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  1. Many of you probably know Present's stories March of the Valkyries and The Conqueress. If you haven't read them, they're wonderful stories, full of messing and fear accidents. We've been collaborating on more stories set in this universe, featuring the character Ulrika. And, like it says in the title, there's some extra art by Livinginfinite at the end. Hope you enjoy! Virago Queen: Thunder “We’ll be arriving at the war camp within the hour, Your Majesty,” One of Ulrika’s royal guards informed her. “If all has gone according to plan, the fort should have fallen.” “That such a small obstacle has troubled us for this long is an embarrassment,” Ulrika responded coldly. A single, understaffed, lightly-armed Gothian fort had stalled a major military operation for weeks on end, and Ulrika had grown tired of the commander’s excuses. Redirecting a larger army, she intended to crush the fort into ruin on that very day. That army had been embattled with the fort since dawn, and should have achieved victory well before her arrival. God save them if they, too, have failed me, the queen thought bitterly. Along with a small contingent of royal guards, her assistant Iris also rode alongside her. The young lady was being her usual quiet, reserved self. Her face bore a somber, pensive look that Ulrika knew reflected Iris’ desire to be as far from the site of a battle as possible. She was a gentle soul, and appreciated being as far away from danger, and from the more gruesome side of nature as possible. The roar of distant thunder demanded Ulrika’s attention. For a moment, she thought it might’ve been cannonfire. Breathing a sigh of relief, she observed as a blanket of clouds released a deluge upon the land some ways away. Her bladder felt a kinship with the storm, and threatened to release its own deluge. She’d been riding for hours, and had not one opportunity to relieve herself. Certainly no opportunity presented itself where she could relieve herself without exposing her most closely held secret: the large diaper wrapped snugly around her waist. Ulrika had convinced herself that she’d be able to hold it until they arrived at the war camp, but she quickly lost faith in that plan. Even though they were so close, she knew that her generals could hardly wait to inundate her with meetings and discussions. It would be at least another few hours before she had a moment to herself. Exhaling in annoyance, the Virago Queen opted to release her hold then and there, and at the very least end one of her discomforts. Iris had ever proven to be a faithful and loyal confidant, and would be more than happy to change her later. With a sharp inhale, she let go. Almost immediately, the warmth of her piss flooded the front of her diaper. The hot urine filled the space between her thighs, and then reached her rear. She hated the sensation of it, but she couldn’t resist the blissful smile that came with the relief. The garment began to swell, and forced her legs apart ever so slightly. The queen’s bladder continued to empty itself, and she began to worry that it could leak. “The camp is just ahead, now, Your Majesty,” One of her escorts said. His announcement caught her entirely by surprise, and her stream of piss momentarily doubled in its intensity. “Ah, e-excellent,” Ulrika replied. She tried to remain stately and regal, but it proved difficult to do while she was actively urinating in her pants. “All of you, ride ahead and prepare them for my arrival.” “At once, Your Majesty,” With a hard spur of his horse, the guardsman took off, the others following closely behind him. At last, her bladder was empty. The diaper between her legs was swollen and soaking, and she feared it could leak at any moment. “Iris,” She said, in a commanding yet gentle tone. The young woman jumped slightly in surprise, “Y-yes?” “When we find a moment to ourselves, I shall require your assistance with a delicate matter.” For a long time, Iris had served the queen in this way, and Ulrika knew her message was clear. Even so, the blush of her cheeks was certainly telling of her predicament. “Oh, of course, my Queen. We should be well-stocked of your… equipment.” Iris knew better than to say aloud that the Virago Queen wore diapers. Nonetheless, Ulrika was grateful for her assistant’s discretion. The two women approached the outskirts of the war camp, and none too soon. The sensation of the wet diaper being squished against her by her horse’s saddle irritated Ulrika to no end. Busy soldiers and officers scurried about, carrying arms and munitions to and fro. Many people were shouting, and many soldiers were running ahead, weapons at the ready. It was then that Ulrika realized: perhaps it wasn’t just thunder she’d been hearing. ------------------------------------------- The Virago Queen certainly has an interesting way of showing gratitude, thought Brenna. She served her queen as a lord commander with a decently sized regiment under her control. Before that, however, she was called the Howling Gale on the battlefield. She was a famous warrior, having slain countless of the throne’s enemies. For her courage and valor, she was to be awarded with power and authority. How nice those things had seemed, before Brenna found herself overseeing the most pitiful group of pants-pissers she’d ever seen. An unfortunate symptom of having an almighty warrior-queen serving as an icon to your people was that it inspired even the most unfit citizens to sign up as soldiers. The Queen had felt that if anyone could turn these weaklings into killers, it would be the Howling Gale. What followed had been months of Brenna and her subordinate Signe attempting to educate nearly three hundred women in the ways of war. She’d tried to teach them advanced techniques, but it was all so far above their heads. She’d tried to show them basic battle strategy, but Brenna was better suited to carrying out strategies, not making them- certainly not teaching them. When they finally met an enemy in open combat, half of her forces wouldn’t even leave their cover, preferring instead to wallow in their own puddles and messes. She’d punished them thoroughly after that. They’d improved, at least a little, but then she was commanded to capture a Gothian fortress. Every last offense she’d planned against the enemy base crumbled when exposed to her regiment’s sheer ineptitude. And now the queen will finally see the hopelessness of trying to train these people, she thought. Scandian reinforcements had arrived some days ago, and immediately seized control of the situation from Brenna. Whatever plan they’d concocted had been thrown into chaos when a contingent of Gothian reinforcements took everyone by surprise. And now Brenna found herself stuck in a ditch with five of her soldiers. Gunfire soared overhead, effectively serving as a roof. Skilled as she was, Brenna knew that showing her head over the edge of the pit was certain death. She was condemned to wait until the Scandian forces had pushed far enough to draw the focus off of them. She found the waiting distasteful, but her company in the ditch was absolutely intolerable. Five soldiers, and three of them had pissed themselves. One of the wet women had a large brown stain and wet bulge resting in the seat of her trousers, and she was confident she saw another bulge in the seat of the woman next to her. Only two of them had managed to not ruin their underwear in some way. When, at last, the gunfire abated, Brenna wasted no time standing and climbing out of the pit. “C-commander Brenna!” one of her soldiers called after her. Brenna turned to see the woman she was only fairly sure had soiled herself addressing her, “W-w-what should we do? There’s so many of them,” “Either follow behind me or cower in this pit,” She replied gruffly, “Whatever you decide, just keep out of my way.” Readying her rifle, she charged forward, free at last of that filthy hole in the ground. Bullets raced by her as she advanced. She didn’t scare easily, but the fear of being shot was a powerful and universal one. She felt the familiar adrenaline rush, the erratic and rapid beating of her heart, and the slightest twinge in her bladder- all long time companions of hers. Swift as the wind for which she was given her title, she gunned down two Gothian soldiers before they could move to dodge her. Charging through the barricade they’d been using, she was ambushed by a hidden man. With startling speed, he raised his knife, and brought it down. A small gasp escaped her lips, but her instincts took over and kept her alive. With a speedy sidestep, she dodged the knife, and drove the butt of her rifle into the man’s throat. He stumbled and fell backwards, giving Brenna enough time to raise her weapon high, and bring down the bayonet into his chest. She was panting, and felt dampness at her crotch. While she prided herself on being fearless, it could be said that her body was not as brave as her mind. She had a consistent tendency to leak on herself when in combat. To remedy this, she wore thicker underwear than most. Layers of cloth wrapped around her groin in an approximation of panties. She would defend to the death that this garment was not a diaper, and that she did not wet herself. Collecting herself, she analyzed the battlefield around her. Scandian cavalry had begun a fierce charge, and appeared to be smashing apart any Gothian lines. Before long, only the Gothians taking cover in the fort would be safe, and only until Scandian forces breached it. The thought of being the one to take the enemy stronghold filled her with excitement. At last, this thorn in her side could be removed. Ignoring the minor wetness between her thighs, she pressed on, towards the fort. ------------------------------------------- Ulrika found herself somewhat happy that she’d emptied her bladder before reaching her destination. She’d been able to do so slowly and deliberately- ensuring no leaks. Had she entered into the warzone before her with a full bladder, she knew there was a good chance she’d have caused it to overflow. She was ashamed to know such a thing, but she couldn’t deny it. Minutes after her arrival, a large force of Gothian soldiers had arrived to break the siege. She couldn’t be sure of their numbers, but there was certainly no shortage of them. Scandian soldiers rushed to take positions behind hastily made fortifications. The cacophonous shouts of countless officers attempting to organize their forces formed a background of noise to the innumerable gunshots and the thunder of cannons. Beside her, Iris was shaking, looking like she might fall off of her horse at any second. Ulrika half expected to see a growing urine stain upon her servant’s red dress, but it seemed Iris managed to keep her bladder under her control. “Iris,” Ulrika said in an authoritative voice, hiding her own fear, “Get somewhere safe, wait until the fighting is over.” “Y-y-yes, Your M-Majesty,” The woman could barely speak, and her face was pale as death. With a kick, she sped off on her steed, searching for shelter. Ulrika longed to join her. Already, her heart was pounding, and a cold knot in her stomach threatened to take control of her body away at any second. She shook her head, and steeled herself. She was the Virago Queen, not some little infant who soiled herself and ran at the slightest fright. She would be the stone that this Gothian army would break upon. Pulling her grand, double-barrelled rifle from its holster, she rode towards the sounds of thunder. ------------------------------------------- Signe could not tell if she was the luckiest or unluckiest woman in the world. She’d been a short distance from the rest of the camp when the Gothians launched their surprise attack, and this allowed her to use the surrounding woods for cover while she fired on the assailants. However, she’d been apart from the others on account of her need to relieve herself. She’d hoped to find a moment of privacy, but now found herself trying to snipe Gothians whilst keeping her thighs held together. The young soldier had positioned herself atop a small hill, and had a grand view of the unfolding battle. Scandian fortifications and a few old buildings had made for excellent cover to lay siege to the fort, but now the Gothians had pushed so far forward many of these defenses now belonged to them. An enemy soldier rounded a corner, and levelled his rifle at the female soldier taking cover there. With a quick twist and a squeeze of the trigger, Signe planted a bullet in his chest. The man and his rifle crashed to the ground, unmoving. The woman she’d just saved looked towards Signe’s impromptu nest, still in a bit of a stupor. With her sharp eyes, Signe noticed with sympathy that there was a quickly expanding stain on the front of the woman’s uniform pants. She turned her attention to a line of Gothian marksmen who’d reversed one of the Scandian barricades, and were using it for cover. They were effectively turning a long stretch of ground into a killing floor. Signe fired, and the first of the Gothian soldiers dropped. The one closest to him lost his focus, and in that second she took him down, as well. The remaining soldiers crouched low, fully hiding behind their cover. With their overwatch ended, Scandian forces promptly advanced towards them. They wouldn’t last much longer. Signe then turned to the next cluster of Gothians. She aimed and placed her shot, but felt a slick heat flowing into her underwear just before pulling the trigger. Alarmed at leaking, her shot went wide, and impacted a tree next to her target. With some gestures and shouting, suddenly the eyes of several Gothian marksmen fell upon her perch. Signe’s eyes went wide, and she dove behind a nearby tree trunk for cover. Lying flat on her stomach, she pressed her body against the ground as tightly as possible. A hailstorm of bullets followed only a second after. Dirt and bark were launched into the air, and the terrifying howl of passing bullets was all she could hear. Her bladder, made lax with fear, spilled its contents into her trousers. Lying flat upon the ground, it soaked the front of her pants, puddling in the dirt, and reaching down to her knees. The fetid warmth spread to the bottom of her shirt and jacket, and tears of relief stung her eyes. Her stream died down to a trickle, and at last it was finished. Doing her utmost to remain hidden, she crawled away from the stump, moving downhill. She would need to find a new position, and she would need to be more subtle. Crawling through the brush, her cold and clammy pants stuck to her thighs, and the scent was thick. Signe had heard that Queen Ulrika would be making an appearance that day, and she dearly wanted not to face her queen in piss-soaked clothes. Once she’d found another vantage point, she took care to conceal her location. Without the nagging of a full bladder, her accuracy and reaction notably improved. Earlier, she’d wished for a quick battle, so that she could finish it and retreat to somewhere private to empty her bladder; now she was hoping it would rage for long enough that she’d dry off under the sun. ------------------------------------------- Iris hadn’t needed much convincing to run to safety. She’d sped away on her horse, but soon found that the Gothian assault had been so rapid and brutal that shelters were in rather short supply.Much worse than that, though, was her appearance. She wore a red dress, and rode a horse of excellent breed. She looked to the Gothians very much like a person of high standing within Scandia. She looked very much like a target. Struggling to find anywhere that looked safe, and like it would continue to be safe, the young woman had no choice but to dart back and forth between anything that resembled cover. When the first bullet sped passed her head, she nearly fainted. With every ounce of willpower she had, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her horse’s head for stability. A long jet of urine soaked into her panties, sending several droplets down her thighs. More bullets came, each one only narrowly missing. In her addled, terrified state, she decided to abandon her mount, and seek a small hovel to hide in. Dismounting while as numb as she was proved difficult, and she more akin to falling off her horse and landing on her backside. Her legs shaking and unable to carry her, she crawled over to a large stone wall, one looking to belong to a church, and covered her head with her hands, willing the fight to be over. ------------------------------------------- Ulrika’s anger at the failure of her forces was immeasurable, and matched only by the dread that filled her heart. The Gothians were known for fighting ferociously to the bitter end, and they’d haunted her nightmares since she first began her campaign against them. The Virago Queen did everything in her power to clear her mind, and focus on the battle. Mounted atop her powerful steed, and wielding her ornate rifle, she rode to the site of one of the more fierce engagements. She came upon two Scandian soldiers, both huddled behind some crates for cover. One of them, at least, was attempting to fight. She leaned over the boxes and fired, although the large wet streaks down her legs betrayed her fearful incontinence. The other, however, was sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, no weapon in sight. She sat in a large puddle, and a large, rounded bulge rested in the seat of her pants, tinging them brown. “Disgraceful!” She shouted at them. The one who still had her weapon spun around in alarm, before lifting her hand in a shaky salute when she realized who had approached her. The other looked up, and whimpered slightly. “You are here to fight for your country, soldiers! If you cannot even keep from soiling yourselves, then you have no place on my battlefield!” “Y-yes, Your Majesty,” The one who’d only wet herself replied. She shook slightly, and Ulrika noted the renewed wetness blossoming at the woman’s crotch. “If you’ve any honor or love for your country, you’ll advance and fight for it!” Seeing the mighty Virago Queen in all her splendor, the whimpering soldier managed to stand. Urine dripped from her trousers, but she gave a dutiful salute to Ulrika. “For Scandia!” She said, with as much force as her voice could muster. “For Scandia!” Said the other, as she turned to resume firing. Satisfied, Ulrika rode ahead. Bullets flew by her, and she knew she must have been the target of more than one Gothian gunman. Heat around her groin informed her that her bladder had just released whatever urine was still inside it. Once again, she found herself silently praying that the stress and strain the fight was putting on both herself and her diaper wouldn’t cause a leak. She tried to remain calm, and to center herself; the army here was positively massive. The Gothians were fighting with their usual suicidal vigor, but they could not hope to defeat their much larger host. Her fear was intense, having already overwhelmed her bladder, but Ulrika was still a skilled combatant. As she rode, she quickly shot down the Gothians in her immediate vicinity. Her forces were following quickly behind her, having been galvanized by her presence. With the might Virago Queen serving as their inspiration, the Scandian army was ready to vanquish any foe. And the Gothians knew that. Already she looked the part of an officer, and thus a target, but when it became clear that she was the legendary Queen and the architect of Scandia’s imperialism, nearly all guns were trained on her. The first few bullets smashed into the ground near her horse, and she thought little of them. As more came, she kicked her horse into a gallop. Speeding through the battlements, the ground around her was being torn away by the hailstorm of gunfire. Tears of abject terror burned at her eyes, and she wanted so badly to scream. Her fear took root in her bowels, then, and spilled its contents out. Wet mush filled the back of her diaper to the brim, coating her rear end. As her backside smashed repeatedly against the saddle, her release was smeared against her. At last, a bullet hit a mark. Mercifully, it had missed Ulrika herself, but instead struck her horse in the flank. It reared upwards in sudden pain, flinging her from its back. Wasting no time, she righted herself, and stood up just in time to see her horse running off into the woods. In a frightened panic, she turned and ran towards the nearest cover she could find. Her legs did not take her far, and she tripped and fell forward, behind a stone wall. A shrill, terrified scream startled Ulrika, and she looked up to see none other than Iris pressed against the wall. She was shaking, and it seemed as though she wasn’t expecting the storm of bullets Ulrika had brought to her hiding place, and was certainly not prepared for someone to jump in with her. A wet spot had blossomed on the front of her dress, and grew rapidly into an irregular, oblong circle. Trails of wetness raced down the sides of the crimson fabric while a large stain gradually worked its way to the bottom. Streams and drops of piss fell from her hem, creating a growing puddle underneath her. As she continued to wet herself, she calmed slightly, and seemed to recognize who had just joined her. “Q-Queen Ulrika?!” For a second, she almost looked relieved. “Iris? I ordered you to go somewhere safe!” “There wasn’t anywhere! This was-” The shouting of Gothian words silenced the both of them. Someone was close, and calling to his compatriots. Ulrika did not know the words he spoke, but she knew the tone. Here! Here! She imagined him relaying to his friends, She’s hiding over here! She reached for her weapon, only to find it absent. It had been thrown to places unknown when she fell from her horse. The two of them were defenseless. Her heart racing, she lifted a brick from the ground, preparing to defend herself. Footsteps drew near. Closer, closer, until Ulrika was certain the soldier would round the corner at any second. But with the crack of a single rifle firing, the footsteps abruptly stopped. Ulrika turned towards the source of the shot, and saw a female Scandian soldier rising from cover. A large wet patch adorned her trousers. The woman began to walk towards them, until the explosive thunder of artillery drowned out all other sounds. A spot not too distant from their hide was smote with a fiery explosion. The markswoman dove into a nearby building for safety. The miniature earthquake it created shook Ulrika to her core, and she cowered behind the wall. Tucking her knees in, and covering her head, it was all she could do not to pass out. The Gothians had seen her run this way. They’d heard the words of the soldier who’d come looking. They knew she was hiding. All they had to do was destroy any potential cover until they finally struck her. When the next explosion came, Ulrika soiled herself even further. More wet mush filled out her diaper, creating a bulge in her trousers. It would take a miracle for it not to leak. A third explosion came, but never a fourth. The queen dared to look up, and beheld that the fighting was nearly over. Scandian forces had advanced extremely quickly, and braved the walls of the fort. Within minutes, the fighting would be well and truly over. She stood, taking stock of how heavy her pants had become. She’d produced an impressive amount of shit, and she was certain the front was practically waterlogged. Iris, too, had calmed herself, and shamefully grabbed the front of her dress, feeling the massive piss stain. “Is… Is it over?” Iris said in her demure, timid voice. Stumbling over to the edge of the wall, she peered at the fort, and saw the concluding battle. While her assistant inspected the fort, Ulrika’s eyes were drawn to the back of her skirt. The queen was disheartened to see that, despite everything, Iris had actually managed not to soil herself. Ulrika hated her own cowardice so very much. Even her servant, who was woefully frightened of everything, hadn’t made as much of a mess of herself as Ulrika had. “It… Would appear so, yes,” At the queen’s observation, Iris loudly exhaled in gratitude that they were safe. “Iris,” She muttered, getting the young woman’s attention, “In a moment, I shall require your… assistance.” --------------------- “Disgraceful,” Brenna’s forceful voice rang out over the now quiet war camp. Her regiment now stood in formation in front of her. Nearly three hundred pairs of pissed pants. Brenna couldn’t be sure how many had soiled themselves, but the absolutely nauseating odor indicated it was a sizeable portion. The soldiers before averted their eyes. Their faces burned with shame, and she knew some were crying, or close to crying. Entirely unacceptable behavior for warriors of the Scandian empire. Even her right-hand-woman Signe had wet herself in the fray. Brenna was certain this entire assignment was intended to be a punishment for some unknown slight against the Virago Queen. And speak of the Devil… Brenna thought, seeing the tall and imposing figure of her country’s ruler approaching. The Queen’s assistant followed close behind her, looking much like one of Brenna’s less-than-continent soldiers, with the massive urine stain on the front of her skirt. Standing in the proper posture, Brenna saluted her queen. Predictably, Ulrika wore quite a scowl on her face. Murmurs spread throughout her regiment, and the many soiled soldiers clumsily and inelegantly snapped to attention and saluted her. “Your Majesty, Queen Ulrika! I-” “Choose your words carefully, lord commander,” Ulrika said with a dangerous edge in her voice that made Brenna’s throat feel dry. “I want you to explain to me, firstly, why an imperceptibly small force held you at bay for this long. Long enough that enemy reinforcements could arrive. Had my forces not joined the battle when we had, you and your entire regiment would have been killed. Secondly, explain to me how it is that hardly a single one of your troops managed not to ruin their uniforms with their own waters and waste. Explain to me, ‘Howling Gale’, how you permitted this disgrace to befall your homeland.” Brenna could feel her composure cracking like glass. The Virago Queen was legendarily cruel when it came to punishing failure in her ranks. A slight warmth at her groin warned her how close she was to losing control of her bladder. She swallowed, then answered, “My queen,” her voice was hoarse, “I did all that I could to teach these people. They aren’t soldiers, they-” “You were to make them into soldiers,” A cold fury radiated behind her words. Brenna coughed slightly, the dryness in her throat almost choking her, “I… I failed to do so, Your Highness,” admittance of failure did not come easily to her, but the queen would not tolerate excuses. “Lieutenant Signe and I tried fervently to educate our charges, but it is my belief that none of them possess the mettle to serve in your armies.” The words did nothing to assuage the mighty queen’s anger. “How ‘fervently’ could you have tried, lord commander? The people I left in your care could only cower and wet themselves when they were called to serve.” “Your Majesty, I must confess that I do not understand!” Brenna’s voice was confused and desperate. “I am one of your finest soldiers, I have slain countless many of your enemies. Why have I been relegated to teaching these overgrown children who cannot even control their own bladders? Have I done something to warrant this punishment?” Her tone shifted from pleading to angry by the end of her rant, but her blood ran cold when she saw how Ulrika’s face twisted from cold fury to murderous intent. Quick pulses of her piss soaked into her underwear as she leaked even more. “Commander Brenna,” Ulrika said slowly. She took a step forward, and Brenna quickly took a frightened step back. “I placed you in charge of this regiment specifically because of your talents. I had faith in you to turn them into loyal and powerful soldiers of Scandia. All you have to offer me are excuses and accusations. All you can give me, after all that I have given you, is failure.” The queen continued to walk towards her. Brenna had completely abandoned her posture, and was fearfully backstepping. The warmth of urine saturated her groin. She knew that she was not just leaking, she had begun to wet herself. Her regiment only watched, silent and bewildered. In the quiet, the harsh hiss of her voiding bladder was clear as day. In disgust, Ulrika lowered her gaze to Brenna’s crotch. She raised an eyebrow when there was no wetness there. Brenna could feel her release flooding her privates, the garment growing heavy between her legs. “Are you… ” Ulrika began, but continued to observe. The queen’s gaze sharpened even further. Brenna guessed that she was piecing together what was hiding under her trousers. The terrifying queen’s visage evaporated whatever control was left of the lord commander’s bladder. Hot piss sprayed into her underwear, soaking them beyond their capacity. Crescents of wetness formed on each of her thighs, and raced downwards. Small puddles formed at her feet. “Shame upon shame,” the queen said coldly. With a quick and harsh motion, she gripped Brenna’s trousers, and yanked them down. Brenna gasped loudly as her special, protective undergarments were put on display. The white cloth had been thoroughly stained yellow. “You insult and chastise them, when you are no better. Perhaps I truly did overestimate you, Howling Gale.” The edge in the queen’s voice was pure ice. Brenna was certain the Virago Queen was going to have her killed. “Y-Your Majesty, P-please!” She begged, as a quick burst of flatulence and accompanying crackling announced the emptying of her bowels. Wet mush piled in the seat of her “panties,” some escaping the cuffs and dripping down her thigh. The release was large, and her now bulging underwear began to slide down her thighs. Gripping the sides, she pulled them back up, too numb with fear to mind how it made her mess press against her rear. “Lord commander Brenna, I hereby strip you of your rank. Wash the filth off of yourself, and meet me in the command tent for the assignment of your punishment.” Brenna felt tears stinging her eyes. Her entire regiment could only stare, wide-eyed, at her pathetic display in front of them. Ulrika looked to Signe, and spoke, “Lieutenant Signe, I presume?” “Y-yes, Your Majesty!” Signe dutifully answered, a little surprised to be called upon. “You killed a man who was only seconds away from revealing my position to Gothian cannoneers. I daresay my servant and I only escaped the bombardment thanks to you.” “Ah, uh, of course, Your Majesty! I would gladly lay down my life for you!” “And yet,” Ulrika’s eyes drifted down to the wetness of Signe’s thighs. “It would appear that fear made a fool of you as well.” “F-forgive me, my queen,” “However, despite your fear, you fulfilled your duty as a soldier. You did not let your terror stand in your way. You accomplished much today, proving your courage.” “Yes, Your Majesty,” Signe opted for a simple response. “I see now that I made an error appointing the Howling Gale to be the commander of this regiment. If anyone can teach them of courage and duty, it is you. I hereby appoint you as lord commander of this regiment.” The queen and her assistant departed, leaving a stunned Signe and a shamed Brenna standing alone in front of the many Scandian Soldiers. A chill breeze swept between Brenna’s bare thighs, reminding her that her trousers rested around her ankles, and her ruined diaper was perfectly visible to hundreds of people. Holding back her tears, she yanked her pants back up, cringing as it forced the cold, wet, and soiled garment against her body. The former lord commander silently left, searching for someplace to clean herself off. --------------------- Ulrika was well aware of the hypocrisy of her condemnations. Even as she paraded the lord commander’s incontinence before everyone, Ulrika herself still had yet to change. Her own undergarments were still swollen with her urine, and sagging with her waste. She reminded herself that the facade was critically important, and that if she needed to be a hypocrite to ensure the success and morale of her empire, then she gladly would be. But what truly bothered her was not the carefully crafted charade, the lies, deceptions, or hypocrisy- it was the honesty of her praise for the markswoman Signe. Like most of the inept regiment, she had wet herself, but hardly seemed a coward for it. The vision of the woman, clad in pissed pants, fearlessly gunning down the man who would have taken Ulrika’s life was burned into her mind. All that she, the Virago Queen could do, was to curl up and soil herself like a frightened child. Along with her respect for the woman, Ulrika felt a burning envy of her courage. She had to pause in her walk, and pull her pants and diaper back up, as the weight of her earlier fear had caused them to slide down her legs. A quick touch of her rear confirmed that she’d produced a considerable amount of shit in her pants. The shame of her incontinence burned hotly, but not nearly so much as her shame in her own cowardice. “Ah, Your Majesty!” An older man’s voice called. One of the generals sent to destroy the fort. He and the other generals and commanders had gathered around a small table with a map. They were discussing and preparing the greater offensive- the invasion into Gothia from this point. It was a discussion she would need to be present for. Naturally, it would be taking place when Ulrika’s pants were full of shit. Fighting to clear her mind and keep her blush at bay, she approached the table. They each welcomed her with a proper salute, and made way for her to view the map. It wasn’t even a minute until one of them made the comment Ulrika would’ve rather died than hear: “Does anybody else smell that?” She veritably froze on the spot, her mind racing to concoct an excuse for why she smelled like a latrine. “Oh!” Iris chimed in. She clutched the large wet stain on the front of her dress, “I… I am terribly sorry… That smell is me.” The young woman visibly spread her legs slightly, to give the impression that she had soiled herself, “I couldn’t reach safety, and I was terribly frightened! All the bullets, and the fighting, I just… ” She squeezed the hand that held her piss-stained skirt, once again emphasizing her accident. Ulrika had very clearly seen the woman’s rear, and there was no hint of Iris having lost control of her bowels. Her able assistant had just eagerly offered up her own dignity to save Ulrika’s. In that moment, Ulrika was considering renaming a city or two after Iris in gratitude. The men around them had mixed reactions. Some chuckled, some looked with sympathy, and others looked away in disgust, or just due to the awkwardness. Finally, one of them shattered the tension with a quick jest, “What were you so scared of, miss? You had the Virago Queen by your side! You couldn’t have been any safer in the sturdiest bunker in the land.” The others nodded their agreement and chuckled along. “Well, I do suppose I can see that now,” Iris commented, giving a quiet, little laugh. Thinking back to the two of them hiding and wetting themselves, only to be saved by someone else, Ulrika’s self-loathing thoughts of her own cowardice resurfaced, and she wished them to be gone immediately. “Yes yes, enough teasing my assistant,” She said, getting everyone back on track. “Today we begin what I intend to be the final campaign into Gothia. I will have no more delays, no more failures.” With that, they began their planning. For over an hour, Ulrika and Iris stood there in their wet and soiled clothing. When, at last, it had ended, they retired to the command tent- a large, almost luxurious tent that had been erected in anticipation of the queen’s arrival. It was private, devoid of people, had no windows to the outside, and would be an excellent place for the two women to clean and change themselves. Once they had entered inside, and there were no prying eyes or ears to bother them, Ulrika turned to face her assistant. “Iris,” She said, more gently than usual. “Highness?” “... Thank you.” Ulrika was not skilled in offering up genuine gratitude, and Iris’ smile told her the young woman knew the significance of her thanks, tacit as it was. “Of course, my Queen.” The tent lacked any suitable changing table, so they’d have to make do on the floor. While her diaper had miraculously spared her trousers from the torrent of piss and shit she unleashed into them, her clothes had otherwise been soiled by rips, tears, burns, blood, and dirt. Stripping them off, she stood before Iris in only her heavily soiled diaper. The two had long ago done away with any discomfort between themselves in regards to nudity. Iris produced a fresh diaper from her bag, and Ulrika prepared to lie down for changing, when they heard it. “So this is the mighty Virago Queen, in all her splendor.” For a second, Ulrika was certain it had only been a nightmarish conjuration of her own imagination. The voice belonged to man. A man who spoke with a thick Gothian accent. She felt liquid warmth pouring into her diaper. She fought to stand up, to assess the situation. Emerging from a hidden space in the spacious tent was a man in Gothian uniform, clutching a pistol in one hand and a saber in the other. He had a look on his face that was a cross between utter disbelief and unabated joy. Iris’ legs were shaking. She grabbed onto Ulrika’s arm to steady herself. She was still wetting her diaper, although it could hold no more by that point. Golden rivulets broke through the garment, and coursed down her muscular legs. The man- the assassin- looked on with a smug grin. “I would’ve preferred to kill you on the battlefield, but I must say… this is proving far more enjoyable than I predicted.” “P-please… don’t… ” Ulrika stammered out a meager plea, but she knew it was pointless. The ferocity and perseverance of the Gothians had haunted her nightmares for quite some time. She knew there was absolutely no way he would let her live, not when he had the power to shatter the leadership and morale of the people invading his homeland. “I don’t know how you managed to fool all of us into being afraid of you, but it won’t matter now,” he levelled his pistol at her head. Ulrika could only close her eyes as tears streamed down her face. There was a gunshot. A thunderous sound that heralded death. Ulrika heard a wet squelch, and was sure she’d soiled herself even further in her final moments. But then she heard a body hit the ground in front of her. When she was certain it was not her that had been shot, she wiped the tears from her eyes, and opened them. The assassin was dead. A bleeding hole in the back of his head told the story of how. Standing behind him, jaw hanging open in shock, was the former lord commander Brenna. Ulrika’s senses returned to her, and she recalled that Brenna had been instructed to meet her in the command tent. Such a small action had saved she and Iris’ lives. Of course, she now had a disgruntled commander that she’d publicly humiliated staring at her in her state of incontinent undress. “Your Majesty,” she said, slowly, carefully, “Have I… interrupted something?” Ulrika attempted a reply, but it emerged only a choked, sobbing sound. With a cough, she cleared her throat and spoke, “L-lord Commander… I believe you have earned yourself a… promotion,” she hated having to concede anything to the woman who had so disrespected her earlier, but now she would need to keep her quiet. “It seems I have,” an opportunistic smiled creeped onto Brenna’s face. “I don’t want a position teaching whelps how to fight. I want to be there, my Queen. I want to win glory on the field of battle. Give me that, and I can promise not to ever speak a word of… this.” “Perhaps a position in my royal guard would suit you, then… Howling Gale,” she gritted her teeth in frustration. Once again, she’d been saved from imminent death when all she could do was beg for mercy and cower in fear. And to be saved by someone she was meant to be disciplining. Her trials today knew no ends. “I think that sounds perfect,” Brenna only then stowed her pistol away. “As a show of good faith, I’ll keep anyone from entering the tent for as long as I can. Give you time to make yourselves presentable. And I promise to forget what I saw,” She gave a slight wink with her last remark. No one in all the world could speak to her like that, least of all one of her subordinates. Brenna was a skilled warrior, and now had saved her life and was privy to her darkest secret; but even so, she would be made to heel. Ulrika considered how many ways she could have Brenna punished, but for the time being, she elected to finally change out of her truly ruined diaper.
  2. So Livinginfinite invited me to write some stories for something he was working on, and naturally, I accepted. Full credit for the setting, culture, and tons of other details go to him. If you'd like to see his art (a lot of his recent work is set in this universe), you can use these links to check out his tumblr or his pixiv (I think you'll need to make an account to see a lot of his stuff on pixiv). In short, it's in a setting where an extremely advanced and powerful empire with access to magic-based technology fields many female knights, but they have "issues" with their continence, which is not the way the Empire wants people to view their soldiers. I'm extremely grateful for the chance to write in this setting, and I hope you all enjoy the pair of stories. As always: messing. And lots of it. ------------------------------------------------------- Knights of the Empire A Painful Lesson “Starseer, right?” asked a young woman who worked with the Royal Order. The woman she was speaking to had been waiting just outside a door, staring out the windows of the hallway at the magically-powered neon signs that shone just outside. “Yes, Anna Starseer” the waiting woman answered, excitedly raising her hand. She was quite energetic, and had darker skin than was common of citizens of the Empire. Her dark brown hair was held back in a ponytail, while her bangs hung free, to the sides of her face. For this outing, she wore a basic, blue coat and tight, white pants. Almost any other time, she could be seen in her smooth, black armor, but it was improper for such a simple meeting. “Major General Hardelle will see you, now,” the assistant, wearing an elegant white skirt that reached to her knees along with a perfectly matching suit top opened the large, grandiose door, and gestured for Anna to step inside. Rising from the bench she sat on, Anna walked inside. She was elated. She’d been doing very well in her training as a knight, vastly outperforming knights who’d joined at the same time she did, as well as many who’d been there for much longer. She was sure that this meeting was to inform her of some sort of promotion. Maybe even to full knighthood, though that was unlikely. More likely, she was going to be appointed apprentice and squire to a more experienced knight, where she would complete her training. She entered, and the sight of the stone-faced woman and her office shocked the smile off of her face. Major General Hardelle, though not a soldier, was certainly as frightening as one. She wore the dark-blue officer’s jacket that was indicative of her status. If the jacket wasn’t enough, gold shoulder pads adorned her jacket’s shoulders, and the space over her left breast was heavily decorated with several medals. As a non-combatant, she had been able to grow her hair out long, and it hanged down past her shoulders, smooth and golden-blonde. Her office certainly fit her, as well. Some sort of magical device in the room kept it perpetually cold, to the point of discomfort. Strange trinkets adorned her desk and walls. Anna’s eyes kept drifting to a mangled, blood-stained steel helmet with horns that sat upon a mannequin head on a nearby bookshelf. A plaque beneath it read: “Helm of Skoval the Merciless, Scourge of Athessia, Slain by the Forces of Salendia Hardelle”. The rumors said that Hardelle never actually went into battle herself, but was still a famed tactician. After taking in the strange office, Anna sat down in one of the nice chairs in front of the major general’s desk. Hardelle simply stared at Anna for a moment, her stoic eyes burning into her. Anna struggled very hard to keep her composure in front of this woman, and shamefully felt a second long release of urine meet her panties. Her crotch grew warm. After the major general finished sizing her up, she finally spoke: “Anna Starseer, yes?” she asked as she checked some papers on her desk. Before Anna could reply, she continued, “I’m told you’ve excelled in your training...” Anna proudly put a hand on her chest, “the best trainee they have!” “According to the records, nearly every other trainee you spar with has wet and/or soiled their pants. Would you say this is correct?”. “It is,” she wasn’t lying. She was so feared among her company of trainees that many wet themselves the moment they learned they were fighting Anna. She always did enjoy seeing the trails of urine snaking down her opponent’s legs. She loved hearing the telltale pltbpltblptlbplt that accompanied a messier accident. Hardelle continued, “You even outshine them in that respect, yes? The record only lists three times you’ve wet yourself, and only once you’ve soiled yourself. That is not without merit, and the Royal Order and Ministry of Propaganda have taken notice,”. “They have?” “They have,” Anna could swear she actually heard some respect in the major general’s voice. “In fact, they want you to skip massive portions of the Fear Response Mitigation Training, possibly jumping you to phase 4 or phase 5” this was an interesting development. The FRMT typically revolved around being subjected to horrifying magic until you stopped pissing and shitting yourself at them. Only the first time she was subjected to it had Anna had an accident. She was totally unprepared, and completely filled her diaper so much that someone else had to assist in the changing. After that, she managed to constantly remind herself that she was in no real danger, and had kept from wetting or soiling herself again. Of course, you never really left the program, either. Phase 5 lasted indefinitely. During each phase, the participant was issued a somewhat smaller diaper, to coincide with the woman's improved continence. They even gave them cool names, too. In order, the diapers issued each phase had been: the Huggies Titan, big and bulky; the Pampers Vanguard, a slightly smaller Titan, which, along with the Titan, required an assistant to help with the changing; The Pull-ups Sentinel, noticeably smaller; the Depend Bulwark, almost small enough to pass as panties; and the Poise Guardian, which was small enough to be nearly indistinguishable from normal panties. The Guardian was phase 5, and meant to be worn for all of a female knight's career, in order to preserve their image in the public eye. Couldn't have the Empire's soldiers seen with loads in their pants. Anna had started the program, as it was a normal part of any female knight's training, but had so far not really needed the rather bulky Titan diaper they had issued her. Every day, she found herself wearing a downright massive diaper to bed, to training, to lunch, and only three times had she needed it. It was nice to get some recognition. Anna spoke, "I might just skip to phase 5? To the Guardian? has anyone ever done that before?" “Nope. No one. You would actually be the first knight in history to forego so much of the training," as Anna was getting excited, the major general continued, "I, of course, shot that idea down,”. What?! “What?!” Anna leaned forward in alarm, “Why? I've been in phase 1 of the program for months, and I've only needed to be changed three times! That's incredible,” Anna said, poiting a finger at the Major General for emphasis. “You’re a natural when it comes to fighting. I’d wager none of the other trainees have ever been a match for you. You’ve never fought against a real threat,” that was correct. Many of them wet themselves if Anna passed by them in a narrow hallway. “I’d also wager that you’re about as continent as a newborn baby when face-to-face with a real threat,”. “You’re wrong!” Anna shouted. The major general’s eyes widened only for a moment. Anna shrank back, horrified that she’d yelled at a major general. She felt her bladder release another short spurt of urine into her panties. A small wet spot the size of a penny showed on her pants. She crossed her legs to hide the stain. She was wrong, though; Anna was superbly continent. “Am, I now?" the General began, with some contempt in her voice, "Well, it just so happens that I’ve prepared a deal for you,”. “What sort of deal?”. “My theory that you only stay clean and dry because of weak opponents is just that: a theory. Prove it wrong, and I’ll approve you to skip the FRMT, as well as authorize your promotion to a knight’s apprentice,”. “How do I prove it wrong?” “A fighter has been selected to face you in non-lethal single combat. If you can complete the duel without wetting or soiling yourself, I’ll approve you,”. “Who am I fighting?” “Irrelevant, we’ll contact you when it’s time. Should be noon tomorrow”. “Well, I accept this challenge,” Anna stood from her seat, “Get ready to see my opponent make a mess of their pants while I stay clean,”. With their business concluded, Anna turned and left the office. She returned to her barrack just as the clock struck 10 PM. Though she was far too excited to sleep, it was worth trying. If she was to face a “real threat” tomorrow, she would need her energy. She fell into a fitful sleep, plagued with nightmares. In one of them, she stood in an arena, naked save for her white panties, as spectators cheered. From the other side of the arena, the opponent she was to fight advanced towards her. It looked like a human, but it was massive. Easily over 15 feet tall, and brimming with muscle. At the mere sight of the beast, her bladder gave way. Her panties were not nearly enough to stop the flood, and the front of them quickly darkened, as pee sprayed out of them, and down her legs. As her enemy began sprinting towards her, she pitifully covered her head with her arms, and as she did so, a log of shit forced its way into her panties. They bulged out far, and began to sag. Following the solid matter was some slightly less solid matter, which began filling her underwear to the brim, as well as turning the white seat of them a fetid brown. Just before the beast could strike, she awoke. Anna was gasping for breath. Her nightmare had betrayed her nervousness about her battle today. As she got a hold of her senses, she felt something strange around her butt and privates. She stepped out of bed to reveal that her panties were sodden and yellowed in the front, and greatly filled up at the back. Her accident was still warm, and it mushed around her butt as she examined it. She sighed, for she knew it was going to be a long day. The other trainees could hardly judge her for her accident, however, as nighttime releases were fairly common for women in their positions. They just weren’t common for Anna. She looked to the bunk to her right, and gained some comfort from the fact that the bunk's inhabitant made a bigger than she did. They'd broken protocol, and gone to bed in ordinary panties. The massive wet splotch on the front of her blanket would teach her a lesson about that. She cleaned herself up, and left to train in the scant few hours she had until noon. When the summons came, Hardelle’s assistant from earlier appeared to lead Anna to the site of the battle. They boarded one of the strange, automated carriages that were reserved for the highest-ranking government officials. They called it a “car”. To break the awkward silence that had filled the cabin of the vehicle, Anna began talking to the assistant. “So, who am I fighting?” “You will see soon enough,”. “Would it really kill you to tell me now?” “Hardelle might,” the assistant answered, matter-of-factly. “... fair enough,”. The awkward silence that followed was once again unbearable, so Anna changed the subject, “So, how is it working for Hardelle?” “You work for her, too,”. “Yeah, but not as her right-hand-woman. What’s that like?” “Trying,”. “Hm. Soooo… has she really never had an accident?” The new topic caused the assistant to bristle with discomfort, “N-no, she hasn’t,”. “Come on, there has to be at least one time when she-” “Typically, whomever she’s speaking with is the one who loses control,” she said, trying to end the discussion. Seems this awkward silence was here to stay. Anna simple looked out the window of the car. Large, elegant buildings with a heavy Gothic style rose in all directions. Looking far enough, Anna could see the drop-off where the edge of the flying city was. Beyond that, she could see the ground, sitting very far below their hovering home. She decided to look away from the ground. Seeing just how far up the city was always managed to fill her with acrophobia. In the past, she’d had this nightmare where she got so scared while looking over the edge that she wet herself, then slipped in the puddle and fell all the way- Probably not the best line of thought if she was supposed to be proving her continence. After a few more agonizingly quiet minutes, they arrived at some strange, almost featureless building. Quite frankly, it was very conspicuous in its simplicity. At least that meant the fight wouldn’t spectated by thousands of people in the arena. The two of them entered the building, and were greeted by Hardelle and some people from the Ministry. She was instructed to don her armor. She emerged from a nearby changing room, dressed in black, skintight armor. The chestplate wrapped around each individual breast to retain a feminine appearance, and reached down to her waistline. Her shoulders and outer arms were covered in armor that was smooth and slick, reflecting the light in the room beautifully. She wore armored leggings which mirrored her top half's armors smoothness and shinyness. Her thighs, pelvic region and buttocks, however, were not covered by any armor. Normally, this would be to enhance her movement. Today, however, it had a special purpose. Today, her easily-visible bottom, covered only a leotard bottom and her panties, was not going to be soiled, and she wanted them to see her success. For the purpose of the experiment, she had been permitted to wear regular underwear, instead of her embarassingly thick Titan diaper. Once her outfit was inspected and given the go-ahead, they handed her her weapon: a heavily-dulled metal sword. Totally non-lethal, in accordance with the rules of the duel. They explained that Anna’s sterling continence was, thus far, ridiculously higher than any female's. With some practice, they felt Anna had the potential to be on par with some males, and they believed that if they studied her, they may be able to find some permanent solution to the issue of women’s incontinence in combat. Anna was flattered, but she was also anxious to get to fighting. The others were anxious to watch, so they led her to a large cobblestone chamber. The roof was thirty feet high, and the room was around 120 feet long. A strange, eerie blue light filtered in from… somewhere. Ominous stains that looked like blood dotted the floor. Anna guessed that she was not the first person they’ve brought in to fight here. Her opponent entered from the far end. Once they were close enough, Anna could see that… oh. Oh no. Her opponent was to be the legendary Lycelia Windhowl. The Slayer of Men. The Doom of Kingdoms. Her status as a legendary warrior overshadowed whatever her egregiously high military rank was. Anna felt some pee escape into her panties at the mere sight of the approaching woman. Simple, black, carapace-like armor covered every part of the woman, save for her head. No other skin was visible. Her face bore a scar across her left eye, and her almost silver hair was tied back in a bun. Her skin was pale as could be. Anna steeled herself, wondering if this was how the other trainees felt when they fought her, and began walking towards her. The two held the swords out till the tips touched. After they held that stance for a few moments, they both dropped back into a combat stance. Anna struck first, launching into a barrage of hits, all of which Lycelia parried. As Anna began to run out of breath, Lycelia performed a particularly devastating parry, knocking Anna completely off-balance. As she struggled to regain her footing, Lycelia drove the pommel of her sword into Anna’s face. Anna saw stars, the collapsed backwards, landing flat on her back. As her vision began come back into focus, she noticed how warm her butt had suddenly become. Her eyes opened wide in alarm, as she realized she just pissed herself. She shot back upright like a bullet, still peeing. The urine came out messily, flowing down her legs, into her armor, and splattering noisily onto the ground. She was vaguely aware of the Ministry men writing something on clipboards behind her. In her anger, she felt renewed, and began delivering strike after strike onto the much larger woman’s armor, as she was unable to keep up with and parry many of the hits. Having grown tired of the farce, Lycelia swung her sword, impacting Anna’s with such force that it shot out of her hand, and flew away… ...Directly towards the spectators. Hardelle’s assistant shrieked in fear as the sword whizzed by her head. A wet patch began appearing on her skirt, and a puddle formed below her. The others around her also became aware of a sudden foul odor in the air as the woman had filled her panties in her fear, as well. Now weaponless, it was safe to say that Lycelia had decisively won the duel. So why was she still lifting her weapon into the air to strike? She didn’t seriously intend to beat Anna, did she? Was she going to… kill her? Anna raised her arms to cover her head, cowering before the mighty woman. She closed her eyes as the weapon began its descent. A loud SKRLTCH sound accompanied the loss of control over her bowels. She felt the mess spill out of her, filling her panties to the brim, then some of it escaped due to the sheer volume of the release, running down her legs. Her leotard was filled with her warm, wet mess, bulging badly and becoming discolored. But the blow never came. She looked up, and saw that Lycelia had dropped her sword. She simply eyed Anna curiously. “You’re arrogant,” Lycelia began, “You’re brash, impulsive, naive, and you don’t know your place,”. Anna looked down in shame. “But...” Lycelia continued. Anna looked back up, “I’ve never seen such a talented trainee. No one has ever landed so many attacks on me like that. I’m impressed,”. Anna just stared in disbelief that she was being praised even though she had a load in her pants. Lycelia put a hand on Anna’s shoulder, then spoke again “That is why I’ve decided to take you as my apprentice,”. “What? You? Really!?” Anna began asking in disbelief. Her shock was shared by the spectators. Hardelle stepped forward, angered. “Windhowl! We had a deal! She failed,” Hardelle said commandingly, pointing at Anna. “I only agreed to fight her, Hardelle. I decide what happens to her. Besides, the Order values me much than you,” Lycelia said in the most frightening way she could. She stood imposingly over Hardelle, at least a foot taller than the major general. Anna looked in disbelief as she saw the major general’s fine, white pants darken between her legs, and small rivers began flowing down them, until both of her legs were totally wet, and a massive puddle occupied the ground below her. Hardelle simply glared. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. The major general had just pissed her pants. In fear. If she was wearing any sort of protection, perhaps a Poise Guardian, it did nothing to stop the flow. “Fine. Take the woman, but don’t think you can defy my orders like this, again,” the major general answered, as she turned to leave. Any attempts to save face were ruined as the major general fully turned around, and a positively massive bulge was visible on her ass. Her pants sagged down quite far, and some of her mess had escaped into her pants. Her pants had turned brown around the accident. She and her assistant both left the building, both equally wet and messy. Lycelia began talking over the details with the Ministry men, but Anna was in too much shock from what she’d seen to really hear any of it. After a few moments, Lycelia walked over to Anna, and spoke, “Okay, you’re mine. We’ll be setting off on a mission to a nearby kingdom to retrieve some hostages in three days,”. “O-okay. I’ll be ready...” Lycelia seemed content to leave it there, but Anna spoke again, “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you take me as your apprentice? I’m pretty clearly not all I’m cracked up to be,” she said sadly, gripping the large bulge on her ass. “Everyone has accidents, Anna. The fact that you rarely did was far from the most impressive thing about you. I am going to shape you and your skill with that weapon into one of the deadliest soldiers the world has ever seen. Pissed and shat-in panties be damned,”. Lycelia led Anna to her new home, aboard a fearsome airship. It was the standard black of the Empire, and adorned with blades and spikes, as well. Lycelia showed Anna to the showers, then to her new cabin. After that, she left her to sleep for the night, heading off to who-knows-where. ------------------------------------------------------- Lycelia was glad to finally be away from other people. She retreated to her expansive quarters, which were complete with a large bathroom, shower, and well-stocked diaper changing station. She took her powerful armor off, revealing her well-muscled body and abs, as well as her moderately-sized breasts which were covered by a lacy white bra. However, any observer’s eyes would likely be drawn to the enormously thick, and very dirty diaper that covered her crotch and butt. The word “Colossus” was written upon the diaper. The Colossus, true to its name, made the Titan look puny by comparison. This mammoth diaper was used only in very rare, unique cases. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Lycelia was actually one of the least continent soldiers in the Empire. She wet and soiled herself in nearly every battle she’d ever been in. Her duel today was no exception. Even though Anna had been no match for her, Her bowels and bladder had utterly failed her when Anna began landing hits on her armor. She wore thick armor to conceal the diaper, but that frequently backfired, as the tight armor often caused the mess to be squished up against her, and today was no different. She cleaned herself in the shower, donned another Colossus diaper, and went to bed. Tomorrow she would begin training her new apprentice. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Knights of the Empire The Raid “I am Umira Paleblade,” a proud woman stated, strutting forward. A number of men were gathered around a fire, and one other woman numbered among their ranks. They were from all walks; some were bandits and barbarians, and some were disgraced knights. If some were to be believed, they were exiled nobles. But all here had one common purpose. “Umira Paleblade,” an older man echoed from the opposite end of the campfire, “In two days we are to raid an Imperial convoy. You will need skill and bravery far beyond what most women possess. Will you stand alongside us?”. “I will,” Umira answered, readily, “I sought you out to prove my strength and courage,”. She scanned the cave that they called home, and looked into the eyes of everyone present. The sole other woman in the room seemed to regard her proudly. The Empire had as many friends as it had enemies, and soon this group would make itself known, and capture an Imperial convoy, hoping to access some of the Empire’s advanced technology. It was risky beyond description, but if they pulled it off, it would be a major blow. “Then we are honored to have you stand with us… warrior,” He gestured to the other woman in the cave, “Lorette wished to speak with you before the attack, Umira,”. The rest of the men resumed discussing their plans of attack, and the other woman, Lorette, stood. She was dressed in old, tattered knight’s armor. It had clearly seen many, many battles. Her blonde hair was very short, and very messy. A long scar across her right eye marred her otherwise spotless face. She placed an armored hand on Umira’s shoulder, and led her down one of the cave’s twisting pathways. Umira herself looked the part of a warrior. Outside of the Empire, it was extremely uncommon for women to become soldiers of any kind, so the ones that do must train constantly. Umira put effort into looking like a ferocious killer, and her body was covered only a cloak of bear hide, a “shirt” made of animal leathers that covered her breasts and little else, and a sort-of skirt made from various furs. Hard muscle was plainly visible on her exposed skin, and a set of rigid abs were proudly displayed. Once they had reached their destination, evidently the area of the cave Lorette had made hers, they stopped. “If you’re going to join us in battling the Empire,” Lorette began, as she started fishing through one of her packs, “You’re going to need to know my secret trick,”. “What sort of trick?” “This sort,” Lorette answered, and pulled out what appeared to be a pair of bulky panties. “What? Is that...?” “A diaper, yes, stolen from the Empire,” Umira simply burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the caves. “You laugh, but I promise you will not be laughing when you need it,” Lorette responded, evidently having expected such a reaction. “Why does the Empire have… those?!” “I am not sure. I participated in a raid, and noticed a couple female Imperials wearing them. I found a stash of them, and kept them,” “Do you mean to tell me that you’re wearing… one of those now? Under your armor?” “No, Umira. But when it come time to fight, you’ll wish you had one,” In truth, Lorette was actually wearing a much larger diaper, one stolen from the Empire. They called it the “Vanguard”. “Ridiculous. If I am to piss and shit myself in combat, then may my shame be shown to everyone. I won’t wear something that only hides my failures,”. “If that’s what you want,” Lorette relented, giving a slight shrug. --------------------------------------------------------------- The “blade” of a wooden training sword slammed into Anna’s stomach with incredible speed. She staggered slightly, attempting to catch her breath. The next attack from her instructor caught her in the face, and she spun as she fell down to the ground, landing on her stomach. She felt her bladder begin to empty itself a little. She clamped down hard, but she felt the warmth spread between her legs, soaked up by her diaper. A part of Windhowl’s training regiment, as it happened, was to spar while under the effects of a magic spell that greatly increased one’s need to use the bathroom. Anna was to hold it in as long as possible, but Windhowl was simply too brutal. Her attacks were swift and strong, and frankly, terrifying. Anna had been leaking throughout the entire sparring session, and must have peed about twice as much as she could normally hold by now. Her bowels still obeyed her, at the very least. Both women wore a light training uniform, a simple gray shirt and gray pants, designed to fit snugly yet still be loose enough to allow for easy movement. Anna’s diaper was easily visible by its distinct bulge around her pelvis. As Anna expected, Windhowl had no visible diaper bulge. Whether that meant she was wearing a more discreet brand, or perhaps, no diaper at all, Anna could not tell. Then again, Windhowl’s pants were far more baggy than her own, so a larger diaper could be concealed under them. Windhowl assumed a combat stance, prompting Anna to do the same. The two women attacked each other once more, the harsh clacking of their wooden swords filling the otherwise silent room. As she twisted and contorted her body to parry Windhowl’s rapid strikes, Anna could feel herself freely, openly peeing, as the insidious spell continued to fill her bowels and bladder. And speaking of her bowels, she could feel her body working overtime to vacate itself. Each movement pushed her closer and closer to completely soiling herself. She became sluggish, not daring to move so as not to provoke her bowels, and Windhowl was taking advantage of that. Painful lashes of the wooden blade struck Anna across her body. After taking hit after hit, Anna’s body began forcefully emptying her bladder. An audible hiss filled the room, and Anna’s diaper was filled to capacity. Wet crescents formed on the insides of both of her thighs as her diaper gave up, her gray pants darkening as the urine soaked. Anna looked down in stunned disbelief, utterly humiliated by this lapse in control. She looked back up to see Windhowl’s blade flying towards her. Her distraction cost her dearly, as she was unable to parry or dodge the hit. The wooden blade slammed into her stomach, sending her reeling backwards as she fell to her knees. All the waste that had been pent up in her bowels finally found its way out, and she began messily filling her diaper. The spell had done its trick on her, and she continually crapped herself for nearly twenty seconds. Her diaper barely contained the absolutely massive bulge, and she could feel the warm, sticky substance cover every inch of her backside. Windhowl regarded her with something approximating pity. “Why did you take so long assessing yourself when you urinated?” Windhowl asked. “Because I’m a little unaccustomed to pissing in my pants,” Anna retorted. “Well get used to it. In battle, it’s going to happen a lot, and if you have to take that long to get a hold of yourself, your enemy’s going to a lot worse to you than just make you wet yourself,”. “What, like make me fill my pants, too?” Anna said in quiet scorn, putting her hand on the massive bulge on her butt, feeling it squish under her hand. “Like kill you, Anna” Windhowl said very seriously. “I know, Ma’am, it was a joke,”. “Well, keep your jokes to a minimum. We’re to go out on a mission soon, and I don’t want you to die on your first outing,” Windhowl continued on after this sentence, speaking about their mission, but Anna was focused on something else… While Windhowl’s back was turned, Anna quickly drew her wooden sword, and thrust it towards Windhowl. The blade found its way into one of the commander’s belt loops, and then Anna yanked the blade down as hard as she could. Without much fuss, Lycelia Windhowl’s pants dropped to her ankles, revealing a very large diaper, with little, colorful shapes and patterns on it. Windhowl had stopped mid-sentence, stunned, and red in the face. Anna simply stared in awe. The commander’s diaper was far larger than her own. As Windhowl struggled to regain her senses, she became aware of a growing warmth between her legs. She looked down to see the front of the diaper changing color rapidly, as it filled with her pee. A wet crackle sounded from her butt as she filled her diaper with mess, as well. Anna had a good view of the diaper as it suddenly ballooned out and turned brown in the back. Windhowl’s face had begun turning as-yet unseen shades of red. As she slowly and carefully turned to face her trainee, Anna could feel some more urine leak out into her full diaper upon seeing the commander’s rage-twisted face. “So, uh… I see you also… wear,” Anna cleared her throat, “diapers,”. But Windhowl did not reply. Anna prayed that Windhowl would be gentle. --------------------------------------------------------------- A small Imperial skyship rested close to the ground. Several workers were just finishing their task of delivering supplies to it that would be ferried up to the Empire’s floating city. A few attendants took stock of each crate brought aboard, while several others began priming the ship’s magical circuitry for flight. If nothing went wrong, they’d be on the clouds in roughly thirty minutes. As one of the loading men set his box down to take a quick breath, he barely heard a sound as the knife slipped between his ribs, and punctured his vital organs. One of the rebel men, Asanos, expertly tossed the body behind some crates. Across the docks, he could see as Lorette struck down another loader, their new recruit following just behind her. Several other men caught up with them, and he signalled to storm the skyship. Each of them issued a mighty war cry, and charged up the bridge and onto the ship. The security was overwhelmed almost immediately, as they’d only been equipped to deal with a few people, not the small battalion that had just boarded them. The rebels began subduing and tying up the surviving crew members. Umira was escorting an Imperial woman whose hands were tied behind her back into the room where the rest of the crew had been moved. She shoved the woman into a kneeling position. “Now stay here!” Umira shouted, in her most imposing voice, “Or I’ll paint the ship with your insides!”. The woman who’d just been escorted in lost control of herself, and her blue pants began to darken at the crotch, and twin wet stains spread down her thighs. A puddle began forming underneath her, and a small amount of steam rose from the pool of urine she now sat in. Umira glanced around the room, and saw that this woman was not the only one to wet herself. A number of women now knelt in puddles and wore stained pants. Judging by the smell, more than one had soiled their pants as well. If her understanding of Imperial women was correct, then the ones whose pants weren’t ruined were likely wearing diapers of some sort. It’s quite likely a lot of the wet ones did as well, they had simply overloaded them. “Fucking unbelievable,” Umira began, “Have a little dignity, you cowards!” As the warrior glanced through the doorway, she saw Lorette and Asanos had rounded up the skyship’s leadership. A tall woman in a blue jacket with elegant shoulder pads and white pants had been brought to the center of the deck. Umira assumed that this must be the captain. “How do we pilot this vessel?” Lorette asked the captain. The captain only glared in reply. Lorette leaned in very close to the captain’s face, “We killed anyone who could save you, captain. Cooperate and you may yet live,” The captain’s steely gaze faltered for a second, but returned. “Have it your way,” Lorette said, and drew her sword, swinging for the woman’s throat, but stopping just shy of hitting it. The captain gasped sharply, and she could feel her stomach suddenly feel much lighter, in contrast to how her underwear suddenly felt much heavier. Even from where Umira was watching, the sound of the captain losing control of her bowels was audible. A lumpy, brown bulge formed between the woman’s legs, and the brown stain spread, flowing down her legs a ways. The captain’s face grew red as she noticed her men attempting to pretend they didn’t notice that her Poise Guardian diaper had been completely overwhelmed. “Feeling more cooperative?” Lorette asked, smirking. --------------------------------------------------------------- Anna stood on the top deck of the skyship as it sailed through the clouds. She still wore her training clothes, albeit with panties now and no diaper. She was being forced to mop up the deck, and was certain that Windhowl had instructed everyone else to spill and drop everything they had on this deck. At first, Anna felt that her punishment was extremely lenient, considering the absolutely stunning amount of disrespect she showed her commander. After a couple hours, she understood her punishment well: she’d been allowed to change back into her panties, but Windhowl had never removed the spell that continually filled her bowels and bladder. She was reaching the breaking point, and soon would have to go in her pants, with everyone on deck able to see. Windhowl was not gentle with punishments. She dipped the mop into the bucket of fetid water, cringing at the sloshing noise. She felt her bladder beg, then felt a lance of heat race down her right thigh. She snapped to her senses and clamped down. She looked to her legs, and saw a small, inch-wide stain reaching almost to her right knee. She felt the blood rush to her face, knowing that someone was bound to notice her release. “How’s the floor coming, Anna?” Windhowl asked from behind her. “F-fine, Ma’am!” Anna answered, snapping to attention and saluting the commander. At the sudden change, she leaked slightly more, and a circular damp spot formed around her crotch. “Careful, soldier. You’ll just have more to mop up,” Windhowl turned and began walking away, chuckling slightly. Once she was no longer mandated to stand at attention, Anna shoved her hands into her privates, desperately clenching up. She knew that Windhowl would do something worse to her if she tried to make it to a bathroom. With small tears in her eyes, Anna accepted her punishment, and crouched down. She inhaled, then exhaled, and released her bladder. Wet warmth flooded into her gray pants, drenching her crotch and ass before streaming out of her pants and splattering loudly onto the ground. She dared not open her eyes to look around- she knew anyone on deck could see her. Regrettably, she also knew she wasn’t done. With the same mentality that it would be pointless to hold it, she emptied her bowels, as well. Solid mess entered into her panties. Slowly at first, causing a very slow-growing bulge to appear. With a quick grunt, the mess rocketed out, and her pants and panties tented out, before the log crumpled and more mess came out of her. The bulge began to spread to the sides, not being able to reach out any further. She felt the hot, sticky mess mix with the wetness in her pants, creating the perfect mess. With her pants completely soiled, she stood, ignoring the stares from her crewmates, and set about mopping up her puddle of urine. --------------------------------------------------------------- “This is Captain Shayla of the skyship Cloudkeeper, we are under attack!” A small crystal ball reflected an image of the Cloudkeeper’s captain, her SOS being received by Windhowl. The reflection of the captain looked behind her in alarm, then back at Windhowl, “A large number of attackers have boarded my ship, and are ransacking Imperial supplies!”. Windhowl summoned her crew, and informed of their new mission: to save the Cloudkeeper. --------------------------------------------------------------- Umira and several others were rifling through the many crates aboard the Cloudkeeper, pocketing anything of value. Of course, much of it were strange devices that they did not understand. Lorette had urged them to be careful, but Umira saw no cause for concern from these toys. Eventually she found a box marked “TRAINING - F” and popped it open. She was eager to see what sort of implements the Empire used to train its- of course. Diapers. Half the crate was laden with diapers of varying size. Fucking Imperials. “Hey Lorette!” Umira shouted, catching the knight’s attention. “Got a present for ya!,” the warrior shouted, throwing a bulky diaper at Lorette’s face, but she caught it before it made contact. She blushed upon realizing what was thrown to her. Umira laughed a bit, as did several of the other individuals looting the ship. Umira turned her attention back to the crate, and a small talisman caught her eye. She picked it up, and held it to the light. It appeared to be a magical device of some sort, but Umira couldn’t discern its purpose. It looked like a small, purple gem embedded in a gray, circular plate. She turned it over in her hands repeatedly, before roughly tapping the gem with her knuckle. As she did so, the gem’s color faded, and this cold sensation washed over her body for a moment. Slightly worried, she looked herself over, but could not find anything amiss. Whatever the item was, it had cast some sort of spell on her. She tossed the talisman away, and cracked open another chest. In the middle of looting, however, she felt a very sudden need to urinate. She rose, and exited the room. She found herself in some hallway in the ship, looking for a restroom. She wasn’t the most civilized individual, but she wasn’t crazy about the thought of her comrades walking in on her pissing on the floor. She looked around, feeling her urge growing stronger. Her strong, muscled thighs clamped together to keep from wetting herself, but she could tell it would be for nothing if she didn’t find a bathroom immediately. She began just randomly opening doors, and hoping to see a lavatory. She came upon one door, and opened it to see an Imperial woman standing inside. Umira hopped back in shock, filled with disgust at the several lines of warmth that now traced their way down her legs. Her damp crotch filled her with shame, but her shame was significantly overshadowed by her anger at this woman who had not been captured. Umira drew her small war axe, and walked towards the woman. The Imperial backed up until her back was against the wall. With nowhere else to go, the woman closed her eyes and waited for death. A loud brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaap-fssshhhhcht filled the room as the woman filled her pants, the giant load now resting against her asscheeks. She emptied her bladder as well, hard enough that Umira could hear the hissing. The lack of staining on the Imperial’s pants indicated that she must have been wearing a diaper. Umira took another step forward, but the sight of this woman completely soiling herself caused her to notice just how badly she needed to relieve her bowels, as well. Her bladder continued to scream for release. Another few streams coursed down her legs, her tan panties soaking up the release. She clamped her thighs together, feeling the warmth radiating from her crotch. At the other end, she felt the tip of her mess meeting her panties. It was only through sheer force of will that she kept from losing control completely. The Imperial woman opened her eyes to see why she wasn’t dead yet, and gave an understanding look as she saw the woman on the cusp of losing it. “D-do y-y-you need to… go?” The Imperial asked. “No, be quiet!” Umira replied hotly. “T-there’s some p-protection in that chest, there,” She said, pointing to a footlocker. Umira knelt and opened it, revealing an adult diaper. Her face went red with equal parts embarrassment and fury. “P-please, just take it and let me go...” The Imperial begged. “RRRRRAGH What is it with you Imperials and your constant pissing and shitting yourselves?!” Umira shouted, despite her own situation. She refused to be like them. She steeled herself, and stood, regaining control over her body. Her legs were damp, and her panties wet, but she managed to hold most of her waste. She moved to the Imperial, and grabbed her by the shoulder, leading her into the hostage room. Once she was secured, Umira made her way to the deck. Just in time, it seems, to see the ship’s captain giving Lorette a lesson in how to operate the skyship. In the middle of the lecture, however, the captain chuckled at something. She turned suddenly, and looked up at the clouds above them. In the blink of an eye, a massive shadow appeared behind them, and a colossal skyship broke through, blotting out the sun. At the sight of the incoming ship, Umira’s mind began racing. She tried to count just how many fighters the ship could hold, how fast it was moving, how long they had to get away, and- Pssssssssssssssssh… She stood with her legs parted, a solid stream of urine falling between her legs, splattering onto the ground. Several rivulets wound down her legs, cascading into her boots. She urinated for upwards of thirty seconds. The mess that had been poking against her panties earlier now slid out with no resistance. A crackling sound accompanied her fearful reaction, and her firm logs of waste tented out her panties, and caused them to sag down far. Hardly anyone on the deck was looking at her, but that still didn’t stop her from being completely ashamed of herself. Asanos spoke up, “Grab whatever you can, we need to leave, now!”. --------------------------------------------------------------- “So what supplies were taken?” Windhowl asked in a professional tone. “Mostly food and unimportant resources. I don’t think they knew what was worth taking,” The Cloudkeeper’s captain responded, shuffling in embarrassment as she stood in front of the mighty Lycelia Windhowl with a load in her pants. “We’re still taking stock, but I don’t believe anything critical was lost-” “Captain, if I may…?” A young female officer asked. The wet stains on her legs and smell that followed her were telling. “Proceed,” “They actually did take some sensitive materials: some of the more… feminine supplies,”. After a moment, both Windhowl and the captain realized what she meant. Windhowl spoke in a grave voice, “That’s not good. The Ministry can cover up these sorts of things in the Empire, but we can’t let word get out among the lower kingdoms. We’ll have to get those… supplies back, and fast,”. “The Cloudkeeper and her crew are happy to help however we can, Commander,”. --------------------------------------------------------------- Squish. Squish. Squish. With every step, Umira could feel her release mushing about in her panties. Her wet legs were chill in the breeze as the group travelled through the forest. Out of everyone and everything, she was the angriest at herself for having such poor control. How did she not realize how badly she had to go? “Changed your mind?” Lorette asked, in a tone that suggested she already knew the answer. “What?” “About my security that I offered you,” “...No. I stand by what I said. This is my shame to bear,” “How honorable,” “So how about you? Did you wind up needing that thing?” Umira asked, gesturing towards the knight’s pelvic region. “Not too badly,” Lorette lied. In truth, her diaper was soaked and filled to capacity. Her armor kept the extent of her accident from being visible. It also tightly held her wetness and mess against her, squishing it flat. “Perhaps in the future, you’ll listen to me when I try to help you,” “Perhaps in the future, you’ll realize I don’t want you help,” Umira replied, nonchalantly hiking her panties up to keep them from sagging further. For the time being, they had to go into hiding with their new supplies. The Empire would not take this lightly, and they would be hunted.
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