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  1. Sonic stared at his race car bed for the longest time. Beautifully made, with the plastic sheet tucked over the mattress for protection and an extra pad underneath the fitted sheet. It was night time, time for bed, but it was the first time he would be sharing his room with somebody else… or rather two somebody elses. Tails and Knuckles. One of them knew about his nightly problem, the other did not, and it worried him. Ever since he had his first accident at the house, and Tom told Maddie about the accident at the hotel, and they both found out he's been living in the woods by himself since he was three, the humans have been patient with him, trying to properly potty-train him so he wouldn't have anymore accidents. He's been doing a lot better, but every now and then he would slip up and wake up the next morning with his sheets soaked in urine. Tom and Maddie would be kind and understanding as they helped him get cleaned up, but he was frustrated. He didn't want to be wetting the bed anymore but… it was difficult to stop when he has been so accident prone his entire life. Sonic's ear twitched when he heard somebody approaching him from behind and he turned to look. It was Tails, giving him a concerned look of sympathy. "Are you ok?" He asked the hedgehog quietly. "Yeah." Sonic nodded, whispering as well. "Just… a little worried about…" His eyes traveled to the red echidna that was in the room, setting up his own sleeping area with a bunch of pillows to make a nest. Tails nodded in understanding. "It's ok. He doesn't know. I haven't told him anything, just like I promised." "Thanks buddy." Sonic sighed. He remembered the day when Tails told him that he knew. It was after they had that dance battle in the mountains and had won their lives and their map back. When they realized it was really late and too windy outside to continue their journey, plus they were tired, Tails had suggested that they stayed the night at the hut they had stumbled upon. Sonic was worried back then and had remembered the fox saying that he had been watching him for years. "Uh, Tails…" He had started. "You said that you've been watching me for awhile… right?" "Yeah?" The fox had answered. "Why? What's wrong?" "Does that mean that… you've seen… my… my…" Sonic was too embarrassed to ask. "... Your nightly accidents? Yes, I've seen them. It's ok. Accidents happen, Sonic. And it's not like it's your fault anyway. You were three. You were never potty-trained." "So embarrassing…" "It's ok, Sonic. And don't worry. I promise I won't tell anybody." He had gotten lucky not to have an accident that night, but he couldn't guarantee that he would be so lucky tonight. "It doesn't matter whether you told him or not, though." Sonic sighed as he continued. "He's gonna find out eventually and… I worry about what he's gonna say. He's always going on about strength and weaknesses and challenging how strong I am… and… I worry that… if he sees me wet the bed… he'll think I'm weak." "Then maybe you should talk to him." Tails encouraged. "I can't. I don't know what's worse. Him finding out I'm a bedwetter, or admitting it to him." "... I would say keeping it from him is worse, but it's your choice of what you wanna do." Tails shrugged. "Did you do your nightly routine?" Sonic nodded. "Yes, but nothing came out." "What do you mean?" "I tried to go to the bathroom but I couldn't. I even turned on the faucet like Maddie taught me to see if that would make my bladder ache, but it didn't and I couldn't go." "Hmm." Tails hummed, frowning in thought. "Maybe you're dehydrated. You should probably drink a glass of water before bed." Sonic's eyes widened at him. "Are you nuts? That'll make me wet the bed for sure." "Maybe not. You said you already tried to go and couldn't. That means your bladder is empty. And if you're dehydrated then the water you drink tonight won't make it to your bladder until the morning. By then you'll already be awake. Boom. No accidents." "Are you sure?" Tails shrugged. "It worked for me when I was potty-training and was learning not to wet the bed." Sonic sighed and nodded. "Ok. If you really think it'll help then I trust you enough to try it." Suddenly, there was a knock on the attic door and Maddie came up. "Time for bed boys." "Yes Maddie." Tails said as he went to his sleeping bag. "Yes Pretzel Woman." Knuckles responded as well as he burrowed into his makeshift nest of pillows. Maddie chuckled softly, then looked to Sonic as he timidly approached her. She knelt down to his height and whispered to him. "Did you go potty?" "I tried to, but nothing came out." He told her. "Tails told me that I might be dehydrated and said I should drink a glass of water." "But aren't you worried that'll make you wet the bed?" "Yes, but Tails said he did the same thing when he was potty-training and didn't have any accidents. And I trust him enough to take his advice." Maddie nodded. "Ok. If that's what you really wanna do. I'll go get you some water." "Thanks, mom." … The sun rose the next morning, shining brightly through the ceiling window upon the face of the slumbering blue hedgehog. Sonic rubbed at his eyes and yawned, his peace disturbed by the UV rays of the burning ball in the sky. He carefully blinked his eyes open and looked around his room. His friends, Tails and Knuckles, were still asleep in their same spots. He smiled, then his eyes widened as he remembered what he did last night, the advice that Tails had given him. He quickly reached his hands underneath him, feeling around on his bed. He grinned in excitement when he found that his sheets were still dry. He had not wet the bed last night! "Yes." He breathed in victory as he went to sit up. But as he did so he gasped and quickly laid back down, his hands shooting to his crotch as his legs crossed over each other. His bladder was BURSTING! "Oh Tails, why did you tell me to drink water before bed?" Sonic whined softly, his ears pinned against his head as he squirmed in his bed. He couldn't get out of bed, his bladder was too full. The moment he sat up, everything had rushed down to the entrance, and now the only thing that was keeping him from having an accident was his hands and his tightly clenched urethra. He didn't know what to do. Could he possibly stand up and rush to the bathroom with his speed without leaving a trail on the floor? He really didn't want to have another accident after he had stayed dry the whole night… especially since Knuckles was literally ten feet away from him. Looking at the red echidna across the room, Sonic noticed that he was still asleep, snoring away without a care in the world, a little drool dripping from his mouth onto his arm. Looking at Tails, he was also still asleep, oblivious to his role model's desperation. Sonic thought for a moment. Both of his friends were still deeply asleep, and he knew Tom and Maddie kept extra sheets on standby in case he did have an accident. And he knew where they were. Could he possibly get away with it? He rubbed his legs against each other and whined, tears forming at the sides of his eyes. There was no way he was getting out of this situation dry. He was desperate! He couldn't hold it for another minute! At that moment, he made his decision. Sonic took a deep breath and slowly, hesitantly, pulled his hands away. He uncrossed his legs and flinched when the flood in his bladder pressed against his aching walls with more force. He laid his head back, took another breath, tried to relax and… The moment he was about to let loose, his head snapped to the attic door, his eyes widening and his hands shooting back between his crossed legs when he heard a knock coming from it before it opened and up the stairs walked Maddie. "Boys. Time to wake up." She called cheerfully. Sonic whined in desperation as he looked to his friends, watching as Maddie's call started to wake them up. No, no. He was so close! "Sonic? Are you alright honey?" Maddie asked her adopted hedgehog son when she heard him whine and saw his expression. "I… I…" Sonic squirmed in his bed, his bladder aching for release. The urge to let go then and there was extremely tempting, but he couldn't possibly do it now that both Tails and Knuckles were looking at him. "I…" Suddenly, Ozzie came running up the stairs and bumped past Maddie, headed straight to greet his best hedgehog friend. Sonic's eyes widened in horror. "No! Ozzie, wait!" But it was too late. The happy dog jumped onto the bed and stepped right onto Sonic, right onto his bulging bladder. The dog started licking Sonic's face excitedly, but as the hedgehog finally felt his bladder burst all over the bed, he wasn't in the mood. "Ozzie! Stop! Get down!" He screamed, tears running down his face, which the dog quickly licked away. "Ozzie! Down!" Maddie commanded, grabbed the dog by the collar and pulling him off the bed. "Sonic, are you ok- oh." When Ozzie was pulled off the bed, Sonic's comforter and sheet came off with him, completely exposing the Blue Devil as urine started gushing out onto the bed, quickly spreading all over the fitted sheet. Sonic sobbed harshly as he peed himself in front of his mom, his best friend, and his mentor. He was so embarrassed he just wanted to crawl into a hole, curl up, and die. "Honey, it's ok." Maddie hushed softly, gently rubbing Sonic's back. "No! No it's not!" Sonic shouted through his sobs. "It's not ok!" "Sonic, it was an accident. They happen." "No. No. Too many." Sonic shook his head. "Too many accidents. They don't just happen! I'm just weak and pathetic!" "Sonic Wachowski the Hedgehog!" Maddie gasped. "You are not weak and pathetic. Where on earth did you get that idea from?" Sonic sniffed and looked over at Knuckles. The echidna was staring at the younger being in shock. He didn't know how to react. The only person he knew who could harness the power of the Master Emerald and live… was peeing himself right in front of him… and crying about it like a baby. And apparently, this has happened multiple times before. "Sonic…" He started, but didn't get to finish as the hedgehog suddenly got up from the soaking bed and dashed out of the house, headed for the forest. … Sonic sniffled softly as he sat in the shallow end of his favorite stream, washing away the urine from his fur. He remembered that when he was still living in his cave and he had an accident this is what he would do to get himself cleaned up. Now usually he would just take a shower in the bathroom inside the house, but he just had to get away. Had to get away from the embarrassment. Had to get away from the ridicule. Had to get away from the eyes all staring at him. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was red from the crying he had done, but he didn't care. He has never been more humiliated in his entire life. And the worst part was that Knuckles was never going to let him live this, or any other accident he has in the future, down. "Stupid… Weak… Pathetic…" Sonic sniffed, slapping at the water with each word. He was so mad at himself. Why hadn't he learned to stop peeing himself yet?! His ear twitched when he heard a twig snap behind him. He lifted his head up and turned, his ears lowering to his head when he saw Knuckles standing behind him. "Come to ridicule me?" "No." Knuckles shook his head and stepped closer until he was standing right beside the Blue Devil. "You've done that to yourself enough." Sonic sniffed and looked away, looking down at his legs in the water, not saying another word. Knuckles sighed and sat down beside him. "... Maddie… told me." Sonic's eyes widened a bit, but Knuckles wasn't finished. "She told me about what's been going on… Why has it been going on… And… Tails told me about… how you were afraid of what I would say about it." Sonic remained silent and Knuckles sighed. "He blames himself… the fox. He thinks he's the reason you had an accident because he told you to drink before bed." "It's not his fault." Sonic finally spoke, his ears down against his skull again. "It's not his fault that I peed myself… I'm just weak." "No, you're not." "Tch. Funny to hear that coming from you." Sonic sniffed. "You're always going on and on about how weak I am and how much stronger I can be. Well, here's the evidence of how weak I actually am." "Sonic, you are not weak." Knuckles scolded. "I say those things because I know they motivate you. I say those things because I know how strong you are. You are one of the most strongest people I know. Dare I say you are as strong as I am. I don't know anyone else who could hold the power of the Master Emerald in their hands and willingly give it up, because they know they are not ready. You are incredibly strong, and the fact that you are prone to having accidents does not determine that." He sighed softly. "It just means that you need more training in another department." "But I've been potty-training." Sonic looked at him sadly. "Tom and Maddie have been potty-training me since I moved in and I'm still a bedwetter." "And that's ok." Knuckles assured him gently, laying a hand on his shoulder in comfort. "Sonic, I had no idea that you were so young when you lost Longclaw, and that you've been by yourself since that age for so long. It makes sense. You can't possibly raise yourself and teach yourself all the important skills you are supposed to learn at a young age. You need somebody to teach you. And that training isn't going to happen overnight." Sonic sighed and looked down sadly. "I know…" Then he looked back up at him, hope in his eyes. "You really think I'm not weak just because I'm a bedwetter?" "Not at all." Sonic smiled, his eyes shining with fresh tears as he suddenly grabbed the echidna and pulled him close for a hug. "Thanks, Knux." Knuckles froze for a moment. It had been a long time since he has felt a hug like this. He smiled a bit before he slowly wrapped his own arms around the hedgehog, hugging him back. "You're welcome, Sonic." They stayed like that for a minute before the echidna gently pushed him off and affectionately ruffled his quills. "Come on. Let's go home. Your parents are worried about you." "Right." Sonic chuckled as he stood up from the water, gently shook it off, and the two of them rushed back to the house, a deeper bond built between them. End
  2. Author's Note: Takes place sometime pre-Captain America: Winter Soldier. Idk if any of you are familiar with the Hydra Trash Party subgenre but like, I guess this is technically HTP-adjacent. Comments are appreciated. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The radio buzzed. Pierce. I'm stuck in traffic, he said, voice crackling over the static airwaves. Tell the asset the rules still stand until I come back. Rumlow glanced over at the asset, who was standing quietly in one corner, slightly bent at the waist. Into the radio he said, How long's that gonna be, sir? Burst of static. Pierce must have sighed. I don't fucking know, he said. Just tell him if he pisses himself it's gonna be bad fuckin' news for him. 'And for you' went unspoken as an addendum. But Rumlow knew it's what Pierce meant. He said all right, because what the hell else was there to say. Then he disconnected the radio and walked over to the asset. The asset's eyes snapped up to his. He wasn't showing any emotion, it had been too long programmed out of him, but there was a definite desperation in every line of his body which was not normally there. He was normally at parade rest at all times when not in the field or in cryo. Normally he was very, very good at standing totally straight and still. But normally he didn't also have seven full bottles of water plus two half-pints of iced tea sitting in his bladder. Super-soldier bladder, super-soldier dose of liquid, Pierce had explained, handing the asset the bottles at the start of the mission. The asset had drained them all dutifully on the ride over, metal hand denting the plastic. When they'd arrived at the base Pierce had said he'd be gone for four hours. That the asset's secondary mission was to hold his urine until he (Pierce) had returned. This was apparently not the first time Pierce had done this shit but it was the first time he'd included Rumlow in it. Wasn't the fucking first rule of BDSM supposed to be that you didn't include other people in your own shit without their permission? But you didn't argue with Pierce, so when Pierce told Rumlow to reinforce this rule and make sure the asset's pants stayed totally dry, Rumlow just said yes, sir. Pierce handed him another bottle of water and said that if the asset leaked, Rumlow had to give him the bottle as punishment. Rumlow opened his mouth, thought better of it, said okay again, and watched Pierce get back into his car and drive off. In the four hours since Rumlow had watched the asset take down his targets swiftly and accurately; he'd watched his posture slowly start to go fucked the longer his bladder filled; and he'd watched when the asset, after a furtive thirty seconds of glancing around, reached between his legs to grip himself with his flesh hand. And now this. Rumlow was pretty sure (not positive, but pretty sure) Pierce wasn't really stuck in traffic. Likely he was sitting at home with his wife and his daughter and the housekeeper having dinner and laughing and pretending he gave a shit about his daughter's schoolwork and his wife's charities and his housekeeper's green card renewal. He was probably going to radio in in another few hours and tell Rumlow the traffic had finally eased up, when what he meant was he was just getting into his car after his wife had finally fallen asleep. It was just gone six in the evening now, and Rumlow really didn't expect to see Pierce again before midnight. He looked at the hunched, miserable form of the asset. He'd added his metal hand between his legs and both hands were twisting at the tough fabric, and his teeth were sunk into his lower lip. There was sweat beading out over his forehead. He was squirming, shifting his hips upwards in a desperate, vain attempt at getting friction. Rumlow thought if he wasn't so well-trained he'd be moaning. "Soldat," Rumlow said, and his voice came out softer than he'd expected. It made the asset wince, for some reason, and the motion made him dig his fingers in harder. Rumlow could see the fabric of his pants wrinkling up where the metal fingers were creasing it. He reached out -- projecting intent -- and when the asset did not shrink away he touched his jaw. "Where -- " the asset cleared his throat. He must have been in a bad way; Rumlow hadn't given him permission to speak. This seemed to register with him a moment later and his eyes snapped up to Rumlow's, frantic, scared, and so, so desperate. There were tears clinging to his lashes now. "I'm s- I'm sorry," he whispered, "I spoke out of turn -- " "It's all right," Rumlow said, still softly. He stroked his thumb down the asset's cheek. He wondered if the asset remembered him from before. "What do you need, soldat?" The asset's knees were bowed inwards. He was alternating between holding himself in a vice-grip and dragging his fists down his thighs. He was trying to press into Rumlow's touch but his body wouldn't stay upright. Rumlow couldn't imagine what his bladder must feel like; he could see the shape of it rounded out against his tac gear. "I want the Secretary," the asset whimpered. "He -- I need -- " Then he did moan, hands plunging between his thighs, eyes squeezing shut. He was stepping frantically from foot to foot and Rumlow was close enough to him he could hear the soft rush of liquid in his pants. Hell. "No, no, no, no, no," the asset sobbed, gripping himself, twisting his metal hand around his cock. It looked painful, almost as much as the obvious effort it was taking him to shift his weight, though shifting it was something he clearly needed, his bladder extended out as far as it was, shoving his flesh palm down his thigh again and again, teeth sunk into his lower lip, turning the skin around it a pretty rose color. "C- Commander, I -- I'm being so -- I c- I can't -- " Rumlow hoped Pierce choked on whatever the fuck fancy-ass dinner his housekeeper had cooked for him. Maybe she'd finally laced his with poison and he'd slump over his plate dead with one glassy eye turned up towards the ceiling, his tongue slithering out into his rice, vomit staining his tie. He shifted his hand down under the asset's chin, tilted his face up. The asset's eyes were squeezed shut; he was huffing out through his mouth like a frustrated animal. After a few seconds Rumlow heard another gush of liquid; he glanced down, and he saw the asset's tac gear shining where he was wetting himself. "Hey," Rumlow said, and in spite of his anger at Pierce his voice still managed to come out gentle and quiet. The asset actually looked up at him -- tears streaking down his cheeks -- and Rumlow said, "It's all right, soldat. It's okay. He's stuck in traffic; he won't be here for a long time." Panic flared across the asset's face and he began to babble again, but Rumlow slipped his thumb over his lips, and the asset went totally, totally still. (Well, except for his hips, which had not stopped rocking, but Rumlow wasn't going to count that.) "He's stuck in traffic, and I'm gonna take the fall for whatever happens, all right?" With his other hand he smoothed the asset's hair back from his face. The asset whimpered at the touch; Rumlow heard liquid pattering on the ground at his feet. "You can't hold it for that long, okay? You can't. It's okay." The asset made a broken, sobbing noise in the back of his throat. "W- What... what will... I..." "Let me worry about my own cover story," Rumlow said gently, but the asset still looked uncertain. He was clutching himself and shifting, legs double-crossed over his hand, teeth gritted; there was piss on the ground at his feet, Rumlow could see it streaked down his thighs even through the dark, heavy fabric of his pants. "I'm having an accident," the asset whispered, as his pants shone with fresh liquid. "I c- I couldn't -- it's an emergency, I -- " "I know, sweetheart." Rumlow leaned in and kissed the asset's forehead, and the asset whined. "I know, it's okay. I promise. I'm not mad. You let me deal with Pierce. You just let go now, honey. Okay?" But though Rumlow heard more liquid rushing out into the asset's pants the asset did not relax, nor did he let himself go all the way. After maybe five seconds he managed to cut the stream off. Rumlow sighed. He walked around so that he was on the asset's side, and slipped an arm around his shoulders. "I've never told anyone this," he said, very, very softly, even though they were still totally alone, just the two of them, the way Rumlow liked it best. "But I wet myself in high school once." The asset went still against him; his eyebrows furrowed over his nose. Rumlow could see where his flesh hand was still white-knuckling against his cock and he said, "I was in tenth grade. Wrestling team. My stepdad and the coach -- " He paused, scoffing, feeling his face trying to heat up. He had no idea why he was embarrassed; it was just the asset, it wasn't like the asset would ever tell anyone this, it wasn't like the asset would want to tell anyone, even if he was capable. Hell, the asset wouldn't even remember this story after this mission. But it took him a second to force the rest of it out, and in that time the asset's death grip on his own crotch was relaxing just slightly. "My stepdad had served in Vietnam with the coach," Rumlow said. "So they were both hardasses and they fuckin' hated me." The furrow deepened. "Why?" "Dunno. Just -- my stepdad was a fuckin' jackass. But anyway, the coach got me on the team and he said it was 'cause he saw potential but really he and my stepdad had this big plan to fuck me over, and during the first match of the season right before I went on the mat the coach gave me this huge fuckin' thing of water. Said I had to drink it all before the game to stay hydrated." At the word hydrated the asset moaned again. Piss ran down his legs, pooling on the ground. "I can't -- Commander, I can't stop it -- " "Shh, it's all right, honey, I told you." Rumlow kissed his temple again, reaching out to rub at his swollen bladder. He winced a little when he felt how fucking hard it was. The asset was still whining, dancing, obviously trying to cut his stream off, so Rumlow kept talking: "They put me on last, and they put me up against this guy who took for-fucking-ever to complete his rounds 'cause he wouldn't stay pinned. By the time I actually went out on the mat my bladder was fucking aching, I had to go so, so bad -- " The asset sobbed. " -- but I couldn't ask for a break, 'cause the coach had told me to drink the water and I knew he was just setting me up for humiliation, him and my stepdad were watching from the stands so I just started doing my thing, could barely do any moves, just kept having to keep my thighs real close and hoping to fuck that no one noticed how I couldn't stay upright -- " "Commander, please," the asset gasped out, and Rumlow paused, looking at the side of his face, but the asset didn't look upset (at least, not more so than he had been this whole time). He was holding himself and the fabric of his pants was completely sodden, and Rumlow leaned in, nosing at the space beneath his ear. He folded his hand over the asset's flesh one, pressing down on his cock. He murmured, "Yeah, that's right, baby. You piss for me now, it's okay," and the asset let out a shuddery gasp, more sob than relief, but more relief than he'd expressed all afternoon, and then he was pissing full-force against their joined hands and into his pants. Rumlow could feel the heat and the wetness of it splashing out onto his fingers, but he kept himself still, kept softly kissing the asset's skin, finished the story as the asset moaned and leaned harder and harder into him: "Pinned my opponent eventually. I was supposed to try and get up but he got me down on my stomach and the move was so sudden -- I wasn't paying attention, really -- I started fuckin' flooding my uniform. I tried holding it but I couldn't make it stop once it started and I just pissed myself and the mat and the guy. Everyone was so fucking mad, my stepdad hit me until I passed out when we got home, the coach kicked me off the team. Couldn't transfer schools 'cause we didn't have the money so the kids made fun of me until I fuckin' stabbed a couple of 'em behind the gym a few weeks later. Put 'em in the hospital for a while." The asset huffed out a breathy, unsteady laugh. He was still pissing; Rumlow was taking most of his weight, but he didn't mind. "I never had an accident again after that," he said, after a while. "But fuck... shit stays with you." He kissed the asset again, softly, but when he started to pull away the asset whined, shaking his head, and Rumlow stayed. He had always had a lot of trouble telling the asset no. The asset pissed for a long time. Rumlow didn't think to time it but it must have been over two minutes before the stream finally slowed to a trickle, and then a few spurts, and then he was empty. After, Rumlow stayed next to him for a while, holding him, holding his body against his, holding onto his cock, nuzzling his nose against his neck. He was rocking the asset back and forth and humming to him. The asset had gone totally limp in his arms. Eventually Rumlow coaxed the asset into taking off his soaked tac gear and putting on fresh pants. He shoved the tac gear into a bucket of soapy water while the asset wiped his thighs and his feet. Then they sat the two of them and Rumlow gave the asset a nutrition pack and stroked his hair -- the asset settling down between his legs, head on his chest, half-asleep -- until at last, close to midnight as Rumlow had predicted, Pierce showed back up. The asset tensed at the sound of his car, shrinking into himself, but Rumlow stepped smoothly in front of him as Pierce advanced, holding out one hand. "My fault, Secretary," he said, his heart giraffe-kicking in his throat. "I just loved watching how uncomfortable he was. I know you said not to give him that extra bottle but -- " Pierce's eyes flashed with irritation, but his mouth was twitching like he was amused. "You overfilled him?" he said, and Rumlow nodded. He'd made sure to empty the extra bottle beforehand in case Pierce checked, but Pierce just laughed. He reached out and stroked the asset's cheek, then slapped him a little. "You stupid slut," he said, shaking his head. Then, to Rumlow: "Well, Commander -- next time, follow my orders. This is my game. I like it played a certain way. I don't like deviations. You understand?" Rumlow nodded. He understood. The asset nodded too, and then Pierce led them both to his car. They slid together into the backseat. Pierce told the asset he had to stay awake the whole ride as punishment for fucking up the secondary mission, but Rumlow kept his hand tightly wrapped around the asset's metal one, squeezing every time his head dropped back against the seat, and letting the asset catch more than thirty seconds of sleep every time he could see Pierce was focused on the road, instead of the careful defiance going on behind him.
  3. Hi everybody! It's been forever since I posted a story. I'm not quite happy with how I've ended this, but yeah. I've actually had this for over a year (can you believe??) and I just decided to re-edit and post it all now. Please let me know what you think - constructive criticism is always appreciated! xoxo ••• NEW LIFE "Are you ready to go in, Jason?" Sixteen-year-old Jason blinked and looked up at the smiling faces of his new foster parents, Mr. and Mrs. West. They were a couple who were in their mid-forties who found comfort social action and helping children, which is how they ended up interested in being new foster parents. Jason was no more than six years old when he was placed in the foster care system and growing up, he had serious abandonment issues and separation anxiety, which was never a good combination. His biological mother and father were abusive, both physically and emotionally, and he found himself always needing company but not being able to trust people as easily, apart from his social worker, Michaela. This was why no family could keep him for long. Even at sixteen years old, it still hurt Jason more than anyone would ever know. "Jason?" Mrs. West called his attention gently, and he jumped a bit, squeezing his thighs together. He needed the loo as soon as they were on the way here, but he didn't wanna ask. He shrugged nervously, shrinking in on himself and pressing himself to his social worker. Michaela frowned in concern and wrapped her arm around him, bringing him aside after mouthing an apology to them over Jason's head. "Come on, Jace," Michaela said quietly once they were alone. "Why are you so nervous all of a sudden? They aren't gonna hurt you, remember what we talked about yesterday?" Jason nibbled on his bottom lip and shrugged again, rubbing his thighs together discreetly. His need wasn't that bad yet, but it was still quite uncomfortable. "I-I dunno, what if they're not as nice as they seem?" "They are. We checked all their records, and they're all as clean as can be. If ever you can't handle this, you give me a call," Michaela said gently. "You call me, and I pick you up right away, just like how we practiced before, remember?" Jason nodded slowly. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I remember." "Good boy," She praised him gently, ruffling his hair. "You're being very brave right now, and I'm proud of you." "Not brave." He mumbled bitterly. A sixteen-year-old who couldn't even ask where the bathroom was without having a panic attack was far from brave. "You are brave, sweetie. More brave than you think," she smiled sadly. "And nothing will ever make me be disappointed in you." Jason said nothing, but rubbed his eyes and nodded. "Okay. You ready now?" Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath, nodding afterwards. "Yeah," "Come on." ••• Michaela took Jason back to Mr. and Mrs. West, who were still waiting patiently by the porch of their huge house. They exchanged goodbyes before Michaela kissed Jason's forehead. "Be good, okay?" She smiled. "Yeah," Jason nodded. Michaela smiled once again and gestured for the new parents to follow her, leaving Jason by the porch this time. "Well, what do you think?" Michaela asked the couple. "He's adorable," Mrs. West replied, smiling before becoming more solemn. "But you weren't kidding... He looks almost broken." "His file is very complicated," she sighed. "Lots of stories about emotional and physical abuse from his biological parents. It's horrible." "That's not gonna stop us," Mr. West insisted. "What do we need to know?" "Jason is a really sweet kid," Michaela explained. "He grew up in a bad place though, as you know. He will not voice his needs or his wants. You need to ask him a lot of things and reassure him when he looks nervous." "Okay." Mr. West nodded. "Anything else?" "That's basically it," she said. "Just give me a call if there are any problems. I will not hesitate to help." They exchanged goodbyes, handing each other calling cards and shaking each other's hands. Michaela ruffled Jason's hair and whispered "be good," before waving and driving off. Jason was a good kid. Sure, he had issues, but he was a really good kid - and she had a really good feeling about this family. ••• As soon as Michaela's car left, Jason's need to use the toilet intensified due to his nerves and he clenched his muscles as discreetly as possible as he turned to face his foster parents. Mrs. West crouched down a bit to gently fix Jason's hair. "You ready to come in for the grand tour, Jason?" ••• The West family had a huge house. Jason found himself in the middle of a living area where he put his bags. They decided to give him a really long tour, and they weren't exaggerating! It took them fifteen minutes to show him around the first floor - and there were three! The first floor had a pristine kitchen with sleek, black, tiles, a large, white carpeted foyer with a huge television with game consoles, a beautiful dining area and an indoor pool. "My five children are all working now, but my nieces and nephews are here nearly everyday," Mrs. West smiled in amusement when Jason's jaw dropped at the beautiful vista. "That's why we keep this place as clean as possible." Jason was quiet as they showed him around the garden, his hand tugging nervously at the crotch of his jeans when he was sure no one was looking. His need to pee had grown worse real quick and that wasn't a good thing - but he would rather suffer in silence than tell them what was up. He occasionally stopped and pretended he was looking at the furniture just to concentrate on his bladder. His only hope was that the tour would be over soon - it couldn't be much longer, right? Wrong. Ten more minutes had passed, and they were only walking up to the second floor now! Jason felt a constant nudge and ache from his bladder, which was swelling against his jeans. He definitely needed to find a toilet - fast, but he couldn't tell them his need even though he wanted to. He was too shy. He squirmed as he walked, his hands nervously shoved in his pockets, one hand occasionally popping out to give himself a quick squeeze. He paid attention to the tour as much as he could, just wanting to find a bathroom. No such luck, though. Every door that might have been a bathroom was shut, out of Jason's sight. Luckily, the tour for the second floor didn't take as long as the first floor, but Jason still found himself tensing his thighs due to the steadily growing ache in his abdomen. He had to go! Biting his lip nervously, Jason gripped the front of his pants as hard as he could to ward off the incoming pressure, but it wasn't working as much as he thought it would. He closed his eyes and breathed out shakily, letting go and following his new foster parents to another room with a blue bed, a desk and a bedside table. He whined quietly and rubbed his eyes, catching the attention of Mr. West. "Is everything alright, kid?" He asked. "This is your room for now. You can put your things up here as soon as we're done with the tour." Jason chewed the inside of his cheek nervously, just wanting to find the toilets. His need had gone from "I need to pee," to "oh god I'm gonna pee myself right now," and he rubbed his thighs together nervously. He was literally seconds away from soaking himself. "Um," Jason squeaked. "Can I-I put my bags up here n-now please?" He asked shyly. "Yeah, but they're all the way downstairs," Mr. West frowned. "Yeah! It's okay!" He said, jumping up and down. "Can I just, um, get them?" "Okay, kiddo." Mrs. West shrugged. "We'll be here. Remember the way?" Jason made a tiny noise of distress as he leaked through his underwear. "Yes!" He lied, rushing off with his legs squeezed together. "Thank you!" ••• Where the hell was he going? Jason's left hand was permanently holding his leaking crotch as he tried to find a toilet, opening doors with his other hand and not having much luck. First of all, he couldn't find the staircase going down, so how was he going to get to the front door where his bags were? He whimpered and danced in place, abdomen throbbing as he made his way through twists and turns. "Come on, come on," he mumbled to himself, sniffling loudly and getting even closer to crying when he realized he was leaking even more frequently. His hand was soaked and there are were trails running down his thighs so he stiffened up and ran down yet another hall. He was just about to turn to open a closed door when he tripped over the edge of a table and a vase shattered to the floor. He gasped out loud, tensing up and closing his eyes, crouching and hiding behind a small dresser. This was not good, breaking things meant punishments and punishments meant getting hit! "Jason?" No! He started to panic. He scrambled up against the wall and pulled his knees to his chest, breathing heavily and clenching his eyes shut. He vaguely felt his pants getting hot and wet and there was fear beginning to spread all over him again. "Jason, are you okay?" He couldn't breathe and he closed his eyes when he heard footsteps approaching. If he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him. "Kid, what happened?" Jason's legs were shaking and he felt so uncomfortable. There was a puddle around him and tears were slowly leaking out of his eyes. "Jason, listen to me. Listen to me. It's okay." Don't look. "Jason? It's Mr. West. Can you open your eyes, please?" Mr. West? "Jason?" Jason shook as he slowly opened his eyes, taking a look up at the concerned couple looking down at him. "Hi, kiddo." Mr. West smiled sadly, crouching down to see him eye-to-eye. "Come stand up. We can get you cleaned up in the shower." "I w-weed myself," is all Jason replied, standing up and wrapping his arms around himself. It wasn't what he wanted to say but he couldn't think straight at all. "We know, and it's okay," Mrs. West piped up, smiling at him gently. "I'll go grab your things." Jason nodded and followed Mr. West down the hallway, already lost again. He was sniffling, his breaths hitching in an annoying manner, but he couldn't stop. "S-sorry," he whimpered as they found the bathroom, wiping his nose. "No, I'm sorry," Mr. West replied, ushering Jason inside. "I should've showed you the bathroom first. Go get yourself cleaned up, alright?" Jason nodded, biting his thumb and looking down at the ground. "D-don't know where t-to go..." He tried to explain, hiccuping greatly. "I'll wait right outside," the man reassured him. "Don't you worry." ••• Mrs. West had cleaned up the shattered glass and the mess Jason had made before bringing the young boy's bags upstairs to his room. He found a change of clothes and underwear (and an adorable tattered teddy bear) and brought them to where her husband was waiting. "Is he okay?" She asked softly when she heard the shower turn on. "I have no idea," he replied, shaking his head. "The social worker, Michaela, really wasn't kidding when she told us about how anxious he was..." "I know," she sighed. "Poor kid. We should've showed him the loo first." "Yeah, we should have. But there's nothing we can do about it now... Maybe we should just let him rest?" He suggested. "Good idea," she smiled. "We might've overwhelmed the kid. I'll go fix up his room. Stay and wait for him, okay?" ••• The kid came out of the bathroom ten minutes later with red rimmed and heavy eyes. He was tired and completely overwhelmed about his near panic attack. Mr. West was smiling at him gently. "Maybe you should go rest first. We can continue our tour when you're feeling better." Jason nodded and fiddled with his thumbs. "S-sorry a-again, about t-the vase and for..." He stuttered, blushing a bright red. He hated how nervous he was! He had completely humiliated himself! "It's really fine," he repeated. "I know you didn't mean any harm. Don't think about it too much, kid." They continued to walk down the hall, Jason getting drowsier every step of the way. His long and tiring day full of signing papers and traveling clearly wore him down. He almost cries when he sees the comfortable sheets and crawls under them, closing his eyes almost immediately. "You did nothing wrong, okay, kiddo?" Mrs. West whispers gently as she watches her new kid curl up. "We'll be in the room right across." Jason nods, thanks them meekly and curls up under the covers. He's okay with them staying outside. He's okay with them not hitting him for having accidents or for crying. He's okay with them not being his real parents because his real parents were horrible. "I'm really sorry," he says slowly, clutching his bear tightly. "Kid," Mr. West starts again, looking at him gently. "You're going to be living with us now, okay? That means you adjust to what we believe is right. I know it's going to be hard, kid, but you're going to have to learn that accidents like this are not going to make us mad at you. Ever." Jason blinked up at him and frowned. Was he being serious? This was the first time somebody was nice to him about his accidents. "I promise you that you should never be afraid of coming to us when you need help. Also, let us know what you need. We're here to listen to you," he added. "Everything's going to be different now. We aren't here to get angry at you for things you cannot control." "Okay," Jason whispered, feeling oddly lighter now. He was still definitely wary of them but the reassurance was nice. Really nice. "Great," the man smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He stood and took his wife's hand, leaving the room quietly. As Jason fell asleep, he thought about how tiring the day was, but at the same time, how strangely fulfilling it felt to know that this life was going to be new. The words 'everything's going to be different now,' echoed as he closed his eyes. It was a short phrase, but it still filled him with hope. Different was good. Different had the potential to be great, and so did his new life.
  4. I spent all of last weekend watching both seasons of Black Butler, and I immediately had to write fanfiction, I like Aberline as more of a fatherly influence on ciel, not yaoi, though. They're cute. Hope you enjoy it :) "For the murder of three men and four women…" "Under arrest…." "In the name of Queen Victoria…" Ciel froze at these words. The very indignity…the humiliation….how dare he…. "You must be joking." The young boy scoffed, as if his arrest was simply a piece of gossip passed on around the streets. "I'm afraid not. Earl of Phantomhive, you shall be held in a cell until your trial or until you are willing to confess. You butler, however, will be tortured for information." Randall stated. "Sir, I don't think that's necessary." Aberline protested. "He's just a boy of twelve, I seriously doubt that a mere child could have done such a thing." Even Ciel had to laugh at that. "Mere child….Fool, such innocence and vulnerability is pathetic. I am no child." Fred looked at the small boy in surprise. "But…" "Obviously he himself did not commit the crime. He most likely sent his butler or another one of his pawns." Randall sneered. "The brat. Guards! Seize them both!" Sebastian, who had been listening curiously, glanced down at his master in slight amusement. "Your orders, milord?" "Just go along with it for now. No need to cause any more trouble than is worth my time." Ciel stated. "I will summon you when you are needed." "As you wish, young master." Sebastian nodded and allowed himself to be taken away in shackles. He glanced back over his shoulder as the same was done to Ciel. "Good evening, my lord." He murmured. Ciel was led to his cell, and to his utter disgust, he found himself standing in the middle of the commoners cells. What the hell? Where was his cozy and only slightly inconvenient cell that he had been put in the first time he had been arrested by these idiots? With a small noise of distaste, he turned and looked over at Randall. "I refuse to stay in such a horrid place." He stated. "I demand a noble's cell." "Sorry, the cell's dirty and our maids won't be coming 'til morning." Randall said sarcastically. He opened a cell and removed the shackles before sending the boy sprawling inside the cell onto the filthy floor with a rough shove to his back. "This is an outrage!" Ciel roared furiously. He had lost his top hat and his clothes were now rather dirty. "I demand to be removed from this vile place at once!" "Stop your tantruming, you spoiled brat." Randall retorted in irritation. "Being the Queen's guard dog doesn't but you above the law. We're still in control here." Ciel practically growled at him, his eyes blazing. "You despicable, fowl, loathsome-." "Enough! Another word and I will have to silence you myself." Randall warned. Aberline's eyes widened in alarm. "Sir! Truly you don't mean you would hit a child…" "Shut up! I am no child! Children are weak, scared, emotional creatures…not to mention filthy." Ciel protested. "No, I can guarantee that there are no children here. This is a battle amongst men." "Mind yourself, Alberline." The commissioner warned. "This boy is much more trouble than he's worth." Locking the cell, Randall gestured for the others to follow, leaving Ciel all by himself in the dark cage with the two other rancid prisoners that occupied it. Fred cast one last nervous look at the cell before obediently following Randall out of the dark, damp place. It hadn't been twenty minutes when a loud howl reached the ears of Randall and his men. "It came from the cells!" Fred gasped. He knew it. He shouldn't have left Ciel alone. He was just a child no matter what anybody else said. No matter what Ciel said. Before Randall could even bark at him to stop, the young man found himself fleeing down the steps into the cells. "Let go of me!" Fred jumped, startled a bit by the sharpness and ferocity of the command. Was that Ciel? It had to be. There were no women in these cells and no grown man had such youthful voice. Jeers quickly filled the room, echoing off of stone walls. Taunts found their way into Fred's ears and he frantically surveyed the cells to figure out what they were causing such a ruckus about. The filthy men in the far back cell had Ciel pressed firmly against the wall, their grubby hands staining his fine blue outfit even more than it already was. The boy looked anything but scared. In fact he looked obviously livid, as if insulted by such an indignity. That was, until one of the men brought their scrawny, branchy arm up Ciel's thigh, feeling the soft delicateness of his youthful skin. The boy let out a shocked gasp, as if unaware that the men would dare go as far as to touch him so privately. Now there was but a single thread of concern weaved into his expression. As the man's scraggly fingers worked their way into the waistband of his trousers, Ciel's single blue eye widened and he squirmed against their hold. "Seba-!" "STOP!" Ciel turned to find Alberine sprinting towards the cell and let out a small sigh of relief. He watched as the two prisoners released their grips on his small arms and waist when Fred whipped out his gun. "Get away from him now! Back of the cell!" The man ordered sharply, and staring straight at the barrel of the gun, the men eagerly obliged. "Come here, Ciel. You're alright now." He stated as he sorted through keys until he found the right one. He rushed to unlock the cell door and once Ciel was out, secured the lock once more. "Whoever said I wasn't alright before?" The young boy asked. His snobbish façade had returned. "Idiot! They just about had their way with you!" Fred scowled in frustration. "And let them soil the Phantomhive name by doing such a thing? I should think not." Ciel scoffed. "I have no time for perverts like those. I demand to be given proper accommodations." Fred sighed and shook his head. The boy was stubborn as a mule. However, he knew that he simply could not leave the young earl down in the cells with such monsters. Randall's blessing or no, he was going to make sure that Ciel was safe. "Alright, come on." He sighed, leading Ciel up the stairs by his wrist. "Unhand me!" Ciel ordered. "I am not some disobedient youth that you may drag around like a dog!" "You are the Queen's dog, are you not?" Fred murmured in retort as he led Ciel to the noble's cell and gently herded him inside. "I offered to stand watch tonight, so if you need anything, don't hesitate to call." He caught Ciel's eye roll before turning around and walking back to the other men. "You are too naïve sometimes, Alberine." Randall scolded. "He could have escaped." "Or he could have been molested." Fred replied firmly. "Neither are ideal, but if we are going to question the boy, I'd prefer to not steal his innocence in the process." Randall laughed at that. "Innocence? Quite humorous indeed. The Earl of Phantomhive was born without innocence. He is a creature of darkness." Fred sighed and took a seat at his desk. "I don't care what he is. Children are children. They all get scared and lost and alone sometimes." "Well you let me know when that happens." Randall replied. "I'd love to alert the press." The jail was rather quiet now. Much of the police, including Randall had gone home to their families and a majority of the prisoners were asleep. That included Ciel. Fearing for his safety, Fred remained on patrol with the other guards, if not to simply put his own worrisome mind to rest. There was something curious about that boy. Fred couldn't quite place it, but he knew something was off. He pondered these notions as he paced down the dark hall, his shoes clacking against the tiles of the floor. A small gasp echoed against the walls and Fred suddenly froze in his tracks. He didn't dare move a muscle, afraid that if he made even the slightest sound, the noise would disappear, never to be heard again. Another noise of distress just barely made its way to his ears and he took off running towards Ciel's holding cell immediately. He didn't know for sure if it was really him, but it didn't matter. He was here to keep the boy safe. "Ciel?" He whispered as he quietly approached the noble's cell. From the light of the moon that streamed in through the window of the confinement, Fred could make out the tiny figure curled into a shuddering ball with his knees pressed tightly to his chest. His long, charcoal bangs fell into his eyes, keeping them from view, but the moon's light seemed to betray Ciel that night, reflecting off of the tear tracks that stained and ripped through the boy's mask. "Ciel!" Fred gasped a little louder. "Are you alright?" He hurriedly pulled out his keys and unlocked the cell door. The young earl's head lifted in mortified surprise as he watched the man approach him. "Get away from me!" He ordered, but the shakiness of his tears made his normally strong voice crumble and collapse. "Ciel, please let me help you. You can always trust me." The young man promised. "No. Leave my cell at once and don't come back." Ciel ordered him. His face was a flaming red and his eyes were squeezed shut, as if he was desperately trying to wake up from a bad dream. He shifted in his spot and Fred's eyes glanced down suspiciously. "Well? Why aren't you leaving?" A rough voice asked. Fred remained silent. He turned to leave, but instead ripped the covers from Ciel's bed. The filtering moonlight left the boy completely exposed, along with the large dark stain on the sheets that surrounded Ciel. The moment he saw it, Fred's expression softened into pity for the child who's tears, though silent, were as fierce and violent as any distraught child's. "Oh, Ciel. Don't cry, we can fix this." "Get out of my cell!" Ciel roared, striking Fred across the face. "That is an order!" "I am sorry, Ciel, but I do not answer to you." He said monotonously. He kneeled down on one knee so that he was level with the young boy. "I know you are feeling ashamed and embarrassed, but it is nothing to be upset about. Many children wet the bed. It is very common." His voice came out calm and soothing, or at least he hoped it did. Ciel scoffed and crossed his arms across his chest, but averted his eyes from the man. "I am no child." He muttered. His eyes vibrated and shone in the lighted shadows. He was obviously holding back his tears. Fred sighed. "I understand. At least allow me to help you clean up?" In the end, Ciel allowed him to do that much and soon his soiled sheets were replaced with fresh, clean ones. Fred then brought in a pitcher of water, a basin, and a cloth for Ciel to wash up in, though by the look of frustration on his face, he had obviously never done such a chore on his own. Fred approached him once more. "Ciel, I know that you are an adult, but there is nobody here but us. Just this once, allow yourself to be a child? Just once?" He goaded as he wet the cloth and began to wash all of the dried urine off of the younger's legs. Ciel gasped and looked at him in shock, but said nothing as surprisingly gentle hands washed away the itchy, irritating feeling from his pale, sensitive skin. As Fred worked his way upward on his legs, Ciel's shame and humiliation intensified one hundred fold and he clenched his eyes shut as tears escaped, slipping down his cheeks like meteors. Then, when he felt the warm cloth on his small genitals, a sob escaped. It immediately caught Fred's attention and the man looked up at the crying child. "Poor boy." He murmured as he quickly tugged off the soiled shirt and exchanged it for a clean one. Then, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the floor, he gathered Ciel into his arms and held his tightly as the youth wept into his shoulder. Hiccups and sobs filled the room and Fred could feel the warmth of the raven's tears soak his shirt, not that he cared. He gently rubbed Ciel's back and shushed him softly. "You're alright, child. Nobody can hurt you." He murmured between gasps of breath and shuddering whimper. It was getting very late, and Fred knew now that he would most definitely be staying all night for the young Earl, no matter what he needed. The poor child needed someone to take care of him. Ciel would probably pretend it didn't happen the next day, or ignore him, or possibly even spew insults at him despite lulling him to sleep. Not that he cared.
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