party whose goals I feel can align with your own.” “Uh-huh. That why you took out so many of my guys?” “Now I did try to tell them I wasn’t here to hurt anyone,” She gave one of them a little kick, causing the downed woman to groan a little, “they are still alive.” “And what goals do you think we have in common, you psycho?” “Simple: There’s a woman I want to hunt down. There’s a man you want to hunt down.” “Yer talkin’ about McCree.” “Mmhm,” Moira nodded, “Turns out our respective targets are fairly well acquainted.” “Cut to the chase, already!” “I’m trying to do away with an old colleague of mine- one Angela Ziegler- and she would most certainly know how to go about finding your old friend,” Just mentioning McCree made Ashe tighten her grip on her rifle, “My organization didn’t want to spare any resources on what they deemed a ‘personal vendetta,’ so I’m left pretty short-handed. I’ve got a very simple offer for you, Ashe: help me take care of this thorn in my side, and I’ll let you interrogate her for McCree’s location before we… tidy up.” “... Interestin’... ” Ashe murmured, “Now, what’s stoppin’ me from callin’ my friend Bob up here and having him snap you in half like the twig you are for disrespectin’ me and my gang like this?” Moira scowled slightly, then seemed to vanish from sight in a puff of purple and black smoke. “Wha-” Ashe exclaimed. Only a split second later, Moira reappeared in a similar cloud of dark smoke, with her right hand gripping Ashe’s face tightly. Where each finger pressed into her skin, she felt a painful burning sensation. “I am what’s stopping you,” Her fingers dug deeper, still burning intensely, “I’m here to offer you an alliance to benefit the both of us, not to make enemies,” Ashe’s entire face began to tingle, then sting when Moira’s hand seemed to glow purple, “But if you are so intent on it, I can assure you that I am a powerful and deadly enemy.” Ashe had no idea what was happening. It felt like her head was being burned away. She’d fought in thousands of intense fights, but she’d never seen anything like this before. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest, and she couldn’t find her words. A sound, a bit like a mudslide, filled the room as Ashe’s bowels were emptied into her soaked diaper. She felt the foul mess drop out of her body, piling up in her diaper, filling the spaces between her legs. The mess was soft, and spread around quickly. She was sure she felt some of it slip out of the diaper and into her actual pants. Her bladder had found more contents to lose, as well; while she was soiling herself, a powerful stream of urine flooded her diaper once more. The garment was soaked and full to bursting, and the urine not so much “leaked” as poured out of the diaper, which had lost all pretense of functioning by this point. Her thighs were suddenly warmed and wet by the twin rivers of pee flowing down her legs. Moira arrogantly smirked the entire time this was transpiring. Once Ashe had finished wetting and soiling her pants, the intimidating woman let go of her face, saying, “Seems like we have an understanding, then,” With a little flick of her other hand, a small, golden cloud was sprayed onto Ashe’s face. She expected more pain or further humiliation, but was surprised to feel the burning sensation fade away. She frantically patted her head with both hands, searching for damage, but none was to be found. “Stop worrying, I’ve healed you up.” Moira took a step back, and extended her hand- the healing one- out for a handshake, “We don’t have to be enemies, Ashe. Let’s work together, and take care of two pests at once,” Ashe slowed her breathing, and found her voice, “And you’re sure this woman you’re after is gonna know where McCree ran off to?” “I’m certain of it,” “... Okay, yeah… You got a deal, Moira,” Ashe reached out, and shook the mysterious woman’s hand. “Excellent. I’ll contact you again in about an hour with some instructions. For the time being, you may wish to devote some time to cleaning yourself up.” The deal struck, Moira vanished into thin air once more. Ashe looked around, but did not see her reappear anywhere nearby. Ashe absolutely hated the woman, but she did have a point about cleaning up. She hadn’t made a mess of herself this severely in a very long while. Now she probably would need Bob’s help to get changed. Not to mention that were several injured people unconscious in her room, many of them in similar states of needing a change. “Bob!” She shouted as she exited the building to get her Omnic companion, “Need some help here, Bo-” “Ms. Ashe!” Her heart almost stopped when she was greeted by a small group of Deadlock members outside the building. They looked somewhat panicked and had their weapons ready. “We heard someone say that an intruder was attacking us! Are you okay, Ms. Ashe?” The person at the forefront of this small group, a young woman, asked. Her eyes drifted downwards, settling on the obviously wet crotch of Ashe’s pants. And Ashe was sure they could smell her other accident. The Deadlock woman averted her eyes, and the others present slowly caught on and did the same. Ashe wanted to die on the spot. “Oh, um… Did you, uh… need a minute, Ms. Ashe?” The woman’s voice grew fainter and fainter as she spoke. Something snapped inside of her, and Ashe felt her shame get replaced by anger. She couldn’t stand the way they were pitying her right then. Her blood beginning to boil, she took an intimidating step forward, “I’m doin’ just fine, kid. You came by at the perfect time, as a matter of fact. There’s about ten people knocked out in my room, and unless you’re plannin’ on joinin’ them, I suggest you get to clearin’ them out!!” The Deadlock woman almost fell down as she retreated backwards, away from Ashe. As she’d hoped, a wet stain formed on the woman’s crotch, and travelled down her thighs. A few others in the group were doing the same. “Get movin’!” Ashe commanded. The woman frantically nodded, then ran into the building. The others followed after her. Ashe smirked when she noticed the messy bulge in the back of the woman’s pants. “Bob!” She called out. After a second, the large Omnic stood by her side. “Help me get cleaned up. After that, we’ve got a new plan...”

Hello, everyone, I have a new story. This one's gonna be a bit different from my usual ones, and is much slower paced than the others. This first chapter contains desperation and fear wetting, but later ones will involve messing as well. Any feedback is always appreciated, and I hope you guys enjoy. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “So this path here will get us there faster?” Hazel asked. “Faster than most,” Alma replied. Their horse-drawn carriage rattled along the cobblestone path. The old, rickety wheels squeaking in protest at the movement. Hazel’s eyes scanned the treeline surrounding them. Tall oak trees surrounded them, creating an almost impenetrable-looking forest wall. Hazel’s heart skipped a beat as a sudden bout of claustrophobia surged through her. “... And, where did you learn about this path?” Hazel continued her questioning, still staring off into the forest. “At the tavern, just before we left Westacre,” Alma pointed her thumb behind them, gesturing to the town they’d set out from earlier that day, “A traveler recommended this road, said it would get us over to Arnwick twice as fast as any other path,”. “Did he perhaps mention if this path was… safe?” Hazel managed to keep most of her concern out of her voice, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with this place. “Most paths aren’t,” Alma answered flatly. While her left hand continued to clutch the reins, her right one hoisted up her elegant crossbow, “That is why I’m carrying this,” Hazel’s eyes fell to the quiver that was full almost to bursting with crossbow bolts. What little daylight remained danced off the silver heads of the bolts. Silver, she thought, so she’s expecting more than just wolves. Alma turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at Hazel, her expressionless face changed to a calm smile, “I do this sort of thing for a living, Hazy. I haven’t been killed yet, and I’m sure as hell not gonna let you get killed on your first outing” Hazel looked into Alma’s pale blue eyes, and she believed her. Alma had been a hunter for many years, and she was damn good at it. She had also once been Hazel’s best and closest friend, until circumstance had driven them apart six years ago. Only two weeks ago had the two rekindled their friendship. Hazel had expected the two would practically be strangers after so much time apart, but the moment they started talking, it was as though they hadn’t been apart for more than a day. Hazel was further comforted as she inspected her friend’s apparel and equipment. The differences in their career choices were evident just from a single glance. Alma wore a black, wide-brimmed hat, a dark brown leather coat that reached halfway down her thighs, a crimson shirt, and black pants. A cross necklace dangled near her modest breasts. Years-old scrapes, tears, and claw marks dotted her coat. More than a few knives were sheathed on her belt. And Hazel knew that, though Alma’s clothes hid them, her physique was nothing to scoff at. Her brown hair was pulled into a loose bun behind, leaving some strands free, and allowing for a clear view of her hardened facial features, which had been slightly tanned from her time in the sun. She looked every bit the demon-killer that she was. Hazel, by comparison, looked frightfully plain. Almost ironically memorable by virtue of being so forgettable. At least, by her own judgment- Alma and several others had insisted that she was being too hard on herself, but Hazel was unconvinced. Her blonde hair hung just past her shoulders, whipping ceaselessly about in the wind. She had the clean, unmarred face and hands of someone who’d never had to struggle for much. Her bright, green eyes stood out against the paleness of her face. Her small frame was covered by a dark red dress with black adorning its edges. It was old enough that she didn’t mind it getting dirty, and loose enough that she could run easily if she had to. She was nearly twenty-four years old, yet she still had an air of almost childlike innocence about her. Issues of her own confidence aside, she was reassured by her friend’s presence. Alma was the type of person to rise to any challenge, who would face any foe and not back down. Hazel felt that she, herself, was more the type to piss herself and hide if things got truly dangerous. Speaking of pissing, Hazel was beginning to feel the urge to relieve herself. She wondered how Alma handled this when she was out here, all alone. Surely, she couldn’t just stop a hunt, or leave her client behind to go water the grass. Did she just have to hold it? What did she do once she just… couldn’t anymore? Hazel chuckled lightly at the thought of this brave monster hunter having to wet her pants, then continue her job like nothing happened. What if she had to do worse? At any rate, she didn’t want to force Alma to stop the carriage for her, so she kept her mouth shut for the moment. To distract herself from her growing needs, she thought back to her home that she was leaving behind in Westacre. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d ventured beyond the boundaries of her home town. But monster attacks had reduced the traders and caravans coming in to a trickle, and she worried that the town would soon be dried up. It was a stroke of luck that she had reacquainted with Alma, who was extremely well-versed in braving the wilderness. The two agreed upon a plan to travel to Arnwick, a popular town that wasn't going away any time soon. She envisioned the lovely shop she would own in Arnwick, getting to know the new people, getting to try all the local flavors. It was a trivial thing to be excited over, but she was excited nonetheless. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Night had come. The two had made camp just off the road. Almost immediately, Alma had made a ring of salt around the camp. When Hazel had asked why, Alma answered that it would keep the beasts away, otherwise something would likely attack them in the night. Her answer had been quick and to-the-point, but it was nonetheless enough to frighten Hazel into holding her urine even longer. She didn’t wish to venture past the salt-line and into the dangerous woods to relieve herself, but she also didn’t wish to piss on the ground right in front of her old friend. So it was that she came to be inside of their tent with Alma sleeping soundly beside her. Hazel, however, was not asleep. She was lying on her side with both of her hands pressed into her womanhood. Her mind was racing as she weighed her options. She was mere moments from completely pissing herself and, at this distance, pissing on Alma as well. She really didn’t want to do that, but if she just peed outside the tent, Alma could wake up and find her in the middle of the act. And, of course, to venture beyond the salt-line… Of her three options, two were utterly humiliating, and one was potentially deadly. A quick psssshhh sound, accompanied by a sudden warmth at her crotch and on her hands made her blood run cold. She had just peed a little. She had to make up her mind quickly, or else her body would happily decide for her. She groaned internally, before forcing herself to rise, and walk outside the tent. She held herself tightly through her short, white nightgown, yet even so, every step threatened to be her last dry one. She hitched up the hem of her gown, and hooked her thumbs into her panties, preparing to lower them. Glancing back, she noticed Alma stirring slightly in her sleep. She would surely awaken at the noise that Hazel would make. Another quick spurt escaped from her, warming her groin once more. This time, however, she could feel a bead of wetness trickling down her right thigh. Groaning aloud this time, she moved for the salt-line. I just need a minute- less really! She thought, with great desperation, Just need to find a tree, empty myself, and come back, nice and simple! Once she was far away enough that she was sure Alma would not hear her urinating, she lowered her panties and squatted. Her body didn’t need any convincing to release its pent-up liquids. She sighed with deep, genuine relief as her pee splashed against the dirt and grass. The hissing sound dominated the otherwise quiet forest. She glanced down to inspect the damage to her underwear, and grimaced at the wet patch, a few inches in diameter. The white fabric had turned somewhat see-through. She would have to ensure that she was the one to wash their clothes, lest Alma happen upon her pissed-in panties. Hazel heard a sudden noise behind her. Nothing so simple as the snap of a twig, or the rustling of branches. It was a horrible, sucking sound, one that seemed to echo, despite being fairly quiet. Whatever the wind must sound like in Hell, she was sure it was a similar kind of sound. She was petrified with fright. Her hairs stood on end, and her bladder continued to empty, showing no signs of stopping, or even slowing. An eerie, iridescent greenish-blue light illuminated the forest around her, and the horrible, echoing sound was closer now. Shaking like a leaf, she blinked away tears. She felt an emptiness in her gut that made her feel like she going to vomit. She knew what this was: Fear. True fear. She’d been afraid before, or at least thought she had, but she had never known real terror like this. The echoing sound was so close, now, just behind the tree she was squatting near. She took as deep a breath as she could, yanked her panties back up, and sprinted back towards the camp. The light and the bone chilling sound it produced took off after her. She didn’t dare turn her head to look at it. She rushed through branches and bushes, feeling them tear her gown and cut into her flesh. She felt something else, despite her attempts to ignore it: hot urine coursing down her thighs. In the back of her mind, she realized that she had never stopped peeing, even after she had yanked her underwear back up. With each frantic step, droplets of piss were flung from her legs, which were steaming in the chill night air. Her movements had caused the pee to run in erratic rivulets all down her legs, and her panties were soaked from front to back. The wetness had even reach the front and back of her gown. She tried to call out for Alma, but she could not find her voice, only frightened whimpers emerged. Finally, after what felt like hours of running, she crossed back over the line of salt. If Alma was right, the creature should follow her past it. The combination of fear and exhaustion caused Hazel to trip, and her hand slammed down into the pots they’d use to cook the night’s meal. The metal instruments were flung about, making quite a lot of noise, but Hazel wasn’t the least bit interested in them. She rolled over, now laying on her back, then sat up. At long last, she saw the creature that had chased her. It looked like a man, but his flesh was rotted, and cloaked in a bright, greenish-blue light. A ghost, no doubt. Hazel had heard they haunted the forests, but she had never seen one. It just floated there, glaring hungrily at the girl. It seemed Alma was right about them not being able to pass the salt-line. Staring at the frightful creature, she felt the last of her urine trickle out of her, the warmth seeping into her bottom, then pooling below her. Most of her urine had passed, so her puddle was only a few inches across. In the blink of an eye, the flaps to the tent had flown open, and Alma emerged. She had clearly just been shaken from her sleep, and was only wearing her black bra and panties, along with her coat that had very hastily been thrown on. Her powerful, rippling muscles wound up and down her body, and her hair hung loose around her head. Her eyes darted from Hazel to the spirit, seeming to take in the situation almost instantly. Alma reached inside the tent, and retrieved her crossbow and a silver bolt. Faster than Hazel thought possible, the weapon was loaded and aimed at the ghost. Alma didn’t hesitate even for a second before letting the bolt fly. Unlike any other weapon would have done, the silver bolt penetrated into the ghost, jutting out of the spirit just as though it had struck flesh. Giving off an echoing howl, the spirit writhed in agony, then dissipated entirely. The bolt remained levitating in the air for a brief moment, then plummeted back down to earth. “Hazy, what did you-” Alma began sternly, but stopped as Hazel’s tear-filled eyes looked up at her. After a moment of silence, the hunter settled on saying “Are you alright?”. Hazel didn’t bother to see if her voice had returned, she just nodded. Alma lowered her hand, and offered it to Hazel. The moment that she was on her feet again, Hazel collapsed into Alma, wrapping her arms around her tightly, “Alma...” she choked out between sobs, “I was so… so scared...” Alma awkwardly returned the hug, trying to stabilize her friend, “I know, I know, but it’s okay now,”. Once Hazel had come to her senses, she realized that the pee-soaked cloth of her gown and panties had been pressed up against Alma’s thigh. She broke off the hug, and took a step back, embarrassedly covering the wet patch with her hands. Alma’s eyes followed the movement until they reached her crotch. Throwing her arm over Hazel’s shoulder, Alma lead her friend towards their supplies, “Let’s get you changed, then you need to rest,”. Hazel continued to lean into her friend for support until they retrieved a box that contained some spare clothes from the parked carriage. Alma averted her eyes, giving her some privacy. Hazel was ashamed as she realized how easy the whole situation could have been. Instead, she’d risked her life to try and stave off some embarrassment, and failed anyway. After a couple of minutes, Hazel emerged from the carriage, now wearing a clean set of underwear and a fresh gown. Her misery must have been pretty obvious, as Alma stopped her on their walk back to the tent. Next to each other, the hunter stood almost a full head taller than Hazel. Her face once again shifted to that warm smile, “Don’t look so sad, Hazel. This sort of thing happens all the time,” Hazel dared to meet her friend’s gaze, “Even to someone like you?” Hazel asked in harsh, skeptical voice. “What, you think I’ve never pissed my pants before? Never shit my pants before?” The hunter smiled earnestly, “Hazy, I fight those things almost every day. I’ve soiled more pairs of pants than you could count,”. Hazel looked away from her friend, eyeing the dirt. She felt a strong hand clasp her shoulder, then heard Alma speak again, “You are so hard on yourself, and you don’t deserve even a word of things I know you think about yourself,” Hazel felt more tears coming to her eyes, “I’ve never seen anyone want to be a better person more than you, Hazy; and that’s why I know that you’ve got what it takes to do this. That’s why I know you’ll come out of this just fine, and be stronger for it. That’s why...” she paused until Hazel looked her directly in the eyes, “That’s why I know that you’ll come out of this as a better person. Because you always do, even if you never realize it,”. Once again, Hazel hugged her friend tightly as she wept, although this time under much happier circumstances. The two returned to bed; Hazel was physically and mentally exhausted, and Alma was eager to return to sleep. They would need their energy for the road ahead. The journey to Arnwick had only just begun.

Guy is is so scared of having to jump of the top of a waterfall he floods his shorts in fear in front of all his friends. Also if possible could someone please make a downloadable file version of this video?

So I love writing, and I love Omo, but I've never tried writing Omo before. So, I figured, why not start with a short story about a game I frigging love, and see how people like it? If it turns out people like this, I do have some ideas for future installments. Let me know what you guys think. Warning: Messing, and it is described in good detail. If this story turns out popular, and people would prefer it without messing, future installments may or may not have it. Also fear wetting/messing. No one gets seriously injured or dies, but they do get pretty scared. Anyway, hope you like it. ---------------------------------------------------------- Widowmaker stood perched on a secluded rooftop, overlooking a narrow street below. King's Row at night was mercifully dark, and even her rather conspicuous costume was difficult to see to any observer. She felt something inside her... Happiness. Nostalgia. Even as dead as these emotions were to her, they were still there, and yes, she was happy to return to the site of one of her finest kills. Something else stirred within her, however: a rather pressing need for the restroom. Snipers are required to perch for long hours, without distraction. Even looking away for a couple of minutes could allow your target to escape. Mercifully, her ability to feel shame was even more muted than her ability to feel joy. She'd encountered this problem many times before, and would encounter it again. She spread her legs slightly, and prepared to solve the dilemma the same way she always had. With minimal resistance, her quite full bladder emptied. A faint hsssssssss could be heard, and she felt the golden liquid warmth pouring down her suit. Perhaps for this reason, her suit was made of a material that did not show the wetness, but she still could feel the warm, wet streaks coursing down her thighs, depositing into a surprisingly large puddle at her feet. The heat was nice, in the cold of King's Row. Her focus returned to the task at hand, for she had to keep a lookout for her target. With her bodily needs satisfied for the moment, she was able to pay much closer attention to the streets her prey would eventually walk down. "For the moment" was a rather key phrase, however, for her bathroom needs soon caught up with her again. This time, however, it would be a slightly... messier expulsion. She gave a slight sigh of annoyance. Like wetting herself, it was not her first time, and it would likely not be the last. It was just... much less convenient. And the smell. It revived her emotion of shame much the same as trips to King's Row rekindled her happiness. Making sure to keep her rifle up, the scope hovering over one eye, just in case her quarry happened by during, she bent her knees a small amount. Giving a small grunt, she forced her mess out. It pushed against the soft cloth of her panties, stopping when it met the resistance of her rubbery suit. Giving a bit more forceful of a push, her waste rocketed out of her with a wet squelch sound. The logs compounded somewhat, forming a lumpy, softball-sized bulge between the buttcheeks her suit so proudly outlined. The wet, sticky warmth covered her backside. The smell drifted upwards, ultimately meeting with her nose. It almost made her cringe a bit. Of all the things to remind her of her humanity, why did it have to be this? An energetic, electronic sound emanated alongside a pink light from behind her. Sombra. Of all the people... "Woah-ho, there, spider. Eat a little too much before the mission?", Sombra said, fanning the air in front of her nose. Widowmaker always did find Sombra and her taunting to be insufferable, but she was too valuable to Talon to give up. "I had to go, Sombra. It is better that my suit be ruined than the mission", Of course, logic wouldn't be enough to make the obnoxious little hacker shut up. "Besides, I still remember that time you went out drinking with that cowboy and came home with some sodden pants of your own". "Alright, alright. Point taken", Sombra said, a slight blush coloring her normally composed and calculating face. "Ooh! Is that her?!", Sombra said in a hushed whisper, "I'll cloak and get close to her". Widowmaker peered through her scope, down the street. Sure enough, there was the target. Angela Ziegler, she thought, Mercy. She didn't know why Talon wanted her dead, and she didn't care. A job was a job, end of discussion. She took aim, and carefully put her finger on the trigger... ---------------------------------------------------------- Mercy had been invited to some conference to showcase her advanced equipment and medical knowledge. Winston had organized some sort of event, hoping to show the good Overwatch had done, and was hoping that displaying some of their more advanced and more good-natured technology would be able to change some hearts and minds. Mercy had eagerly agreed. As such, she walked down the streets in her full armor, hoping to show it off. A sudden sound, like footsteps on the cobblestone roads suddenly echoed from a nearby alleyway. The streets were totally deserted except for her, so the noise made her a little uneasy. A sudden series of more rapid footsteps sounded off much closer, and she turned quickly in alarm. That proved to be life-saving, as a powerful bullet suddenly split the air where her head had been a second before. In a sudden panic, she threw both hands over her head, and hurrid into a nearby buidling whose door was open. She put her back to the wall, breathing very rapidly. Her hair hung down in her face, and sweat droplets began to form. And a strange, hot, wetness flowed down her legs. What was that? Oh. Despite being in combat what must have been hundreds of times, Mercy never did the sturdiest continence. More dangerous situations often saw her peeing, or worse, into her armored leggings; much to the joy of her companions, who often found how easily frightened she was to be quite funny. The most embarassing had to have been that surprise party, where they all jumped out, and she... Nevermind, a sniper was trying to kill her, her embarassing memories weren't important right now. She pulled out a communicator she used to keep in touch with her former Overwatch colleagues, and after what felt like an eternity, Winston answered. "Winston!", she said in a panicked and shaky voice. "Angela? What's the matter? Are you okay?" came his concerned reply. "Yes. No. I'm in trouble, but I'm not hurt, not yet," she stammered out, finding her words difficult to squeeze out. "Try and stay where you are! I'll be there in just a second!" his words were music to her ears. She set her large Caduceus staff aside, favoring her pistol. It wasn't much, but a good number of enemies had underestimated her pistol, which proved a rather fatal mistake. She jumped at the sudden sound of movement in the room with her, simultaneously feeling more of her pee leave warm trails down her shapely legs. She held up her pistol, and tried to stop shaking so hard. Suddenly, and without warning, a person appeared ahead of her, and to her right. Before she could adjust her aim and fire, the girl fired first, blasting Mercy's pistol out of her hands. The girl kept her smg trained on Mercy, and began walking towards her, tauntingly. Mercy's courage failed her, and she fell backwards against the wall, landing in her own puddle of urine with a wet splish. The girl smirked and chuckled a bit upon noticing her lapse in continence. "Well well, looks like no one can keep their pants dry, tonight," She said, pointing to Mercy's puddle of piddle. The girl made of point of aiming the smg directly at the doctor's head, "Look at the bright side, at least no one will know you did it before you died," she said as placed the barrel of the smg against Mercy's temple. Her fear totally overwhelmed, and she suddenly felt a weight leave her abdomen. Then she realized it hadn't just disappeared, it had travelled into her underwear. She had just soiled herself in fear. Her armored leggings were quite firm, and did not allow her mess to collect into a ball shape, but rather, it smoothed out like a pancake, covering her entire rear end. As she tried to regain her composure, her assailant did seem to notice the squishing noises and accompannying smell, her smirk growing to nearly impossible proportions. But, against Mercy's expectations, the girl pulled the gun away from her head. Looking down as condescendingly as possible, she said "Unless, of course, you'd like to make a deal,". It took Mercy a second to register what she'd just heard. She was coming back from the despair of being certain her life was over, and her senses weren't quite back to normal, yet. "W-what do you mean?" She quickly got out. The girl pointed a clawed finger at Mercy's staff, "I want you to give me your staff, and show me how it works. I've got some fun plans for it Do that, and I'll tell Talon I killed you," she extended her hand to the sitting woman, "Deal?". Mercy weighed her options. On the one hand, she didn't want to die; on the other, the Caduceus staff was a powerful tool, one she didn't want to fall into Talon's, well, talons. Then she remembered: Winston was coming. She was confident that Winston could make short work of these attackers, as she'd seen him decimate entire squadrons of Talon soldiers in the past. If she accepted the girl's offer, she could stall for time until Winston showed up. "Deal," Mercy said, reaching for the girl's hand. To her confusion, the girl threw her hand forward, touching one finger to Mercy's nose before pulling her hand back, saying "boop" while doing so. ---------------------------------------------------------- "Boop" Sombra, instead of helping Mercy to her feet, walked right over to the staff that was carefully set upon a nearby chair. She picked it up, and began flipping it over in hands, inspecting it. "So, how do you work this thing, doc?" Sombra said, pointing the staff at Mercy, who had found her way to her feet, drops and rivulets of her fear-induced pee running down her legs as she stood from her puddle. Taking the staff from Sombra, Mercy expertly flipped it to the correct holding position. Begrudgingly, she began to go over its various controls and abilities, Sombra's eyes widening with potential plots and schemes at each feature Mercy described. In the middle of the lesson, however, Mercy suddenly seemed to look behind Sombra. Just as Sombra noticed, Mercy delivered a powerful kick into her gut, forcing her backwards. The force of the kick sent numerous droplets of pee into the air. Sombra drew her smg, and levelled it at Mercy, "Do I need to make you piss youself again? Do you seriously think you can take me?" she said furiously. Now it was Mercy's chance to smirk, "Not alone", she said. Sombra's confusion was evident, but not for long as the wall behind her suddenly burst forth, revealing Overwatch's signature gorilla scientist: Winston. Sombra turned and fired wildly, unsure what was happening. Her aim was completely off, however, and she was knocked to the ground, lying on her belly. Winston drew his massive tesla cannon, and began firing it at the prone girl. "Trying to hurt my friends, huh?" Winston said, to the tune of Sombra shouting in pain, "Not on my watch, Talon". Sombra could barely even hear him, as electricity coursed throughout her body. As it caused every nerve and muscle in her body to go absolutely crazy, such unimportant things as not wetting herself were forgotten, as her crotch suddenly filled with hot, steaming urine. Content to share, the urine flowed outward, creating a sizeable puddle around Sombra's waist, even wetting her shirt a bit as she lay prone. Once it was clear that she was no threat, Winston moved over to Mercy, checking that she was alright. In the middle of her assurances that she was fine, a sudden clanging was heard against the door to the building. They both looked up to see one of Widowmakers venom mines on the door, primed and about to explode. Thinking quickly, Winston deployed a shield barrier, saving them from the poisonous gas. He noticed that the barrier inadvertently covered and saved Sombra as well. As the poisonous fog cleared, and the barrier vanished, the two suddenly noticed that Sombra was gone. Winston fired his tesla cannon around the room, hoping to catch her while invisible, but it was in vain, as Sombra had fled the building. She was making her way back to the rooftop occupied by Widowmaker, her pants, skirt and shirt all bearing a humiliating wet splotch that made her lack of control rather obvious. The chill in the air was rather unpleasant as her crotch and thighes suddenly felt frozen in their wet state. And she had even taunted Widowmaker for using the restroom on herself, but at least Widow had relieved herself in her pants intentionally. Something about the fact that Sombra simply lost control was even more insulting. Another crashing sound was heard behind her, as the gorilla broke through another wall. He was surrounded by a strange, blue glow, and whatever was left in Sombra's bladder flowed out into her panties as she realized it was the damage booster Mercy had described to her. It made the gorilla even more deadly. She almost screamed when the monkey leapt through the air towards her, before remembering that she was still invisible. No, they weren't going for her... But then where... Oh no. The gorilla had landed on the rooftop with Widowmaker, and Mercy followed closely behind him, healing and boosting him all the way. If she didn't get up there now, Widow could be killed. Throwing her teleporter to the rooftop, she activated, and one short flash of light later, was in the middle of the battle. She de-cloaked, and joined Widowmaker in unleashing a hailstorm of bullets on the pair of heros. Things were looking good, as they were damaging him much faster than Mercy could heal him, and he was resorting to holding up his hands to protect his face. They pressed the attack, but Winston had something up his sleeve. In the blink of an eye, she swore the gorilla had doubled in height, and now seemed to be seething with rage. The blue damage-boosting aura still encircled the massive primate, meaning this was going to hurt. A lot. With a sweep of one arm, he smashed into Widow, launching her against a wall. She slid down, and landed on her butt with gross squish, her mess from earlier having never been cleaned. Sombra prepared to get smashed by his massive arms, but instead found herself picked up, and held in the air. Two of his hands completely encircled her body, and their grip was iron. Winston leaned in close, blowing steaming how breath into her face. Her face mimicked the terror she felt inside, and her more substantial waste could no longer be contained. Whimpering, and eyes watering, she felt a sticky warmth covering her butt, and felt its weight growing substantially. More, more, and more came out, until she was certain she had soiled herself more thoroughly than the other two women combined. Her mess overloaded her panties, flowing into her pants. If one got a view up her skirt, they could see that the bulge was, in a word, enormous. Perhaps having an accident managed to work her fear out, but her professional mind suddenly returned, and she managed to wriggle one of her teleporters out, dropping a few feet away from herself and Winston. Activating it, she found herself suddenly free of his grip, and she sprinted over to Widow, who lay unconscious in a newly-created pool of pee, having wet herself again as Winston slammed her into a wall. She hurriedly grabbed Widow's grappling-hook arm, and made it launch upwards, grabbing hold of a ledge and pulling them to safety. Throwing the unconscious and very-in-need-of-a-shower sniper over her shoulders, Sombra cloaked once again, and began running for it, not caring about the squishing sounds coming from her pants, and trying not to think about what was running down her legs. ---------------------------------------------------------- As the duo escaped, Winston's Primal Rage subsided, and he collapsed onto the ground, his energy entirely spent. Mercy was by his side, more grateful than she'd ever been. She made sure to tell him what a lifesaver he was. "Oh, it- it was no problem, Angela," Winston stuttered, half out of exhaustion, and half out of not knowing how to take a compliment. "Say Winston?" Mercy began, looking at him with pleading eyes. "Yes?" "Before we go to the convention..." "Yes?" "Do you mind if I find some fresh clothes, first?"

Hello, everyone! Anyone who read any of my Overwatch stories will probably know what to expect, but for those new: I love fear wetting/messing, and there is a lot of it. While I'm only opening with the one short story here, this thread will be where I post any others I write. So for now, I hope you guys like it! The Battle of the Broken Shore An Alliance ship sailed for the Broken Shore. The Legion had returned, and a massive battle was unfolding there. The situation was dire, dire enough that King Varian Wrynn himself was coming to face the threat. Miriam and Lia, two Alliance knights in their full armor and colors, looked out at the pale, unearthly green glow on the horizon. After a few tours on Outland, Miriam had learned to be deathly afraid of the Legion. Lia, however, had never confronted so much as an imp. What a surprise she’s in for, thought Miriam. People were shouting suddenly. What was wrong? There was too much noise from every direction. All the ships, all the people shouting, the waves, the sounds of demons. DEMONS?! Strange, gargoyle-like creatures at begun attacking the ships. Some landed and entered into brutal melees with nearby soldiers, but some just grabbed an unlucky victim and flew off with them, taking them who-knows-where. “Come on, Miriam, we have to help!” Lia shouted, as she drew her sword and shield and made for the enemy, as one of the beasts landed on their particular ship. But Miriam did not move to help. She was completely still with fear. She’d seen what demons could do to even the strongest of mortals. She’d seen how many of them there were. As the gargoyle raked its claw across a knight, tearing his armor wide open, Miriam’s wavering control over her bladder failed. Hot urine streamed into, then through her panties, wetting them. She felt the urine flow down her toned, muscly thighs, then flowing out between the chainmail segments of her armor, loudly splattering onto the wooden floor beneath her, leaving a fairly embarrassing puddle. Lia was still foolhardy in her bravery, and climbed atop the demon, expertly shoving her sword into its neck. It screamed in pain before collapsing to the ground, dead. Despite this victory, Miriam’s fears were not abated, for she could only think that it took half a platoon of seasoned men and women just to kill one of the beasts. Lia strode over, a look of mild annoyance upon her face, “We could have used some help, you know,”. “I… I know, I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve seen what demons are capable of,” “Then why don’t you help us stop them?” “That’s why I’m here, but just… being face-to-face with one, I couldn’t move, I could only...” she glanced down at her puddle with shame. Lia took notice of the puddle, too. She place an armored hand on Miriam’s armored shoulder, and with some sympathy said “you can trust me to have your back, you know,”. She gave her shoulder a bit of a squeeze, “I can trust you to have mine, right?”. Miriam’s fear subsided a bit, “Yeah. Yeah, you can,”. A man up in the crow’s nest suddenly screamed down to the crew, “INFERNALS! EVASIVE ACTIONS!!”. Miriam might never have seen those strange bat demons before, but she was well acquainted with the dreaded infernals. Terrifying, towering monsters made of black rock and green, demonic fire. She looked to the sky, and sure enough, several meteors leaving fiery green trails rained from the heavens upon them. Miriam felt her bowels begin to loosen, for if an infernal crashed into their ship, no amount of skill or training would save them. She might not have been the most pious individual, but she began to pray to the Light for safety. As she prayed, the ship nearest to theirs was suddenly obliterated in a massive explosion of green felfire. Anyone who wasn’t incinerated immediately was likely to drown, or to become food for the island’s less-than-friendly marine life. As she watched the wreckage sink, yet continue to burn in its demonic way, her bowels expelled their contents. Her black panties bulged, and reached out until they touched the seat of her plate armor. Her expulsion was forceful, and Lia, who heard the sounds of Miriam’s release, looked at her butt to notice that Miriam’s armor covering her ass actually moved back slightly. Miriam continued pushing log after log into her armor, her attempts to regain control were utter failures. Lia couldn’t judge her, for her own panties became wet with urine upon seeing the explosion. She didn’t fully lose control, but most certainly had a wet spot the size of a few coins on the front of her skimpy black panties. She felt a single, small trail of urine course down her right leg, making its way into her boot. Miriam looked out at armies of demons gathering on the shores, the ones she’d be fighting in mere minutes. She was terrified beyond all recognition, but she would fight, for that is what a warrior does. And looking at the other knights on the ship, she was far from the only one who’d be running into battle in sodden panties, if all the armored feet standing in puddles was any indication. This was going to be a long battle. ----------------------------------------------------------- Lia was on fire. It was probably best to specify that she was not literally on fire, considering their opponents. No, she was on fire in the sense that she must have killed sixty demons in half as many minutes. Her armor was tattered and largely destroyed by now. Her chestplate had been discarded, leaving only a chainmail shirt covering her upper body. One of her shoulder pads had been blown away, leaving only the pad on her right shoulder, which was dented and damaged. Her helmet had been knocked off, revealing her scarred face, and long blonde hair. She was quite the demon, herself, spitting toe-curling curses as she carved through demons like a knife through butter, and issuing terrifying war cries. Quite frankly, the loss of her armor only made her faster, not more vulnerable. Miriam’s job at this point had devolved into protecting Lia’s backside from any demons attempting to sneak up on her. Her wet legs and messy bottom were uncomfortable, still, but she ignored it for her friend’s sake. A large felguard charged at the duo, screaming all the way. Miriam raised her shield, and braced herself for the battle. She and the demon parried and struck with wild ferocity. The felguard was obviously surprised by her strength and fortitude; perhaps they’d been promised easy conquest and were finding it not-so-easy. After a few more rounds of striking back and forth, Miriam’s sword slashed across the demon’s hamstring, bringing down into a kneeling position. With the difference in height now negated, Miriam swung, and decapitated the monster. She turned towards her friend, “Lia, did you see that?!” she shouted with pride. Her happiness died quickly, however, as she saw Lia being thrown to the ground by an enormous doomguard. The beast roared, and Miriam felt her crotch grown warm once again. Small rivulets of pee worked their way down her legs. The demon raised its weapon up, preparing to bring it down upon Lia, who had long since discarded her shield. Realizing this, Miriam threw her shield to Lia, who grabbed it eagerly. The doomguard brought its massive sword down, slamming into the shield. Lia was an expert at playing through the fear, but today it got the better of her. As her arms nearly crumpled under the weight of the next strike, her bladder crumpled under the weight of her fright. Warmth engulfed her crotch and ass, pooling on the ground around her. On the next hit, her bowels voided, propelling her semisolid mess into her skimpy panties, which could hardly contain it. After the next hit, more mess came out, overwhelming her (poor choice in) panties. As the mess slipped by her almost thong-like underwear and into her armor, another hit nearly split the shield in half. She was certain that one more hit would cleave the shield, and also her, in half. The demon screamed suddenly, however, and Lia looked up to see Miriam mirroring her own trick from earlier: she had climbed upon the demon, and was stabbing it in the neck. The beasts overly-muscled arms could not reach her. With a few more gory, grotesque slashes, Miriam had all but removed the demon’s entire throat, and it finally collapsed, dead. Miriam offered Lia her hand, which she accepted. She stood, and prepared to face more demons, but she noticed: her army was retreating. The demons were advancing. A loud, authoritative voice boomed in the distance, “Fall back! Fall back! We’re retreating from the Broken Shore!”. While it certainly wasn’t hard to understand why, looking at the incredibly massive force of demons, Lia still could hardly accept it. Only when Miriam grabbed hold of her arm and began pulling as hard as she could did Lia move. They boarded the ship that brought them here, which had mercifully not been incinerated, yet. Only moments after they stepped foot on the ship, it began to depart, leaving anyone still on the Shore to their fate. Lia was very grateful that her armor hid her fairly large accident from the other knights. As she saw some female draenei priest whose pants had a large wet stain down the front, and a lumpy, brown bulge in the back, she was reminded that there were probably very few people on this ship who hadn’t soiled themselves pretty thoroughly. She looked back at the island, hatefully. This time, Miriam put her arm on Lia’s shoulder, which gave some comfort. The mess that was smeared across her ass and some of her legs just seemed to accentuate the feeling of total defeat. They would come back. She would come back. And next time, she would not lose.

Does anyone know from what anime is this .gif from? It sounds familiar but it doesn't come to my mind, thanks for the help

File Name: JAV Female Detective 4 File Submitter: DuffMan File Submitted: 09 Apr 2015 File Category: Female Wetting Female undercover detective wets herself at gunpoint 3 times, then made to dance naked until she wets herself. Click here to download this file

View File Powergirl Extended Scenes Extended versions of the Powergirl scenes from the Fear Wetting Compilation Volumes. Submitter DuffMan Submitted 06/21/2017 Category Female videos Clothing  

View File Girl pees in front of her mother Schoolgirl Charissa pees in fear while her mom threatens with spanking Submitter Despholder Submitted 02/06/2018 Category Female videos Clothing  

Howdy, My back story has a very rough patch, involving a sexual assault at the age of 10. The story is a bit too intense for this site, but one thing that I can admit was that during the assault, I'd wet myself in fear. I ran home and it was very obvious that I'd had an accident. Before then, I'd had a rather pleasant intentional wetting in the (near) privacy of my home. I feel that had the assault not happened, I might have had a more stable sexual awakening. Due to the assault, I repressed all of my sexual feelings. I struggled with PTSD and the aftermath of my parents not knowing how to deal with a daughter who they said was 'possessed.' I did do intentional wettings several times in my adult years, but they felt more about control than a sexual nature. I am working to come to terms with the things that I feel arouse me sexually, which includes observing videos of fear wetting. I feel ashamed of being aroused by videos (from films and anime) of people experiencing trauma great enough to lose control. When I wet now, there is still shame from that assault. Recently, I've been having unpleasant stress incontinence spurts due to allergies and a nagging cough. I am ashamed and I am terrified that I will be in public and lose control. Anyone that has wet in fear, are you attracted to fear wetting videos? Does anyone have shame that dampens the sexual pleasure that you feel when wetting? How do you deal with shame or the fear of the accidental loss of control in public? How have you gotten past the embarrassment of a previous public accident? Thanks for reading and any replies! -hoimi #~_~#