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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.

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.

I found this on because of @tennyson, so big thanks! I don't exactly knows what happens but according to the portion I saw, monsters are attracted that take control of humans. One maid in a bar gets possesed, pees and transforms into a monster with long not round breasts with mouths.Contains semi-nudity(bewbs), violence and vulgar language. Wetting happens after 19:20 or after last 6 minutes 30 seconds. Looks like a decent gore anime. https://kissanime.ac/Anime/Devilman-Crybaby/Episode-001?id=141862 Rips of wetting scenes are recommended.

Kaiserreich is an alt-historical mod for Hearts of Iron: Darkest Hour, and Hearts of Iron 4, based on the premise of the Germans winning the first world war (or Weltkrieg, as the KR world calls it). There will be historical figures present throughout this story, and our main character will likely even interact with a few of them. While some are fairly easily recognizable, others are a tad bit more obscure, so I will be answering any questions that people not familiar with the setting may have about those historical personages. This story will follow the perspective of a pre-made character (Unlike most of my interactive stories!) on the side of the Confederated Syndicates of America, or CSA. They are socialist in the traditional sense, and not the center-to-right-wing sense. If that's a problem, you might want to bail now. With that aside, we can begin... --- April 4th, 1937, 0731 hours Washington D.C. Jeanne Belrose scrambled for cover as the next volley of federalist artillery pounded the city block, throwing shrapnel and globs of mud into the air as the shells fell like the pouring rain from the gray and black clouds above Only two months ago, her life had been tense, but otherwise peaceful. That all ended when Douglas MacArthur attempted to arrest recently elected president Jack Reed, overthrowing the rightful government. Ever since his narrow escape, the sickly but charismatic former journalist had rallied the Syndicates to his cause, calling for them to take up arms in defense of their freedom and rights. A refugee that had fled France during the clashes between the national government and the Communards, she had simply wished to avoid conflict. With a captured Springfield 1903 in her hands, clips in her jacket pouches, and a mass-produced steel helmet atop her head, she was doing quite the opposite. She shook herself from her thoughts. "I need to focus..." the tall blonde muttered in accented English. "HOLD STEADY!" Came the call from Sergeant Moreau, a former Federalist that had grown tired of fighting riots during MacArthur's coup. A short and stocky man, he held his helmet down as he gesticulated at the sky, his next words drowned by the explosions slamming into the surrounding residential area. Despite the barrage around her, she knew that D.C. was only poorly defended - General Butler had briefed the assembled divisions in person, and it was well known that the border with the reactionary South - The 'American Union State', was throwing everything they had at the shared AUS-CSA border. Reports from pilots described the battlefields as a living hell. Some of those pilots finally seemed to have arrived, Jeanne realized, following Moreau's gestures. She could just barely make out the red-and-black monoplanes that had just started to roll out of the factories when she had left home. They screamed in from above, and at the last moment before pulling up, released their bombs. The resulting explosions sent a cheer up from the foxholes, and with the shrill shriek of the NCO's whistles, the First Chicago Steelworker's Militia charged forth, with Weltkrieg vintage machine guns laying down cover fire. --- Washington D.C., White House front lawn. 1250 hours. Soaked in sweat and rainwater, Jeanne's squad let themselves fall to the muddy ground, caring little about mud dirtying their uniforms. The somewhat waterproof greatcoats would wash easily, and a little elbow grease would get grass stains out of the pants once the logistics corps brought up soap with the chow, ammo and fuel. Jeanne laid back against the grass, arms folded behind her head. After months of fighting with her squad, she no longer cared if they saw her soaked gray button-up shirt clinging to her chest. Her greatcoat was spread out beneath her like a tarp to keep most of her back dry, and as the men and women around her chatted about the surprisingly brief battle that had concluded half an hour ago, she watched the clear sky for aerial recon and patrols flying off to accomplish their missions. According to a communique from General Butler, they would be relocating westward, catching R&R on the road while an armored unit was sent to D.C. to entrench. In the mean time, there were a few things she could do. A small kitchen had been set up on the lawn, and the smell of grilling meat was starting to overtake the smell of sweat, rain, grass and blood that had permeated the area not too long ago. She wasn't all that hungry yet, but she could at least chat with her comrades, perhaps catch up with regional news. Another option laid nearby, as well. An armored scout car and crew were parked next to the impromptu motor pool - really a surprisingly undamaged civilian garage. Given their role in recon, they might know something about the opposition that she hadn't personally seen... And she was fascinated by the six-wheeled vehicle and its tank-like turret. Before she could mull over which area to check out first, something caught her eye. Somebody that looked like an old friend was resting in a sandbagged MG nest. Was it really her dear friend? It was difficult to say with part of her body obscured by the bags of damp sand. --- What does Jeanne settle on? A) Grab some chow and chat with the other squads - She'd always have a chance to talk with light cavalry after another battle. B) Ignore the chow for now and focus on ogling the speedy, punchy armored car while she had a chance to see one up close. It's not a guarantee that that familiar figure really is her friend. C) Disregard food and machinery and go chat with the familiar gunner. --- Author's Notes: For the sake of reaching a greater number of people, this KR interactive will not contain messing content unlike most of my stories. If anybody is interested, there will be a messing-included interactive in the works once this one concludes.

Hi guys, long time no post. Some of you may remember a story I started working on a few years ago that got quickly shelved. It was named 'Where is Alec Tremethick?', you can still find it here if you look back far enough. The challenge that I took on with that project lay in trying to create a narrative that was compelling in and of itself while still being essentially an omo story. The reason I stopped adding to it wasn't that I lost interest in it, more that the narrative had not yet fully developed in my mind. As it started to become a more complete picture in my head I realised how utterly inadequate the first few entries were - entertaining though they had been to write. There were a number of things I wasn't happy with, but three things stood out in particular: firstly, the egregious dip in writing standards at the end of Chapter 2; secondly, the appalling character assassination that concluded Chapter 3; and thirdly, I did not feel that the characters were being rendered quite as I saw them in my head - save maybe Martin. I've gone back and rewritten a lot. Chapter 1 is much the same as it was with just a few minor tweaks. Chapter 2 has been significantly rewritten, especially the end with which I was previously deeply dissatisfied. Chapter 3 has gotten the chop. Though Kate is an integral character to the story, I've decided to introduce her much later in the story and in such a way that does not shred her integrity just for the sake of showing that she's a badass. She is a badass. But outright murdering people she could arrest is not something she would ever do, and her integrity as a cop is one of the key conflicts of the storyline. So Chapter 3 doesn't work. Meanwhile I prefer to keep the focus on who the real protagonist of the story is: Elise. The first half of the story focuses significantly more on her character development. As such, I have an entirely new Chapter 3 to replace the old one. There's also a brand new Chapter 4, and a prologue that I think adds a bit extra to the story. The good news or bad news depending upon how you look at it is that the story now runs to just shy of 13,000 words and we're not quite halfway. In any case, I've decided to lay down here what I've gotten to so far, although I now know better than to make promises for when the next chapters are going to appear. Anyway, hope you're all doing well. Enjoy, Des Tremethyk Prologue At the carefully selected location high above the dockyard a man cupped his hands against the cool early Sunday morning breeze as he lit his last cigarette. He'd had a commanding view of the forest of dockworkers and paraphernalia when he'd been standing on this exact spot just hours before. But now a thick cloud of fog obscured the waterfront and the piers below. It made no real difference to him. He had people where he needed them to be. For now he had only to wait. He did not move as footsteps approached his position from somewhere in the distance behind him. He stood there savouring his vice as the rhythmic thuds grew louder before turning metallic as another man came up the gangway behind him. 'Nothing yet, Aiden?' the smoker asked his visitor casually, as the man in the greatcoat and trilby stepped up alongside him and leaned over the side gripping the railing. Aiden pushed himself back and brushed off the front of his coat. 'Not a peep, sir,' Aiden replied softly, not looking his boss in the eye. 'I'm not "sir"', the man reminded him, waving his cigarette irritably, 'Not out here. You know better than that.' Aiden smiled to himself weakly. 'Sorry, Arthur,' Aiden pled meekly, 'But my answer remains the same.' Arthur snorted and stomped his feet on the steel platform impatiently. 'What are we doing out here?' Arthur complained petulantly, 'Bloody middle of the night dockyard liaisons? Seriously, who does that?' 'It's happening here, Arthur,' Aiden insisted, 'we've been over this a hundred times.' 'I'm not saying you're wrong,' Arthur responded, 'I'm saying anybody with half a brain would know it was a terrible idea. I find it hard to believe that his contacts agreed to it.' 'Very hard to believe, Arthur.' Arthur shot Aiden an inquisitive glance, but said nothing. The pressure must be getting to him, Arthur thought to himself. Arthur clapped his friend on the back. 'Don't fret, lad,' Arthur assured him, 'You're right. We've thought of everything. Can't go wrong.' Aiden sighed and closed his eyes. Preparation was the key and he'd gone over every detail until his eyes had bled. He knew he'd never get this kind of opportunity again and he was determined to make the most of it. Even Arthur had shown some admiration for the thoroughness of the planning that Aiden had allowed him to see. Still… 'Tremethyk didn't seem all that keen on it yesterday afternoon…?' Aiden ventured, watching his boss closely. Arthur frowned. 'That daft playboy's losing his marbles,' Arthur declared gruffly, 'Who cares what he thinks?' 'He thinks this is a bad idea, then?' 'Who cares what he thinks?' Arthur repeated obdurately. 'Well, maybe we could-' 'It's gonna work, goddammnit,' Arthur insisted, 'I know these types. Get so caught up in their persona of bullshit that they lose touch with reality. They'd be the devil to catch if they weren't totally up their own arses. But our fellows are better trained,' he added proudly. 'Yeah…' Aiden trailed off. 'Anyway - get your head in the game, son,' Arthur chided his subordinate, 'it won't be long now.' The two men continued to stand vigil up above. Arthur was almost right. It had already begun. Chapter One: Dust Dark. Cool. Dry. A gloomy cellar. The room was nearly silent. The only sounds came from the wind and the twigs of the ash tree outside as they skittered across the narrow, grimey slat glass window near the ceiling. Every so often sunlight would flash through the waving boughs and then through the window to illuminate fractions of the room. Save for the afternoon's rays the room would be completely dark. In the corner a steep spiral staircase rose out of sight, the stone steps worn by ages of use. Leaning on the opposite wall was a very tall and wide semicircular cedar table some four metres in diameter. Scattered around the rest of the room were three dilapidated wooden chairs, an easel, a vice, a bucket, and a work bench covered in tools and dust. Somewhat unusually, the room was occupied. A young auburn-haired lady of no more than twenty five years lay bound and gagged and motionless underneath the cedar table. It would not be immediately clear to a hypothetical rescuer whether the woman lay alive or dead. Her torso and her legs right down to her tightly bound ankles were blanketed by a very wide gentleman's coat. She appeared petite for a woman of her age and the coat seemed to have been designed in mind of a man more than twice her size. Had she two bound companions of similar size on either side of her they would all three have comfortably fit under the extraordinarily large garment. But she lay alone - and alive for the time being. The wind picked up outside and the small branches started to rap on the window with more urgency as if they understood the woman's predicament. The noise finally seemed to elicit a response and a small moan escaped the woman's taped over lips as she awoke. Elise opened her eyes blearily. She tried to stretch before remembering her bonds and how she had come to be here. Still in this room, then... and still alone. Damn. Elise was surprised by how calm she felt upon waking this time. This was her second day of captivity and still she had not seen a living soul since she had been chloroformed and plucked off a quiet street the previous day in broad daylight. It was tricky to move with her hands, thighs and ankles bound together, but her unknown kidnapper had mercifully bound her wrists in front of her. She found that the limited freedom this gave her made squirming across the floor possible and she chose this moment to wiggle out from the coat and lean her back against the wall underneath the table. Elise shifted a little uneasily on the hard stone and her loose business skirt clung damply to her bottom. She had wet herself twice since being captured; when she had woken up on the cellar floor for the first time the day before in a panic, and the following morning when her bladder reached its capacity and she tearfully realised that she could hold it no longer. She had felt humiliated upon realising both accidents, particularly the second which had soaked her skirt and tights leaving a massive puddle at the base of the stairs. Though nobody had seen her disgrace herself she still could not help but feel impotent outrage at the people who had dumped her there like a chained animal. She was hungry, dehydrated, cramping, and in her forty hours in the room nobody had come to show any interest as to whether she was alive or dead. She grimly thought to herself that it seemed likely that they didn't care. The bound girl sat there for a few minutes listening to the twigs that had awoken her, straining her hearing and willing herself to hear from outside any other sound that might indicate the presence of another person nearby. She could hear nothing of the kind. Looking around the room, Elise got an uneasy sense that something had changed. The light was starting to fade as the sun went down outside and she realised that she would only have a handful more precious minutes to move about the room before it would get pitch black and she would have to bed down for the night. Deciding that she would try to see if she could hear anything from inside the house, she wiggled across the room to the base of the stairs. She skirted the far wall, flushing as she remembered to avoid the puddle of her urine that she had left near the stairs earlier in the day. Having reached the base of the stairs, she leaned against the wall and tried to determine whether any sound came from within the house. She could only hear the whirr of an air-conditioner, and before long she realised that something else was out of place. She looked to where she had accidented earlier that day and she noticed the puddle was completely gone! Bewildered, she leaned down and gingerly put her face to the floor to confirm her suspicion. She sniffed. Pine detergent?! Somebody had been inside while she had slept! She looked over to the corner where she had first awoke the day before and noticed with a shock that the drying remains of the first puddle had been mopped away as well. Somebody's been inside and they cared more about their stupid floor than me!, Elise realised with indignation. Trying to shout through her gag, Elise attempted to climb the steps to bang on the door with her wrists, but found climbing the steep steps in her condition to be quite impossible. Her elbows slipped and banged painfully into the bottom steps. Tears sprang to her eyes as she collapsed exasperated and upset back onto the floor. She sobbed bitterly. Elise wouldn't treat her worst enemy with such contempt, and she couldn't imagine what it was that she could have done to have been singled out for this treatment. After some minutes spent sprawled on the floor, she miserably slid back under the table using her bound wrists to lever the coat over her body again. But no sooner had she settled down before she heard a door open somewhere above and behind her and footsteps crossing the ceiling. Heart suddenly racing and with a dry mouth and an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach the girl watched fearfully as she heard the cellar door get wrenched open and footsteps begin to descend the stairs. Chapter 2: Die Vorschlaghammer In a quiet area on the outskirts of the city, a single car sped down a lonely road lined with unfinished housing blocks. Even as dusk fell, the streets lay mostly unilluminated and the headlights of the vehicle blazed a path of white light through the dim twilight that prevailed over the avenues of ghostly concrete shells and scaffolding. The lone occupant of the sedan gazed out the window at what was effectively his kingdom. Through a series of strategic, carefully-planned construction contracts on behalf of Syndicate-aligned firms, Alan Sanders had succeeded in clandestinely taking control of the continued development of the entire district and through the use of some industrial shenanigans had brought further development of the area to a complete standstill. For the time being, the Syndicate owned the neighbourhood and it suited them to keep it sparsely populated. The situation could have caused a significant public scandal if certain 'independent' surveyors commissioned during the later stages of development hadn't conveniently found previously undetected chemical contaminants in the soil at multiple sites throughout the area making further suburban development totally out of the question. Now the councils were making up excuses to the public and doing the Syndicate's covering up for them. It couldn't carry on forever, but in the eyes of Alan's few superiors it was a real stroke of genius which had propelled the young man to his lofty position in the organisation's ranks. Unfortunately for Alan, his reputation tended to precede him throughout the organisation. It was for this very reason that his subordinates had failed to inform him of their kidnapping of Elise Wakefield until the day after the blunder was committed. As he closed in on the safe house at the end of the road in which she was being detained, he knew very well that he was in damage control. Alan had no use for this hostage with which he had been saddled. He could have had her disappeared, but this thought struck Alan as ungentlemanly. In an odd kind of way, he was an honourable man. Certainly, an honourable crook. It was true that few in the Syndicate were feared as much as Alan, but his reputation for ruthlessness was perhaps a little misplaced. He had certainly never let expediency trump his conscience when it came to unrelated members of the public and he deplored needless violence. Of course, that didn't change the fact that he had to get rid of his prisoner and to do so fast. But he couldn't just push her out onto the street they'd spirited her away from like nothing had happened. First, he needed certainty. The car pulled into the driveway and Alan retrieved a balaclava from the glovebox. For a second he eyed the material with some resentment. Alan was very much a gentleman's gentleman and he did not enjoy dressing himself up as a thug. On the other hand, he absolutely could not afford to be identifiable and he was going to have to speak to his prisoner face-to-face. It only had to stay on until he could ensure that she was properly blindfolded, Alan reasoned. So, with a measure of reluctance he pulled the woollen material down over his face, exited the car, strode up the driveway and entered the house. The front door admitted Alan into a kind of entrance hall. To his immediate left lay a fully furnished lounge room, while a doorway on his right would have taken him to a dining room with an attached kitchen. Stairs at the back of the hall ascended to the upper level which contained bedrooms and a bathroom. Of interest to Alan and adjacent to the stairs was a wooden and stained-glass pane door beyond which lay the descending stone spiral staircase which led to the basement workshop in which his guest was being entertained. As he crossed the floor to open the door he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the door's coloured-glass panels; a short, stocky man in a business suit… and balaclava. He snorted at the jarring asymmetry of it and then he was through the door and descending the stairs. The room came into sight as Alan rounded the last few steps and he came to a halt at the base. He could see from his vantage point that the prisoner was lying on her side underneath the cedar table on the other side of the room. He couldn't see her face and she seemed to be feigning sleep. Alan wasn't buying it, however, and he decided that taking charge at this stage meant using his voice. A suitably fake voice, of course. 'You are awake, Miss Wakefield,' Alan asserted in a more gravelly voice than normal. 'And I am not here to play games. You have some questions to answer and if your answers are truthful, I may grant you your release.' Alan smirked to himself as Elise betrayed her sleeping act by visibly jolting into alertness. 'Before you can answer my questions, however, I will be blindfolding you,' Alan continued. 'You are to keep your eyes shut until then. You must not ever see my face.' Hearing a timorous moan of acknowledgement, Alan managed a thin smile and tugged the balaclava off as he crossed the floor and tossed it aside. Where Elise lay underneath the table, Alan could see that she had her eyes clenched almost theatrically tight. Good. She understands. This should be fixable. He gently dragged the petite redhead out from under the table then rolled her onto her side to face her away from him so he could safely blindfold her without any risk of being seen. A pretty young lady, he thought to himself. Though he supposed that it shouldn't make a difference. Reaching into his breast pocket, Alan withdrew a large handkerchief and folded it lengthways to serve as a blindfold. He then gently lifted Elise's unresisting head off the ground to apply the blindfold, carefully manipulating the fabric around her soft tresses of chestnut-red curls. As he did so he noticed that she was shaking and he could see streaks of tears on her cheeks. Alan felt a twinge of sympathy, but he was a professional and he had his job to do. Blindfold successfully fitted, Alan sat down on the stone floor behind the bound girl. 'I'm sorry about all of this,' Alan said softly and with some genuine sympathy. 'I don't want to hurt you... If I can make it happen, I'd like to let you go.' 'But first, I must ask you a very important question,' Alan continued wearily. 'I have to ensure that you cannot betray me should I decide to release you. I will remove the tape over your mouth to allow you to answer.' 'But be assured that any screaming will result in a termination of this… interview, as well as of any chance you have of leaving here alive'. Alan added harshly. 'Do you understand?' Elise made a noise somewhere between a squeak and mumble. 'Very well'. Alan reached down and removed her gag. 'Please don't kill me, please, please, I swear I won't tell anyone, I won't say anything-' Elise gabbled, her voice shaking. 'Calm yourself,' Alan soothed, taken aback by her desperation. 'Elise, isn't it? Listen to me, Elise, my name is… My name is Alan. And that's the truth.' Harmless detail. Anybody would assume it to be a false name, anyway. 'I meant what I said,' he continued, 'I don't want to hurt you. I wish you had never been brought here and I want you to go home tonight. But it's not as simple as that... I do need to know what you know about why you're here. Do you know where you are? Do you know why you're here?' Alan enquired, his voice level, but his heart racing. This was crucial. 'I don't know! I swear!' Elise pleaded, praying that her kidnapper would hear the truth in her voice. 'I was walking to my car, you grabbed me, and I woke up here! I didn't see anything, I don't remember anything, please mister, I promise I don't know-…' Alan gently shushed her to calm her down. Inwardly he was sighing in relief. She thought that he was her kidnapper. The morons who'd actually done it had at least managed it without compromising themselves to the victim. They had earned themselves a much less painful death. 'Hmmm. Well, Miss, I don't really see any harm in letting you go home tonight,' Alan said. 'But if that's what you want then you're going to do exactly what I say, when I say it. And that starts with you staying quiet for the time being.' 'Thank you, sir!' Elise breathed, hardly daring to believe her ears. 'I swear I won't tell a soul.' 'I would know if you did, believe me,' growled Alan, but without much menace. 'Now I hope you won't take offence if I reapply the tape.' She started to speak again but he was already regagging her. He then bent down to pick her up. He got one hand under her right shoulder and she mewled something in protest. Getting his other hand under her thighs, he realised her skirt was damp and he jerked back his hand in surprise. Then he saw the oval shaped dark patch on the seat of the girl's skirt. She's pissed her pants! Christ almighty, don't tell me those cretins left her down here on her own for hours at a time. Sitting her back upright with her back to the wall he removed her gag. 'Miss, I noticed you, er… had an… accident.'. Alan had dropped the pretence of his false voice completely. The discovery had made him angry. 'I… I couldn't hold it!' Elise blurted out in an angry sob. 'You just left me here! I couldn't do anything!' 'Just left here?!' Alan exclaimed, aghast. 'You haven't been untied at all? What about for meals?' 'N- No! I haven't even seen anyone! I haven't had anything to eat or drink since I got here! And I had to… go to the bathroom on myself,' she cried indignantly, flushing as she confessed. Fucking hell. They just left her here? Brutes! They'll pay dearly for this. 'Jesus. I'm going to get you some water. I'll be back.' Alan ascended the stairs in a rush leaving Elise sitting there alone. She had no idea what was going on. Was this man her kidnapper? Had this been some stupid joke that had gone wrong? Why had he only turned up after all this time? It boggled the mind. She could hear the plumbing working upstairs, and with some unease the sound jolted a reminder to her that in spite of her earlier accidents she had still not pooped for a couple of days and she would need to go soon or risk having an even more humiliating accident. A few minutes later, Alan came down the stairs holding a sandwich and a jug of liquid which fizzed audibly as he approached. 'Berocca,' he said by way of explanation. 'I've brought you a sandwich as well. I'll unbind your hands so you can eat and drink. After that we are leaving. Wrists.' She presented him her wrists and started to mumble her request just as she felt her tummy cramp, causing her to jerk her hands a bit. 'What was that?' Alan asked sharply. 'I… I have to go to the bathroom again.' Elise mumbled, blushing beneath her blindfold. 'Oh! Oh, okay, well, there are facilities upstairs. But drink that first. You're dehydrated, you'll feel a lot better for it. Now… wrists, please.' Elise bit back the impudent response that leapt to her brain and simply nodded and presented her wrists again. She would be able to hold it a while longer and the deprivation of fluids during her incarceration was indeed causing her a nasty headache to go along with all her other troubles. 'I know it can't make up for anything or even really mean much,' Alan rambled, a little defensively. 'Nevertheless, I really can't tell you how sorry I am about the way you've been treated. The people responsible for this will be held accountable, you have my word.' Aren't you responsible? Elise thought to herself with some confusion and a little bitterness. But at the same time she felt a nervous, hopeful energy. She was going to be released. With her hands now free she felt a glass being proffered to her. She gulped down the contents gratefully. Under other circumstances she'd have been nervous that the drink might have been tampered with. But she was completely in this man's power anyway, and it did not seem as though he wanted her harmed. With the glass emptied she started on the sandwich which had been tossed onto her lap. She heard her captor refill the glass and take a drink from it himself. Definitely not drugged, then. Elise heard the glass being topped up again before Alan stood up and strode back over to the stairs. She finished the sandwich and picked up the glass again. It did not take her long to drain the second glass, but she decided not to return for a third. The urge to relieve herself had not abated during her meal, and to her surprise she even felt some pressure growing in her bladder. She thought her body could not have had all that much liquid in it left. Realising that her need was more pressing than she'd hoped, Elise addressed Alan again. 'Mister Alan, please. I need to go to the bathroom now.' Elise asked as politely but urgently as she could manage, sheepishly feeling like a schoolgirl asking her teacher for permission for the bathroom. As she said it, her tummy cramped momentarily and to her embarrassment she was unable to stop a fart from escaping audibly. Flushing pink to the roots of her hair and a little annoyed to have been ignored, she asked again. 'Please, sir,' she whimpered, 'I really need to go!' 'Be quiet!' Alan snapped suddenly from near the stairs, a razor edge in his voice taking her by surprise. Stung by the rebuke, Elise fell silent and tried to understand what she could have done to antagonise him. The answer came to her moments later when she heard other voices coming from upstairs. Were they police? Should she call out? Surely they'd find her anyway? A stream of thoughts rushed through her head as she tried to process the arrival of others. She was so caught up in them that she didn't hear Alan's near noiseless approach. 'The people upstairs are the ones who took you,' Alan suddenly hissed in her ear, nearly causing her to void into her underwear in fright. 'but it was a… a case of mistaken identity? You don't have what they want. Unfortunately, they're not the kind to throw back a catch and my bet is that they have come to liquidate you.' 'L-liquidate?' Elise rasped with a growing feeling of dread. 'Liquidate,' Alan repeated obliquely. 'They are stupid and cowardly and they tend to look for… short cuts…' Elise completely tensed up. Was this a trick? It sounded absurd, the kind of surrealism that you might expect in a movie. But she couldn't - wouldn't - bet her life on it. 'W-what… What can we do?' she asked nervously. For a moment there was silence. 'I need you to trust me.' 'What? What does that mean?' Elise asked desperately and almost too loudly, fearing what the answer might be. 'I am going to return you to the condition in which I found you and then I will head back into the house and wait for our friends to get separated. I will deal with them one at a time.' Elise gulped. So there was going to be violence. And if he couldn't overcome the others… 'Please,' she begged, 'Please don't leave me here. Don't let them-… Don't let them….' Her voice broke as she stammered over the sentence she couldn't bring herself to say. She felt her blindfold being pulled off and she blinked in the gloom, tears clouding her vision. She could blearily take in her captor crouching before her; a young man only a little older than she was. He had thick dark hair, grey eyes, greying stubble, and he was dressed in a neat navy suit. 'I will have to leave you here,' he said with a strange look on his face. 'But I won't let them hurt you. You have my word.' He quickly refastened her wrist bindings and reapplied the tape. He then placed the makeshift blindfold, the jug, and the glass into a box under the workbench. He then quietly reascended the stairs, flicking the light back off as he went. Elise was left alone in the dark and quiet room once more. She shivered, frightened of the uncertain fate that awaited her and becoming increasingly aware of the pressure building in the back and in the front. Time passed, perhaps an hour with her huddled in the dark. She quietly farted every now and then releasing the pressure that was building up, but she knew she couldn't hold it forever. She could hear the voices above her having an animated conversation although she couldn't make out their words. At one point it seemed to become quite heated and she was sure she heard a glass being broken. What are they talking about? How would Alan be able to separate them? Why is it taking so long, she thought as she shifted uncomfortably. Then she heard heavy footsteps cross the ceiling again and a door opened at the top of the stairs. The light came on. '-… -nd get her. You call Handscombe.' Elise was thunderstruck. That wasn't Alan's voice. What was he doing?! He'd been right there on his haunches in front of her - his grey-eyed gaze boring into her frightened viridian eyes - and he'd left her with a promise to protect her. Hadn't he? But with a sinking feeling, Alan's first instruction came rushing back and engulfed her like a bath of ice, tensing her body and sapping the breath from her chest. 'You must not ever see my face.' he'd said. And she had, hadn't she? But he was the one who'd taken off her blindfold. She didn't ask him to do that. It wasn't fair! Why did he do that? Was he just planning to let them finish her off after all? She heard the footsteps draw closer and closer until a giant of a man rounded the base of the stairs. 'Well, well… Princess Pissypants is awake!' he proclaimed in a rough voice to the sound of laughter upstairs. Filled with doubts, Elise squealed and tried to wriggle backwards away from the man. He leered at her as she bumped her head into one of the table legs behind her. 'We're going on a loooonnnng drive, baby doll. If you be a good girl I might even get you a fresh diaper on the way.' He advanced on her with a wicked smirk as she squirmed under the table to get away from him. 'Come on, now, come on out to Daddy,' the man said with glittering eyes. 'If you come out now, I promise I won't even hurt you. Maybe, anyway.' Suddenly there were some shouts from upstairs and a loud crash. The man paused and half-turned. 'Hey, what's going on up there?' he shouted with a nervous edge in his voice. Elise profited from the distraction by rolling herself as far under the table as she could manage. She pushed her back up against the wall and tucked up her knees to get her feet as far away from the edge of the table as possible. She wasn't crying now, but she was shaking violently, silently pleading for the man to take the bait; to leave her alone and go back upstairs. Having received no answer from upstairs, the man seemed to hesitate. He took a step towards the staircase, then seemed to think better of it and rounded on Elise again. 'Come out now or when I get my hands on you I will tear your throat out with my bare hands!' he roared. Elise was paralysed with terror. This is it, then. Whatever's happening upstairs, down here it's just me and the monster. She was dimly aware of a warmth spreading underneath her ass. She looked down and could see a puddle growing where she sat as she forcefully peed into her nylons with no control or restraint. But even realising this loss of composure, she knew she could not give in. Going out there would be a death sentence. Her only hope was to try to make things difficult for her attacker. The man was far too large to fit under the table so he would have to try to heft it aside to get at her. He was a large man, but it was a massive table with iron struts and it seemed to have been bolted straight into the rock. If it were as immovable as she fervently hoped it was then there was no way he could get her out in a hurry. But she did not have forever. Where was Alan?! She used her thumbs to rip the tape away from her mouth and screamed, hoping against hope that Alan could hear it and had not abandoned her. This disobedience seemed to send her assailant into a towering rage. He tried to pull the table away. It shifted no more than a few millimetres before his grip slipped and with a yawp of exasperation he gave up trying to move it. Elise didn't dare to believe it. Her plan had worked! He couldn't get her out! But the man walked across the room and selected a sledgehammer from the workbench. He stalked back towards her with murder in his eyes, the heft of the sledge dragging along the cellar floor ominously. Surely not. Surely he can't- The man drew it back and with an almighty heave he swung it down with the primal force of a goliath. With an almighty crash the cedar buckled and nearly split in two right down the middle. The noise was deafening. The man's strength seemed superhuman. And then he drew it back for a second swing. The poor girl saw her life flashing before her eyes. She couldn't believe that she was going to go out this way. How could anyone have that kind of strength? Where was Alan? She was going to be pulverised! Through her shock she felt her bowels begin to move. At first it started slowly, her poop solid and coming out into her lace-cotton panties at a steady pace, forming a tennis-ball sized bulge in her tights. Then all of a sudden it seemed to rush out all at once. She had completely lost control and was filling her panties with mushy poop loudly and uncontrollably. Nearly three days' worth of soft crap filled out the seat of her underwear and tights making a very large bulge under her bottom and filling the small space with the unpleasant smell of her accident. I'm messing myself, Elise thought to herself through the shellshock. I'm about to die and when they find me they'll know that I filled my pants like a toddler. And with that, the sledge reached its apex, and out of futile despairing instinct she ducked her head. The world went dark. Elise blinked against the near total blackness, willing her eyes to work. For an eerie, fleeting moment she wondered if she was dead. But the clatter of the sledgehammer's heft impacting the stone floor dispelled that vision, and she heard her assailant's furious, fearful shout as he span around. 'Who was that?! Show yourself, you coward! Do you- Two shots rang out in rapid succession. Elise heard the man slump to the floor. Gloomy strands of light were filtering down the stairs now, and she could make out a silhouette standing over the threshold, a pistol outstretched in one arm. Self-awareness returned and Elise came crashing back to earth. Her lungs had frozen in her chest the moment her attacker's sledge reached the zenith of its vicious killing blow. But now she breathed. Her eyes glazed over as she took in desperate, shuddering gasps of air. As the figure advanced into the room, Elise's hyperventilation began to slow. Eventually it receded to the point where she leaned on a table leg and began to sob loudly. But through the ghastly shock she felt her resolve to return to her. She grunted determinedly, forcing herself to bring her breathing back under control. When she looked to her rescuer again its shadowy form stood over the felled giant. Something was being inspected. Still weeping quietly, Elise watched as the spectre toyed with something small. Then it turned to the table and bent down to peer at her. Through the obscurity, she finally saw the creature's face. A mask. A blank, white mask. The eyeholes were two pits of shadow in the half-light, but from within those wells of black she could feel a penetrating gaze staring right through her. Ghoulish though it was, after all that had happened it did not frighten Elise. Just a mask, a man in a mask, she thought to herself. Is it Alan? The figure silently reached into a pocket and withdrew a knife. It tossed it next to her meaningfully. Then turning on its heel, the figure glided back up the stairs and exited the cellar without a second glance. Elise sat stunned for a moment before she came to her senses. 'H-Hey!' she yelled after the figure. 'Wait!' With trembling hands, she grabbed the knife and sawed away at her restraints, accidentally nicking her ankle in her haste to get free. Alan had not bound her wrists tightly so with some care she was able to cut those bonds as well. But it took time. She clambered out from her hiding space, wincing as she felt the mound of poop in her underwear and tights squishing up against her rear. But she couldn't worry about that now. She had to get out of here. Shaking as she stepped around the outline of her attacker's motionless body, Elise climbed the stairs and exited the cellar to find a house seemingly untouched by the commotion she had heard. Or so she thought until she saw two bodies slumped in the lounge room adjacent to the entrance hall. With a shock, she recognised the navy-clad figure closest to the door. A bloodied knife lay on the ground below Alan's outstretched hand. True to his word, he had tried to protect her. She approached and noted with surprise that he was unbloodied. The other man was bleeding out all over the floor and appeared to have been run through with the knife. Alan, on the other hand, seemed to have been struck from behind. He's still breathing! Suddenly the reality of the situation hit Elise like the sledgehammer she had only just barely evaded. Her captors were incapacitated or dead. The masked man was gone. She was free of her bonds. Nobody could stop her leaving. She was free. Outside, the rain intensified from a drizzle to a downpour. Through the sheets of water cascading over the gutters to the concrete paving outside she could see a silver car parked in the driveway. And beyond lay freedom in the cold, dark night. With escape a fait accompli few others would have hesitated. And yet here stood Elise with her head to one side, sucking on her lower lip with calculation stamped across her soft features. It struck Elise that Alan was not very tall. It was a strange thought to have, but he couldn't have been more than two inches taller than she, and he looked even smaller still lying knocked out cold on the floor. To Elise's faint surprise she felt sorry for him. He was in with these crooks, she knew. But he wasn't like them, was he? He'd tried to protect her. As she stood there wrestling with her indecision, Alan stirred a little, groaning, and reached out for his knife before slumping back to the floor. And just like that, she made up her mind. She was going to get even. Grabbing a set of keys she saw lying on the coffee table in front of the sofa, Elise shook Alan to wake him. He stirred once more, but seemed very groggy. 'Come on, let's get out of here,' Elise said firmly. Alan was too out of it to resist as she led him out the door to the driveway and into the night. Chapter 3: En Route Rivulets cascaded over the gutters in thin refractive columns as Elise and Alan lurched out the doorway under the security light towards the stationary sedan. The water drenched Elise's white blouse in mere moments and sent little columns of ice streaming down the small of her back and into the waistband of her skirt. Staggering down the driveway, the pair halted next to the vehicle as the deluge took hold of them and drenched them to their bones. Keys. Elise's fingers shook as she fumbled with the keys. Finding a fob, she unlocked the car and wrenched open the passenger side door. With Alan grumbling and moving erratically, Elise managed to womanhandle him into his seat and tossed his legs in after him. Slamming the door shut, she trotted around to the car's right-hand side and, rushing to get out of the icy shower, she plonked herself roughly down into the driver's seat. Squish. The mess that she had forgotten about in a few blessed moments of adrenaline now oozed through the legholes of her hopelessly browned bikini underpants into her black nylon tights and smeared her upper thighs. Some had been forced up to the elastic at the back, left and right across the cheeks of her buttocks, and worryingly close to other unmentionable vectors. If Elise's facial expression in that moment could have been committed to canvas by a painter it would have been a prizewinning masterpiece. In spite of herself, Elise half-giggled through her shock. The old joke was right, it really did feel like she was sitting in a shepherd's pie, she thought to herself with amusement. One embarrassing classroom wetting aside, Elise had never had many accidents. In the heat of the moment when she had been facing oblivion earlier, her messing had seemed almost mundane like it was just another slide in the horror show that she'd only narrowly escaped. But now she could almost laugh about it… She shifted a little and felt the mess squelch below her like a water cushion. It must have been the adrenaline, but she felt exhilarated; like she'd gotten away with something incredibly naughty. But as the smell started to fill the car she realised she would not be able to hide what she'd done from Alan. She finally glanced at Alan only to see that he was awake and watching her, eyes open and mouth slightly ajar. 'Oh! It's… I…' was all a flustered and slightly humiliated Elise could manage before Alan interrupted. 'Home. Override!' Alan enunciated, more loudly and firmly than Elise would have thought he could have managed in his condition. But her surprise at his apparent recovery was nothing compared to her shock as the vehicle responded to its master's command. The car locked its doors. The vehicle started itself up in defiance of the keys Elise still clutched in her right hand. Then it began reversing down the driveway as Elise grappled with the steering wheel in futile confusion. Then she heard a female voice. 'Voice activation engaged. Welcome back, Master Sanders. Navigating to Home - Inner Rothsay.' Panicking a little at the realisation she'd been trapped again, Elise floundered with the controls in desperation. The steering wheel did nothing. The pedals did nothing. The gearstick felt like it had been fixed in cement. As the car pulled out onto the street, she rounded on Alan angrily. 'What did you do?! What are you doing?! Where are we going?! Why-…' she cried before Alan interrupted. 'We're getting to safety. The only place I know for sure we'll be safe.' 'Home? Your home? Stop! Let me out!' 'I can't. We're not safe. You're not safe. Those fuc-…' remembering his manners, Alan cut off the expletive. 'I mean, those… gentlemen apparently did some… silly things that have made things worse. A lot worse. You can't go home now, they would come back for you.' 'But they're dead!' Alan eyed her calculatingly. 'Both of them?' he asked, eyebrow arched. 'Yes!' 'Well, then, clearly I've underestimated you, Miss,' Alan said, impressed. 'How'd you do it?' 'Do what? I-… Wait, no, I-I didn't! Somebody else was there!' 'Somebody else?' Alan furrowed his brow. 'Yes! I-' 'Who?' Alan interrupted. 'W-well,' Elise stammered, 'I, I, I'm not sure. They never spoke, or at least I don't think they did.' '"You don't think they did"?' Alan repeated at her impatiently, 'Well, did they or didn't they?' 'Look,' Elise snarled angrily, 'that maniac you let come downstairs nearly smashed me apart with a sledgehammer! I was a bit too focused on that to be worrying about other things like who said what and when!' 'Wait - Anders attacked you? With a sledgehammer?!' Alan exclaimed in astonishment. 'But they were planning to-…' 'IT HAPPENED!' Elise thundered indignantly. 'I was under the table and he tried to kill me!' 'Okay, okay, I understand, I do apologise for my rudeness,' said Alan contritely, raising his hands in apology. 'This other person, he killed Anders and set you free?' 'Uh… Yes…' Elise confirmed uncertainly. 'Just as the huge guy was going to strike, this other guy came down and fired a pistol. And then he threw a knife to me.' 'He saw you, then? Did you get a good look at him?' Alan inquired curiously. 'Why does it matter?' 'It could be very important. Please.' Elise bowed her head into her hands and rubbed her temples. 'I don't know,' she said quietly. 'I didn't get that good a look. He had a white mask on.' 'Ah,' Alan uttered stonily, and with this disclosure he fell silent and diverted his gaze to stare out the window. Elise gaped at him for a moment. It seemed like this new revelation was troubling him and she could sense that Alan knew more than he was letting on. 'I don't suppose you saw where this person went?' Alan enquired eventually. 'No.' The car turned off the road they had been on to a wider dual-carriageway road. Here streetlights intermittently illuminated the interior of the car as Elise chewed her lower lip and stared at Alan with a mixture of frustration and apprehension. As ever, Alan's poker face was unreadable, but she thought she could detect worry and possibly even fear. But she had worries of her own. 'Am I still your hostage?' Elise asked with some trepidation. 'Hmmm?' Alan appeared to stir from his reverie. 'You said I can't leave,' Elise reminded him bitterly. 'You're taking me somewhere else against my will. What are you going to do with me?' 'Well… No. You're not,' Alan sighed. 'As I said, we're going to the only place I know for sure we'll be safe. Then we can decide what to do.' 'But they're dead!' Elise exclaimed. 'I told you!' 'Makes no difference, I'm afraid,' Alan continued glumly. 'Those two clowns were going to try to ransom you off to somebody on the premise that you had something valuable that they're looking for. And they'd already given your name.' Elise frowned in bewilderment. 'Who were they going to ransom me to?' she asked confusedly. 'I don't know exactly. All I know is that it's someone well-connected with a lot of… well, certain kinds of people that you don't want to meet.' Alan fixed her with a grim stare. 'The kinds of people who own pig farms and chemical storage warehouses.' 'Well, what do they want from me?' 'I don't know that either. Information is my best guess,' Alan idly speculated. 'Documents, maybe?' Seeing the expression of protest on Elise's face Alan quickly added 'I know you don't have anything like that. Like I said earlier, it's an asinine case of mistaken identity. But that's what they're looking for. I think.' 'And it's worth kidnapping somebody over, is it?' Elise demanded as she glared at Alan. 'Honestly, I don't know what it's worth,' Alan responded impassively. 'What I do know is that if you had been carrying documents or whatever it is that those guys are after and they knew you had it, you would've thanked your lucky stars that the idiots back at the house who grabbed you first worked for me.' Silence reigned in the car for a moment as Elise took this in. 'So where do you fit in all of this, then?' 'Pardon?' 'Well, they want documents, or information, or whatever,' Elise observed. 'But in the end it wasn't them who kidnapped me. It was your men. So you're after something as well!' 'Maybe I just want money?' Alan suggested. 'Then you could have just gone through with the ransom to the other group!' Elise pointed out. Alan looked scandalised. 'I would never agree to that!' he snapped. 'What kind of a man do you think I am?' 'Oh, so you're not that sort of kidnapper, then?' Elise laughed. 'And you said you were going to let me go. I've never heard of a kidnapper giving up a ransom just because they didn't get the exact rich white girl that they set out to get!' In spite of himself, Alan smirked - seemingly with approval, but he said nothing. 'I think,' Elise continued slowly, 'I think you know exactly what it is that they're after. I think you want it too.' Elise held Alan's stony stare for a few seconds. Alan sighed. 'Look, I really am truly sorry about what's happened to you,' Alan stated with his head downcast, looking at his hands, 'Everything seems to be happening so fast. I'm ashamed to say this whole affair's been out of my control since the start.' He looked up at her. 'I didn't know that that oaf would try to kill you back there,' Alan continued, this time looking her square in the eye, 'I would never have permitted him to go down to bring you upstairs if I thought something like that might have happened. I'd have sooner shot him where he stood. Maybe I should have. But I promise you that I will not put you in harm's way like that again.' 'You could just let me out of the car now,' Elise suggested hopefully. The car had pulled up for a red light at an intersection on the edge of the Syndicate's new territory. Other road traffic whizzed past in front of them. Alan clicked his tongue. 'I told you, others would come looking for you,' Alan reminded her. 'Just because you don't have what they want doesn't mean that they wouldn't bury you in a ditch somewhere. Possibly - but not necessarily - after putting a bullet in the back of your head' 'So what am I supposed to do, then?' Elise exclaimed in dismay. 'I'm still your hostage, but it's all for my protection?' 'You're my guest, not my hostage,' Alan insisted. 'There's a difference.' 'Oh? What difference?' Alan dipped his head in exhaustion. 'Please, Miss Wakefield, I'm just trying to protect you.'. 'Are you?' Elise demanded. 'I only have your word for it that anybody else might come for me. Come to that, how can I be sure that anything you've said is true? You're lying, aren't you?! You're making all of this up just so that I will follow along compliantly without questioning anything and let you throw me into another cellar!' Alan looked up at her with a glint in his eye. 'You need proof? Okay.' Alan lifted his voice and addressed the car's internal service unit. 'Jacey, display review camera 11-, uh, 117. Please.' The female voice Elise had heard when the car had started up replied: 'Review Camera 117 connecting... Please stand by.' A panel above the car radio lit up and was showing a loading screen. After a couple of seconds a picture appeared showing a high-resolution CCTV view of the cellar workshop in which Elise had been imprisoned. Elise gaped in surprise at the picture. She did not remember seeing a camera in the room. 'Okay,' she said slowly, 'but what's this supposed to prove?' 'Hmmm,' Alan muttered to himself, 'well, nothing yet… Jacey, 116, please. Actually, 115, please, 115.' The view on the screen flicked to the entry hall of the house very briefly before moving to a camera showing the driveway they'd departed not ten minutes before. 'Aha!' Alan cried triumphantly, 'what have we here?' It was hard to make out in the dark, but another car had just pulled into the driveway. Elise watched as three men disembarked the car. The men were heavily built and casually dressed in jeans and sweaters. Each of them seemed to be carrying a firearm. 'Track them, please, Jacey,' Alan instructed, 'and I'd like audio when they enter the house too.' They watched from the driveway camera as the men entered the house. The screen switched to the entry hall camera feed. Two of the men went straight over to the cellar's glass-pane door and wrenched it open before descending. The man who stayed behind peeked into the lounge room curiously checking out the mess from Alan's fight with the dead man. '117, please, Jacey. And audio!' Alan reiterated. The view shifted back to the cellar camera. The two men had reached the bottom and were standing over the corpse of Elise's tormentor. One of the men spun around and kicked a bucket across the room, cursing in frustration. The other man reached for his phone, dialled, and then lifted it to his ear. 'Nope, sorry. They're dead. She's gone.' Elise was stunned. She looked from the screen to Alan and back to the screen. Alan merely grimaced without taking his eyes off the screen and nodded dejectedly to himself. The two men turned and went back up the stairs and the camera switched back to the entry hall. The man who had stayed upstairs was leaning against a wall as his colleagues came out of the cellar. 'Well?' The man who had made the phone call gave a quick shake of the head and continued out the door without breaking his stride. Shrugging, the leaning man followed him out just as the bucket-kicking man ascended from the cellar himself. He, too, started to follow his friends out, but stopped in the middle of the room and suddenly looked right up at the camera causing Elise to jolt upright in her seat. 'You smartarse pr*ck. We're gonna find you.' And with that he raised his pistol and the camera feed cut to static before switching to the driveway camera. 'We'll see about that,' Alan countered smugly. He glanced back to Elise and was taken aback when he saw her face. This turn of events had clearly affected her in a big way. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she sat transfixed watching the display as the men loaded up into the car and set off again. 'Ah,' Alan said, suddenly discomfited, 'er, Jacey, cut the feed, please, thank you.' As the feed cut to black, Elise broke into a sob and buried her face in her hands. Unsure of himself, Alan awkwardly reached across to pat her on the shoulder. 'Don't worry, Miss Wakefield, they will never find you,' Alan reassured her, 'you'll be safe with us, it's okay, it's alright.' 'Easy for you to say!' Elise sobbed, 'it's me they're after! I can't go home! I can't go anywhere! What about my family, my partner, my job? Oh god, Tyson. Who's looking after Tyson?!' 'Tyson?' Alan asked carefully, 'Who is Tyson?' 'My dog!' Elise shrieked, 'My partner's away on business and he's been at home by himself for three days! Nobody to feed him or give him water. All because of you! Oh my god, Tyson, we've got to go get him!' 'Are you crazy?' Alan jerked back in alarm, 'There will be people watching your house! Neither of us can go there!' 'He's my dog!' Elise yelled back hysterically, 'You want him to die of exposure? Let me out!' Elise scrabbled at the door and Alan leapt across to restrain her. 'Stop it! Stop it! Okay, okay, for god's sake, we'll get your damn dog!' Alan promised exasperatedly, 'I guess that can be a job for Millie. Gee, I hope she's home when we get back.' Elise slumped back and sobbed quietly in her seat, but she was beginning to calm down a little. 'Who's Millie?' Elise asked, sniffling. 'Erm,' Alan hesitated, struggling to think of a description that would do Emiliana Madaffari justice. 'She's, er, a friend of a friend,' he finished lamely, 'She'd be about your age. Actually, a bit younger, I think. She can be a bit of a, er, a livewire. If she gets too intense, be sure to tell her. God knows I have to. ' Alan shook his head. 'Anyway, we're not far off from arriving now. Three minutes, give or take.' They sat there in silence for a moment. Eventually Elise broke it. 'I… I'm sorry I called you a liar,' she said with a shaking voice. 'Miss Wakefield, you have nothing to apologise for,' Alan assured her, 'In your position, I'm sure I would have been suspicious too.' 'Elise,' Elise interjected. 'What?' 'Just Elise, please. 'Miss Wakefield' is weird, it makes you sound like my landlord.' Elise said, still sniffling but with a small chuckle. Alan stared blankly for a second before snickering awkwardly. 'Very well, Elise. Anyway, we're nearly there. We'll have dinner, and you can shower. I'm sure Millie has some clothes she can lend you. She'd be about your size, I think. And by hook or by crook we will get your dog.' 'Thanks,' Elise managed a weak smile for a second before she broke down again, 'But this is so insane, I can't believe this is all happening. How am I going to get my life back? I… I'm scared. I don't want to say it, but I am, I'm scared!' Alan was at a loss for words. Truth be told, he had never had the most sensitive people skills, and this one was well beyond him. And what could he even say? The people hunting her were animals. She was right to be scared. 'There, there…' he soothed pathetically, 'We'll… We'll work something out. In the meantime, you'll be safe where we're going. That much is true.' Silence reigned in the car for another moment once again broken only by Elise's sniffling. 'Sorry about your car seat, Alan…' Elise murmured sheepishly. 'What? What on earth for?' Alan asked with a frown. Elise blinked at him with incredulity. The unfortunate odour of her accident was unmistakeable in the car, but Alan's baffled expression betrayed no sign that he'd noticed it. Either he was a fantastic actor and set on playing the gentleman or he was being intensely obtuse. Maybe that hit to the head had done more damage than they'd realised, Elise pondered. 'I, uh, well, uh,' Elise stammered in confusion, 'You remember I said that I hadn't been untied to… go to the bathroom since you, well… kidnapped me. Well-…' 'Oh, that,' Alan interrupted, waving a hand dismissively, 'please don't worry about it. The seat will dry. The important thing is that you're safe.' 'Yes, but I didn't just-…' 'The rain probably rinsed it all out anyway,' Alan blundered on obliviously, 'it's just a bit of… water at the end of the day, no harm done.' 'Oh? Er, alright, then?' Elise ventured in bewilderment, searching Alan's expression for any hint of discreet understanding and finding only earnest ignorance. The car turned onto a narrow cobbled road and began to slow. This was an older, more affluent area, quite far removed from the hustle and bustle of the busy city centre that Elise called home. She peeked out curiously into the darkness. Facing each other from opposite sides of the lane, a hedge and a two-metre high sandstone wall completely blocked her view of the homes on either side. Further ahead she glimpsed the silhouettes of behemoth gothic mansions lurking in the distance, shrouded in shadow. 'We're here,' Alan announced woodenly as the car slowed up alongside the hedge and proceeded through a brass and steel gate that had opened automatically. As the car's headlights flashed over a bronze plaque adorning the stonework bestride the gate, Elise just had time to make out the name: 'Halatine Hill'. What lay beyond caused Elise's jaw to drop. They had been admitted to what looked like an old-fashioned country estate. A very large oak tree occupied the heart of a lush, manicured lawn which rolled away before them down to a tall red-brick Victorian manor which awaited them at the end of a rhododendron-lined driveway. Light poured out of large picture windows on the ground floor into trapezoids splayed across the grass around the house. Partly illuminated at the foot of the manor's front steps was a rose garden with a fountain featuring a stone statue of Hermes, naked except for a cloak and brandishing his famous kerykeion. 'What is this place?' Elise asked breathlessly. 'Home.' Alan answered simply. Elise gaped at him. 'Well, I guess that does seem to rule out any money motivations,' Elise mused teasingly. Alan shot her a look. 'This is a friend's place, not mine. I just live here. For the time being, anyway.' 'A friend?' Elise asked, 'This Millie girl?' 'Millie? Hah! No,' Alan sneered, 'but she does act as if she owns the place so watch out. Millie's… Millie. You'll see.' Elise wasn't sure what to make of that comment. But she pressed on. 'So who is the lucky owner, then?' Alan sighed, 'A gentleman named Roman Laquiere. We're… good friends. And since you're interested, he's also the one who had the bright idea of plucking a certain woman off a certain street not all that long ago.' The car pulled up to the side of the manor and parked itself neatly next to a gravel path that meandered towards the front of the house. 'You have reached your destination,' Jacey announced, 'Good evening, Master Sanders, Mistress Wakefield.' 'Wait, you mean-…' 'Let's go,' Alan said firmly. As Elise disembarked the vehicle she experienced the confronting sensation of suction as she peeled her bottom away from the chair. The seat was obviously quite badly soiled, Elise noted guiltily. She certainly wouldn't be able to hide that. But Alan was already making his way down the gravel path. It passed through a white wooden arbour gate and continued alongside the house underneath a pergola laced with vines and lilacs up to the front steps. Alan pushed the arbour gate open and turned back to give Elise a quizzical look. The sight of Alan holding the gate open for her made Elise hesitate. Was she really doing this? Voluntarily following her own captor into his lair? She'd heard of hostages experiencing Stockholm Syndrome before, but this wasn't like that. She'd come this far because she'd had no choice, but it didn't seem like it was Alan who was keeping her prisoner anymore. Nevertheless Elise dithered, half-expecting Alan would come over and force her up the path to the house to put her in his power again. But he just stood waiting at the gate watching her sadly. 'Why are you doing this?' she demanded tearing up again, 'I'm no use to you. You could have left me to those gangsters back there, but you didn't. You brought me here. Why?' Alan shrugged. 'You're involved now because of me. I feel responsible. You deserve better.' Elise stood there absorbing his words, turning them over in her head, trying to find the lie contained within. 'Come on, Elise. Let's go inside?' Alan suggested meekly. Well, she was here now. What else was there to do? Still, she felt like a ghost as she swept past Alan up the path towards the house. Alea iacta est. Chapter 4: Livewire The heavy oaken front door featured an impressive engraving of a lion fighting a bear amidst a storm. The design looked somewhat Eastern. Out of place among the rest of the manor's conservative architecture, Elise thought to herself as she waited for Alan to open the door for her. Just as Alan came up the steps, however, a dog started barking from inside. 'Beanie!' scolded a female voice from inside the house somewhere, 'Just a minute, Al!' Elise heard some footsteps approaching the door and feeling a little nervous she stepped behind Alan. The door unlocked and was pulled back bathing Alan and Elise in light and permitting a young German Shepherd to leap out the door and start jumping up at Alan. 'Get off me, you stupid mutt!' Alan exclaimed in annoyance, pushing the dogs waving front paws away from his hips. A figure moved into the doorway silhouetted by the light behind. 'Sorry about Beanie, Al' the shadow said with a giggle. 'I was going to take him for a walk this afternoon, but I ended up bingeing on Netflix instead.' Elise's eyes finally adapted to the light and took in the figure at the door. The pyjama-clad girl standing over the threshold was breathtakingly pretty. She had light brown hair that hung in a braid to just below her shoulders and she was a little shorter than Elise, but with a very youthful face - young enough to be in her mid-teens. By contrast, her full figure suggested late-teens and her bronzed skin hinted that she didn't spend a lot of time in classrooms. Her mere presence had made Elise feel very self-conscious. The dog that had been pouncing up at Alan shifted its focus to Elise now, and to her embarrassment it started sniffing around her butt where much of her mess had coalesced back into a ball in the seat of her pants. The dog's attention drew the girl's gaze too. 'But who's this, Al? You've brought a new friend home for Beanie!' she said beaming. The girl stepped out from the door, twirling a dog leash in her hands with her eyes locked on the trapped Elise. 'Uh, yes,' Alan mumbled clumsily, 'Millie this is Elise. Elise, Millie.' 'Wowee, Al! I didn't know you had it in you!' Millie laughed causing Alan to go red, much to Elise's shock. 'How did you two meet?' Millie enquired innocently, 'Ooh, I bet it was somewhere romantic!' 'Uh,' Alan said with an awkward glance at Elise's stony-faced expression, 'not exactly. She's had a bit of a rough time, actually, Millie. I wonder if you could-…' Millie came over and hugged Elise in welcome. 'Hi, Elise, my name's Millie! It's a pleasure to-' Millie sniffed and wrinkled her nose, 'Ugh, what on earth is that smell?' 'I can't smell anything.' Alan remarked, 'But then again, I wouldn't, would I?' he added bitterly. 'I think somebody must have stepped in one of Beanie's presents… Or-…' Millie started. Suddenly she became very aware of Elise's tomato red cheeks and put two and two together. 'Oh! Oh my gosh.' Millie exclaimed in surprise, clasping her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. 'What?' said Alan looking from the ashen-faced Elise to Millie, bewildered. Millie rounded on Alan in a rage. 'She's not a friend of yours at all, is she?' Millie demanded accusingly. 'Who is she? What have you done to her?' 'Wha… I… But…' Alan blithered in confusion. 'You went through with that idiot scheme of Roman's, didn't you? Jesus Christ, Alan.' Millie snarled, 'What the hell were you thinking? You don't care what happens to people like her, do you? The ends justify the means, yeah?' 'I… I'm trying to help her!' Alan protested, 'It was all a stupid mistake. Anyway, she's here now, so she's safe.' '"Safe"?!' Millie raged, incensed, 'What about from you? You've traumatised her!' 'What do you mean?' She's alright, isn't she? What's wrong with her?' 'You're… You're going to make me say it?' Millie was flabbergasted. 'You pig!' 'M-Millie…' Elise finally managed in a very small voice. Millie turned to her and enveloped her in a tight embrace. 'It's okay, babe,' Millie said soothingly, glowering at Alan over Elise's shoulder, 'I don't hold it against you. I know it wasn't your fault.' 'Millie,' Alan growled through gritted teeth, 'You don't understand. It wasn't like that.' 'No?' Millie asked incredulously, 'You expect me to believe that?' 'It's… It's true, M-Millie…' Elise offered timidly. She pulled away from Millie. 'Alan… Alan helped me when I needed it the most,' she affirmed miserably, 'If it weren't for him I'd be d-dead.' Millie bit her lower lip, and her glittering golden eyes flicked piercingly between Alan and Elise. 'Well, okay, maybe I've misread things,' Millie acknowledged eventually, 'But still… Bringing her here like this…' Millie shook her head. 'If you ever humiliate somebody like this in front of me again, I'll cut you in half, Al.' 'Humiliate?' Alan threw up his hands in dismay, 'I don't know what you mean, I certainly didn't mean to do that.' 'Yes, but, obviously she's-…' Millie stopped herself when she saw pleading tears in Elise's expression. Wait. He doesn't know, does he? 'You know what? Forget I said anything, Al,' Millie said cheerfully, reverting back to her chipper innocence with frightening speed. 'You don't mind taking Beanie for a walk around the garden do you? Me and Leasey have girl things to talk about.' 'Wha- Wait, but-…' 'Thanks, sweetie,' Millie interrupted, pushing the dog leash into his hands and grabbing Elise by the arm. 'Come on, babe,' Millie whispered in Elise ear, 'Before he catches on.' Millie dragged Elise into the house, insolently shutting the door on a miffed Alan as he stood outside the door holding the leash limply while the excited puppy bounced around him in excitement. 'Sorry about that, Elise' Millie said regretfully, 'I thought Alan was being a bell-end, but he lost his sense of smell when he was a kid. I guess I assumed he'd noticed anyway…' Elise blinked at this revelation. 'Oh,' she said in surprise, 'That's awful. I can't imagine. Um,' Elise added with a blush. 'Is it… really obvious?' 'It's pretty hard to miss, babe,' Millie smiled at her empathetically. 'But accidents happen. Believe me, I know. It's our secret.' The lobby they had entered had several doors leading off to other parts of the house. Marble busts of men from different periods of history stared down imperiously from pedestals situated around the lobby. A wide sweeping marble staircase dominated the room and it was up these steps that Millie dragged Elise up to a dimly lit landing with thick burgundy carpet. 'You'd be a Size 8 like me, I reckon?' Millie enquired conversationally. 'Lucky you! Your boobs are a little bigger than mine, but I reckon we can find you some stuff to tide you over til tomorrow.' Elise was having a bit of a hard time keeping up. While Millie's warm friendliness was hugely comforting, her innate self-confidence and unabashed outspokenness were a little bit jarring. Millie led Elise off the landing and down a corridor. The room at the end turned out to be a very large bedroom - Millie's. The room was a total disaster zone: clothes, books, and papers flung all over the floor, a desk piled up with pictures of friends and parties, plates and glasses, and even a depleted toilet paper roll. Just inside the door a couple of beanbags sat in front of a large LED TV which displayed the pause menu of a game Millie had been playing on her Playstation. A King Size Bed piled with cushions sat unmade at the far side of the room adjacent to the window. Mirrors lined the wall on the other side of the room, each one concealing a cupboard behind it. One of them stood ajar and Elise could see a number of dresses and frocks on hangers inside. Millie strode over to one of the mirrors and slid it aside. 'Hmmm,' she pursed her lips as she appraised the contents of a shelf, 'You know what? I think these would look cute on you!' She produced a light grey pair of button-up pyjamas patterned with sheep and retrieved a matching pair of slippers from underneath. Elise couldn't help but notice the pyjamas looked a little low cut for her tastes, but she took them gratefully. 'The ensuite's down there,' Millie said, indicating a half-open sliding door down next to her bed, 'You take as much time in there as you want. I'll go grab some stuff from the kitchen and then we can veg on the beanbags. Well, go on!' Millie gave Elise a playful spank on the butt. 'Uh, what about my clothes?' Elise pointed out. 'Oh, just dump them in the laundry basket in the ensuite. I've got to do a load, I'll take it down later,' Millie said casually. Seeing Elise's expression, she continued 'Babe, it doesn't bother me. Really. Every girl has the occasional accident. For some of us it's a bit more than occasional, too.' She added with a laugh. The stunned expression on Elise's face prompted a few more giggles from Millie. 'Feel free to use my shampoo and stuff in there. But if you touch my straightener, you're dead meat. Kinda joking, but not really. Anyway! I'll be watching my show over there if you need me!' And with that, Millie waltzed across the room and planted herself on one of the bean bags before picking up her controller and switching over to Netflix. Elise just stood there overwhelmed. Millie tended to have that effect on people. Elise must have been five years older than Millie, but she felt a kinship with the younger girl as if she'd known her for years. And she found herself thinking that Millie was more than a little attractive. Eventually she waddled into the ensuite for her long awaited shower. As her skirt fell to the tiled floor, she twisted to look over her shoulder in the mirror at the load in her tights. Even after all she'd been through, it looked about the size of a grapefruit. No wonder Millie had noticed it instantly. In a way it felt strange as she rolled down her tights and threw them to one side. She'd gotten used to the feeling of the load in her underwear, and although humiliating, the experience had provided her with one of the most intriguing sensations of her life. She half-wondered if she might do it again privately one day, but with a pang of self-flagellating shame she shook her head to clear the impure thought. She tipped out the load into the toilet and was relieved to see that it all came out stuck together, leaving nothing behind on her lacey panties except an embarrassing brown stain in the seat. She hoped that would come out in the wash. As she jumped into the shower, she reflected on the crazy few days that had been. Quite quickly she realised how exhausted she was. She finished her shower and donned her pyjamas which turned out to be very revealing around her cleavage. But she was too tired to care. She staggered out of the room and flopped down onto Millie's bed, and she was asleep in mere seconds. To be continued...

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  

I really want to thank Blizzard for providing us with so many wonderful waifus to abuse. Oh, and for anyone who didn't see my status update: continuations to the WoW story and for Journey to Arnwick are coming, and soon. Anyway, hope you enjoy! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Five figures sat around a table, a glowing hologram hovering in the air before them. Sombra recognized the building; it was a very large facility built out of Dorado. She’d been there. Now, Talon was ordering her back. “You know, I still have access to their entire database,” Sombra chimed in, eyeing Reyes (or Reaper, as he was known now) through the hologram. “You don’t have access to what we need,” Reaper replied, voice tinged with annoyance, “The data is-” “Not kept unsecured,” Moira interrupted, earning her irritated looks from both Sombra and Reaper, but she didn’t drop her smug smile. Tapping a few buttons on her end of the table, the hologram shifted to images of various documents, “This is highly sensitive corporate information- capable of building or breaking economies, they keep it on a separate, secure network,”. “Might I inquire as to what we intend to do with this information?” Widowmaker asked, her interest superficial at best. “That’s classified,” Moira answered, her smug grin widening. Sombra thought that Moira must have been hoping someone would ask, just so she could say that. She rolled her eyes at the Irish woman’s shenanigans. “It’s for a special project,” Reaper explained, “One being pursued by Doctor O’Deorain, here,” he gestured to Moira. He was getting tired of explaining. “You do know we’re not grunts, right?” Sombra asked, shooting very pointed looks at Reaper and Moira, “We’re all members of the same inner circle, so I don’t see why you can’t tell us anything,”. Reaper sighed, then said “Because-” “Because you won’t understand,” Moira interrupted. That struck a nerve for Sombra, who leaned forward with her arms on the table, glaring at Moira, who just smugly smiled. Before the argument could proceed any further, however, a deep voice cleared its throat from the far end of the table. Sombra shrank back in her chair. Moira’s expression simply turned to blank disinterest, but she did keep quiet. There was an unspoken, yet very real rule among Talon: when Doomfist speaks, you listen. “The nature of this project is very sensitive, and we cannot risk anyone learning of it who shouldn’t. So information is on a strictly need-to-know basis,”. Akande, or Doomfist was he was much more well known, spoke with finality, clearly not wanting any further dissent. “Furthermore,” Doomfist continued, “The facility is on high alert, and security is too strong for us to break through,” he looked over Sombra, Widowmaker, and Moira, “That is why you three will be undertaking this mission. Reyes and I would alert the entire city,”. Sombra sighed deeply. They were right, of course, those two couldn’t do anything quietly, so it was certain to fall to them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sombra stood alone in a room full of her equipment. As she loaded numerous magazines and prepared several teleporters for the mission ahead, she jumped slightly as strange sound, like a harsh wind, broke the silence. She knew the sound was none other than Moira, abusing her ability to teleport. “What?” Sombra asked impatiently. “So hostile,” Moira put her hands behind her back, standing in her favorite authoritarian pose, “I was just ensuring you were prepared for the mission ahead, Sombra,”. “I am, Moira,” “So you say, but I don’t believe I see any diapers among your inventory,” Sombra paused as she finished preparing her SMG; she made of show of inserting a fresh magazine into while looking at Moira out of the corner of her eye. “Forgive me, but after looking through your records...” Moira placed a hand on her chin while looking at the ceiling, recalling, “You and Widowmaker were both frightened into both wetting and soiling yourselves in your two most recent outings. Prior to this, I have numerous records of you leaking any amount from droplets to completely making a mess of yourself in nearly every engagement you’ve been in. Hardly fitting for a master of stealth, wouldn’t you say?” “If you think you’ve got dirt on me, you should see what I’ve got on you...” Sombra warned. “You misunderstand me, Sombra,” Moira placed a hand on her chest, to emphasize her honesty, “Consider this a sort of olive branch. I’ve developed a treatment that should eliminate any and all manner of stress and fear incontinence,”. Moira had a look in her eye, one Sombra recognized as excitement. Getting to test these formulas was fun for her. “Did you give this “treatment” to Widow, too?” Sombra asked, skeptically. “Certainly not! She already has 200 things wrong with her body, and I’m not about to throw another ingredient into that time bomb,”. “Well, thanks but no thanks. I’ll try it after you’ve had a few other guinea pigs,”. “Understandable,” Moira said simply, “Make sure you’re prepared, we leave in an hour,”. In a quick flash of purple fog, Moira was gone. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dorado was peacefully quiet as Mei walked through a town square, where the remnants of a festival were strewn about. The moon shone brightly in the sky, and, along with the colorful lights and decorations, cast everything into an ethereal glow. Mei was quite happy to be here, quite calmed by the beautiful sights this place had to offer. It was almost enough to distract her from her desperate need to use the restroom. Her control had been improving substantially, enough that she didn’t even need to wear any manner of protection most of the time. She’d even been able to avoid having accidents on most of the missions she set out on. Most. She hoped this would number among her dry ones. All they had to do was wait around for some information to be offloaded from a computer, and Mei hadn’t seen any sign of any interference, so this was mostly just a test of everyone’s patience. And bladder control, she realized, as she pressed her hands into her groin. A worried look crossed her face, as she walked through the streets, hunting for a bathroom. She was totally alone, and no one would judge her, or even know, if she were to relieve herself… pretty much anywhere out here. Since the inhabitant of Dorado seemingly had no need for bathrooms, she might have to. Blushing slightly as she prepared to drop her pants, she jumped a little as she heard a sound like a strong wind. Fumbling for her cryo gun, she felt her light blue panties warm up slightly at the crotch. She heard that strange sound again, this time from behind her. As she whirled about, she saw a woman of colossal stature standing before her. As she raised her cryo gun, the woman quickly gripped it in her right hand, creating a purple cloud around the weapon. Mei dropped it as she felt her only means of defense disintegrate under the woman’s touch. Shaking slightly, Mei began to back away from the tall woman, who now stood with her hands behind her back, and a smug, condescending look on her face. Mei gasped sharply and looked down at her legs as she felt the dam burst. Hot urine spilled down her large thighs, the stain rapidly spreading around her groin, reaching up the creases where those thighs met her pelvis. The fabric of her blue pants turned dark blue as the pee flowed down her legs, right into her boots. She took another step back, and felt (and heard) the squish of her now urine-filled boots. She could even feel some of the cooling warmth reach up to her butt. Mei teared up as her dry streak was ruined. “I’ll never fully understand why they hired an incontinent climatologist to partake in combat operations,” the woman mused. “Who are you? Why are you here?” Mei demanded, just barely managing to keep her voice from cracking. “That’s classified, and that’s classified,” The woman took a step forward, extending her hand, which was cloaked in that purple fog, “And, on that note, I really shouldn’t leave any witnesses,” As she reached out towards her with her disintegrating hand, Mei closed her eyes, and noticed that her bottom was no longer being hugged by her wet panties. She’d hardly even felt herself start voiding her bowels, but now a considerable log had tented out her pants and panties quite a bit. She wanted so badly to run, but her legs could hardly move. Just as soon as she regained control of her body, the tall woman’s hand reached her, but she did not evaporate. The woman had only placed her hand on Mei’s shoulder, disintegrating cloud nowhere to be seen. “So perhaps you should leave this place, little scientist,” The woman had a strange expression, one Mei almost thought resembled one of camaraderie, “My companions will not be as forgiving as I am,”. “W-why are you letting me go?” Mei asked, hoping that the offer was genuine. “I am here in the pursuit of science. If I murder another woman of science, I won’t truly be helping the cause very much,”. Ah. Mei was being spared due to her role as a scientist. “Attempt to interfere, however, and I suspect climatology may lose one of its favorite researchers,”. With those words, the woman vanished into a cloud of smoke. Mei’s heart was racing, and her legs were shaking underneath her. Placing a hand on her chest and breathing heavily, she sat down on a nearby chair, hardly giving a thought to the squishy mess that spread across her butt as she did so. She was terrified, uncertain who that woman was, or what companions she had brought with her, but she knew that she had to warn the others. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Zarya paced around slowly. For the last few hours, she’d been patrolling the streets outside the facility, and she’d scarcely seen even any bugs, much less intruders. She was bored. Extremely bored. She knew she really shouldn’t hope something bad happened, but at that point, she’d have welcomed any sort of excitement. As she continued her route through the moonlit streets, a mechanical, beeping sound filled the quiet air. She smirked at the promise of a little action, and hoisted up her massive weapon. Sure enough, as walked towards the source of the noise, footsteps were audible. They certainly weren’t Mei’s, which meant whoever it was was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Another sound, one she knew well, made her eyes widen. She heard what she knew to be Sombra’s teleporter directly behind her. Activating her suit’s special ability, she preemptively projected a shield around herself. And none too soon, as a flurry of bullets slammed into it. The Talon hacker was there when she turned around, with a smirk that quickly dissolved as she realized her prey wasn’t dead. Using the energy her shield had absorbed, Zarya opened fire with her weapon, the huge beam impacting Sombra’s shoulder as the hacker dove to the side. More techno noises, which Zarya knew meant Sombra was now invisible, and slinking around somewhere close by. Everything was silent, and she could feel her heart beating in her ears. Those computerized sounds were heard once more, but Zarya was caught off-guard as the noises came from above her. Wasting no time, she once again activated her shield, and lifted her beam cannon up to fire, when Sombra unleashed a massive energy pulse. The bubble shield around Zarya was destroyed instantly, as was the personal shield projected by her suit. As she continually tried to reactivate her barrier, her suit simply couldn’t. She was totally vulnerable. And Sombra knew it. Aiming for Zarya’s center of mass, Sombra opened fire, several bullets crashing into the muscular woman’s armor. Thanks to said armor, none of them actually embedded themselves in her body, but hell if it didn’t hurt like they had. As she stumbled backwards, perhaps it was the impact of the bullets, perhaps it the fear, perhaps both, but Zarya’s large bowels voided themselves. With a very low pblrpblrpblrpblrpblr followed by a very wet skrltch, her mess slid into her panties. It was solid at first, but quickly turned soft. A ball of mess the size of an apple rested between her buttcheeks. As her abdomen ached from the damage it had sustained, Zarya put her hands over it, clutching it in pain. A few quiet seconds after she soiled herself, another, much louder SQUELCH accompanied even more mess as it rushed into her panties. Even softer than the first load, the new mess quickly spread out, filling up her panties and stretching them out. Sombra was loving the display before her, “What, you’re not gonna wet your pants, too?” she said with a chuckle. “Looking for someone to share your pain?” Zarya replied. Even outside of Talon, Sombra’s tendency for accidents was known. Her mirth vanished, and Sombra prepared her SMG. As she took a step towards Zarya, something that resembled a metal disk suddenly bounced off the wall next to her, clearly surprising both women. As they looked at it, it began to float into the air, and both realized what it was. It was Mei’s little ice-generating robot, Snowball. Zarya continued to look on in surprise, and Sombra in fear. Everyone knew to flee from Mei’s little robot. With its cute little eyes, it winked to Zarya, then began to unleash a furious blizzard upon Sombra, who yelped in fear and turned to run. As her running speed slowed and slowed, she threw out one of her teleporter beacons, and vanished from sight. Looking down the path the spy had fled, Zarya chuckled as she noticed small puddle of pee on the ground, as well as numerous smaller drops here and there. Sombra’s extensive record of pissing herself continued. Of course, she was hardly in a position to judge. Her pants and panties were sagging badly under the immense weight of her mess. She placed her hand on her rear, feeling the massive lump there. Given how soft it was, the mess quishes under her hand, even with hardly any force. Snowball began beeping at her, getting her attention. It seemed to want her to follow it. As she chased after the little robot, it led her to Mei, who was nervously pacing back and forth. She looked up at Zarya, and her expression changed to pure relief. “Zarya!” She cried, “You’re okay!” “Thanks to your little robot,” She said. As Zarya looked Mei over, she noticed Mei’s soaked pants, and another smell in the air, aside from her own mess, “Are you okay?” she asked, eyeing Mei’s obvious accidents. Mei looked down and flushed with embarrassment, nervously placing her hands over her groin, “Some woman attacked me, I’d never seen her before,” Mei sniffed the air, and scrunched her nose, “What about you?”. “Sombra,” She said simply. “I got hit in the gut, and, well...” She turned to the side, permitting Mei a view of the colossal bulge on her butt. Zarya hardly felt any shame in her accident; certainly none in Mei knowing about it. If there was one person she could count on to not judge, it was Mei. “We need to warn the others!” Mei said, mercifully changing the topic. “Agreed, let’s go,”. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pharah flew low, just outside the facility she was to protect. She’d heard gunfire only a few moments ago. No one had reported any intruders, and there were no other signs of a problem, but Pharah wasn’t about to gamble the safety of her objective. She landed on a rooftop, and crouched. With her keen vision, she inspected the town around her. Everything looked clear. That is, until her eyes settled on a purple object in the distance. Pharah looked closely, and it was nearly too late by the time she noticed. A high-powered sniper bullet raced towards her head, and it was only her quick realization that kept it from finding its target. She pulled away quickly, feeling her head jerk a little as the bullet grazed her helmet. Diving back, behind a concrete wall on the building’s roof, Pharah was panting heavily as her life flashed before her eyes. She lifted her hands up, and felt around her helmet for damage. Where the bullet had met the metal, there was now a deep cut in the metal. Had she been another inch forward… As the adrenaline faded, and sensation returned to her body, Pharah noticed that her crotch was wet. Groaning in annoyance, she spread and closed her legs repeatedly, trying to gauge the extent of her accident through her armor. Her womanhood was cold and clammy, now, but that felt like the extent of it. She must have only lost a little when Widowmaker shot at her. She hoped it hadn’t been enough to stain the uniform pants she wore under her armor, and that only her boxer briefs were wet. Once that was out of the way, Pharah started to think up a plan. Widowmaker was an expert sniper, and at such a range, she was sure to hit Pharah before Pharah could hit her. After a moment, she came up with a plan. It was a risky plan, but it just might work. She readied her jump jets and her rocket launcher, steadied her breathing, then launched into the air. She knew Widowmaker would be taking aim immediately, so she wasted no time in unleashing a barrage of missiles at the sniper’s perch. Even from here, she could see Widowmaker lower her rifle, and use her grappling hook to swing to safety. Pharah released the breath she’d been holding as her plan paid off. Widowmaker had been driven off, allowing her time to return to the facility. As Pharah descended, she realized that the fear that had surged through had caused her to empty what was left in her bladder. She blushed furiously as she urinated on herself, flooding her boxer briefs and drenching her pants. She could feel the hot wetness seeping down her well-toned thighs. Most of her pee was either contained by her armor or absorbed by her pants, but several drops managed to escape through the gaps in her armor, falling to the ground below. Pharah thanked the heavens that you couldn’t see her accident through her armor. There were more important things to think about than her soggy pants, though. She’d only bought herself time to escape from Widowmaker. Her allies would need help reinforcing the facility. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tracer sat on the ground, talking with Orisa. The massive robot seemed intimidating at first, but after only a couple moments of talking, it was clear that Orisa was just a big teddy bear. A highly-armed, titanium teddy bear, sure, but a teddy bear nonetheless. Supposedly, the door containing some top-secret information sat just behind them. Tracer didn’t know whether or not that was true, of course, since the door was locked. And reinforced. And had a keypad with a 20-number-long code sequence. And was huge enough that even Orisa, the disaster relief robot, couldn’t lift it. Tracer wondered if it was bad that she made the robot try to break into the chamber. Their conversation was interrupted as a sweaty, frantic Pharah burst into the room, startling Tracer so much she fell backwards from her sitting position. “Fareeha!” Tracer shouted in surprise, “What’sa matter?” “Talon is here,” Pharah removed her helmet, and gestured to the damaged portion, “Widowmaker almost took my head off. I think there are more out there, too. I haven’t seen Mei or Zarya,”. “Widow’s out there, huh?” A determined look filled Tracer’s face; she was quite excited at the premise of taking down her longtime rival. Pharah walked by them, inspecting the door to the chamber. As she walked by, Tracer could swear she caught the faintest whiff of the ammoniac smell of urine. She knew how much accidents like that distressed Pharah, so she decided to avoid bringing it up. Orisa, on the other hand, spoke without a care in the world, “I am detecting several indicators that you may have lost control of your bladder during the fight,”. Pharah turned about and stared daggers at the robot, who seemed to have no idea why she might want to keep such a thing private. Tracer couldn’t help but giggle. Pharah cleared her throat, then spoke, “Yes, Orisa… I wet my pants when Widowmaker almost shot me in the head,” her teeth were gritted as she spoke. “It is not uncommon for people- even professionals such as yourself- to experience bouts of incontinence in the face of mortal danger. Many of the individuals I have saved from numerous disasters had wet and/or soiled themselves. I am well-versed in aiding in the clean up-” “No, Orisa. I’m fine. Thanks.” Pharah forced a smile, looking like she was on the verge of defecting to Talon. “You’re welcome,” Orisa replied cheerily. Tracer broke into a fit of laughter. If this kept up, she’d be going home in soggy pants, too. Wiping a tear from her eye, Tracer drew her twin SMGs, “Back to business. You two stay here and guard the door, I’ll go see if I can find the others!” “Wait, Tracer!” Pharah began, but Tracer blinked away before she could say anything. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Widowmaker perched atop a building, she looked around with satisfaction at the total lack of any defenses around the facility. She knew Pharah must still be inside, but she would be easy prey. With a flash of pink to her right, and a flash or purple to her left, Sombra and Moira both materialized onto the rooftop. “Defenses?” Moira asked, steepling her fingers in a supervillainy way. “I took down their cameras and security systems,” Sombra replied. “No one outside,” Widowmaker said. Tapping her visor, it descended to cover her eyes, granting her infrared vision, “I see Pharah and a robot inside the building,”. “Then it sounds like this mission is nearly over,” Moira smiled her arrogant smile. “Sombra, you and I will sneak in and remove whatever security remains. Widowmaker, prepare to give us covering fire,”. The other two women nodded their agreement, and Sombra and Moira both vanished off the rooftop. Using her state-of-the-art grappling hook to navigate the various rooftops, she stopped when she heard voices below her. Peering over the side, she saw Zarya and Mei, both hurrying towards the facility. She noted that both of them were running bow-legged. Drawing her sniper rifle, she took aim. As the crosshair closed in on Zarya, rapid footsteps approached Widowmaker. Lowering her rifle, she turned around to behold Tracer sprinting towards her, pulse bomb in hand. “Present for ya!” she shouted as she dropped the deadly explosive at Widowmaker’s feet. Tracer used her recall ability, and vanished, leaving only a wide-eyed Widowmaker. With no other options, she leapt from the roof. A thunderous explosion filled the night as her previous position was thoroughly obliterated. She landed on her feet, but the impact quickly forced her onto her knees. She put her hands on the ground to steady herself as she attempted to steady her breathing. She tried to ignore the numerous wet trails flowing down her thighs. She clenched herself, but her purple panties were wet for sure, now. More footsteps approached her, and she hesitantly raised her head and saw Zarya and Mei approaching her. Zarya was readying her beam cannon. Widowmaker could make out a soft hssssssssssssssss as her bladder then fully emptied into her suit. Two puddles grew around her knees that were planted in the ground, before joining into one huge, yellow puddle. She felt her stomach suddenly grow lighter, and realized she was about to crap herself, too. Many of her emotions were deadened, but this certainly did hurt whatever dignity she had left. With a quiet crackle, the contents of her stomach became the contents of her underwear. The rear of her suit, previously contoured perfectly to her butt, tented out sharply as her mess stretched the fabric out. It lost its form after a moment, and turned into a squishy mass. The annoyance of this was severe, but she pushed her accidents out of her mind, and focused on finding a way out of this. Zarya and Mei now stood almost right in front of her. Widow used the only offensive tool she still had, her poison mine. Raising her arm as quickly as she could, her wrist-mounted launcher fired the mine at Zarya’s feet, detonating it. A cloud of gas filled the air, and as Mei and Zarya fled from it, Widowmaker grappled to the nearest rooftop. Her position was compromised, and she’d been disarmed. She could be of no further help this operation. She radioed for extraction. If Sombra and Moira were successful, they’d need their getaway to be present, anyway. She tried to observe her enemies without being seen, and saw Mei and Zarya nervously continuing their walk to the facility. Blue flashes in the distance indicated Tracer would return there far sooner. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Moira and Sombra entered the massive facility. The sounds of computers and machinery filled the air. Sombra loaded up a holographic map she’d managed to download, and located the room they were after. They’d already encountered several protectors, and Moira was sure they’d only meet more inside the facility. As they approached a sleek, futuristic hallway that lead towards their goal, Sombra stopped Moira, then cloaked. A moment later, she reappeared, and spoke “I see Pharah and a big robot, and Tracer,”. “We’re outnumbered, then,” Moira said. “True, but...” Sombra gave a sly smile, “My EMP pulse is charged up again,” “And my Coalescence is ready,” For once, the two shared their smug smiles. After a moment of preparation and planning, the two had agreed upon a plan: Moira would distract them while Sombra hacked open the door, whereupon Moira would teleport inside. Once both were inside, Sombra would close the door. With a nod of affirmation, Sombra cloaked and ran towards the door. Moira was mentally bracing herself. Her whole body felt slightly cold and numb. She was more than prepared for a combat operation, but she was about to face off against three people, all armed. Though her cold exterior did not show it, she was quite nervous. Once she felt she had given Sombra enough time, she walked down the hallway, emerging into a large, open chamber. With no hesitation, the robot placed down a barrier in front of its two companions. Both Pharah and Tracer readied their weapons, aiming them towards her. “Who’re you?” Tracer said, after apparently realizing that she had no idea who Moira was. “A scientist,” She smirked, “One who needs that data you’re guarding very badly,”. “I recommend you surrender,” The robot said, in an innocent-sounding voice. “You’re outnumbered and outgunned,” Said Pharah. “Outnumbered, yes...” Moira grinned, “Outgunned? Hardly”. Her right hand cut through the air, flinging a purple ball towards the chamber’s protectors. They huddled behind the robot’s barrier, and panic filled their eyes as the ball passed through the barrier like it wasn’t even there. With little purple streams of energy, the ball got to work disintegrating the protectors. Hearing the two biological ones yell in pain as they ran away from the death ball, Moira noted with satisfaction that they’d been forced from behind their shield. Targeting Pharah, Moira fired her disintegrating beam at her. Large strips and chunks of the woman’s armor were vanishing from sight. Seeing this, Tracer sped towards Moira. Ending her attack, Moira teleported back several yards just as Tracer opened fire on the spot she had stood in only a second ago. Moira had treated plenty of wounds caused by Tracer’s fearsome weapons, and she did not want to be on the receiving end. Tracer prepared to sprint for Moira again, but Moira grinned as she saw the death ball returning. Mentally patting herself on the back for aiming it properly, she watched as the ball struck Tracer once more just as the woman tried to sprint. The shock and pain of it caused her to faceplant into the sleek, metal floor. Hurrying over to the downed fighter, Moira prepared her disintegrating hand, and placed it one Tracer’s face. Moira could plainly hear a loud, wet squelch as the poster child of Overwatch noisily filled her orange pants. She could even see the round little bulge forming between her buttcheeks, which had been so thoughtfully displayed by her tight pants. Furthering her shame, Moira could clearly make out a yellow puddle forming between Tracer’s legs as she lay prone. “This won’t hurt a bit,” Moira said. Before she could deliver the finishing blow, however, she heard the sound of something flying through the air. At her. Jerking her head upward, she went wide-eyed as she saw a blue rocket speeding towards her. She tried to activate her teleportation, but the concussive shell hit her before she could. She was sent flying backwards, and rolled along the ground. She could feel a hot sensation around her womanhood, and realized that the force of the blast knocked a little bit of urine out of her. Not enough to stain her black pants, but enough to be felt. She pulled herself off the ground, and looked over to see Tracer doing the same. Dozens of little pee-droplets were falling off the young hero. Pharah was flying towards her, rocket launcher at the ready. The robot had finally joined in the fray, and seemed to be warming up some sort of Gatling gun. This was bad. Moira could feel the cold-numb sensation of fear clawing its way back into her body. “I repeat: I recommend you surrender,” the robot said. “So do we,” Came an accented voice from elsewhere in the chamber. Moira looked with alarm to see Zarya and Mei entering the fight. Panic began to well within her. There was no way for her to win this fight. No way except Coalescence. As if summoned, Sombra materialized in the air above the Overwatch forces, unleashing her EMP pulse. Everyone’s gear shut down simultaneously. They were vulnerable. Readying her weapon’s ultimate attack, Moira put her hands together, then shot them outward, unleashing a colossal gold and purple laser. Aiming it from one opponent to the next, she fired a continuous stream of death. ---------------------------- Pharah descended from the air, and hid behind cover alongside Zarya and Mei. Not only could she hear the laser digging into the wall they hid behind, she could feel it. Her whole body was tingly. Her heart was racing, and the terror forced her to soil herself. Unconsciously bending her knees ever so slightly, she unloaded into her boxer briefs. Her armor didn’t let her mess bulge out very far, instead flattening it out across her rear end. She felt somewhat sure that this was the last time she’d be wearing these pants, as her mess finished filling her fatigues under her armor. Zarya had a similar reaction, but she had already soiled herself. Instead, the contents of her bladder were lost. Zarya looked down in shock to see wetness flowing down her black pants. Even over the chaos she was taking shelter from, a very loud pssssssssssssss was completely audible. Entire wet sheaths coated the inside of her legs as the urine raced down her well-muscled thighs. Some of the wetness flowed into her boots, but most slid down the sides, depositing into large puddles under her. Zarya felt shame and anger welling up within her- she never lost control out of fear. As a weightlifter, and a veteran, there’d been plenty of times she lost control due to strain or stress, but almost never fear. Contrast that with Mei, who was shaking like a leaf as she hid near them. Fresh urine spilled into her pants, rewarming her now cold and clammy legs. A new wave of mess found its home in her panties as it joined what was already there. She’d already voided herself earlier, but even so, managed to make even more of a mess of her pants. Off in a different corner, Tracer and Orisa took cover. They’d fled here the moment Moira unleashed the laser, and Tracer was out of breath. She slid down the wall she was leaning on, not caring that the firm mess between her buttocks squished under her as she reached the floor. As the laser passed over their hiding spot, eradicating some of their cover, Tracer voided what was left in her bladder. She’d only lost about half of her urine when Moira tried to kill her, and the rest spilled out of her now. The urine flowed from her crotch down to her butt, over the mess that rested in her panties. A small puddle began to grow underneath her. “Do you need a hug?” Orisa ask, observing Tracer’s loss of control. “Honestly?” Tracer replied, still out of breath, “Li’l bit, yeah,”. Tracer meant it sarcastically, but as the friendly robot knelt down and wrapped her into a hug, she realized it was actually pretty comforting. Once the hug ended, Orisa said “If it is of further comfort: I cannot have accidents; but if I could, I’m sure I would right now, too,”. “Thanks,” It wasn’t actually any comfort, but Orisa was trying. ---------------------------- The massive laser ended, and Moira was nearly drained of energy. The path was clear, though, and she sprinted as hard as she could towards Sombra, who was dutifully hacking the door. The robot fired a green ball towards her, which Moira ducked under. A second later, however, she stopped dead in her tracks as the ball pulled her towards. She flew through the air, landing on her knees. She looked up, and gazed directly into the barrel of the robot’s very large cannon. That numb-cold fear returned harder than ever. “I told you to surrender,” the robot said. The many barrels of the gun began to glow green and emit an intense heat. Moira felt another kind of heat as she began to wet her pants. The stream was quiet and slow, but it was steady. A wet circle spread outwards from her womanhood, and dark crescents descended down her long and slender legs. Small rivulets of urine wound around the sides of her legs, ensuring her liquid shame reach all across her shapely legs. A puddle silently developed around her knees. Not content to leave her with some dignity, her bowels opted to relieve themselves, too. Much like her bladder, the release was quiet and slow, as the first log nestled neatly into her panties. Another quickly followed. Her pants were tight, but also fairly elastic, allowing the firm mess to bulge outward fairly far, creating a very large, lumpy bulge on her butt. “My sensors indicate you have both wet and soiled yourself, and are in need of a change,” The robot said. Moira exhaled sharply as the massive gun began to power down, “If you would like to surrender now, we promise not to hurt you,”. Out of the corners of her eyes, Moira could see the others emerging from their cover, all of them having caught their breath, finally. At the other side of the room, Moira looked with delight as she saw the great metal door finally slide open as Sombra hacked it. Moira inhaled, bracing herself. The cold-numb feeling was more intense than ever, and she knew that making a break for it had a high chance of being lethal. Moira stood up as quickly as she could, then vanished into a cloud of purple fog. She reappeared several yards away, running as hard and fast as she could towards Sombra and the door. Her fear was overwhelming, and she felt her bladder chaotically release more of its contents. This feeling of warmth and wetness covered her groin and her upper thighs, while numerous little trails wound down her legs. Drops of pee were flung into the air as she ran. From her other end, her bowels noisily vacated what was left inside of them. This mess was wetter than what filled her pants before, and mushed around inside her panties. Moira could feel all of her opponents hot on her heels as she ran. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sombra raised her SMG and began firing wildly, halting several of their enemies in their tracks. The robot deployed another barrier, however, rendering this approach futile. But, it had bought Moira just as much time as she needed, as she ran by Sombra and into the room. Sombra ran in just after her, using her newly-hacked system access to slam the door behind them. Moira was panting heavily, and Sombra could smell a foul odor about her as the two stood next to each other. She decided to be the bigger woman and not say anything about it, though, “You hurt?” she asked. “Only my pride,” Moira said between her ragged breaths. The two approached a large, supremely advanced terminal. Sombra set about hacking it while Moira observed. After a short moment of silence, the scientist spoke, “Sombra, I must commend you,”. “Thanks, but what for? A lot of things happened today,” “Your assistance tonight has been invaluable. With it, I feel this operation would have been impossible,” this got a slight smirk from Sombra. Moira continued, “On a less professional level, I have to commend you for maintaining control over your bodily functions through the entire conflict. I… did not,”. Sombra wiggled her legs a little bit as the cold wetness around her crotch reminded her that she had actually peed a little bit when Mei threw her little robot at her. But what Moira didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, “You saw my record, it’s not uncommon,” Sombra said, happy to maintain this momentary friendliness. A few seconds later, Sombra had completely hacked open the terminal. She took a step back, and did a theatrical bow as Moira approached the device, and began downloading the various documents and files she needed. While she did this, Sombra took another peek at the map she’d downloaded. Studying it, she saw that there was a way out, though it would be an unorthodox one: the air ducts. ---------------------------- Several minutes later, the two women were climbing through the ventilation shafts. Even though Sombra was in the lead, the unpleasant smell from Moira’s mess still filled the cramped space. The two exited the air duct, and made their way through a door, leading outside the building. They now stood on a balcony that overlooked a precipitous drop into the ocean below. Their ride should appear at any minute. As they looked, they heard a noise, One that made Moira gasp, Sombra looked to its source to see Pharah flying a ways away from the balcony, and a blue missile streaking towards them. Neither of them could react in time as the concussive shell landed between them, slamming Moira against the back wall, and launching Sombra over the edge of the balcony. She screamed as she began to fall, her descent only halted as Moira grabbed hold of her hand. Sombra felt around near her waist, and went wide-eyed as she realized she had used all of her teleporters. Moira had an impressive stature, but she spent most of her time reading or conducting science experiments; she was struggling just to hold Sombra, much less lift her up. Making a terrible mistake, Sombra looked down, and felt her heart drop as she spied the many, spiky rocks jutting out of the water below her. There were no two ways about it, this fall would be fatal. As she stared downwards, wondering which of the spikes would do her in, she noticed a clear stream falling between her legs, and into the ocean. She was peeing. Her pants were more akin to stockings than actual pants, and so most of her urine fell in a stream, instead of down her legs. As Sombra involuntarily swayed and moved her legs, however, they frequently got in the way of that stream, causing numerous, irregular wet splotches up and down her legs. Fighting through her fear, the first thing that came to her mind was to try and stop wetting herself. She brought her legs together, trying to stop the release. All this did was cut off the stream, instead causing the urine to soak into her black and pink leggings, creating large wet stains on her thighs. Looking like she was using all of her strength, Moira began to pull her back up, inch by inch. Suddenly, a rocket crashed into the side of the cliff, not too far from the two. They remembered that Pharah was still there. Seeing the explosion, and feeling several little rocks pelt her body from it, Sombra then crapped her pants, as well. A loud brrrrRRRAAAAAAAPPPpppp sounded from her butt, as semi-solid, mushy mess spilled into her panties. It quickly grew in size, filling the space between her legs. Her panties began to sag a bit, and she could feel some of her mess find its way out of her underwear, and down her left thigh. It felt like she’d stuffed warm mud into her underwear, and she knew her formerly pink panties must look like it, too. The wind began to pick up suddenly, almost unnaturally. The sounds of loud engines became apparent. Sombra thought that there was no way Pharah’s jetpack was that loud. Looking around, she spotted a Talon dropship approaching the balcony. The side door opened, revealing Widowmaker. She wasted no time in lifting up her rifle, and taking aim at Pharah. Seeing their sudden backup arrive, Pharah used her jets for all they were worth, and flew to the safety of the town as Widowmaker fired at her. Sombra had been so preoccupied watching the show, she hadn’t even realized Moira had finally managed to painstakingly pull her back up. She fell forward, landing on top of Moira. Sombra quietly muttered “Oh, thank you thank you thank you thank you...”. ---------------------------- The three women stood as the dropship flew them home. There were numerous, comfortable chairs, available, but none of them were willing to sit down, considering they all needed to change. Over at a large communications table, Moira was informing Reaper of the mission’s success. Widowmaker had isolated herself (imagine that) and was simply cleaning her gun. Sombra was leaning against a wall, and her eyes ran over the wet and messy pants of her companions. She didn’t even know what had caused Widow to lose control, but she’d done it just as much as Moira and she, herself had. Sombra was somewhat upset that she had gotten so close to breaking her wet/messy streak, only to lose it at the end, but she supposed there was some comfort in that she wasn’t alone. And there was a little satisfaction in that Moira’s clean streak had rather decisively ended. Once again, though, she kept her mouth shut. The two had established a shaky peace, and she wasn’t about to ruin that. Besides, she figured her time would be better spent cleaning up as much as possible before they returned to their base.

It’s 7:00 AM in Crystal Cove as 18 year old Daphne Blake was in her new house, sleeping in her bed naked. Her alarm clock was ringing she sat up and turned it off, she starts her daily routine. Daphne likes holding her pee in and wetting or messing in the bed. It was Thursday and she looked at her daily routines before getting dressed that she wrote herself said, today it was to masterbate in bed and don’t stop until she wets the bed. So she slid her hand down the sheets and felt her hand touching her hairy pussy, she then started masterbating and she kept doing it and doing it. She felt it coming, she relaxed her muscles to let it come out so she did. She felt a drop of pee coming out which dampened the middle of the bedsheets, she felt another one coming and let her pussy just loose control of her bladder and wet the bed completely. She did felt the warmth of her pee staining the bedsheets and being warmed in her bed she loved wetting the bed. She got dressed putting on her purple panties on, her pantyhose, her purple shirt and skirt, her green ascot and her white shoes. She is waiting for Fred, Shaggy, Velma and Scooby to come in the Mystery Machine. She falls asleep on her couch watching women desperation wetting videos, she heard Fred knocking on the door so took her iPhone and opened the door as Fred took her to the Mystery Machine and drove off to Fred’s house. They got to Fred’s house and went inside and saw a letter on the armchair stamped with a big E on it. It was from the mysterious Mr E giving them their next mystery to solve as Daphne took a big glass of Coke out of Fred’s fridge. She drank it while Fred was reading the letter, the mystery was in a haunted Mansion. Daphne finished all her coke and everyone went to the Mystery Machine to drive to the Haunted Mansion. Half way there Daphne felt her bladder worsening she had to pee, then Fred got there as they spilt up to look for clues Fred went with Daphne, Shaggy went with Scooby and Velma. Shaggy, Scooby and Velma went to the library and Fred and Daphne went through the corridor to the bedroom, Daphne is pleased because there is a toilet in the bedroom. A big scary monster comes out of a book in the library and kidnaps Velma as Shaggy and Scooby are screaming for help, it that them two. Daphne and Fred hear this, Daphne heads for the library and Fred heads down a corridor and he gets kidnaped by the monster. It’s just Daphne left as she inspects the library still holding her pee in as was squeezing her legs together and hands place on her pussy/bladder. Daphne then looks to her left and see the scary monster, Daphne is terrified of it she gets very scared that she fear wets herself and her pee runs down her leg and wets her pantyhose. She gets kidnaped by the monster and her purple panties and skirt are both wet after she wet herself of fear. Today was Daphne’s desperate day. To be continued!

2348 A.D. The little girl, who couldn’t have been more than five or six, jumped excitedly holding her prize in her hands. It had taken nearly all her will power, but she had done it and now as promised she held the latest installment of the My Little Pony: Virtual Friends. Today she would finally be allowed to log into The Sphere. She ran to the counter as a rather annoyed older brother was dragged along besides her. “Hi there!” The teenager behind the counter said smiling down at the girl. “Two Dives in Ponyland.” The brother said with a shudder. “Ponyville!” The young girl corrected as the brother rolled his eyes. “Can’t believe mom’s making me do this with you.” He said eying the cover of smiling barnyard creatures with distaste. “Will that be partial dive or full?” The teenager working behind the counter asked. “Full!” The young girl exclaimed as the brother shook his head. “Partial, Becca, remember? Full dive has needles.” He said eyeing the holographic displays of the latest games that were released. He stared at the image of the latest zombie game with longing. Why did he have to go in the little kid game with his sister? She’d be fine. She’d go in, play with the animals, fly in the sky. So what if it was her first time? What could possibly go wrong in a kids game? “Actually, Let’s do one partial for Ponytown and one full for Brains, Tasty Brains.” He said before eyeing his sister. “Think you’ll be fine by yourself?” He asked hopefully. She looked up at him with wide blue eyes in wonder. He was letting her be alone? “Look, don’t tell mom, and I’ll take you back next week.” He said before she eagerly nodded her head. “Alright, have you two been here before?” The girl working the counter asked. “I have. She hasn’t.” He answered slipping his wrist underneath the scanner as the total was deducted from his BitCoin account. “Is this your user?” She asked as a holographic image of a teen boy decked out in weapons and gear appeared. “Yep.” He said. “That doesn’t look anything like you.” Becca said looking up at the image and then back to her brother. “It doesn’t have too, you’ll see. It’s The Sphere, you can be anyone you want to be.” He answered as the girl led them behind the counter towards the back. “You can go in room one whenever you want, Brian.” The girl said. “I better stay and help her out first.” He said leading the little girl towards the scanner. “How’d she know your name?” Becca asked as she glanced at what appeared to be a blank wall. Her eyes went wide as an exact replica of herself appeared in front of her. “Because she scanned my chip.” Brian answered. “Pretty cool, huh?” He said smiling a little at her amazement. It would be kind of fun to see her first Dive. Oh well. He’d rather be shooting zombies than playing with ponies. “Now all you have to do is think about what you want to look like. Yeah, like that.” He said as the image immediately changed outfits and hair color. “Woah,” Becca said imagining herself with different shades and styles of hair. After several minutes of giggling at the sight of herself with a Mohawk, afro, mullet, and other assortment of different things she finally settled on just long brown hair and blue eyes. “This is what I want.” “So ordinary.” Brian said before shrugging. “Now all you have to do is name her.” Welcome, Sasha Brindey “You guys all set?” The teenager asked as Brian nodded his head. “Have fun, we’ll be out about the same time.” Brian said before waving and leaving towards the first room. The teenager led Becca towards the back hall, around the corner and towards room number twelve. As Becca walked she craned her neck and turned her head in all directions checking out all the latest advertisements for dives available. One image showed a boy and a girl decked out in chain mail carrying swords with a giant fire breathing dragon in the background glaring menacingly. Another image showed a deep sea dive with all kinds of fish and sea life swimming around a girl in a scuba diving get up. The guide nearly had to physically pull her away from one display of two girls with black cat ears and tails standing in provocative posses. “Kitties! I wanna go in the kitty one!” Becca said frowning in confusion at the teenagers reaction. “Noo! Not for kids, sorry.” The teenager said giggling and motioning her forward into the nearest room. Becca looked around the room. It wasn’t at all what she had been expecting. “Where’s the ponies?” She asked taking in the plain room with a single chair and strange helmet. “Don’t worry, there’s ponies.” The guide said motioning for her to take a seat. “Now since this is your first time, let me explain how this is going to work. We’re going to put this helmet on you and count to ten and when you come to you’ll be in Ponyville.” Becca sat down in the leather recliner as the guide leaned her back down. “You ready?” The little girl nodded her head eagerly as a large spherical helmet was brought down over her eyes. “Now if you want to log out for any reason, all you have to do is say the words I want out and a screen will appear asking you if you want to log out. You can say yes or no.” She explained. Becca nodded her head in understanding in the complete blackness of the helmets interior. She hoped the lady would stop talking soon so she could hurry up and start. Her friends at school had talked endlessly about how you could ride a Pegasus in the game and that was the first thing she wanted to do. “Alright, I started the program. It might feel a little scary at first, but it will be over real quick. I’ll count down with you. 10, 9…” Becca gripped the armrest as many different colors began floating in her vision. “8, 7, 6…” A strange lightheaded sensation caused her to lean her head back against the headrest as she closed her eyes. “5,4,3…” She clutched the armrest tighter as she felt the room around her beginning to spin. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It’ll be worth it, she told herself. “2,1..” The teenagers voice began to fade away as she counted down the last of the numbers until all was silent. A gentle breeze on her face caused her to slowly open her eyes as she let out an audible gasp. No longer was she in the chair in the Sphere Center at her local mall, but in the heart of Ponyville as groups of ponies trotted around the city paying her no mind. “So cool!” Becca said with her shining eyes alight with excitement which only grew with every passing second as she slowly walked around the town taking in all the shops and different colored ponies. “Hi there! I’ve never seen you around before.” Becca heard turning around to find a purple pony with wings. “Princess Twilight!” Becca squealed. “Hi, Sasha, it’s nice to meet you. Is this your first time in Ponyville?” The princess asked. “Yeah!” Becca said excitedly. Sasha? She wondered until she remembered that was the name of her avatar. “We’re glad to have you here! Umm, don’t take this the wrong way, but, well, what exactly are you?” She asked looking Becca up and down. “You’re not a pony, or any other kind of animal I’ve ever seen before.” “I’m not a pony.” Becca said giggling. “I’m a human!” “A human?” Twilight asked confused. “No way! Wait till Lyra get’s wind of this! C’mon, Sasha, let’s go meet everyone.” Becca eagerly followed along craning her neck this way and that while Twilight made her pre-programmed speech about the every day life of the town. She could see Applejack at her stand in the market selling apples, Rarity was in her boutique, Pinkie Pie was inside the bakery licking a bowl clean while Mrs. Cake stood by with a disproving glare. It was when they got to the Apple farm that things took a turn for the worse. “So, Sasha, is there anything you want to see?” Twilight asked. “Cloudsdale!” Becca said eagerly. “I want to see the flying ponies and ride one!” “So us earth ponies aren’t good enough for you, are we?” A voice full of resentment asked. “W-What?” Becca stuttered as she turned around only to be looked down upon by the entire Apple family. A strange flash of light could been seem coming from their cutie marks on their flanks. “Everyone always wants to see the flying ponies while us simpletons are left to work the fields. Don’t even get me started on those damn unicorns with their magic. They can command anything and everything, but do they help us? No! I’m sick of it!” AppleJack said glaring into Becca’s eyes as the little girl trembled. What was going on? It was then that BigMac came rushing towards them, pitchfork in mouth as he rammed it into the princesses chest. Blood splattered onto Becca’s face and shirt as she let out an ear piercing scream. This wasn’t happing! They just killed princess Twilight! There was so much blood! Wasn’t this supposed to be a kids game? “I want out!” Becca yelled as a menu screen popped open. System Error: Cannot Log Out Becca let out a scared whine as the ponies slowly began to advance each carrying some form of weapon in it’s jaw. Their once kind and friendly eyes now glowed a deep red color. The little girl finally found her feet and took off running towards the village once she was sure one of them tried to take a stab at her. She ran while gasping for air. This wasn’t supposed to be a scary game! Becca stood frozen in fear once she reached the town. Thick smoke hung in the air obscuring her vision. Buildings were on fire and she could feel the flames heat on her face. The unicorns were stabbing the earth ponies repeatedly with their horns in a large massacre as hordes of bodies littering the ground. Peagusi were dropping heavy rocks and other sharp objects onto the unicorns below crushing their skulls. Becca stood rooted to the spot wide eyed as her little body trembled and felt her bladder gave way, but no liquid emerged from her avatar. “I want out! I want out!” She screamed repeatedly only to have the same error repeating itself. She ran behind a building to take cover as she sat on the ground hugging her knees to her chest and covering her ears. No matter how hard she pressed her palms against her head she couldn’t drown out the screams of dying ponies. All she could do was cry tearless wails and wait for her time to be up. ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Brian stood around the corner of a wall in the abandoned laboratory with gun in hand. He slowly peeked his head around the corner to check whether or not the coast was clear. The dim florescent lighting that blinked on and off gave the place an eerie feel even if he knew the place wasn’t crawling with zombies. Sweat trickled down his face and mixed with the dirt that clung to his cheeks from pressing his face against the walls. He limped forward as fast as he could dragging his bit leg along the floor. Maybe a full dive wasn’t the best idea in a game where injuries could happen. Oh well, that’s what made them more fun. In a full dive you could feel things, not just in your face, but your whole body as well. You could feel the weight of the gun in your hands, along with the kickback when fired. The things your body learned in a full dive stayed with you. Anything that involved muscle memory. Running, jumping, swimming, martial arts, skate boarding etc. Although it was definitely more fun to feel, it came with it’s downsides as well. Brian let out a silent moan as his leg ached. He could feel the virus coursing through him with every step. Nothing was permanent of course. He’d be fine as soon as he awoke out of the dive, although sometimes it takes a few minutes for your brain to adjust. Even though there’s no real wound there, your brain thinks there is for a short amount of time and sends signals of pain to the afflicted area. For some unlucky few with extreme sensitivity, there really will be a wound for a short amount of time. The Nocebo effect some called it. Once in a while Brian would came out of a dive with red and mildly irritated areas where he had been shot, but that sort of phenomena was normal. It’s when you wake up with a hole in your chest that’s a problem. “Hallway three clear.” Brian whispered into the microphone on his vest. “What’s your position?” Nothing but silence greeted him for a full minute. “Sebastian, where are you?” A blood curdling scream could be heard coming from the hallway up ahead that bounced and echoed through the hallway sending all the hairs on Brian’s body sticking up like the Eifel tower with goosebumps along his skin. They got him. Logging Out Brian blinked as he found himself strapped to a table by his wrists, chest, legs and feet. His time shouldn’t have been over already, should it? I guess time really does fly when your having fun. A dull pain in his leg let him know he got off easy. That other guy would be sore for a while. “Sorry to log you out before your time is up, but there’s been a situation.” Brian heard wincing a little as the probes were removed from the back of his head. “Huh?” He mumbled squinting from the light as his helmet was removed. He turned his head to the right to find the girl who had led him in getting the alcohol swabs ready to administer to the back of the head to disinfect the puncture wounds from the connectors. “Something’s gone wrong in the game your sister was in.” She said quickly patching up his head and helping him to his feet. “What? What happened?” He asked in concern springing to his feet. Mom would kill him if anything happened to Becca. She didn’t trust these games after all and he was supposed to have been in there with her. “Someone re-wrote the game and all the characters are killing each other.” She said. “I’ve tried to log her out several times, but an error keeps popping up.” “What? It’s a little kids game!” he said as he was led over to a viewing monitor to witness the bloodbath that was now Ponyville. He quickly scanned the screen to find his sister curled in a ball in the corner rocking back and forth as the mayhem and chaos surrounded her. “What happened?” “She must have said a key phrase to trigger it. It’s never happened before.” She said biting her lip and nervously tapping her fingers on the counter. She typed a command into the holograph projected keyboard only for another error to appear. “There’s nothing I can do until her time is up. It’s not letting me log her out manually.” “What if you just took the helmet off? She’s only in a partial dive.” He suggested. “It could hurt our system. You can’t just pull it off without properly shutting it down first.” She explained. “You think I care about your system? Get my sister out of there! Look at her!” Brian shouted angrily jabbing his finger to the image of the five-year-old huddled in a ball. He could feel his blood boiling with every second. Maybe it was his fight-or-flight reaction kicking in or maybe it was from training his senses from so many full dives in The Sphere, but he could faintly hear laughing coming from another room somewhere. He stormed down the hall as the sound grew louder and louder until he came face to face with a door marked Employee’s Only. “Open it!” He demanded as the teenager stood by nervously. “I can’t let you go in there.” She said. More giggling erupted from the other side of the door. “Dude, dude, make them go after her now.” He heard before turning on the employee. “I. said. open. it.” He growled at her with gritted teeth and clenched fists. She cringed slightly before reluctantly pulling out her I.D and swiping it under the sensor as the door opened to reveal a control room with two employees typing commands into a certain My Little Pony world and laughing about the results. “Hey, Victoria, check it out. This little girl is freaking out over my pat-OOH” He grunted as Brian’s fist smashed into his face before he even knew what was happening. “Log her out NOW!” Brian demanded. “It was just a joke calm down!” He said before getting his face smashed into the console. “Okay, okay!” He grunted as the other boy quickly entered a command to shut off the over ride and shut down the machine. Brian sent him another warning glare before taking off down the hallway in search of the room Becca was in. He could hear crying coming from the door to his left and quickly opened it to find his sister curled in a ball trembling. Brian quickly undid the helmet straps and pulled it off her head to reveal the terrorized child underneath. He once bright blue eyes were completely blood shot as tears and snot ran down her face. Her pants and the chair were soaked with urine as she babbled incoherently about what had happened. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s over now.” He whispered picking her up as shook and balled in his arms. He gritted his teeth in anger as he held her and tried to calm her down. She'd probably never go in The Sphere again. Who knew as a result she'd grow up to protect it. A/n So this will be my project for NaNoWriMo. Hope you guys like it.

amy's nightmare(silly game i made) View File this is a silly little game i made. basically you run around a forest until "ghosts" (they look quite poor i'm not going to lie) scare the pee and poop out of you. you can focus the camera on amy's ass, crotch or face. when the fear meter reaches 50% amy wets herself, when it reaches 100% she soils herself and wets again. enjoy :) Submitter pp123 Submitted 02/23/2017 Category Female videos  

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?"

Mal looked in awe at the bizarre spectacle unfolding on the beach hundreds of feet below. He had been looking for birds, crabs, seashells, cloud formations, or whatever else would look good in a photograph. His attempts to throw a college art project together didn't go so well on the public beach. There were too many people in the way, and one girl in particular he wanted to avoid. Now he was atop a cliff not far away, his camera hanging from a strap on his shoulder, as he stood in a spellbound state and stared at the things that were coming out of the sea. First he had thought them to be a trick of the light. When they surfaced, it was clear they were things rather than reflections of things. As they crawled and loped onto shore he thought they were seals, but it soon became clear they weren't. A shiver came to Mal's body with the realization that they were something truly strange. He expected to recognize them immediately, as if it were only some optical illusion or hallucination that made them look like something out of the ordinary. But they only looked more eldritch as his eyes focused. They had dark glistening skin like newts or leeches, but their eyes had a strange sparkle. There were mere suggestions of limbs rather than actual legs or fins. Three were on the shore now, while another three puppet-like heads had surfaced. They were clumsy on land, but something about them looked artful and clever. It was all very strange. Mal had been willing to entertain the possibility that they were dinosaurs, or even dragons. But soon he stopped even trying to place them, and sought only to observe them. Finally he remembered his camera. His expensive digital camera with the great zoom function. He snatched it up, pointed it in the general direction of the secluded stretch of beach where the creatures were coming ashore. It was still on maximum zoom from the seagulls he had been photographing earlier, and, when he put his eye to the eyepiece, he was surprised to see a nude woman stretching out her arms. He lowered the camera, thinking he was somehow seeing a different part of the shore. It turned out he had pointed the camera in the right direction. There was a redheaded young woman stretching herself next to the six unidentified animals. Or was it seven? There was an indistinct lump that could have been a seventh animal. Having returned the camera to the default view, he looked through it again, and slowly zoomed in, snapping pictures all the time. The woman kept smiling and stretching, and glancing at the Protean creatures every now and then. The extra sharpness of the picture didn't help Mal to identify the figures. They were still semi-symmetrical globs pseudopods of some sort. Their skin was muted shades of blue and green, and seemed now to be made up of something like scales. Things that could have been mouths and nostrils, and things that were definitely gills, appeared before him. But it was the eyes that attracted his attention like magnets. They could have almost belonged to dogs. Or even, perhaps, humans. Mal's curiosity and anxiety turned to fear and disgust when the back of one of the beast split open. It was red underneath. The gash widened and widened until it ran the length of the spine...assuming it had a spine. Then the red mass inside started to rise out, like the globby redness that oozes from a cherry pie when the knife slides in. In no more than a minute, the entire skin had been pulled away from the muscle and bones, and what almost looked like a red copy of the animal was scrambling across the sand. But it didn't bleed. It seemed all right. The woman smiled as it freed itself from the skin, and many of its brethren were now splitting apart. Mal realized that the small seventh shape was a discarded skin. But where was the thing that had molted it? The red and pink seal-shaped monsters stretched and squeezed and kneaded themselves until they were shaped like people. Then they actually became people. Women with red hair and blue eyes. They stretched, then walked, and ran, and leaped, and danced about. They seemed to forget about their skins as they enjoyed the warm sand and the cool breeze and everything else around them. One of the skins, which had been kicked off in a hurry, was now draped across a large, pointed rock. Mal had a naughty idea. ------------------ "Hey, Malford, it's me, Rochelle!" a young woman in a powder blue bathing suit called out to her old classmate. She squinted her hazel eyes in the sun as she removed her sunglasses and brushed her wind-whipped brown hair out of her face, hoping to make herself more recognizable. The young man looked at her stoically for a second, then went back to gathering up his things, paying no attention to the girl. Rochelle wasn't dissuaded. They'd been friends last year in high school, and, despite a little awkwardness the day of their graduation ceremony, she assumed they were still friends. She tiptoed across the hot sand to meet him. "Whatcha got there?" she asked as she saw the odd thing he had draped over his arm. "It's nothing," Mal answered curtly. "Look, I don't have time to talk. I'm working against a deadline. I've got a complicated project for my photography course." "Ooh, can I see it when it's done?" "Sure. You still got the same e-mail address?" "Yeah. So what is that?" She reached out and touched the strange cloth Mal was holding. It felt at the same time like fine silk, the wing of a butterfly, and the belly of a garter snake. It was a beautiful blue, but only showed its color where the light hit it straight on. "Careful, it's rare." "But what is it?" "It's a long story." He folded it up carefully and put it in a duffel bag with the rest of his things. After a few more pleasantries and dodged questions, Mal was off, and Rochelle was wondering if she had offended him. But mostly she was wondering about the cloth he had carried. Something about it utterly fascinated her from the instant her brain had registered the sensation of her fingertips touching it. That fascination was growing every second. But she hadn't lost sight of the destination where she'd been heading before she sighted Mal. A bunker-like cement building painted tan housed the public restrooms. Rochelle had much time to think as she stood in line. She'd gotten the impression Mal had just found the cloth. So if she could just backtrack the way she'd seen him coming, maybe she could find where he had gotten it, and what it was. Her obsession grew, her patience diminished, and soon she abandoned the slowly-moving line in favor of her quest. A strange feeling came upon her while she was making her way along the winding cliffside. She didn't know what it was, but it frightened as well as excited her. As she was rounding a bend, she caught sight of a triangular rock that jutted out of the ground like a tooth. The rock had been enough to catch her attention, but she could see something behind it, just peeking out of the edge. The girl's blood pressure jumped. That something was covered with blood. When she came in full view of the thing she had glimpsed, she put her hands over her mouth in shock. She didn't scream, or even gasp, but her eyes were wide and her tan skin was starting to turn white. In the sand lay a human corpse that had been skinned from head to toe. Every muscle was fully exposed for her to see. Tendons, ligaments, and even mammary glands could be spotted amongst the glistening red meat. The scavengers were keeping their distance. There was no pool of blood or stench of decay or any other sign of decomposition. It looked as clean as a freshly-butchered hog. This orderliness made the grisly sight even more unnerving to the faint-hearted young woman. But this horror was nothing compared to what came next. Just as Rochelle's rational mind was starting to kick in and she thought about whether she should go back and tell a lifeguard or call 911 right now, she saw the body move. Slowly, it sat up. Rochelle shrieked. When it was in an upright position, the stringy red eyelids on the skinless face opened to reveal a pair of blue eyes. Rochelle's screams were soon suppressed into squeaks and gasps as her breath left her. But she lost control of more than just her voice. Rochelle's bikini began to turn a darker shade of blue in a spot just behind where her thighs met. Her body wobbled as she tried to fight gravity and the loss of her strength and oxygen. The large navy blue spot reached forwards, backwards, and sideways, until it met the borders of the fabric and liquid began to run down her legs like streams of rainwater coursing over the lips of an overburdened gutter. The skinned fiend opened its mouth, revealing paradoxically white teeth, and spoke. "I have the same problem with this human body. Sometimes liquid leaks from between my legs." ------------------ When Rochelle sat up from the couch, she hoped it had all been a dream. It hadn't. There was a strange redhead in her apartment, wearing some of her spare clothes, staring at her with those creepy blue eyes. Rochelle hadn't really slept. It was late, but she wasn't counting on getting any sleep this night. She had just laid down to collect her wits, to get a grasp on this strange situation. But she had drifted into a sort of half-sleep, perhaps because her brain wanted to shut down and leave reality behind. "Your name is Rochelle Reincken, is it not?" the mysterious woman said. "I can't even remember if I introduced myself," Rochelle said. "What's your name, anyway?" "I can't seem to make the right sounds with this throat or these lips. But the name of my people is 'Selkie.' I heard your name when I was learning from you while you rested. I hope you don't mind. I was desperate to know things." "Learning from me?" asked Rochelle, squinting in confusion. "Listening to your thoughts. I thought I could learn enough to solve my problems. I heard very little in your mind, but I did pick out what I thought was your name." "Yeah, I'm Rochelle Reincken. Your problem is that you need your skin back, I understand that much...except you have skin now, so I guess I don't understand. God, this is all so crazy." "I have two more urgent problems, and I need to call upon your knowledge of the human body to determine how to solve them. The first problem is a pain I have here." She put her hand on her stomach. "I'm not surprised. In the last couple hours you've eaten a dead pelican, two fast food meals, including the paper the burgers were wrapped in, then I let you into my fridge...I'm kind of regretting that...and you ate four hard boiled eggs and eight raw eggs, all with the shells on, a head of lettuce, a dozen carrots, and a bowl of leftover chili, then I chased you out of the fridge and you ate a dozen bananas without peeling them or taking off the stickers, and probably every other piece of fruit around here. I just got groceries last night, too. "I need energy for my magic. Maintaining this false skin requires much magical energy. Don't worry about the ill effects of the things you say aren't edible. Even in this human body, I possess enough intrinsic magic to protect myself from poisons." "But my point is that's why you have a tummyache. Your stomach is too full. Don't worry about it. It will feel better as you digest your food...which I paid for." "I'm sorry if you are displeased, but I need false skin and a large magical reserve if I'm going to inconspicuously locate my skin and steal it back. "No offense, but that's not gonna work. There's nothing inconspicuous about you. When I brought you home, you didn't know what a door was. You didn't even understand clothes. How do you think you're going to function in human society without attracting unwanted attention?" "I don't know. But right now I have a more urgent problem." "Right, you did say two problems, didn't you?" "I have a second pain lower in the body. Not a pain so much as a...I think 'tingling' is the best word." "Hmm...Oh! I bet you have to pee." "That's the word you used when you spoke of the unwanted liquid outpouring that happened in your swimming clothes, is it not?" "Yeah, but don't go telling anybody I did that. You're probably getting that tingling because you have to pee, so I'll show you where the bathroom is." "I still don't understand 'pee' fully, and I don't understand 'bathroom' at all. All I know is that, when I take the form of my human ancestors for substantial lengths of time, I have problems with liquid pouring out of my body. Some of the other Selkies have had it happen too." Rochelle blushed. She really didn't want to explain. "How about you do that mind-reading thing to find out all about it? That'll be faster than using words, right?" "Yes, that should work." The fire-haired stranger put the palm of her cold hand on Rochelle's forehead. "Concentrate on the area of knowledge you want me to absorb." "This isn't working," Rochelle heard her say after a few moments. Are you thinking about the subject?" "Yeah." "I can't learn about it." "You sure?" Rochelle was dreading a verbal explanation. One of the reasons she never wanted to have children was to avoid having to potty train anyone. Now it looked like this strange being from the sea needed just such a lesson. "All I can really understand is that bathrooms are a place human females go to in pairs or groups. The rest of the subject eludes me. It's as if your mind is hiding it all behind a dark veil." Rochelle blushed again. She realized it must be because she was unconsciously censoring herself. This was a shameful subject, after all. "I guess I'll have to tell you. Follow me to the bathroom." Rochelle winced as she remembered. "Actually, the plumbing's been acting up. I can't trust the toilet to flush. I need to talk to the landlord about that again. In the meantime, we'll have to use the public bathroom on the first floor." "What is this 'bathroom'?" "It's the place where you can pee." "Can't I pee anywhere? You peed inside your swimming clothes on the beach." "You can but you shouldn't. So hold it." The woman held out her hands. "What do I need to hold?" "Your pee. Hold it inside." She put her hands inside her pants and gripped the flesh between her legs. "That won't help. Well, maybe it will, but don't do it when people are watching. At the very least, keep your hands outside of your clothes when you hold yourself." "The tingling is getting worse. What should I do?" "I don't know how to explain how to hold it in. But please figure out a way. We're going to the bathroom, and you need to stay dry until we get there." "Why does peeing happen? Why can't we control it?" "It happens because you drink liquids. They have to go somewhere." "I suppose. My skin is full of magic that benefits my body in many ways, so I never think much about how my organs work. I've never noticed peeing happening while in my skin." "Lucky you." As they left Rochelle's apartment, the strange woman asked, "Am I right to think it is taboo to let water pour out of you at any place except in the confines of a bathroom?" "Yes." "So what you did inside your swimming clothes is forbidden?" "Yes, but please don't mention it. And don't talk like this when you're not in my apartment. There could be people..." As if on cue, Rochelle saw someone headed down the hallway in the opposite direction. It was a tall man with dark skin, short black hair, and a friendly smile. "Hi, Ben." "Hey, Rochelle. Who's your friend?" "You may call me 'Selkie.' It would be most accurate." Rochelle blushed, but "Selkie" was clearly unaware she was saying anything strange or embarrassing. "I like the accent," Ben commented. "Where are you from?" "The Reykjanes Ridge." "Is that in Ireland?" "It's nearby." "So what are you doing here?" "Right now Rochelle Reincken and I are going to the bathroom together, as human females are wont to do." Ben didn't have anything to say to that. Rochelle wanted to scream, she was so embarrassed. "Let's go, Selkie," she said, and she fled from the embarrassing conversation as quickly as she could without making it obvious that she was running away. "It's the ascending room again," Selkie commented when they reached the elevator. "This is so intriguing." "It's called an elevator. It's going to take us down to where the bathrooms are." "How does it work?" "Don't worry about it. Actually, maybe you should. If you take your mind off your pee it should keep you from peeing your pants." "The peeing of pants is what you did on the beach, is it not?" "Yes, that's the right phrase. But don't mention that again. It's embarrassing." "Ah! Because you are ashamed of accidentally violating a taboo." "Yeah. I don't want to pee my pants, and neither should you. Nobody does." "Except inside a bathroom." "No! You don't pee your pants there either. You pee in a toilet." "A toilet is something inside a bathroom?" Rochelle relaxed her neck until her head bumped into the wall of the elevator. "This is going to be a hard lesson to teach," she muttered to herself. On the ground floor, they walked to the lobby where the closest restrooms were. "Just keep remembering you don't want to pee your pants under any circumstances," Rochelle whispered. "You take them off first." Selkie reached for the fly of her jeans. "No! Not now!" When inside the bathroom, Selkie again tried to take off her pants, but Rochelle again stopped her. Someone at the sink noticed this happening in the mirror, and turned around in puzzlement. "Hi, Rochelle!" said the perky blonde. "Oh, hi, Jenna," Rochelle said, again wanting to wince. "God, I didn't know you still lived here! I haven't seen you in ages." "Yeah, I'm working some crazy hours these days." "Please tell me what to do soon," Selkie said. Rochelle noticed she was now holding her crotch. "Don't do that," she snapped. "I have to. I'm very close to peeing my pants." "What?!? Jenna exclaimed." "This is my friend Selkie. We're coming back from a little girls' night out, and she had too much to drink." "Yes, I drank very much, it has to go somewhere." "You're in trouble, then," Jenna remarked with a laugh. "All the stalls are taken." "Just my luck!" Rochelle bemoaned. "Are there toilets inside the stalls?" Selkie asked. "Why don't you just go in the men's room? That's what I always do in a situation like this. It's never full." "I can't take Selkie into the men's bathroom! She's too innocent!" "Huh?" "I don't want to be in there with guys. She doesn't know how to handle herself." "I don't?" "No, you don't." Jenna gave Rochelle a quizzical look. "Please take me somewhere where I can pee without breaking a taboo, Rochelle Reincken," Selkie said. "Fine, we'll go to the men's room," Rochelle said. She couldn't say no to those big blue pleading eyes. "I'll watch the door for you," Jenna volunteered. "I don't think any guys'll mind waiting for you. Especially if they see how cute you are." Inside the empty men's room, Rochelle began to lecture Selkie. "Take your pants down to your knees and sit down." Selkie obliged, and Rochelle cradled her head in her hands and groaned. "Selkie, that's not a toilet," she said in a pained voice. "That's a sink." The redhead lifted her rear end out of the sink and prepared to hop down. But the countertop around the sink was wet, and her hands and legs slipped. She flew sideways and landed bottom-first on the tile floor. "I peed," Selkie announced. Indeed, there was a puddle growing around her. But it was worse than just that. "You didn't pull down your underwear," Rochelle said, once again burying her face in her hands. "You only mentioned the pants. Will I be punished now?" "No." "Later, then?" "Don't worry about it. Nobody here will punish you for peeing your pants." "But it is a taboo, is it not?" "Yes, but it's not a law." "Then how is it enforced?" "It's hard to explain. Just don't worry about anyone around here punishing you." "I feel excellent." "What?!? Why?" "The peeing felt good, because it removed the tingling pain. My human body is now devoid of bad feelings. Correction: The two lumps of flesh just above the tops of my legs are sore." "Get up. I'll show you how to use a toilet, for future reference." Rochelle helped Selkie off the floor, and she pulled up her jeans. The seat of her pants was already soaked, and the front began to darken as well when the denim came into contact with the wet panties. "The pee is pleasantly warm," Selkie commented with a smile. "It feels like blood, but I am uninjured." "Here's what to do next time," Rochelle said. She was in a stall with the door left wide open. She loosened her belt buckle, unbuttoned and unzipped her faded hip-hugging jeans, and pulled them down to her knees. Then she did the same with her lime green cotton hipsters. "You sit down on the toilet like this, after making sure the seat is down." "But the seat is up." "That's the lid. It's different." "Why is there both a lid and a seat?" "Don't worry about it. You sit down and you let go of your pee." Rochelle spurted and sputtered. It was a little hard to get going while Selkie was watching and scrutinizing with wide blue eyes. But she managed to initiate the stream, which continued until she was almost empty. After a few squirt gun-like blasts to the inside of the bowl, her bladder was fully voided. "Your pee isn't nearly as yellow as mine," Selkie observed "It's different colors at different times. I'm not sure why." "Why have you never inquired or researched the different pee colors?" "Because it's taboo. We don't talk about it." "Don't you have to talk about it?" "Sometimes. But we prefer to avoid it. Just like we prefer to avoid peeing our pants." "That is why you wish to avoid talking about your peeing in your swimming clothes, is it not?" "Yes! Don't talk about it again!" Rochelle scolded for what felt like the hundredth time. Then she returned to the lesson. "Now that I've peed in the toilet, I wipe the extra pee off my body so it doesn't get my clothes wet." She got some toilet paper and dabbed at her wet parts. "Then I flush the pee along with the paper." "Where does all that water and pee and paper go?" "Into a lot of pipes." "Where do the pipes go?" "Why do you ask so many questions?" "I want to learn about the dry world so I can go about in it long enough to recover my skin. My life depends on it." For the first time, Rochelle felt truly sad for Selkie. "What happens if you can't get your skin back?" "I won't be able to breathe underwater, so I won't be able to go home. If I stay away from the sea for too long, my magic will drain away. No amount of food can help that. When I have no magic, my tissues will no longer be able to stay together without skin, and my organs will fail. I will die." "We'll go up to my room and get started right away," Rochelle said forcefully as she pulled up her pants. "You'll learn from my mind, and with that knowledge we can make a plan." "I can also teach you from my mind." "Great! I know how to find the person who took your skin, and I'm sure we can get it back from him without betraying your people's secret. How long can you live without your skin, anyway?" "I don't know. No Selkie has had to die that way for centuries." "And you won't die that way, either. I may not understand the situation, but I know I won't let that happen to you." When Rochelle exited the bathroom, she realized she had forgotten another situation. Jenna was still waiting outside, as were a trio of college-age boys. Rochelle could see each one of their faces light up as they saw a pair of beautiful girls their age and a chance to talk to them. It was also obvious when each one noticed Selkie's wet spot. "Thanks for waiting, guys," Rochelle said. Sorry about that. "No problem," one of the boys said. "Are you all right?" Jenna asked Selkie as everyone around pretended not to stare at her wet spot. "No. I peed my pants." "She'll be all right," Rochelle assured. "Now we're going back to Rochelle Reincken's room," Selkie continued, "where she will punish me." Rochelle hastily led Selkie to the stairs. "Why aren't we taking the box that ascends and descends?" the confused girl asked. "We might run into people there, and I don't want to share an elevator with them and have to explain our situation. So we'll take the stairs, where there are less people. By the way, I'm not going to punish you for peeing your pants. I thought I already made that clear." "You said no one down there would punish me. I thought you were reserving that duty for yourself." "No. You won't be punished at all." "I feel wonderful!" "I wish I did." "These 'stairs' are a lot of work to climb," Selkie commented after making it up two flights. "I wish I could swim up to the floor where your room is." "I don't know what to tell you. You'll have to get used to using your legs." "Legs are fun to use every so often, but I wouldn't want to have to depend on them all the time." On the sixth floor they again encountered Rochelle's friend Ben. Selkie spoke before Rochelle could say anything. "I see you're staring at my pants. I wet them because my journey to a toilet was delayed. But don't worry about me; I will receive no punishment." Ben looked at her dumbfounded. Not knowing what to do, Selkie smiled. Rochelle led the girl away from the boy, all the while suppressing the urge to chomp down on her own hand. Back in the privacy of her apartment the two fared better. From Rochelle, Selkie learned about things like cars, makeup, and money. What she needed to know to get around in this world of dry land. Rochelle, in turn, learned about the Selkies. Their ancestors were strange sea monsters who took human brides. Magic allowed the women to live in the dark undersea abode, where their descendants now live in happiness. But female Selkies take after their ancestral mothers, and have an inborn homesickness for the land above. To this day, they take excursions to deserted shores, slough off the inconvenient skins that contain their gills and most of their magical attributes, and enjoy the land and air and Sun. They can do this because their bodies under their skin can be reshaped into the ancestral form, and they have enough magic residing within themselves to fashion temporary false skins that make them look and feel even more human. But their skins are essential to them. They protect them from drowning, disease, the blindness they would otherwise have so deep underwater, and the ill effects of high water pressure. They also, Rochelle could infer, protect them from the need to urinate and defecate. And so Selkies think nothing more of their food once they have swallowed it. Even though a Selkie's skin is so important, this Selkie had become so intoxicated by the feeling of being on land that she hadn't kept an eye on it. Then, when it was time to follow her older sisters back home, she couldn't find it, and realized a land-dwelling person or thing must have crept in and stolen it away. "My mind is spinning," Rochelle said once the two were done sharing their thoughts. "There's so much to take in. I know I said we would draw up a plan tonight, but I'm exhausted. Physically and mentally. I'm going to try to get some sleep, although that's probably impossible." "You have trouble sleeping?" Selkie asked, sounding concerned. "Not normally, but my mind is racing right now. I've been through so much today." "You should rest." "I'll try." "Here," Selkie said, coming close to Rochelle. "I know a trick that will help you." ------------------ It was a beautiful morning, and Selkie was so glad she was up here where she could see the Sun shining down on the Earth. She got out of bed and stretched, as if she were coming out of her skin. How she longed to have that skin back. Still, this body had definite plusses. She felt one of the minuses instantly, but knew how to remedy it. She got dressed, took the elevator down to the ground floor, greeting Rochelle's friends and acquaintances as she met them, and made her way to the bathroom. She followed Rochelle's directions perfectly this time, pulling down both her panties and her pants, and sitting on the toilet's seat even though it hurt her sore buttocks. She only deviated from the instructions by letting out a moan of satisfaction as the urine was released from her aching bladder. She covered her mouth, and felt shameful for doing something that seemed like it should be a taboo. If she had known a little more, or been able to read human expressions better, she would have known that leaving the stall door open was also taboo. But none of the women who saw her sitting there said anything, so how could she know? When she was done, she wiped herself, stared in amazement as the toilet flushed, pulled back up her panties and pants, and washed her hands. Back up in Rochelle's room, she got some things together, then went to the bathroom to get herself ready for her meeting with Malford Poynter today. She had learned enough from Rochelle's mind to feel confident that she could solve this problem. There was the other, minor problem of the pain she felt in her lower abdomen, but she wasn't worried about that. Her knowledge from Rochelle told her what implements were located in which drawers, and what most of the things in the medicine cabinet were. She knew how to apply makeup, fix hair, and do everything else she needed to look pretty. But she knew she didn't need much. She had a beautiful face with silky brown hair, and her own blue eyes worked well in the ensemble. Before turning the light off, Selkie glanced at the bathtub. There, half-submerged in red-tinted water, lay what was left of Rochelle Reincken. "Thanks for everything."

Hi! Here is my Skyrim mod! It makes all female characters incontinent, including (perhaps) the player! Female player characters will also wet the bed. Though I hear the puddle sometimes doesn't show up, it seemed to mostly work for me D: Anyway! The only real requirement is those crazy ZaZ Animations and everything that requires. http://www.loverslab.com/topic/17062-zaz-animation-pack/ I do, however, recommend playing with the UNP female body mod of your choice, and the UNP sexy armor replacer so you can actually see the messing :O http://skyrim.nexusmods.com/mods/6709 http://skyrim.nexusmods.com/mods/34160 There is also a Brawl Bug mod which is a good idea to have as well. http://skyrim.nexusmods.com/mods/24020 EDIT: All the requirements should be in incontinenceModBundle.rar! Explicit Content incontinenceMod.rar incontinenceModBundle.rar

Hi everyone! Its been a week or two, I've had a bit of a dry spell, likely due to the fact that midterms were going on and I'm a lot less playful and risky when I'm in work mode. Work and fun are two separate things for me, which isn't to say I don't enjoy working; I'm a working and writing machine! Anywho, I've finally been able to wind down and relax finally after what feels like however, in the last few days I've attended a few Halloween parties, a few Halloween events, marathoned bad horror movies for all nighters, and another in particular relating specifically to this forum: I had an accident. Now if you've read my tale regarding my recent fable while playing a certain horror game you know two things: One, I love horror but don't handle scares well, and two, I'm oh-so woefully stubborn. As is usually the case when I have an accident, the stubbornness of course comes into play. Allow me to give a bit of context.. There's a local park a city or so away. Like a lot of places, it has a yearly Halloween attraction. Its very sizable; it is also used as a campground in the summertime. I have attended this event every year! This year I went with a few of my friends (Same group from the apartment story), and we showed up early. Naturally there was a line already, and we still had 45 minutes before the event would start and the line started moving up...The line ended up being very large in total, the event was very popular. We had all been picked up at our houses, and most of us had overnight bags in the trunk, as we were going back to one of their places to marathon horror movies for the rest of the night. In the hour before we arrived I had drunk a monster and a hard lemonade, though I didn't really think anything of it until I polished off a 1 liter pepsi from the concession stand halfway through the line. Description phase! By now you most likely have a general idea of my appearance, for newcomers I've got long black hair, am pale enough to fit into the cast of twilight which I am ashamed of, unhealthy tiny at 116 pounds last weigh-in, at 5'8-5'9. To try and turn my pitiful bodily state into a point of attraction, I try to maintain care of my face with various face washes, and creative use of eyeliner. If people are going to think I'm anorexic or something, I might as well look semi-pretty in the process I figure. But enough of that. Tonight I was wearing a pretty dark blue jeans, you could think they were black if you didn't see them in the light. Very tight too. Black tank top, black zipped hoodie for the brisk October weather, along with a nice blue bra/panty combo. With this outfit I usually wear 2 earrings, a gold moon and a star, but as I might end up running for my life I left those out this time. So again, we were in line, and as aforementioned halfway up there was a food stand. I got a hot dog and a 1 litre pepsi, and those were gone pretty fast I will say. Now see at this point I hadn't used the bathroom in a few hours easily, but I didn't even think about that until all the drinks from the past little while had caught up. By the time we were 3/4 of the way up the line I was squirming and inwardly groaning from the typical this-is-the-worst-time-to-need-to-pee realization. I resolved to hold it because again, I'm stubborn, and I didn't want to lose my place in line next to my friends. I realize I probably would have been let back into my spot, but I didn't want to take any chances. We slowly moved up in line, and my need to go slowly got worse, but I didn't really plan to budge. It was almost an exciting feeling, but as per usual I didn't really put enough thought into potential consequences. Its something I really need to work on. Anywho, I had my hands stuffed in my pockets and my legs crossed and I'd bounce a little every now and again. At one point Kate asked me what was up and I started bitching about the cold. We got to the end of the line up and it was our group, and another few girls, like 3 others I think for the next go around. I think they let another set of people in every 5 minutes or so. We got in and I really had to go, but I figured should I stay on my toes I could hold it until the end no problem. First we went down the trail, pretty spooky. Torches and bridges, people in costumes...I tried to stay relatively quiet and blend in with my friends. One of my friends is a screamer, and the screamers make themselves targets. So I let her take the brunt of the people jumping out of the woodwork as it were. It was all really cool, and went really smoothly for me until the little house filled with zombies. It was wide open, and had a whole strobe light thing going on. One was waiting around the corner of the entrance door and spooked the group with a lunge. Everyone, including me, scattered. Everyone took off, zig zagging through the would-be zombies, through the large barn-like structure, until people found the way out. My luck started to run out around here. I found the door and escaped. I was alone. I had figured everyone else had gone on ahead. I took a moment to lean against the outside of the house/barn/thing and hold myself, placing my hand between my legs and holding my legs together long enough to take the edge off, and continued on down the trail. I would later find out, as my luck would have it, that I was actually the FIRST out. And not only that, after I had gone off down the trail, everyone else would get out and proceed to head in the wrong direction. The lot of em had to be redirected back onto the trail by a supervisor and the like. I mean...I went in the direction that had a torch on a tree. I thought it was obvious, myself. Now all of a sudden, I was target number 1. There was actors dressed as ghouls constantly lurking about, being creepy, saying creepy shit, or jumpscaring me. Some of them were really creative, and I loved the costumes, gotta give em props. I tried to play it cool, waving to them and being like "Hi, hows life?", and just being chill, even though I very obviously wasn't chill, given the fast walk I had going. My first minor leakage came at the hands of a guy who was hanging. I don't know how he was alive, or how the engineered it, but the guy hanging from the noose was a living dude. He was legit hanging. Maybe invisible wires or something. Anyway I assumed he was a prop for obvious reasons, and of course he lunged and yelled. I let out a tiny shriek, and felt myself dribble into my underwear. I ran off cursing under my breath. Eventually I came to another house, larger than the last one. It looked incredibly dark inside. I knew that was probably the gimmick, and walked in. I discovered it was very narrow with winding hallways, in what was basically pitch black darkness. My shaking legs carrying me and my aching bladder, I soldiered on. About a minute in I heard a voice behind me. "Hello? Is anybody there?" She called out a few names I didn't recognize, but I called out anyway. I waited for this girl to catch up, and she latched onto my arm and told me she lost her friends and was gonna tag along with me. I replied that I was grateful for the company, and I continued on with this girl on my arm. Making nervous and frightened small talk, we continued our way through the winding pitch black maze. Things were going well until a hand came out of a hole in the wall and grabbed my other arm. I let out a sharp noise I can't really describe, and the other girl shrieked as well, I had assumed in reaction to me. It was simultaneous to the noise I made that I realized I was spurting into my pants. I yanked my hand away from the wall presence and shoved it between my legs, quickly feeling my pee leaving my bladder, saturating my pants and beginning to tickle my inner thighs. I panted, with each pant accentuated with a small alarmed moan, I clenched just about every muscle in my lower body to regain control. The girl, who in the dark has no idea what was happening, questioned if I was alright as I quickly checked relevant areas for dampness, trying to assess how visible any damage might be. I didn't think it was too bad, the pants being dark and all, and horror trails tending to lack in the light department. My nether regions were certainly damp and I no doubt had a wet patch, but I clenched quickly enough to cease a dangerous spread. I reassured the girl and we continued. At some point I unzipped my hoodie, as the air in the structure was fairly heavy. Eventually, I could see the glow of an exit, and became excited. The trail wasn't over, but at least I'd be able to see again. We crept up the incline leading to it, and I exclaimed "Its a good thing to be finally free eh?" to which my companion replied "Boy, it sure is!" I will never forget the next moment for the rest of my life. Something in the way she said that was almost mocking, and I turned to face her, who was still clinging onto my arm and had her head on my shoulder. My escort, who I had presumed to be one of the three other girls who wasn't part of my friend group, was wearing a tattered white, almost hospitalish gown, and in addition to appearing to be rotted, also appeared to be missing part of her jaw. This really wasn't the time to get an eyeful of the amazing makeup work done at such close proximity. I think I stood there for a moment with my eyes and face just widening in absolute realization and comprehending terror. I assume she had been near the house and seen I was alone. I gotta give it to the crafty bitch, that was one of the most clever things I've ever seen, and I've never screamed so loud in my entire life. I sprinted up, barreling out of the exit door. I tripped, scrambled to my feet, and has my luck would have it, on my way upright I went face first into another chick. Also rotted looking. Wielding a now revving chainsaw. I could hear my evil escort from earlier cackling like mad as a I fell back onto the ground, staring at the chainsaw wielding nurse. I think it was a nurse. Don't quote me on that. I screamed again as she darted forward with the chainsaw which more than likely had no chain on it, holding it above me. I was screaming, and I then realized, also wetting my pants. I have no idea when it started, probably somewhere around my stumble out of the house, or even my initial scream. All I knew was, I was suddenly wet, and there was a vibrating hiss accompanied by a spreading warmth. Chainsaw lady looked to the sky, laughing and waving the saw around as I attempted to grab myself, pushing my hand and pants into my crotch, resulting in a loud PSSSSSHHHHHH. I could feel my ass becoming absolutely soaked, and I could see the puddle forming underneath me when I looked down. I realized Saw Girl wasn't looking, and I shot up and took off like a dart, deftly kicking my foot back over my puddle, hopefully covering it. I sure wasn't sticking around to find out. I ran, and ran around the corner of the trail, spurts of urine shooting out every step. I went off the trail the moment I knew I was out of the sight of ghouls which was pretty quick. In the relative darkness I leaned against a tree, on the opposite side of said tree where I wouldn't be seen from the trail. My bladder was panging, as if to say "No" is not an option right now. I could feel my control slipping again, but I couldn't let that happen! This wasn't really a situation or attire I could afford a full on accident. I shoved my hands down there again and started frantically crossing my legs, uncrossing, bouncing, moaning and gasping, you name it. I had to get my pants down or something, but as I pulled one hand out and tried to unhook my button, I started peeing my pants again. The hissing returned, and as much as I struggled and whined and frantically tried and failed to open my fly after unhooking the button, it started streaming down my legs. My ass was becoming soaked, and I could feel the warm trails flowing on my previously relatively untouched legs, dripping onto the autumn leaves underneath me. I moaned loudly as the stream intensified, leaving no part of the backside of my pants, from the cuffs of my legs to the seam of my ass unsoaked. I tried so hard to stop the flow, finally getting my pants completely undone I shoved a hand into my panties to try and block my pee-hole. Didn't work out too well...When I leaned over from the strain of the stream and the effort of trying to stop it, the position of my hand redirected the flow frontwards, and now the front of my jeans were becoming even darker than their natural dark blue color; the resounding pssssh of my pee soaking the front of my legs and knees echoing through the forest with the sounds of distant screams. I whined, strained, moaned, criss crossed, my usual dance. But even I knew it was over, as my last move ensured no part of me was getting away unsoaked by the shame of my failing bladder. My stream slowed to a crawl as my bladder finished emptying. I was in a bit of a pickle now. I finished the trail with a few more screams, staying as far away from light sources as I could. My pants were dark enough that you probably couldn't tell the difference if I wasn't next to a torch or light....But given they were certainly over-saturated, even the faintest source of light might have caught a glisten, being drenched and all. I sure hope not. When I finished the trail, I was informed I was the first out of my group out due to a wrong turn made by others, and that's when it hit me I had a slight chance to make it out unscathed. I rushed to the parking lot using the same tactics as in the trail, avoiding light like I was a vampire in Florida. The only time I went directly into the light was to rush straight to the car. I had the key, so I managed to pop the trunk and grab my overnight bag. I also grabbed a plastic bag and took off into a porta-potty. I quickly changed out of my pants, panties, and socks, and through on a pair of white undies and a pair of sweats. To seem less suspicious, I also changed from my tank top into a jammie T-shirt I wear. I tossed the wet stuff in a plastic bag, and then the plastic bag into my overnight bag. I then proceeded to wait by the car. Eventually they came back, laughing and giggling, getting the jitters out. Kate immediately noticed my change in attire and yelled "Oi (INSERT MY NAME HERE), you piss your fucking pants?", laughing and obviously joking around, which got an equally jokey reply in "Nah man, those jeans make my ass look fucking fantastic and all, but too tight and I wanna hit up the comfort game early. Look at the goddamn indent from the button!" I accentuated this by lifting my shirt to show the crater where the button had been digging into my tummy. Continually laughing and carrying on, we went back to Tanya's place and marathon-ed classic horror movies for the night (Return of the Living Dead is a classic for me.) As always I hope you enjoyed my tale! Feel free to comment, shoot your thoughts my way, or fire a message at me. Love you all, have a lovely Halloween!~ <3