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  1. Hey folks! It's been a long time, but I've always liked this series, and at the behest of folks who wanted some more, I'm diving back into it. I'm including (In separate comments) each chapter. I hope you like it, and I'll write more soon. Chapter 1: Samantha of Northcrest. You, yes?" The guard captain was of the quiet sort, more befitting an scholar than a bloodied veteran of two wars. But Sam knew the man's prowess. Songs were sung of Gin Veridis, First Captain of the Royal Guard. Even outside of his feared armor, the Captain was a deadly swordsman...Perhaps even more so with the freedom from burdensome metal. "Aye, sir. I was recommended by Lieutenant Maxson to you after the Southerner Uprising was put down." Gin nodded, imperceptibly, reading the letter that Sam had brought with her. The paraffin wax seal lay on the Captain's desk. "Maxson is a good soldier, and officer. Your trip was long, though, even for a mercenary." A slightly disdainful smile crept up on Gin's mouth and immediately vanished. It was a common reaction in Samantha's work, and a reason he sought employment within the Guard. "No longer a mercenary, if you'll have me, sir. Maxson believed I would be a fair addition to the Guard, and I would like to take him up on that offer, if you'll have me." Gin stood, and Sam followed, as protocol dictated. She had done her homework - though she was low-born, she was expected to act with all the nobility of a lady in dealings with the royal court. Gin, however, seemed not to notice, instead going over to the small weapon rack opposite of the Captain's chamber. Warm sunlight filtered through the open glass window, a curious luxury practically unknown in the southern lands. It was an autumn day, and the harvest in full swing. "They say that battle is the truest way to show the heart of a man. There's no lies in a man trying to survive the edge of a sword. Maxson knows this well, so his recommendation carries some weight. But there are many men of ill repute that would attempt to settle themselves here. The greedy, the lazy, the lecherous and perhaps worst of all - the traitorous. And even...Especially then, who knows the heart of a woman? I like to get to know potential guardsmen before allowing them any post within the Palace. What say you, Samantha? Would you enjoy a 'chat?'" She nodded and the Captain, now at the weapon rack, drew out two swords, tossing one to Sam. It was of average quality for a normal sword. But it was no normal sword. The edge heavily dulled, its purpose was obvious. "Chats". Without a word, Gin stepped into a combat stance and engaged Samson, who barely parried the heavy opening swing, and protecting himself from the inevitable broken bone that would have followed. And so they began a deadly dance made only a fraction less so by the training blades. It was a test of skill, of experience and most important of all, character. Step in step, Samantha kept up and though the Captain seemed entirely at ease in combat, he did his best to match his skill. She knew the man was holding back, challenging though not overpowering. When she saw her opening to attack, Sam knew it was a forgery, but she took it anyway, to show the man she knew her way around a duel. The only surprise that she seemed to have given Gin, however, was when Sam deflected an attack that was clearly meant to disable and end the combat, riposting in a way that showed a glint of the Captain's true skill. It was enough to show Sam that she was clearly out of her league. Nevertheless, the Captain then stood back, effectively ending the spar. Barely breathing heavily, he nodded. "Well done, indeed, Sam. Your skill and experience serve you well. You may -" And in that instant, the Captain snapped into a salute, breaking off his commentary. Curiosity got the better of Sam, however, who turned behind her to see a girl at the door that she would later learn to be the Princess Amelie Gregorian, heir to the throne of Nortmund. Even as young as she was, Sam saw, at perhaps a mere eleven years weathered, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Golden-red hair cascaded in loose curls to her shoulders, and her face and stance held a kind, if hawkish, loveliness to them. Her body was lithe like a young girl, but her bloom was soon coming upon her, Sam was certain. She wore a frilly blue dress that fit her perfectly and completed the image that she was truly a princess first, and a child second. At the last second, when her eyes fell onto her, she then fell into a salute, shaky though it was. The music that was her voice matched her visage perfectly. "Captain Veridis." The Captain went to ease. "I had dropped by to examine the potential recruit." Her eyes drew to Sam again, making her nearly blush. "I've heard good things about her." "She is...Adequate, your Highness. Much to improve, as he is but a low-born, woman mercenary." Sam felt a twinge of resentment, but resisted it, and forgot it when the girl smiled at her. "The choice is, of course, up to you, your Highness." She stepped into the chamber striding with an elegant gait to the Samantha, who still held herself tensely. "There is no need to be nervous, my subject. I am not as harsh as the Captain here." She looked the woman over, walking in a circle around her. Samantha was nowhere near to the radiant beauty that the girl possessed, but she had a sort of real world, life-chiseled attractiveness to her. A short, tied-back haircut of wild blonde grew from her, and her body was well-maintained by training and combat. Her skill had protected beautiful face from scars, and most of the rest of her body as well. Her breasts were somewhat small, but never sagged, and her bottom the comment of many a lewd jeer. She felt like a horse at market under the girl's eyes though. Samantha's eyes noted that girl herself seemed a little tense as well, though only for a brief instant, as she bent down to look at Sam's toned legs. Samantha though, betrayed no sign of noticed. When the girl stood up again, she addressed the Captain. "You give your approval, Captain Veridis?" Her frame was impassive, but there was an impatient questioning in the girl's eyes. "She seemed a fair enough candidate, and better than many of the men I have seen this week, both in skill and character. It is something of a scandal, however, to induct a mercenary into the Royal Guard, and moreso to the point of a bodyguard. "Well, it is this, or a eunuch, and that would be a cruel thing to stoop to. Besides, she has the backing of Sir Maxson, yes?" the girl replied. He nodded. "Indeed, your Highness. Yes. She meets my standards, and those of your father." "And mine as well. What is your name, my subject?" "Samantha, of Northcrest, your Highness." She bowed deeply. "No longer, dear Samantha. You are now Guardian Samantha, of Nortmund, a Protector and Charge of the Royal Family, and personal bodyguard to the Princess Amelie Gregorian. Is this satisfactory?" Barely able to contain her excitement, Sam nodded quickly. "Most excellent!" The girl betrayed her youth with a clap of her hands, before continuing. "I must confess that I'm in a hurry. You may begin your duties now, by escorting me to my chambers and helping me to prepare for the harvest pronouncement of my father." "Your Highness, there is the short matter of providing her with the Seal of the Guard and the ritual contained. It will only be a few moments." The girl huffed, but acquiesced. "Of course, Captain, but please hurry." She left the room with that, and Gin went to a large cabinet, rifling through its contents. "You should consider yourself lucky, Corporal. The Princess does not often accept recruits so quickly. She must like you dearly. Here, your Seal," Gin said, handing her a white military sash with the gray and blue coat of arms of the royal family. "There is no real ritual, except a few more...Private orders, that I pass onto you from His Majesty. You see, the Princess is the heir apparent to the throne, but she has a few peculiar 'habits.'" Sam was confused, but somewhat expected it. Nobility had a way of being a little more eccentric. "Like what? She seemed well adjusted enough." "And that's how we'd like to keep her. She is normal enough, but...Well, you shall see soon. However, you must never let her 'habit' become public knowledge, and should do your best to protect her from prying eyes, even within the castle." He sighed ruefully. "Her mother the Queen is something the same, and I have a handful with that. It will be good that we finally have a bodyguard to deal with the Princess." Samantha gave him a sideways glance, but he quickly shooed her out into the hallway, where the Princess was tapping her feet impatiently, practically bounding with energy. Or... Samantha dismissed the thought, but it came unbidden to her anyway. In any event, she ignored it, and joined her charge. "Your Highness, I am afraid that I will make a poor bodyguard without arms and armor." "Do not worry about that, Samantha. We will get you provided for later today. Hurry though, we must get to my room!" "Of course, your Highness. Why the hurry though?" "Nevermind that!" Amelie snapped, then giggled. Her dress swished softly as they walked, and they had reached the other wing of the palace when the Princess suddenly stopped, holding a hand out for support against the smooth stone wall. A sharp intake of breath was heard as she paused, and she looked down momentarily. "Your Highness! Are you alright?!" Samantha tried to support her, to the Princess' protest, when the girl suddenly shuddered slightly, and a soft pattering sound rang from the carpet. "Yes, yes...Just get me to my room. Hurry, Samantha!" Needing no more encouragement, Sam picked the girl up, looking down and seeing a small wet spot in the carpet. Following the girl's terse direction, she headed up the stairs of the northern tower. Amelie's body was tense, and Sam was forced to realize that the girl was in desperate need to release her water. She could feel the girl's damp underwear through the dress, which distracted her with another feeling, and nearly caused her to turn a corner into the sight of a passing servant. Most of the staff was off the grounds, at the Palatial Green, preparing for the harvest pronouncement, but some staff were still within. Her startlement seemed to scare the princess as well, and she felt a renewed warmth from the Princess' bottom. "Hurry, Samantha, I can barely hold on!" Another corner, and another, and the Princess' double-doors stood, beckoning. She pushed them open quickly, not even noticing the lavish decorations of the apartment, and placed the Princess on her feet, where she jammed her hands into her crotch tightly. No longer a regal princess, she was a desperate young girl, barely holding on from soaking her entire dress, Through hissing breaths, the Princess said, "My dress...Get it off..." Samantha tried, but it was slow going. A low-born mercenary, dresses were somewhat foreign to her, and the elaborate one worn by the Princess was even worse. Every few seconds, Amelie squealed, and held tighter, but Samantha watched as small rivulets of golden urine trailed down the girl's stockings, becoming more and more powerful each time. "Hurry!" Amelie said, just as Samantha freed the last lace, causing the dress to fall to the ground in a frumpled heap. Amelie leaped away from it, and took one step. Out of her skirt, she was dressed only in a pair of beautiful silken underwear and stockings, as her breasts had yet to blossom. Though originally a light blue, they were now darkened by the girl's urine, and dripping as she leaked more. Samantha watched in fascination, as the girl squirmed and whimpered slightly, grabbing the underwear tightly, and pulling it taut against her labia. Her perfectly formed, womanly lips outlined the fabric, as her urine spurted out anew, barely held back. Trails of fragrant liquid streamed down her young, pale legs, slowing, but not stopping entirely. Amelie just stood there, squatting just slightly, as Samantha quietly approached. Almost unconsciously, she gently touched the girl's young bottom, eliciting a gasp from the Princess, who then lost all control. A hissing sound erupted through the fabric as pee shot out uncontrollably, cascading over Sam's hand. In a last ditch effort to hold back, the princess pressed herself against Sam's hand, but to no avail. Pee ran over it, and she could feel its pressure as it ran out of the girl's bladder. She was almost amazed by how much the girl held. It must've been some time - a minute, two maybe, and she was still going strong. Amelie's now dark blue panties dripped all over, and her stockings were covered in streaks where they weren't soaked entirely. Samantha realized that she too was wet, and a thrilled feeling ran from her hand to her head, making her lightheaded. She couldn't understand why, but she found the Princess' accident incredibly arousing. For her park, the Princess seemed more than a little excited herself, her breaths coming in short gasps, and a look of ecstasy on her face as her urine finally slowed, and stopped. She grinded herself against Sam's hand for a moment more before realizing what she was doing, and then jumped away staring at the woman. Some time passed for each of them, both too embarrassed by their respective actions to speak. Finally, the princess Amelie said, with a smirk and a giggle, "So, now you know my secret." Chapter 2: Samantha still couldn't believe what she had seen only a few minutes before. The little girl, the Princess Amelie, had wet herself...No, *soaked* herself right in front of her. Perhaps more shocking was her own reaction to the sight. Incredibly aroused, a hot blush enveloped her as she saw the lithe girl's wet ass, dripping with pee, the stockings she wore streaked with urine, and the look of almost orgasmic bliss on the Princess' face. After Amelie's rather redundant remark, she asked if Samantha might offer her some privacy to clean up, something that Samantha readily agreed to. The girl left her bodyguard in the ante-chamber of her apartments, while Samantha played the scene over and over in her mind. Almost involuntarily, she felt her hand gliding down to her most forbidden places, rubbing, massaging her pussy through her linen pants, cultivating that hot feeling of arousal, bringing herself closer, ever so closer to that peak of ple... A sudden noise, the sound of the door knob clicking caused Samantha to start, and she tried to appear composed as the Princess re-entered, though her face was still flushed, and her breath more than a little...Labored. For her part, the Princess looked every bit like the royalty she was, as if her indiscretion had never happened. She was dressed in fresh clothes, a beautiful, form-fitting dress in masterfully matched harvest colors - gold, orange and reds perfectly blended to make it seem as if she were a walking storm of fallen leaves. But to Samantha, all she could imagine were the underclothes beneath. She dismissed the thought however, as duty called. "Your Highness, are you feeling better?" A sly smile crept on Amelie's face, and she nodded. "I just wish I had a little more time to," she paused and giggled, "take care of things, before my father's pronouncement. But as it is, we shall be nearly late if we leave now! Here, you may take one of the ceremonial swords I practice with. It's pretty, but it'll work in a pinch as well. As for clothing...Hmm." Amelie clicked her tongue. "Well, they provide cloaks for the Guard, so we won't need to worry too much, but we'll need to get you something a little, well, more 'royal' soon." She smiled, and Samantha felt horribly under-dressed and, well, poor. "Nevermind for now, though Samantha. Grab one of the sabres from the walls, and we'll be on our way." Samantha nodded and looked against the wall, where a number of ceremonial swords rested, carefully placed on varying racks. In Nortmund, it was a traditional gift to give fine weaponry to the royal family, as a sign of respect for their martial prowess and the giver's own fealty. After a brief glance though, Sam wondered wryly at what a noble thought was "fine weaponry". Most of the weapons were gaudy and horribly unbalanced. One had a pure gold hilt, practically ready to bend and break at a good swing. Another's basket-guard was wrought with wires so fine and unreinforced that it would like as not slice the hand of the wielder if the sword swing didn't cut straight through. One, however, stood out amongst the rest, and Samantha's eyes laid down upon it immediately. The one word that could best describe it was elegant. It was a "new school" sword, slim and agile, meant for fencing as opposed to armored combat, which suited her just fine. The blade was curved just slightly in a reverse S, though it was straight enough for use as a thrusting weapon as well. The guard and hilt were streamlined, a beautiful silver-alloy in an outline of the royal family crest, and the pommel was weighted with a dark blue stone. Despite its beauty, Sam knew it to be a dangerous and deadly weapon, and her belief was confirmed when she held it, perfectly balanced and ready to cut the air. The Princess was too young to know such weapons intimately, but she did provide comment. "Sir Maxson gave me that for my 10th year of birth. He was always a kind man, and he seemed to put a lot of value in it." "With good reason, your Highness. He knows his steel." Samantha held it with awe, before quickly grabbing a silk scarf and creating a makeshift wrap for it. The Princess waited impatiently, and after, they were off with due speed. Already, the sun was deep into the afternoon, and the Harvest Pronouncement would begin with the red and oranges of the evening. Amelie led the way, bringing them to a stable where a detachment of the Guard and the Princess' carriage awaited. They saluted the two, much to Samantha's surprise, who was usually on the other end of such service. As Amelie climbed into the carriage, the sergeant of the detachment stood forward and addressed Samantha. "Madam Greylily, I am Sergeant Hawthorne of the Palatial Guard. I have news from Captain Veridis. He says that there are rumors of southern aggressors within the city. There is little to worry about, but he asks that you remain on your guard. You will find your cloak of office within the carriage, and we will be taking a route outside of the parade path this day." "Osland, here? That seems a little far-fetched, Sergeant. Are you sure?" Samantha felt the cold silk wrapping on her back instinctively. "The war has gone somewhat poorly in the weeks since your departure from the front. Our people fight well and valiantly, but there are traitors amongst the nobility, who wish to see the Royal Family deposed. Osland is providing them aid in this effort. You can be confident, however, that myself and my men are loyal retainers to the Palace. We shall see you safely to the event, and home again." "I have every expectation that you'll do a fine job, Sergeant." Though the man was grizzled, and perhaps twice her age, Samantha's experience and innate charisma lent a commanding air to her, and the man bowed to her as she entered the carriage. Amelie waited, smiling, and holding her cloak. "Beautiful, don't you think?" It was, though not in the way that the Princess was thinking. Its aesthetics were kind to the eye indeed, a wonderful blend of dark blue and white with the crest of the royal family, but its make impressed Sam. Entirely practical in use, it was made of a stout linen, with a silk underlining. Light enough for constant wear, robust enough for harsh weather, and heavy enough to deflect a blade in combat. Sam momentarily regretted the thought though - in recent days, her eyes were rarely appreciated the innate beauty of the world. It was numbers and function, the value in combat or its danger. Her life was a soldier's one, indeed. Out of the corner of her eye though, another feeling surfaced. Amelie sat there in repose, beautiful as ever, and her dress was draped carelessly, in such a way that it bared a pale, perfect thigh. A feeling of heat surfaced, and Sam found herself staring for a moment. She drew her eyes away finally, but not before she thought she saw the Princess watching her. Her heart leaping to her throat, she tried conversation to wile away the embarrassment. "So how do you feel, your Highness? Is everything aright for the festivity today?" The Princess gave her a sly look, before looking out the window once more. "Of course, dearest Samantha," she talked with a mature air at times, foreshadowing the royalty and power within the girl, "Though I'm somewhat distressed about the plans my father has for me." Samantha raised an eyebrow. "Is there something wrong?" "Well...No. It comes with nobility. Sons are kings and directors. Daughters are assets, half-property. The binders of nations. He intends to barter me off, and the harvest will be the first showing of me in true beauty." "I can scarcely think of you as lacking true beauty at any time, Princess." Amelie laughed a musical laugh. "Now you sound like a suitor! But no, this dress is the proof of it. My others are lovely to look upon, yes, but this one is meant to portray me as the trophy that every noble will want to wed." She sighed, then looked sideways toward Sam. "But I have a plan that might earn me a little more time." Fastening her cloak to herself, Samantha nodded to Amelie to go on. But instead of talking, she raised her dress a little farther, exposing the lovely orange panties that she wore. They fitted her snugly, outlining her forbidden parts well. Samantha lost her concentration, and her fastener. Amelie giggled. "You know my secret, dearest bodyguard. But it is more than a pleasure for me." She paused, fastening her eyes on Samantha. For Sam's part, her eyes were half-locked on the Princess' lower body. Her labia was just outlined in the orange silken fabric, and as she watched, it darkened slightly, as the girl released a two-second spurt of urine into it. Even from her position opposite of the Princess, she could see the goosebumps form on the girl's thighs, and felt her own body rush with adrenaline and arousal. "It's also a weapon for my freedom." "How...How do you mean, your Highness?" Sam felt on edge, like her heart was walking a tightrope. She was filled with a lust, though she knew it was forbidden. Despite that, she could barely contain it. "Unlike some," Amelie said, locking her eyes on Samantha, who started, "A nobleman would never desire to be with a dirty girl. My father may show me off this night, but should he pair me with anyone, I have a surprise for them." "But you've already...Done that, haven't you?" "I've let my water go, yes. But I've been holding back something else for a few days, and it's begging to be released. I'm not sure that I shall remain clean this night." The girl giggled, and let out a squeaky fart to punctuate her statement, before fidgeting. "It's actually somewhat hard to hold as it is. I may need your help later." "I am at your disposal, my liege." "I know you are," Amelie said, with a sly smile. ----- Hours later, night was settling in and the festival still in full swing. Her father the King was a charismatic speaker, and the citizens and nobility attending were in good spirits. Amelie's prediction had come true, and she was courted by various nobles. She brushed them away with ease however, and Sam saw a good part of the Princess' father in the girl. She had a way with words. Though too young to drink much, she was given a few glasses of wine, which was enough to put the girl into a much more sultry version of herself. But that sultriness was saved for Samantha, and her alone. She was at the girl's side the entire night, never leaving it, and she received quite a show. During the feast, she found her hand being guided down to the Princess' beautiful ass, during the powder pipe show. Caressing the girl's secret place, she felt the Amelie tense, and a warm wetness envelop her hand for a second, before stopping. Looking up at the princess' face, she saw the desperation in her eyes and knew she needed to move quickly. Helping the girl hike her skirt to a safe distance, she felt a cascade of hot liquid pour from her beautiful forbidden lips, through the orange panties and into the grass below. As it slowed to a stop, Amelie ground her pussy into Samantha's hand for a few brief moments before the servant came their way. Giving Samantha a secret smile, she went back to listening to her father. Soon though, the King had finished his talking, and the formalities of the night were nearly over. However, the dancing still remained. In these times, the nobility used dancing as a sort of courtship. It was rather ironic, but the practice actually grew from the peasant class - the nobles made it all fancified, but its origins were still undeniable. As Amelie and Samantha stood from the table, the orchestra sprung into action. A light melody, an overture, Samantha thought, began. "We should take our leave before we're delayed for this. I'm really not feeling up to dancing right now. Something rather more...Pressing, calls me," Amelie said quietly. Samantha nodded, looking around for Hawthorne, but he was nowhere to be found for the moment. "Of course, your Highness. I'll go call for -" "Ah, Princess Amelie, you look striking tonight, as always." The voice was a youth, barely older than Amelie herself, Sam was sure. It belonged to an ostentatiously dressed noble, who wore the sash of Northcrest. Samantha knew him, being the heir apparent of her home county. The son of Duke Gregory, Isaac Gregory. The last time she had seen the boy, his voice was still high as a choir singer's. She doubted his maturity had followed his physical development. "You flatter me, Isaac. It pleases me to see you. Did you enjoy my father's speech?" The girl nodded to the boy, as befitting his station. She seemed tense, and Sam hoped the exchange would end soon. The girl must've been holding her waste for some time. "I did, but I found myself distracted by you. Would you care to join me in the dance?" The boy looked smugly at her, and Samantha was about to intercede, but Amelie gave her a look that said that this was a highborn affair. Sam sighed and stepped back. "But of course, Isaac. Please, wait here Guardian. I'll return shortly." Taking the boy's outstretched hand, the princess followed him to the makeshift dance floor, where the twirling dresses of the varying aristocracy made the night bloom with the colors of harvest. Samantha was left alone at the table, and resigned herself, grumpily, to waiting. She picked at the things that were supposed to be snacks, according to the maitre d', before resolving to find Sergeant Hawthorne while the princess was occupied. Glancing toward the dance floor, she saw the girl dancing magnificently, though she could see the tenseness in the girl's body. The thought of her desperation made a slight heat erupt in Sam's body. Finding Hawthorne was not as difficult as she thought it might be. He was chatting it up with the gate guard, who were watching the etrance to the noble's area of the festival, keeping the "unclean" masses from intruding. The man had a mug in his hand, but seemed sober as she approached, and snapped to attention. "Orders, Guardian?" "Her Highness will be taking her leave soon. Gather the guard and transport, and we'll be along." Sam's voice was commanding, strong. She fell into the role of officer easily, given her previous experience. Hawthorne nodded, as was off immediately. The gate guard remained in repose, and gave her a rueful look when she raised her eyebrow to him. Then again, some authority would have to be built over time. She turned on her heel, back to the dance floor. However, when she arrived back, she realized to her horror that the princess was gone. A second, frantic glance across the floor confirmed it, and she knew that Amelie was not safe. Thoughts ran through her mind. Could it be the traitorous nobles? Or worse? Calming herself, she knew she had to act. However, raising an alarm here would cause a panic and a scandal, so she would have to move quietly...And quickly. She'd been gone only for a few minutes, so she knew that the Princess could not have gone far. The best plan of action would be to track down the boy first. That task, she found, would be easier than she'd have hoped. Amongst the nobles and their protectors was the captain of the Northcrest guard, drunk as he would be when back home. Striding briskly, and acting casually, she approached the inebriated man, who was regaling a few young guardsmen with a ribald tale of some false nature. "And then, when I...Afffter I rescued her, she of course, hash to pay me back. Shpecial like," Felken, Guard Captain of Northcrest, said, with a shit-eating grin on his face. When he saw Sam, the grin grew even wider. "Well, of all the hells there are! If'n it ain't Slender Sam? Wuz this now...You with the *Royal* Guard?" "No time, Fel. Where's the boy?" "Wot boy, girly girl?" Felken reached his knobby hand toward her breast, and she swatted it away. He barely seemed to notice. Hadn't changed a bit in five years. "You know, Fel. Isaac." Her voice was contained, but the heat behind it radiated from her. Fel's eyes furrowed for a second, but then he shrugged. "Back behind th' Pavvy Tents. Got some young'un in tow. 'Sowin his seed' and all that!" Felken laugh a ribald laugh, but Sam was already gone before the man had stopped chuckling. The last thing she needed was some two bit nobleman of HER county violating the heir to the throne of Nortmund. The Pavilon Tents lined the northern edge of the Green where the festival was taking place. It was quite quiet, as most of the people were at the dance floor. Occasionally a servant would come running about, but would disappear just as quickly. She felt no compunction any longer to play the part of an unafraid Guardian, and drew apart the wrapping to her sword, baring its cold steel to the night. Grasping it in her sword hand, she gliding silently amongst the darkened tents, listening for sound. A muffled shout was all that she needed. Tents of red and green, purple and gold. But only one of green and white, the colors of Northcrest. And that's where she heard Amelie's voice. Caution held her pace steady however, and she approached it carefully. The flap was hanging loosely, and a lamp light illuminated the edges. Voices could be heard within. "Oh, dearest Princess, your reputation is well known. Such a..." The sound of a slap rang out, along with a squeal. "Tease." As Sam crept closer, and pulled the flap back, she saw the young Gregory, and two men-at-arms, both engrossed with the visage of Amelie before them. "You can't do this, Gregory. My father will have your *head*!" "He'll do no such thing. To lose such a valuable bargaining chip in the negotiations with the war? My father influence is strong, and that makes me untouchable. Besides, what worth is a daughter with no maidenhead?" Snapping his fingers, one of the men moved forward, pinning the girl against a large crate. Her beautiful body was outlined in the dim torchlight, and hear eyes almost glowed with fear. "But if I take that maidenhead, it could bring our families closer together, yes? Just think of it as 'helping' the King. Now, let's get a closer look at the goods, shall we?" Samantha could feel the sinister smile on Isaac's face, and the boy threw Amelie's dress up. "What's this now? Did the Princess have an accident in her skivvies? You are a dirty bitch, aren't you? I'll teach you the meaning of good ettiquette." With that, he reached out to her dress to rip it off. Amelie's soaked panties darkened anew with urine as her fear got the better of her. Sam knew the time was now. "Touch her, and you'll never touch anything with that hand again, Gregory." Sam's voice was cold and sharp, icy as the blade in her hand. Spinning around, with a thrill of terror on his face, Isaac stared at her and, realizing she was alone, regained his smug smile. "Ah, the Guardian comes to save the day. But too little, too late, too few. It will be sad when I have to report that a traitor amongst the Guard itself tried to ruin our courtship. Kill her." Sam's face was unchanging, as the men-at-arms drew their swords. They were heavy, meant for the battlefield. Dangerous and deadly weapons, but no match for an agile fencer. They had some measure of skill though, approaching her at flank. Even ill-equipped and experienced, two opponents were a serious danger. Sam had to take the initiative. Waiting for them to begin closing up, Sam rushed the man in front, deflecting his heavy blow with ease and sliding right past him, just in time to miss the thrust from the second man behind. As the first spun around to meet her, she let him run himself through on her blade. She was surprised with how easily it sliced through flesh and sinew, allowing her time to bring the sword up and around to knock away the swing of the second man. Realizing he no longer had the tactical advantage, he instead circled, as Sam followed. It was only a few seconds before Sam gave a light swing, anticipating the riposte and spinning around, slicing the man's arm clean off. In shock, he tried to scream, but only a strangled croak came out, before he fell to the ground, groping for his lost arm. The first man already lay still, cut from stomach to shoulder. Isaac looked at her with horror as she shook the blood from his blade. Her steps came like thunder as she raised her sword one more time to strike. "Sam, no!" Amelie held up her arm, and the command resonated through Sam, her sword arm held in stasis, her eyes burning a hole through Isaac. "We cannot be associated with the murder of a noble, no matter how...Repugnant." Isaac stood, staring at Sam's sword, his mouth agape. "He won't speak of this. It would destroy him and his father were it to become public knowledge. Instead, you will return to Northcrest and remain their for your days, won't you Gregory?" The boy nodded, just barely, terror outlined in his eyes. "Good then. Come Guardian, we must leave before we are seen." The Princess grabbed Sam's hand, leading her from the tent and through the maze of the others, before stopping suddenly, and embracing Sam deeply. "Thank you...Thank you so much Sam. I was so afraid." Tears were in the Princess' eyes. "Of course, your Highness. Of course. Are you alright?" Sam held the girl close for a moment before she moved away. "Please...You will call me Amelie, Sam. You deserve it. And yes, I'm fine. He didn't touch me at all, though I'm sure he meant to. We need to - ugh." The girl suddenly bent over, holding her ass tightly. "Mmmm...I can barely hold on Sam. I need to poop so badly, and this didn't help at all. We need to get back." As if to mark the point, the girl farted loudly. Sam saw the outline of the girl's delicious ass through the fabric of her dress, and could barely keep herself back. "Of course, your highness. I've already arranged for the carriage back." Sam could use a break herself. It had been some time since she had released her own water, and combat always made her need worse. "Mmph...Good. Lets go." The Princess led the way, and they wandered their way through the tents toward the edge, where the lights of the festival twinkled merrily still. Amelie stopped suddenly, and gasped. "Oh no! It's going to come out!" The princess bent her knees slightly. "Sam, please! You must help me hold it!" Amelie begged. Sam quickly strode behind her and slid a hand under the girl's dress, feeling her tight ass. She put her hand on the girl's panties, and pressed up against her anus, which was puckering with a barely held log. "Got to poop so badly..." Amelie mumbled. Finally, Sam felt the turd slide back, and Amelie relaxed somewhat. "Thank the gods. But we *must* hurry." They crossed the Green quickly, and made their way through the mingling crowds. Soon, they came upon the carriage, where Hawthorne stood, ready. "Home, Sergeant." Amelie commanded, tersely. "Of course, your Highness." Hawthorne snapped a salute and went to the head of the group immediately. Sam opened the door for Amelie, who climbed in quicker than lightning. Sam followed, to find the girl desperately holding her behind. "Quick! Close the door! I can't hold it any longer!" Sam did so, as the carriage rode off, and Amelie kneeled down against the bench, raising her dress, and then giving a smoky glance toward Sam. "Guardian, I'm afraid my ordeal has fatigued me so. I just cannot hold it any longer. I'm going to have an accident..." Sam knelt as well, mesmerized again by the Princess. Her delicious ass hung in the air, clad by a slightly damp pair of orange panties. The lace around the edges only seemed to accentuate Amelie's natural curves. Suddenly though, the girl tensed, and she saw her cheeks spread. The smell of feminine poo filled the air as Amelie farted one more time, a quiet, sneaky one, and then a tiny bump appeared at her bottom. "Mmmph..." Amelie's face was one of concetration and ecstacy. She bore down, and the bump began to grow as the thick, firm log of poo slid out into the girl's panties. She grunted, and it grew even more, to the size of a large ball, and then a wet fart came out, sputtering from the confines of her soiled underwear. "Oh gods," she said, "I'm pooping myself like a child. I just can't hold it. It's so big." Sam agreed. Her hand, moving on its own, reached for the Princess' bottom, feeling the bulge, it warmth and softness. Suddenly, the girl let loose with another fart, and she bore down again, expelling more poo into her loaded panties. "I can't stop it, Sam." "You don't have to, Amelie..." The poop continued to come out for a few second more, pushing the limits of the girl's panties. As if waiting for the cue of her finishing, Amelie's bladder released again as well, pouring liquid gold onto the wooden floor of the carriage. A soft patter accompanied it. It caused a similar, desperate twinge in Sam's bladder, and she felt a spurt dampen her own leggings. Sam's arousal grew almost exponentially, and her hand moved on its own volition, sliding along Amelie's pussy, eliciting a gasp from the girl. "Oh *gods* that feels good." Amelie's breath came hard, in gasps, and before Sam could stop herself, her hand slid past the girl's wet panty crotch and began massaging her clit. Amelie grinded herself against Sam's hand, and in no time was shuddering with an orgasm. She fell to the carriage floor, holding herself with her arms on the bench. Her butt made a squelching sound as it hit the floor. Some time passed, neither saying a thing. The combined growing desperation and arousal in Sam made her hold her own crotch. Amelie didn't seem to notice, lost in her own world. Finally, Amelie spoke up. "Oh dear. I've had a terrible accident in my panties. I *am* such a dirty girl, aren't I?" The Princess giggled. Then, seeing Sam's plight, she said: "Oh dear, I have barely let my guardian have the time to take care of her needs. What a terrible mistress I am. Here, let me help you." Before Sam could react, Amelie was on top of her, fiddling with the straps of her pants, revealing her leggings and underwraps, already damp with her own pee. She moved deftly, but then 'accidentally' pressed against Sam's bladder, making her lose another spurt, this time soaking her underwraps. The golden trickle ran under her ass, warming it. She could barely hold on, and squirted again, for longer. A soft hissing sound filled the carriage as pee soaked her wraps and leggings, going on for seconds before Sam could get her bladder under control. "Oops! I'm sorry, Sam. Let's get those off." She undid them easily, revealing Sam's shaven pussy. It made her more comfortable on the hot days, and she like how she looked with it trimmed. Amelie regarded it admirably. "You must need to go so badly. Am I right?" Sam nodded. "So badly, your Highness. I've been holding it all day." The Princess nodded, but then did something unexpected. She leaned down, and began licking Sam's pussy. The feeling was ungodly, and Amelie was a natural at it. Her juices oozed from her crotch, and the Princess lapped it up. Pausing for a moment, she said, "That feels better, doesn't it? We'll make you feel all better." Before Sam could respond, she dived back in, and Sam's words were turned into moans. Her bladder was at the limit, but she tried to hold on - she could pee in the Princess' face! But as Amelie continued, her need grew greater. Only the continued ministrations of the girl allowed her to hold back. But she could feel the orgasm coming, and when it did, there would be no holding back the flood. "Please, Princess, I need to pee soo badly. I won't be able to hold it, if I come..." Amelie only responded by going harder, sending Sam over the deep end. The orgasm was so sudden, so powerful, that it took the breath from her and nearly caused her to pass out. Waves of pleasure racked her, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming in ecstacy. The floodgates fell open though, and a cascade of pee fell into Amelie's waiting mouth, where she drank greedily, still sucking Sam's secret place. The relief was so great, releasing herself into Amelie's mouth, that the orgasm continued for as long as she peed, until finally she slowed, and fell back against the carraige, completely spent. Amelie climb up on her, straddling her, and kissing her deeply. Her shit-filled panties rubbed against Sam's pussy, eliciting another wave of pleasure. And, as a final gift, Amelie released her last bit of pent up urine, the golden liquid running down into Sam's pussy, wetting it and warming it. When their lips released, Amelie smiled at her. It was mischievous, and alluring. It was too much. "Not bad for a first day, hmm?" Three months had passed since the incident at the Harvest Festival, and still Samantha felt like she was constantly on her guard. She couldn't be sure whether the princess' brief kidnapping was one foolish drunken mistake or a political move, but she didn't want to risk it again. Sadly, it had left little time to indulge this new aspect of herself, one unleashed by Amelie's delightful body. The colder months meant heavier clothes and longer stays inside of the castle, where prying eyes kept them from their play. Still, every once in awhile they managed to sneak away for some fun. Today, however, was all business. The Princess' father was holding court, addressing the problems that were arising through the winter. Namely, mercenaries that had failed to find employment or warmer climes. Stuck in the northern lands, they had turned to raiding and banditry in order to survive this unusually harsh winter. The gentry of these varying counties were now turning to the king, and his currently idle soldiers, for support. Samantha wasn't sure what choice she'd make. From a military stand-point, soldiers need to be at use, else they grow bored, restless, and hostile. And the closer to home they are, the happier they'll be. Still, even in the dead of winter, it wasn't an impossibility that a full-scale incursion could happen. However, three months hovering around the Court gave her the gut feeling that the timing of these complaints, if not the raids themselves, was too off. She left the judgment to Amelie, however, as another feeling in her gut told her that her bowels were full. It had been a few days since she had last gone, and the thought of later made her blood pulse a little. She wore a Winter Guard robe, white with a red sash. It was supported with soft leather, providing some protection and better warmth. Under it, her underwear was a soft white cotton that caressed her perfectly toned ass as she walked. Next to her, walking in step with Samantha, Amelie was dressed in a gray, fur-lined dress with red trimmings. It was conservative for her style, but also a gift from her favorite uncle, who was in the court today, so she decided on wearing it. Her panties, Samantha had noticed, were a rich silk the color of purple. She had noticed that the girl had begun to blossom into womanhood, reaching her first lunar phase a month and a half ago. In eager fashion, she soon demanded Samantha teach her how to wrap her breasts, which her Guard was only too happy to do. The cotton wrapping peeked just barely above the back of the dress. “It's a precarious time. My father must show his support for the nobility, especially now, during the hard times. But it is no coincidence that these requests arise now, especially from the southern districts...” The Princess' hair was curled today, falling in bangs across her perfect face. She gave Samantha a slight smile as she talked, one that was undoubtedly meant to be hidden, but still caught by her ever-watchful guardian. “He'll offer help. But I suspect that he'll do it in a way unexpected. If I know him, he'll offer an “amnesty” to the mercenary companies.” “It's a bold move. Good gold can sway most mercenaries. Those that accept will get a free trip to the frozen front, and a ticket for some conscript to see his family. Or maybe use those mercenaries to hunt down the other bandits.” Amelie seemed delighted at Samantha's insights, commenting that she'd fit right in with the scheming nobility, something that gave Sam a slight flutter of dread. “Don't worry, you'd stand out like a sore thumb anyway. Too much integrity. My father does like you though. My mother too. I wanted it to be a bit of a surprise, but he intends to honor you with a rank today.” Samantha smiled back and feigned surprise. She'd found out through the Sergeant under her charge, Hawthorne, a week previous. The man was reliable to a fault, but you could only tell him things that you wanted the front lines to know about within a day. “Don't worry though, you'll still be my guard. Just with a little more authority to back you up. And it'll give my father and mother reason to have a proper conversation with you. They're nice people you know. Despite my occasional comments.” Amelie smiled. “You make them sound as if you were bringing me home as a suitor.” “Would that I could,” she said, grinning evilly. An alcove came upon them and the Princess, as at home as she was, ducked into it before Sam even had any idea of what was going on, before being dragged into it herself. A large statue of a hulking warrior blocked any view of them from the main hall. In a giggling whisper, the Princess grabbed Samantha's breast, immediately hardening the nipples, cooing to her: “I've been so...So uncontrollable with my urges for you. Wanting you, to touch, to be touched. To have your hand here.” She guided Sam's hand to the Princess' nether regions, where Samantha massaged the girl softly, eliciting an equally soft moan. This continued for some few seconds before she herself could barely contain her desire, and slid her hand to the break in Amelie's dress, reaching into those delicious purple panties. The girl's forbidden place was warm and soft, engorged and slick with lust, and Sam wasted no time in sliding a finger inside the girl. It was only a minute, maybe two - time was hard to keep track of – before the girl was gripping Sam like a vice, grinding against the hand, before suddenly tensing and biting (painfully) into the Guard's shoulder as she came. And as she did, a warm wetness enveloped Samantha's hand as golden liquid cascaded from the girl's pussy, soaking those purple panties and running down her smooth, pale legs. Rivulets reached down into the fur-lined boots, immediately hidden and soaked up. Made for snow, a little golden rain would do little to hurt them. However, the patter of urine hitting the stone floor made Sam a little worried that someone might hear, though a quick look back showed that noone was in the hall, miraculously enough. Turning back, the Princess was just coming out of the throes of passion. A blush had enveloped her face, and pee continued to pour from her soaked panties. She must've been holding herself up from sheer for of will alone. And holding very, very tightly to the stone wall. The hungry look that she was giving Sam said that her own body was not safe, but she knew that they would be late if they did not hurry. And in any case, her need to poop was growing, and she didn't need her muscles spasming for any reason. Before the Princess could sink her lips onto Samantha's pussy, she drew her away with a deep kiss, before checking for an empty hallway, and hurrying them along. As they approached the central chambers, the petite orchestra was still playing, ensuring that they were, thankfully, not late. The guard admitted them, and they found themselves surrounded with the gentry of the kingdom. Differing styles, differing cultures – they could each be found within the Royal Court. After all, the unified kingdom was relatively young in comparison to the lordships of the counties. The ceremonies were just beginning, and the nobility filed themselves about, seeking seats according to rank and privilege. Amelie briefly greeted varying nobles as she passed, while Samantha followed in the wake of the royal princess. She took her place amongst the head of the honor guard, accompanied by the other members of the official Royal Guard. Each of the Royal Guard stood out from the rank and file near them. Depending on their charge and their care, their finery reflected their assignment and needs, as well as their own personal styles. There was, of course, Veridis, in all his glory. But the others she had come to know and chat with: Guardian Johan, commander of the South Watch, dressed in a light, white robe emblazoned with the royal symbol. A spear was strapped to his back, the spear that had single-handedly protected Lord Robert de'Conne when traitors attempted to assassinate him. Johan was grim, cold and always serious. Still, Samantha had come to know that he could be charming, if he so chose. He just never so chose. On the other side of fashion and personality was Guardian Griffiths, the Lord Calvary Commander. Armed with a curious combination of a shielded glaive, he taught himself to ride at an early age, and to fight soon after, when the war had first begun. His cunning was said to be matched only by his kindness. Garbed in a pearled ceremonial scale vest and white silken vestments, he was second only to Veridis, and his loyalties rumored to be held first to the people under his care. There were others, of course, but Samantha was distracted. A few days worth of poop pressed painfully against her anus, threatening to cause a disgrace in the woman's wrapped, white cotton panties. With a supreme effort, she managed to fight the cramp off, just as the King began his sermon and service. Nortmund combined the religious and ministerial aspects of government into a single entity within the royal family. After all, as the King is believed to be descended from divine heritage, so too are his sermons thought to be divinely inspired. However, at the moment his words flowed past her like so much the sounds of nature. Nature, instead, was calling her urgently, a fact that the princess had most certainly picked up on. During the speech, the guard was turned outward, toward the audience, as a precautionary method. But after the speech, she turned to see Amelie staring at her. From the distance, she looking nothing less than a beautiful, young woman. The only aspect that marred the image was the predatory hunger that lusted through the princess' eyes, as she ate up Sam's desperation. And indeed, it was getting worse. As the minutes wore on, so too did the cramps get worse. Each time, it became harder and harder to keep herself closed up, much less keep her composure. The crowd, for their part, were enthralled (Or at least pretending to be) by the King, and so ignored the “servant guard”. For that, she was thankful, but the situation was becoming more dire. Just then, the white noise of the King's voice came to an end, and for one brief moment, she thought that her necessity as an honor guard would be at an end. No such luck. “Guardian Samantha of Nortmund, stand forward, and receive the blessing of prestige and promotion.” That was the queen's voice cutting to her. The Queen, although Amelie would be loathe to admit, was not merely a figure position within the royal family. Most, if not all of the secondary administrative duties fell to her, and as such, she played a critical part in the ministration of the kingdom. Still, she was second to the King, an idea that made Amelie, and Sam too, chafe. Her announcement continued, and Sam realized with a shock that she had entirely forgotten about the improvement of her rank. She saluted the Queen, and strode to toward the dais where the royal family sat, just as a cramp bore down on her again. She nearly gasped in pain, as her anus puckered out, refusing to close. Sam cursed her fate at being the first of the ceremony for such an honor. It was, indeed, a great honor to be chosen as the first (Or so she'd been told before), but there were more pressing things on her mind. And body. She removed her weapon and laid it behind her, causing her hole to open even more as she bent over. Try as she might, she could barely hold back the days' worth of poo that was about to exit. Kneeling down before the King and Queen was even worse, and a small log pushed its way into her underwrappings, a precursor of what was to come. In the background, the Princess Amelie was barely able to contain her own lust, watching her Guardian so desperate, and she surreptitiously she slid her legs together and back and forth, squeezing her thighs as she tried to massage her forbidden spot. Next to her, the Queen rose, with a sash in hand. Unlike the one she wore currently, this was embroidered with marks of rank in silvery weave and base gemstones, denoting a Knight Bachelor of the Guardians. Truly, an honor, it was acceptance into the royal family itself, albeit as a low noble. Even with her desperation, seeing it made her eyes glitter with wonder. She would be the first of her family to hold any sort of nobility. And she couldn't help but wonder who... Another cramp made her breath catch in her throat. Only the Queen noticed, and her face made no movement, but Sam could see in the woman's eyes recognition...And something else too. All thought, though, were blasted away, and the Queen's speech as well, as the cramp became worse, and Sam began to lose control. Her toned ass separated again, widening as her anus puckered up. A long, thick, firm turd slid out, tenting the woman's underwear, making it bulge. It broke off, but was immediately followed by another, slightly smaller, and then another. Kneeling there, she was thankful for her robe, else anyone would've been able to see her wraps bulge out with poo, and turn a faint brown. With a supreme effort, she was able to close her hole, but much more was wanting to get out. She felt like her wrappings could barely contain what was already there, and she dare not lose anymore. Else, her disgrace would be public. Her problem was compounded by a sudden need to pee, spurred on by her brief loss of control. Thankfully, the Queen was finishing with her speech, and turned back to Sam. Each step was slow, and graceful, and each of those drawn out moments made her desperation worse. As protocol dictated, Sam removed her sash, and held it for the Queen's taking. In its place, her new one, decorated with rank was placed in her hands. She fastened it to herself, and at the Queen's beckoning, arose, to the entirety of the Guard saluting her. With a roar they raised their weapons into the air, and the nobility itself was then clapping, though in a more conservative manner than the warriors. It was an indescribable feeling, to her so many giving her such respect. She felt warm inside, shocked, almost. Then she realized that warmth wasn't just the overwhelming honor, but pee as well, that had escaped her bladder, and was spurting out down her leg ever so slightly. She clamped herself shut, but knew that time was running out. They wouldn't stop the salute, though, and the Queen moved next to her, waving to them, adding strength to the din. With horror, and before Sam could do anything, she felt the woman's hand glide down to Sam's ass, and feel the bulge that was there. But there was no recoil of horror. No outburst of disgust. The Queen gave her a sidelong glance, and then completed the ceremony with a kiss to each cheek, staring into Samantha's eyes. So close, Sam realized where Amelie got her beauty from. The Queen herself was stunning, in a more mature way. But then, she was gone, turning back to her seat. As part of the honor, Sam would be attending the royal family's private dinner, which would allow her to get to know her charges better. For the time being though, she was trapped to stand again. Thankfully, her waste had no odor. But with both her water and waste still pressing at both doors, she could only pray it did not take much longer. How she lasted as long as she did she could only guess, and she attributed it partially to the grace of God. She was the only promotion of the ceremony, and so the rest went to court business, of which there was little in this month. The announcements took the most time, and Sam squirted twice into her underwraps again, and let more than a few farts silently go. It finally ended, however, and the courtiers stood, to chat and converse a little longer before leaving. Sam was finally free to go, and so she did. She knew she wouldn't make it to a privy, but she hoped she could at least make it to a secluded hallway to finish her disgrace. Dodging the courtiers proved a problem though. It seemed that every other one of them wanted to stop and congratulate her, and perhaps curry some favor. She thanked them all, but said that she had martial business to attend to, but to send word later so that they might have more time to discuss matters. Or something to that effect. She only made it about halfway before she started losing control again. Her anus began to open up again, and another log threatened to push its way out into her overcrowded panties. A few more steps, and then golden liquid spurted out from her pussy, gliding down her concealed legs. With her hole already stretched wide, holding her pee was even harder, and she couldn't stop the slow trickle. Almost to the door, she began peeing in earnest, spurting uncontrollably into her panties. As long as she kept moving, noone would notice her accident in the crowded floor, but her control was quickly slipping away, and her stream growing heavier. She took smaller steps to try and keep any pee from soaking her dress, as rivulets streamed down her muscular legs. She stepped into the hallway, and rounded away from the exiting courtiers, deeper into the castle, toward the royal chambers. Ducking into an alcove, she gave up any pretense of control. What little pee was left within her cascaded out, and poo slid out of her easily, piling into her panties until, with no room left, falling to the floor with dull thuds. The relief was almost orgasmic, and the entire situation had her almost demonic with lust. As her body expelled the last of its waste, she tried to survey the damage. Her robe was, thankfully, fairly dry. Being heavy as it was, it wouldn't show much wetness anyway. Her underwraps were a disaster though, full of poo. Carefully, she untied the knots holding it together, and let them drop to the ground. Best to let a servant think some noble disgraced themselves. Her pussy was on fire however, and she resolved to get back to her quarters for some much needed relief of a different sort. However, when she turned around, she found herself face to face with Rosalia Gregorian, Queen of Nortmund. Her face was impassive, her eyes betraying no thought, not even a hint of what she might've seen. “You look to be in distress, Lady Samantha. May I offer you some assistance?” Chapter 4 A fancy dress is...Perhaps...One of the most difficult things to move in. This, Samantha had decided the first time she'd actually put one on. Even plate armor, heavy as it was, would be actually designed and tailored to its wearer. Interlocking plates, padding on the inside. Perhaps not the most comfortable outfit ever. But you can move in it. Whalebone compressed her lungs until she could scarce breathe, and layers of petticoats threatened to catch up her legs with every step. She was, however, a lady. And ladies, apparently, subjected themselves to crude torture on a regular basis. Sam mused that the reason must be as a sacrifice for living longer than the male counterparts. Shifting her legs again, she would have preferred death at the moment. Across from her sat the Queen of Nortmund, Rosalia Gregorian. Rose, to Sam. They sat in a library, currently being tended to by the Archivists. The robed men mulled about, checking and reordering books, inserting new volumes, removing others. Poring over data. Aside from the nobility, the Archivists were amongst the few in the realm who were literate. It was not always as such. Before the Libraries – not the comparatively small one that resided in the southern wing of the Palace; rather, true centers of knowledge and learning – were burned after the fall of the First Kingdoms, most people across what is now Nortmund and beyond could read. Could write. There were stories and culture found within the books. Theatre writings and such. “You could intimately understand the people and their works from these dramas.” said the monarch, noticing Samantha's eyes glancing about. The Queen, in her own regalia, was graceful even in the ridiculous dresses expected of the female nobility. She spoke with a cool, utterly confident tone, though it was still friendly, comforting. “Explorations of the mind. The soul. The body.” The emphasis, though almost non-existent, spoke volumes. Enough to fill a portion of the library, even. As if she had commanded it, the Archivists began filing out, speaking quietly to themselves. They were a reclusive group, though friendly enough. Their knowledge though, and their practices, made them stand out. They understood the workings of the mind, both literally and metaphorically, better than almost anyone. Definitely Sam. Perhaps even the nobility. As the last of them left, they closed the door behind them, leaving an utter silence, save for the blowing of the winter wind and the crackle in the fire. The Queen stood, smiling at the Guardian. There was a trace of stiffness to her, the regal bearing that she carried. “I'd been meaning to ask you: How has the burden of tithe and title been treating you?” Sam took another sip for the mulled wine, its heat permeating her body. “Well, much the same really. I mean, it was mostly just an honor of ranking, wasn't it?” “Yes, though it more or less formally inducts you into the Royal Family. Extended, of course. Many of the Guardians who acquit themselves well find a place there. If you were to ever bear children, or leave a legacy of such a nature, the honors of Privilege would guarantee their place. It also makes you more suitable for the social exhibitions amongst the nobility as well. Amelie really likes you, you know. She says you have a shrewd mind.” The Queen walked about the library, pacing slowly. “I serve as best I am able, my Queen.” Sam felt a twinge in her bladder. She hoped this wouldn't last too long, as it would do no good to have a repeat of the last week. “Though I must admit, the field of battle is somewhat more comfortable than that of Court.” Rose smiled at her. “One you should learn, however. My dear daughter has a great ordeal ahead of her in life, and she needs someone to protect her, not only from physical dangers, but from those posed by a dangerous word, or a cold rumor. She needs someone there to advise her, but the few “Ladies” who would be of any use to her are as untrustworthy as they are clever. And, of course, avoiding suitors like the plague, as she does, there is little chance of her falling into subservience anytime soon. Besides, she is a fine judge of character.” The woman stopped near the fire briefly. “And she likes you.” Samantha was glad that she was turned away from the Queen, as her blush would have made things awkward. She discreetly pressed her legs together, grimacing at her body's desire for relief. “Yes, well...She is a pleasure to serve as well. Your daughter is both beautiful and cunning. It is a honor to be of use to her.” “Indeed. Your ranking will help to protect her social health as well as her physical. The mind as well as the body. Of course, this all depends on a few things. You have potential, yes.” The Queen leaned against the chair closest to the fireplace, her shadow dancing across the floor toward Sam. “But the quality of your character is something that requires better understanding. And so my husband and I decided that we would each get to know you. He greatly desires a new mind to bounce tactics and war off of as it is. It, sadly, occupies much of his time these months, as it must.” “For myself though...Well...How are you feeling?” “Well, my liege, of course.” Sam wondered at the question and sudden change of pace. “Are you? You know, you remind me a little bit of a dear friend I had when I was a bit younger...” The story soon spiraled out, and both Samantha and the Queen conversed, chatting, exchanging stories, jokes. A servant entered and added more wood to the fire and left. The gray light outside had begun to fade into night. The Queen was witty and very beautiful. Amelie was thin, and would be her whole life, but the Queen had curves to her that few could match. Silky hair and flawless, pale skin, just barely touched with lines. Thalos, God of Wisdom and Serenity, left his feet at the corners of her eyes, a symptom of a lifetime of laughter. It was like seeing Amelie in 20 or 30 years. It was a comforting thought. “And so it goes with so many of my ladies. I deal as best I can though,” Rose said, smiling. “But how are you feeling, Guardian?” Sam's bladder was on fire, as was her body. Her pupils were practically blown, alive with lust, unfocused but omnipresent. She wasn't sure how much longer she would last, but time was definitely running out. “Well, though my duties will soon call for me. I would be more than happy to return shortly, after I have seen to them.” “Soon, dearest. It has been a distinct pleasure conversing with you. But I have one last question.” A surge in Samantha's bladder caused her to slam her legs together, barely keeping her urethra closed. “Of course, my Queen. Anything.” “How is my daughter?” “She's as happy as I can tell, my - “ “That's not what I mean, Lady Samantha. I've noticed that you shared certain...Predilections...That my daughter does.” Sam's heart slammed against her chest – no mean feat with her corset strangling her as it did – and she blushed furiously. Unbidden memories of the ceremonies a week earlier filled her mind: the helpless feeling as she lost control in the middle of the crowd, barely hidden by the heavy robes. And of course, the burned-in memory of the queen discovering her secret shame. And hiding it. Remembering the incident brought a sympathetic surge to her bladder, causing a spurt of golden liquid to escape her pussy, dampening the petticoats of her dress. “I...Ah...” “It's alright. No need to be ashamed.” “She...Is...She is wonderful, in...all...ways.” Sam's knees knocked together as she desperately held onto to her weakening bladder. The Queen took this silently for a moment. “And you enjoy her?” “Unbelievably so, my Queen.” Another wetness began to form, entirely unrelated to her desperation. Queen Rose smiled a secret smile. “But I must wonder,” she mused, tapping a slender finger to her cheek, “how much she enjoys you in return. It is my duty as her mother to ensure my daughter's happiness and success.” “What do you mean?” “Well, my dear Lady, I am in need of some assistance. You see, our conversations have been utterly entertaining. Enthralled, even. Yet...It has left little time to refresh myself.” “I think I can sympathize, my Queen.” A stray thought, an intuition at the back of Sam's mind began screaming its way to the fore. “And it has left me in such a state that I desperately require relief. In fact, I dare not move, for fear of losing all control.” It was impossible to see below the Queen's layers of dress, but Sam could easily imagine the Queen's legs rubbing together. Her breath opened up, and became a little heavier. “Of course, Your Highness. It would be an honor to serve you.” She slipped out of her seat, her bladder twinging painfully, and another spurt escaping into her petticoats. She reached the Queen and, carefully, gingerly examined the woman's dress. The Queen, for her part, stood rigidly still. Her control was amazing, though Samantha could tell she was reaching her limits. Slowly she began to remove a layer, revealing the petticoats of beneath. She gently touched the woman's corset, eliciting a brief gasp from the woman. And then went a layer of the petticoat, and another, leaving only the Queen's stockings, panties, corset and girdle. Her silhouette was beautifully illuminated in the shadow of the firelight, a tall hourglass. And her body was so warm. Sam couldn't help but touch her creamy skin. Her back... Her shoulders... Her thighs... And a magnificent ass, barely clad by the girdle, which Sam delicately removed. Each touch caused the older woman to twich, either in desperation or electric pleasure. “My Lady Samantha, I must beg that you hurry. I am at my last...Ohh.” A brief spurt of twinkling droplets graced the woman's thighs. And suddenly, Sam knew she could take no more. “I shall, mistress. But my own need is too great. Please, help me with my own clothes before I disgrace myself. Her own dress was less complex, but even as the Queen acquiesced, she moved much slower, and stiffer, than Sam had. Another spurt wet her own panties, and the Guardian could feel her control slipping. As the petticoat came off, she lost the last vestiges of her control, spurting again into her panties and again. “My Queen, I'm afraid it's too late...I can't hold it any longer...” She bent over slightly, as golden liquid rushed out of her forbidden place, pouring in a waterfall between her legs. And then she felt the Queen's hand there, massaging her pussy as the urine burst forth. The feeling was uncontrollably blissful, and soon she lost all touch with reality, lost in the feeling of the Queen controlling her ecstasy. Pee rushed out of her with a hiss, splattering the wood floor and running in rivulets down her legs. She barely noticed as a finger slipped into her soaking panties, and then another, slipping past her pee-soaked lips and fingering her rapidly. In short order, she was reduced to a shivering wreck as an orgasm wracked her. She sank into the warm, wet wooden floor, slowly regaining her wits. The Queen straddled her prone body, grinding her slightly. “I must admit, Lady Samantha, that you are quite...Enticing,” she punctuated the word with a pelvic thrust, moving the woman's hot crotch against Sam's legs. “Pleasure me. Make me glow in ecstasy, before I completely disgrace myself. I can't hold it in for much longer.” The Queen's voice went higher at the last, almost child-like. Practically in a trance, the Guardian obliged, slipping to her knees before grasping at the Queen, molesting her, caressing her. She bit into her neck, eliciting a gasp, and ran her hand through the woman's hair, reveling in its softness. But the real prize was the woman's hips and thighs, her perfectly shaped ass that that filled her hands so well. She ran her fingers inside the woman's legs, and she leaked again, a sprinkle of urine gracing the floor. When Samantha pressed lightly against the woman's stomach, she tensed and moaned, followed by a tiny fart. “Please,” gasped Rose, “I can barely hold it back...” In response, Sam moved down, and began to lick the woman through her dampened panties. The Queen bucked on her knees at the feeling, lost in it, yet tense with the effort of holding back. With a finger, she began massaging her clit, rubbing the bump, and the monarch began gasping. She was getting close, her tense muscles pulsing with a building orgasm. Rose grasped Samantha's head and held her there, pressing her mons into her face. Sam licked her hungrily, and then, Rose let out a low, almost predatory cry. Sam pulled away, still massaging the woman's clit, and the Queen fell to her knees, wracked with waves of pleasure. Her wonderful ass right in the Guardian's face, she got a perfect view as the last of the Queen's control slipped away. It began slowly – a dribble of gold erupting from the woman's crotch – that slowly grew, and grew, until a it hissed against the fabric of the Queen's panties. The Queen moaned uncontrollably, still caught up in her orgasm. Her ass tensed and flexed with each pulse, revealing her well-toned musculature. As the tail end of her orgasm spun out, she relaxed entirely, giving up any semblance of holding on. Another small fart escaped her, but then, her ass began to spread, and her hole pucker through her now soaked panties. A solid log began to emerge, tenting out her panties. As it ended, another burst of gas erupted, followed by more logs, pushing down her panties. The Queen, her face in her arms, moaned quietly as she soiled herself, “I'm having an accident, I just couldn't hold it in any more...I'm pooping my panties...” More poop forced its way out, squeezing out the sides of the woman's underwear. Her perfectly shaped ass gyrated slightly, hypnotizing Samantha as she watched the spectacle. Finally, after what seemed like an mind-numbingly erotic eternity, the woman's hole closed up, and the Queen sighed. She lifted her head just enough to mutter, “Ahh, that feels better.” Her load made an enormous bulge, a perfect contrast the woman's creamy skin. Her ass in the air, she practically beckoned for the guardian to take her once more. Sam, for her part, had all but lost her mind, and assaulted the Queen in a frenzy of lust. If this was her future...Well, she could deal with all the snobbish nobles in the world. Chapter 5: "Only strike when victory is assured. The farmer does not law low the wheat with half a stroke; thus the army does not law low their enemy with half their strength. If circumstance conspires against you, offer circumstance tea" - Military texts of Nortmund military legend Johannes Kilgore. The last sentence essentially translates to "wait out the enemy." "Madame, the news is grim," murmured Hawthorne, the sergeant of the royal train's detachment, brushed snow from his coat and cinched the tent's knots, closing the pale light out. The warm lamplight that replaced it featured the man's worried face. "Word has arrived that the 3rd Army from Hiidenburg routed two days ago. The Oslanders torched the entire city, burning a good portion of the 3rd alive. The rest have scattered. Guardian Griffiths rides, but his forces are at least several days from here." Wild, pale blonde locks of hair framed delicate yet hard face of the Knight Bachelor Samantha Greylily. She sat drinking Kafe, a mildly alcoholic stimulant from the east. The floral burn did little to stifle the chill she felt. Hiidenburg was only a few day's hard ride from Daschour, the royal family's destination. They had planned the journey for morale purposes. Things were hard in the fragile southern lands. The cold was brutal, the threat of Osland worse, and to top it off, the bandit problem had not been solved. It had been hoped that a visit from the royal family would ease some of the troubles. In Sam's opinion, it was far too risky an act for such a small gesture. And now, this. She sat forward, finishing off the Kafe in a gulp. "What are Veridis' orders?" "He is still in conference with the royal family. As per your instructions, I've already set the soldiers to striking the camp. We should be ready to go within the hour, or whenever they finish and their tent can be broken down. He has requested your presence as soon as possible." The journey was coming to an abrupt end, now that the Oslanders stalked the southern hinterland. It had only been a few weeks since her "run-in" with the Queen, and the days following it had been mostly business, with the planning of this trip. All for naught, apparently. The train would need to make for Nortmund quickly, else the Osland raiders would overtake the slow-moving caravan. "Tell him I'll be there straight away," she said, pushing her chair back. He nodded and left as the Sam stood. Her winter furs fell open for a moment to reveal the pale, toned skin on her legs. The brutal cold and clouds had all but bleached the sun from her body, leaving her almost porcelain. She shrugged the robe off and revealed her fencer's body briefly. A hard, but comely woman, she was lithe but still curved, smooth yet dotted with thin scars years old. Shivering, she went to work putting on her leather pads. The armor had some metal rivets, but in the cruel winter, the only practical armor was primarily fur and leather. Most metal plates would freeze and shatter. Strapping her sword to her side and fastening her cloak, she made her way out into the sterile white light of the snowy morning. The cold made her bladder twinge mildly, but she was far too preoccupied to let it affect her. Making her way to the pavilion tent, the guards in front of it saluted, and let her pass. Inside sat the King with the Queen at a wooden table, alongside a stern, hardened man. Gin Veridis, First Captain of the Royal Guard. Gin leaned over the table, tracing a line along a cloth map. He was speaking quietly, and with the sound of the soldiers outside breaking the camp, Sam couldn't make out the words. As befitting her station, she awaited the call of her commander. And while she did, her eyes wandered. The royal pavilion was well appointed, though still a little spartan for the road. Rugs lined the boarded floor, and a small firepit heated, the smoke and vapor escaping into a hole built into the top. As her eye traveled, she noticed off to the side, reading quietly, there was the red-haired goddess, the Princess Amelie. Her breath caught, and her body heat ticked up. The mere sight of the girl was nearly enough to set Sam aflame. Worst of all, the girl knew it. Though the girl made a pretense at continuing to read, a sly smile crept up her lips, and her eyes briefly flashed to the Guardian. The Princess was lounging in a silky dress - the tent being warm enough to wear normal clothing, and it clung to the young girl's body in a most insidious way. As she watched, the girl slid her leg down the divan she was laying on, parting the legs and allowing it to ride up, revealing dark blue stockings to milky thighs and eventually the girl's... "Sirrah Greylily, step forward." Gin's voice was even, but the command was implacable, and her mind immediately snapped to attention. Shaking off Amelie's lustful spell, Samantha moved to the table. "My liege," she said, bowing to the King, followed by "your Highness," and another bow. Finally, she saluted Veridis. "Captain, what do you require?" "I trust Hawthorne has alerted you to the situation?" he asked, not waiting for a response. "The decision has been made to make haste back to Nortmund. The Family shall be separated to reduce the risk of travel during the return, and we shall be leaving within the hour. The Queen will ride the carriage, while the King shall return with myself and the Guardians. The men will break the camp and return on their own time. They are aware of the risks, and happy to protect our liege. You," he said, pausing briefly, "shall ride with the Princess. First west, to Ferrus, then back north to home." "Why the split, sir? That seems dangerous." She shifted forward, looking at the map. Various markers had been placed down, and she realized as Gin responded how dire their situation was. "Aye, but it's a sight better than our alternative. As of this moment, we stand in the disputed territory of Nortmund and Osland. The barbarians march on this road as we speak, and we cannot risk the entire family being captured." She stood for a moment, and let the situation sink in, before taking a deep breath, and nodding. "So shall it be done. Anything else?" "One more thing. This," he said, pulling a discreet, plain wooden box from below the table, "Must reach Nortmund with the Princess. And the package must remain intact. It is an artefact. A dangerous one at that. I'm sure I don't need to go into details about proper care and handling of it, yes?" Her world tilted slightly, and she shied away from the box. Artefacts were occult tools, objects of cultists and witches. Why it was there was beyond her comprehension, and it was only her steel will that surpassed her trepidation, and took the package. "It...It shall be done, Captain. My liege, my life is Amelie's." His voice intoned gently, and she realized how rarely the King had ever spoken to her. Tension drew the words tight, but confidence radiated from him. "Of that, I am certain, Guardian. Go with the Gods, and we shall see you Home soon." The King nodded at her, and as quick as that, she was dismissed. Gin went back to discussing tactical details with her liege, and the box sat quietly on the edge of the table. Was it her imagination, or did it practically beckon her? She shook her head briefly, and set her mind to the task at hand. She collected the box and turned. Amelie was already up, with a heavy fur coat on, looking beautiful and mischievous and scared at the same time. She guessed that the princess had already been made aware before Sam had entered. As she made her way over, the girl spoke to her. "I've already taken the liberty of having horses and supplies set for us. The servants have already packed my things. As soon as you're ready, we can leave." Despite the gravitas of the situation, the Guardian had to admire Amelie's strength. There was no trembling or weakness for royalty. In the back of her head, the girl's figure etched itself into her mind. The flowing cloth beneath her coat almost accentuating the her forbidden places. "Would you care for some help getting things together?" Sam kept her face carefully neutral as she nodded, though she longed to touch her, if only for a moment. Instead, she moved to hold the flap of the tent open for the girl, and they left into the pale white light of day. Outside, Hawthorne awaited her. "Madame." "Sergeant. Take care of the Queen. If anyone can, it will be you." A thin line of emotion tinged her words. What was that? Fear? "Yes, Madame. I heard that you're riding for Ferrus, yes?" "It seems that way. Why?" "I know of a man there, in the event you find yourself in a need that can't be paid off with your crest. His name is Thatcher. Caldwell Thatcher. He's not exactly...Reputable. But he is loyal to the crown. Of a sorts." Hawthorne shifted uncomfortably. Sam knew what he meant - A rake of some sort. Ferrus was a made trade town; likely the man was a gambler or smuggler or so. "You might not be able to trust him with your purse, but I'd put even my own life in his hands, if it came down to it. I have hopes that you'll have the easiest journey of any of us. But there's been enough surprises today that I worry for that." "I appreciate the concern, but it won't be needed," she said with a confidence she didn't really feel. "We will be home in no time, and when we are, the first round's on me." He nodded, and saluted as they made their way back to her tent. As an officer of the court, she received her own private, albeit small, tent. That said, as she was used to traveling light, it still held plenty of room. Her small trunk was all that was there, aside from the cot. Amelie followed her in, and closed the flap behind her. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried, Samantha. This has never happened before, and I'm surprised we got caught like this." The Princess moved past her and sat on the bed, sliding her coat off. "It does seem a little odd. The entire trip, and then this happening. I wouldn't have thought that Gin would let the royalty out of the palace, let alone this far south." "My father practically had to drag him here kicking and screaming himself. He argued that fear in this time would cause more damage than any bodily harm that could be put upon him or the family. A harsh sentiment, though I do agree." "There won't be much of a kingdom to lead though if he d-" "Don't say that!" Amelie glared at her briefly, before standing and kneeling to open Sam's trunk, laying the Guardian's belongings on the cot. "I'm sorry. This has me on edge too." She took stepped next to the Princess, watching the girl go through her things. It wouldn't have been the first time, so she had no real qualms about it. "I'd been thinking about that a bit. Why don't we start our trip off with good feelings and good omens?" The girl looked over her shoulder with a sly look at the Guardian, while she stuck her hips out just slightly, causing the cloth of her dress to drape itself over her perfectly formed ass. "What do you mean - wait, here, now? We don't really...Oh gods. I've missed that" Amelie's thin hand snaked itself along the inside of Samantha's thighs. "We have a minute or two, at least. We'll have to keep it quiet and quick," said Amelie through an evil grin, "but that's nothing new." She pressed her ass against Sam's leg and crotch, causing her to moan quietly. In almost a whisper, the girl said, "Besides, I have to gooooo..." To accentuate it, she squeezed her thighs against the Guardian. Unable to help herself, the Guardian slid a hand against the girl's hip bone, pulling her against the woman. Before she realized what she was doing, the other hand had already snaked around the girl's chest, caressing her breast, moving up to her throat. A heavy draw of breath came from the girl, and she hiked her skirt up slowly, still mostly pressed against Sam. Creamy legs were exposed, followed by the girl's beautiful ass, practically glowing in the pale lanternlight. She noted that the girl wasn't wearing undergarments. Sam's mind wandered briefly at the girl's pantiless groin, resting on the pillows in the main tent. With her one hand holding the girl against her, the other slid down, ever so slowly, caressing each part of the Princess' skin, reveling in her soft pubic mound with its light fuzz. Her fingers felt the girl's pussy, and it was already slick. The merest touch was electric to Amelie, who gasped before sidling herself up, squatting down slightly. She held herself against the cot. Her forbidden places were on display, enticing the Guardian. She kneeled before her Princess, eyes glued to the scene before her. An innate sensuality caused the girl to rock her hips slightly, moving her ass slowly in a hypnotic circle. "I've had to go all morning, and haven't had a chance to release my water since I awoke. I almost couldn't hold it in the pavilion. I squirted a few times on the pillows. I don't think I can hold it any longer..." Sam was transfixed. The words from the girl echoed in her head, but her eyes were trapped on the visage in front of her. And just like that, she saw it happen. At first, a tiny trickle escaped her soft pussy lips. The girl tensed briefly, trying to hold it, and then a squirt, tracing its way down her thigh. All of a sudden, the floodgates opened, and she started peeing in earnest, the pale yellow liquid hissing in the quiet of the tent. The outside world fell away as the Guardian watched. Bewitched, her hand reached out, touching the girl's soft lips. And in response, unable to contain herself, the girl pressed herself against Sam's hand, still peeing. Oh gods...Touching her felt so good. How did it feel so good? She slid a finger inside the girl as her stream died down, and the girl pressed her body against Sam. Winding hands flailed against the Guardian's body, each touch electric, uncontrollable. It's been so long. How does it feel so... And then she heard it. A whisper-thin hum, like...Like nothing she'd ever heard before. Amelie, noticing Sam had paused, murmured half in curiosity and half in frustration, "Samantha, what's the matter?" "I...I'm not sure. Do you hear..." And then she pinpointed the sound. It was coming from the box. The artefact's box. Inside it, illuminated from the cracks in the lid, there was a deep-violet glow. "My lady, there is witchcraft afoot." --- At first, there was only the hum. A drone, a croon, a beckoning and a warning. Pale and severe, an elegant whip of strength and beauty, the Knight Bachelor Samantha Greylily stood transfixed as the box called to her. Beside her stood a picture of majestic beauty in bloom. The Princess Amelie Gregorian, heir to the throne of the kingdom known as Nortmund, leaned against the knight, taut in the echo of lust. Curls, golden and red, cascaded across the younger woman’s face. Her slender body held itself against the strength of her Guardian, her sex enveloping Samantha’s hand. A trail of golden liquid snaked down her thighs, the girl’s fragrant scent carrying through her urine. The moment felt frozen in time. What could only have been a few seconds stretched into eternity as Samantha’s awareness focused on and was lost in the deepening hum of the artefact a few feet away. A wooden box, latched but shaking, glowed violet in its cracks and hinges. Somehow, some way, Samantha knew it was responding to the Princess’s groan of pleasure. And despite a warning spoken aloud a lifetime ago, both women were moved like marionettes in a theater of action. Far away from her conscious thought, Samantha’s slender, calloused hand moved, slipping between Amelie’s thighs, sliding inside her, rewarding the Guardian with wide, hungry eyes and a guttural moan. In a voice that was Amelie’s yet not, she whispered, “Yess…sss……ss. Moooore.” And Samantha could do naught but obey her liege. Though her sane mind futilely cried out, Samantha pulled the other woman close, increasing the intensity of her fingers, feeling the girl’s slickness. Feeling her body pulling, her breath rhythmically increasing. Their eyes locked, drowned in lust and a kind of primal fear both, she brought the girl closer and closer. And the hum grew to be more, to envelop them as the background noise of the universe. And then the girl came. A sudden buckling, a squirt of the girl’s fluids soaking Samantha’s hands, and then…A pulse. The box lid clattered open, latch broken, and the artefact within pulsed brilliantly and deeply, vibrating their souls. Samantha’s vision bleached out in a rich purple hue, and she thought no more. Riding as a passenger in her own body, she watched the princess hungrily slide the knight’s leggings down, pressing her face against the woman’s thighs, kissing her way to Samantha’s forbidden place. The way she inhaled the knight’s scent was intoxicating for them both. The way the girl’s tongue touched the woman’s clit felt like electricity. The latter had to steady herself against the table as pleasure began to wrack her. A first orgasm hit her like a blow, and she grabbed the girl’s hair, pushing her deeper between her legs. The Princess was only too eager to grant more benedictions. It went on for an amount of time that could have been minutes, hours, or years. Finally, Samantha held the panting Amelie still for a moment, and finished the ritual. Her vulva’s lips, inches from the younger girl’s face, suddenly erupted as hot pee shot out of her. Suddenly desperate and unable to control herself, Samantha emptied her bladder violently into the girl’s face and mouth. Golden piss coursed out of her, and the girl swallowed it as though dying of thirst. The way it smelled on her felt so much like it was always meant to be. As Amelie drank, she snuck her hands into Samantha, both her vulva and ass, pulling the woman with her own body, until finally as the knight’s stream died down, a final, exultant orgasm rocked her, and she almost fell. The artefact’s glow retreated, and its hold over them lessened. The all-consuming drone and color left Samantha’s consciousness. She saw the same happen in Amelie’s eyes. After a moment, an eternity, the girl whispered, “What…What happened?” Still breathing heavily, the Guardian righted herself, gently pushing the Princess away. “I’m not sure. The artefact seemed to – Did you feel it too?” Her clothes soaked and skin flushed, Amelie nodded and stood. “It controlled us. But I still loved it. I loved you,” she whispered the last, fiercely, fearfully. “It’s okay, it’s okay. This was all okay.” She wasn’t sure how to process the girl’s confession of love, and instead focused on the artefact. She cupped her face and kissed it deeply, before rising and moving to the artefact’s container. Beneath the furred robes, Samantha’s pale, toned thighs glistened with wetness. “You should probably change for the journey ahead – it will be bitter beyond the tent.” “Ye…Yes,” murmured Amelie, a slight amount of disappointment and hurt flashing across her face. As the girl changed, Samantha retrieving from the box a slender, simple, golden rod. It appeared to be pure gold, at least as far as she could tell, and perfectly smooth. Hesitantly, she touched it, and was relieved when nothing happened. At least, nothing bad. As Samantha’s hand closed over the rod, she felt as though it knew her. Knew and…Approved? The Guardian didn’t know how that could be possible, yet she was certain of the knowledge. She slid the rod into a pocket within her vest, where it sat, heavy. She had a feeling it would always make itself known. From there, the two prepared in quiet for a long journey ahead. The road, Samantha knew, would be unknown and treacherous. She risked an occasional glance back at the girl, found herself embarrassed to see her eyes locked against hers. Could the girl tell? Could she tell that Samantha – despite the futility and forbidden fact of it – loved her too?
  2. I figure I should draw more. Not only that, but I should draw better. I'll probably take request later, for now I should just focus on drawing more. Well it's been a while, so here's two I did last night. I already warned NSFW, but everyone who looks at my stuff should be prepared for anything. I'm making it a goal to draw more period, but especially what I do best. Already got more coming, there will be plenty of colored and shaded works, I just needed to loosen up a bit first. EDIT: Before It's too late to edit I forgot to mention. I do lots of furry and anthro stuff, but also pony is a favorite of mine. It's all fantasy porn, I don't go around showing this crap to little kids so I don't care. Not afraid of diaper or males, but I don't usually draw them. I tagged yuri because I plan on it.
  3. With the turn of the new year I figured it was time to start working on writing again. I haven't actually finished a single piece of work in quite a while (over a year) and now that interactive stories are taking off I wanted to try my own hand at one. This story takes place in my own universe, a land where magic is rare and dark forces stalk the world. Players will be taking control of Franziska Audenveil, an adventurer who has traveled to the eastern country of Serkaine hoping to free the island of Oldengrad from a mysterious and deadly curse. To get us started, there are three backgrounds available for Franziska that will help shape her history and abilities, as well as how she is perceived in the world. So let's begin! And I apologize in advance if my writing seems a bit underwhelming...like I said: it's been a long while since I did this. I would also like to thank a few people from this site who have encouraged me to take the plunge and try putting my writings and world back out there. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Backgrounds Select a background for Franziska. Her chosen background will shape her history and abilities in combat. Travelling Healer You were in Orientia during the great plague. You stood at the grand hospital of Vetalli as sickness ran rampant through the city, all the while risking your own life to ensure the lives of others. You are no stranger to disease or disaster. Your knowledge of healing magic and alchemy were not learned in the confines of a fancy academy. They were learned first-hand through methods that make even the toughest men shudder. Now, you wander the free lands, putting your years of medical knowledge to good use, aiding the sick and the poor. Abilities Healing Surge: You call upon the divine of Mercy to cure an ally of injuries, ailments, or stress. Inflict Illness: You manipulate your own magic, inflicting the symptoms of a deadly disease upon an enemy. Medicine Kit: Using a combination of ingredients and magical energy, you can create healing potions, salves, or tonics. Experienced Healer: Your years of training in medicine and psychology allow you to diagnose illnesses or mental issues and cure minor injuries such as a cut or scrape without proper supplies. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Monster Hunter You have hunted the undead, rogue spirits and even demons. You are a force to be reckoned with, combining a deadly duo of melee and magic. Your childhood was spent under the banner of the Selkava, the monster hunters of the east. Countless hours spent out in the freezing cold as you hoped to hone your swordsmanship, as well as mastering powerful blood magic. You departed the Selkava on the eve of your twelfth year of birth, heading out into the unknown lands, seeking out new evils and challenges. Abilities Blood barrier: You call upon your blood magic, sacrificing your own life force to create a magical barrier to protect yourself and your allies. Blood chain: You call upon your blood magic, using your own blood and magic to form a magical chain that pulls in enemies. Demon Gaze: You call upon your blood magic, seeking out the presence of any being that possesses blood magic. Monster Specialist: You can identify most types of demons, aberrations or horrors and the means to deal with them. You can also craft special bombs and potions to aid in combat. In addition your experience with dark forces makes you more resistant to stress or mental breakdowns. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Uncharted Witch You have studied the outer realms, learning their powers and secrets for your own gain. You spent your early years on the run, a rogue mage hunted relentlessly by the Magic Arcanum. Your family refused to be bound to their rules, taking refuge with a group of mages known as the uncharted. It was with these mages that you studied the outer realms and trained yourself in forbidden magic, learning to manipulate the elements, the minds of your foes, and even the world around you. Now you wander the world as a drifter, seeking out more forbidden magic. Abilities Ethereal Walk: You warp the world around you, allowing you or an ally to walk outside of your plane and become invincible for a short time. Elemental Rune: You call upon the elements, summoning a fire/water/wind/earth rune near you. The rune will explode when something steps over it or can be detonated by it’s caster. Control Creature: You summon your spirit into a nearby creature, dominating it’s mind and taking control of it. This ability will not work on strong creatures and exposure to dark magic or corruption puts you at risk of mental issues. Magical Font: Your knowledge and connection to the arcane realms allows you to cast an additional ability once. You are also capable of wielding a fireball/ice blast/wind strike/earth smash in your off-hand
  4. Greetings, once more! And welcome to the third iteration of Faust's interactive Stories! Faust felt it would be best to dive back into this kind of thing with a renewed vigor, and some balance from things he's learned from the previous two interactives...As they were both quite experimental. As such, welcome to Faust's Interactive Stories 3! Promising more adventures, more lewdities, and more stories! Rules, and mild changes coming up shortly.... ================================================================================================================================================== [Worlds] [This is the selection for what world the interactive story will take place in. As you'll see, some places return, while others are brand new] Another Note: (For those looking for lewdity, in a scholastic setting. Days in this world will follow a brief morning (Depending on the character), Followed by Schooltimes. [In several segments], and end a short bit after returning from school.) Family Featurettes: (Will usually involve home life with a selected character's family, and occasionally a small vacation! Certain characters will get more out of this than others. Tend to have an average Morning, an average day, and an average night. (Subject to Vacationing)) Faust's Holiday Fun: (As expected, these days are selected to celebrate a holiday with specified characters. Christmas Parties, Thanksgiving Dinners, and the like. A mixture of lewdity, and casual home life. Tend to have a segment last longer than the others, depending on the Holiday) Magic Academy's Pleasure District: (A setting inside of the Magical Academy story, for those who wish to be adventurous with some lewdity! Details may or may not carry over to the actual Magic Academy Interactive. Have an average day segment, and a lengthy night segment, with a nearly-non-existent morning) Beach Adventures: (A setting returning from the old one. Sun, Sand, and fun...without a bathroom for miles. A fun place to relax with up to 5 other characters! An early morning optional, but a Hefty daytime segment, with a very brief night) Author's Choice: (Similar to a Blind-Draw, This setting leaves it up to the Author to pick out a world. May be old, or new, times vary. If a world strikes a chord, it may even become selectable for future segments.) Faust's Town Adventures: (A segment with an average time all around, with the selected individuals, going around town doing various normal things. Meant for enjoying things on a day off from the Scholastic system.) Private Bedroom: (For that special vulgar scene with characters of your choosing. Very restrictive.....Must have 5 Hearts of affection to invite someone here.) AuthorFaust's Fateful One-Shots: (For when you just want to request a special scene. If enough votes pick it up, it'll be written... Or if the Author likes it enough. Running times Vary considerably.) ???: (Locked!! Do 2 runs as Faust to unlock) ???: (Locked!! Do A run as a Magical Academy Student to unlock) Movie Adventures: (Go to the Movies with a character of your choice! Drinks and popcorn are provided! Watch a scene picked out by either the Commenters, or Author, and wait for the magic to happen. Runtimes of movies will vary, but usually put your companion in Dire need.) =============================================================================================================================================== [Character Selection:] (This is where you'll select who you play as during said stories. While options are a bit different than before, a few notable details are to be read...) Faustus Necromonium: [Male] [A seemingly average boy with short forest green hair, and an unimpressive build.. Faust is the Familiar figure of the stories, and constant target of various happenstances. One with a healthy taste for the lewd, but kind enough to help out others when he can. If he could get out from under Saril's Thumb, he might...] (Able to be used in any plot except Magic Academy Pleasure District) Yuno Gasai: [Female] [The shapely, twintailed pinkette, with a cutesy manner of speaking, and a distressing past...Everyone knows who Yuno is, and it seems a wide variety of people have their eyes on her. However, her eyes are only on.....] (Will rarely involve herself in lewdity with anyone but Faust. Stories with her may center more around Faust (Or Fauxst) more than others. Cannot be used in Magic Academy Pleasure District.) Wynn Tatsumaki: [Female] [A girl with a modest figure, and long green hair in a ponytail. With an overwhelmingly embarrassing family, and a stern attitude, one would be forgiven for seeing her as cold. However, beneath her stern exterior hides a girl with a firm penchant for holding...] (A bit harder to coerce into inciting lewdity in....But, far more likely to remain focused when at high bladder amounts. Cannot be used in Magic Academy Pleasure district.) Eoria Karakuri: [Female] [A girl with long silver hair, a modest figure, and a nearly unquenchable lust for science.....and a barely concealed naughty side. Co-Creator of O.M.O.R.A., and always working on something new...) (Runs with Eoria may contain an experimental item to utilize. Cannot be used for Magic Academy's pleasure district.) Saiga Giriko: [Female] [A girl with crimson hair, a sizable figure, and an apt hand for mechanics. Co-Creator of O.M.O.R.A., and a self-proclaimed domme, Saiga is one of the few not into the idea of wetting herself, and is much less....open with her lusts than some others... (Lust fills slower as Saiga. Does not enjoy wetting herself. Cannot be used for Magic Academy's pleasure district. Can temporarily modify O.M.O.R.A. in her runs.) Chiwa Harusaki: [Female] [A petite girl with orange hair, tied into ear-like twintails, and a taste for the lewd. What she lacks in curves, she more than makes up for in enthusiasm. (Cannot be used for Magic Academy's Pleasure District. Can carry 3 items in a run, instead of 2. Is also more proficient in using items, leading to a smaller cooldown...) Juuni Neptunia: [Female] [A petite girl with short purple hair, and a usually perky-nature... Who tends to run her mouth a bit more than she would like. Most certainly does not enjoy the affections of her 'Brother' <Actually Cousin> Faustus in an impure manner. Tends to overdo it sometimes.....] (Cannot be used in the Magic Academy's Pleasure district. Bladder meter fills a bit faster as Juuni..) Arthoria Faustus: [Male] [5th Ranked at the Magical Academy, and assistant to Saril's Special Show: Hold it! Omo-Idol. Runs the Black-Light District of Magical Academy. Probably needs a drink.] (Cannot be used for Another Note. May come with a variety of 'Spells.' May uncover new Magic Academy Characters to command...) Yonyu Bengane: [Female] (102nd ranked at Magic Academy, and the unofficial Librarian. A modest figure, concealed by many different garments, and a pair of glasses hide her true intentions, whatever they might be. And yet, something about her seems.... Ayano: [Female] (100th Ranked at Magic Academy, and the most prominent of the Black-Light students. Has a bit of a...dangerous disposition about her, and a venomous side underneath an innocent schoolgirl Facade...) (Does not play nice with other girls. Options may be a bit crueler than expected, with some exceptions. Cannot be used for Family Featurettes...) Lyna Hikari: [Female] (A shapely girl with silver hair, who's spent most of her life in a church dedicated to complete chastity and purity......And was transferred to a normal school by a certain Supernatural Hunter's efforts. Very inexperienced, and innocent, but eager to make new friends...) [Cannot be used in Magical Academy Pleasure District. More sensitive to lust than others...] ???: [More to be unlocked] ============================================================================================================================================= [Ratings:] (These are mostly the same.....with a few, minor changes...) Plot: Now almost Strictly for story purposes. Lewdity is to an absolute minimum, and stories with this will contain very little naughty fun. (Stories may be shorter than actual plotlines) Lewd: A nice baseline for stories, with a smidgen of lewdity, but rarely things too inappropriate. Accidents are more likely, while aftermath can usually be dealt with off-screen.... And the lightest of touching, while still keeping to plots. Naughty: A bit lewder than lewd, this rating incites more accidents, and some more intimate scenarioes...without going into complete, full-on smut. One can expect a bit more skinship, but no actual, on-screen intercourse...... Though, one may still have lewd, naughty releases... Vulgar: A vulgar setting, where touching, wetting, and other vulgar activities are rather mundane, and expected. One can properly perform vulgar acts in this plotline, without fade-outs, or other censors. Adult Fantasy: A plotline more akin to a smutty film. Contrived coincidences to maximize the amount of Vulgarity are commonplace, and the more absurd sort of situations may occur, leading to maximum Vulgarity... ================================================================================================================================================= Items: (This subject remains similar, with characters allowed to utilize 2 items per story. (Except when otherwise indicated.), and may have Rating restrictions. Items cooldowns may vary...) [Item List!] Omo-Weekly Magazine: A naughty magazine, featuring several girls in...Desperate, or wet Scenes. Useful for tension relief, or Libido rising. [Naughty or higher rating] (2 Story Cooldown) Diuretic: A Diuretic, that can be put into any drink, and amp up someone's frequency of piddle urges. Will rust all but the strongest of bladders. [Lewd or Higher] (1 Story Cooldown) Aphrodisiac: Makes even the most prudish individuals needy for Lewd release. [Naughty or Higher] [3 Story Cooldown] Laxative: Makes even the most strong stomachs crumble, and bottoms quiver. Can be slipped into a drink to distract another person, or to amp up your own desperation..But why would you wanna do that? [Naughty or Higher Rating required.] (3 story Cooldown] Soft Taco: NOT the same as the ones from the school. Will make your rump need to expel gas at least once a time frame, or risk something far worse [Lewd or Higher rating.] [2 Story Cooldown] Stomach Pills: Can Calm even the most vicious of tummy Troubles.....But won't remove any need you have. Only keep it from getting Worse [3 Story Cooldown] Diaper: For when you just can't be bothered to find a toilet....This one-use diaper will contain an accident...But, it risks IMMENSE embarrassment if discovered wearing it. [Naughty or Higher. 4 Story Cooldown.] Desperation Visor: Something that goes over the eyes..and lets you examine the bladder levels of any passing people you focus on long enough. May make you look a bit silly though. [Lewd or Higher. 2 Story Cooldown.] Spare panties: An extra pair of garments, when you've had an accident..but didn't bring something to carry them in! Come in a variety of styles...with small effects for each one. [2 Story Cooldown.] Bottle of [Water]: A seemingly innocuous bottle of water....[is it really water?]. While it provides refreshment, perhaps the bottle could be used afterward for something. [No Cooldown. May sometimes incite random effects.] "Toy": A toy meant to incite lust in an individual, but certainly not appropriate for children.. [Naughty or Higher] (3 Story Cooldown.) Author's Helping Hand: May be used when a Decision is brought up once per story, to get a guide of what effects a decision may have. [5 Story Cooldown] Paradoxical Blessing: A blessing that will Randomize all of your conditions! Results may vary. Overuse may lead to accidental summoning...[6 Story cooldown] [Others to Come] =============================================================================================================================================== Affections Meters: (This is a Segment to determine a character's Affection for one of the male leads! Higher Affections may lead to certain scenes easier. For the sake of comfort, only 3 heart and above will be listed..] Faustus Necromonium: 4 Hearts: Yuno Gasai, Youmu Konpaku, Lillica Plumb 3 Hearts: Flandmir Treepes, Juuni Neptunia Arthoria Faustus: 4 Hearts: ???, ??? 3 Hearts: Ayano, Yonyu Bengane ???: ??? ================================================================================================================================================= [Achievements!] (Due to Popular Demand, This feature will be returning from the first interactive. However, they are mostly cosmetic this time, save for a few certain ones... [KA-CHING] (Hat Trick): Have Faust's Interactives Reach it's 3rd Iteration. [Future Achievements:] [Naming Scheme]: ??? [The Obvious]: ??? [I wanna go on an Adventure!]: ??? [What could possibly go Wrong?]: ??? [Oh.]: ??? [Prepared!]: ??? [I need a freaking Drink]: ??? [They DO Exist!]: ??? [I Get that Reference!]: ??? [Holy...!]: ??? [Futility]: ??? [But that's Forbidden Love!]: ??? [You were Warned]: ??? [Faust's Head Hurts]: ??? [The Wonders of Technology]: ??? [The Spot]: ??? [You're Going to Hell]: ??? [Last one There Wins]: ??? [Ya'll Need Jesus]: ??? [Tone Shift!]:??? [Dumbass]: ??? [Smartass]: ??? [Thank you, may I have another?]: ??? [I've made a Mistake]: ??? [REFERENCES!]: ??? [Pun-ishment]: ??? [Unexpected]: ??? [Wuvvy-Duvvy]: ??? [This Sucks]: ??? [What a Mess]: ??? [Unlimited Salt Works]: ??? [Taboo]: ??? [Primal Urges]: ??? [That's not how it works!]: ??? [Oh Thank God]: ??? [OH COME ON]: ??? [Why?]: ??? [Y tho?]: ??? [Okay.]: ??? [I love you]: ??? [And Many More!] ================================================================================================================================================== Q&A: [A Short Question and Answer Section, Answering Questions that Faust expected to have] Q: Is Faust's Interactive 2 now a Dead Forum? A: Faust does not expect to update it anymore. However, those who made requests will likely still see their stories written. Particularly Blooper's, which will be part of a different thread entirely... Q: Why is [World Listed] Not an available Option? A: As before, Faust has decided to revamp a little, and will add worlds as they are discovered, or unlocked. If things progress well, or too long without something that people request, Faust may put up some unlock conditions for them to fill out. Q: Are our plots from before Un-done? Do we have to re-do things? A: As before, most things are the same as before. Your ranks with certain girls has not changed, and most things are the same.... With a few select changes, and things that would incite an achievement if you point them out... Q: Is there going to be a Bounty Board This time? A: Perhaps. But for now, let's just get our feet wet in the story, and see from there. Q: Can we unlock more playable characters? A: Yes, you can. More female and male characters, through certain actions.... Q: Can we submit playmates again? A: Yes. Faust will prepare a format right after the Q&A Q: [Not actually a question, but a harsh criticism, or a hateful comment] A: Faust apologizes for bothering you, and requests you avoid stories that do not meet your level of merit. Faust sincerely hopes you have a nicer day. Q: Is [Character name] old enough to be doing these kind of things? I'm calling the police! A: Faust insists every character in his stories are of the legal age for you to see them in that kind of a manner, unless explicitly stated. Faust's characters are not the selves portrayed in their medias as they are, but merely variants of the legal consenting age for wherever your viewing location is. Q: When's the next update? A: SoonTM ==================================================================================================================================================== Playmate Submission Guidelines: [For when a character provided doesn't match up with something you want, or simply if you desire someone in specific. Merely submit, and follow this format to have them added. Warning: Character may not be as prominent as a previously listed one, without actively seeking them out.....] Character Name: [What is the name of the character you are Submitting?] Character Appearance: [What does this character look like? Feel free to use images, or descriptions. Details of note are Hair, eyes, Bust, Rump, and Relative Height.] Bladder Size: [Does this character have a Prominent, an Average, or a small bladder? Tummy Capacity: [Does this character have Firm control over her tummy troubles? write [NA] if you don't want them having tummy trouble] Lust: [How easily is this character provoked into Vulgarity?] (Easily, Average, or Slowly?] Extra: [Any Extra Details about this character you care to share?] Personality: [Be as Detailed as you like. Author may have to improvise if one isn't thorough enough..] Location: [Are you a Magic Academy Student, or a Normal Student?] Sexuality: [Do you like Guys, Girls, or Both?] (As a Note, only female playmates are allowed to be submitted right now.] [Faust thanks you all for Reading over the years, and Faust hopes this interactive Goes on just as much as the last ones have.]
  5. n o b o d y

    Hanahira!

    Version zip

    1,017 downloads

    This is a short visual novel, but it's not from the "A Kiss for the Petals" series. Unfortunately this novel was being translated to English and was about 35% complete, but it was never finished! Note: This novel is in Japanese, i don't think you need to change your system locale though!

    Free

  6. WriterForce6XV

    diapers Weapons with Hearts

    Yo, guys and gals! I promised I would release this story on this website as soon as I was done with the next chapter on this thread, so here's the first chapter! I plan to release all of the old installments at once here before going for a simultaneous release on this site, ABDLstoryforum, and Deviant Art of the newest chapter. So that being said, expect me to release these pretty rapid fire for the next hour or so, there's quite a few installments which need to be posted lol. Anyway, I won't hold you up. Go ahead and get reading... but prepare yourself. Edginess inbound. Weapons with Hearts Prologue Part One: Project Uninhibited “Drain the tank on number 735. She has a practice match with numbers 528, 360 and 146 in an hour.”The girl whose number had been called for shuddered involuntarily. The event where her lungs switched from extracting the oxygen out of the water that inhabited them back to breathing and processing air was violently unpleasant. The man sitting at the computer a few yards in front of her had ordered for her tank to be drained, so she knew that she would have to experience that event again in the immediate future.The emotionless twenty-four-year-old blond man had spoken in a quiet voice from the other side of the room, but even with her whole body submerged in water and barricaded by a glass encasing, she’d had no trouble hearing what he had to say. If she were using her ears to physically listen to him, it might have posed a challenge. But she’d picked up on the words because she had been monitoring his brain waves when he was forming the sentence in his mind. Distance was the only thing that could have made his thoughts harder to discern, and it would take much more than this to pose a challenge.The Asian woman in her thirties to the right of the girl in the tank nodded in response to her boss’s command. She didn’t even bother responding to him verbally before pulling the lever down that would begin the draining process – as an immigrant who’d only been in the country a short time, her spoken English was limited at best. Though this man had never mistreated her, many of the other employees around the base would mock her accent, or deliberately make her say words that she couldn’t pronounce properly and then laugh or smile condescendingly when she inevitably messed up. In her mind, the less she spoke here, the better off she would be.The girl in the tank had read through this woman’s thoughts and memories before a small number of times, usually to distract herself from the experiences that she knew awaited her when the tank drained. Originally, she’d done it to see what country she came from – the girl’s parents were also Asian immigrants, or so she’d been told by her foster parents whenever she asked about them. But this woman hailed from South Korea, whereas the girl’s parents were both Japanese. She found she had very little common ground with this woman once she started looking for it, and they didn’t even really look alike.The water in the tank dipped below her forehead, the air feeling chilly on the exposed skin that wasn’t being clung to by her black hair which normally came down to her mid-back. They always kept the water calibrated to match the exact temperature of the subject’s skin to make it easier for them to fall asleep in it, but the air in the room was always very cold for the opposite reason.It was supposed to be an automatic process, where the subject would lose consciousness when fully submerged in water of a similar temperature to their body and would only wake up when they detected a temperature change. But that process no longer affected her in particular – she’d electrically manipulated her brain so that she never slept unless she personally induced it as soon as she’d figured out how to do it precisely enough that she didn’t affect anything else in her brain throughout the process.The water level fell below her eyes. If they had been open, she knew the sudden difference in temperature and pressure would have really bothered her, enough that her tear ducts would have started working on overdrive. But she’d had them closed the whole time she’d been submerged specifically to prevent that unpleasant feeling.Desperate to delay the impending vile sensation for even a few moments longer, the girl bent her knees and re-submerged her whole head into the ever lowering water. Since her lungs and stomach were both filled with only liquid, she sank to the gray, grated bottom of the tank much faster than a normal human with air in those organs would have. But then, a normal person with air in their lungs would have floated to the top of the tank when it was filling with water because the oxygen gave them buoyancy and then drowned when it filled to capacity and their breath expired. Looking at it that way, the comparison seemed meaningless to her – because the other end of the comparison wouldn’t have even survived until the draining order.The girl curled up into a ball and hunched her head over her knees, getting as low to the ground as she could. She knew that, at best, she only got a few extra seconds from the gesture, and that she’d still have to go through the awful experience again in mere moments regardless, but as far as she was concerned, the later into the draining process it happened, the better. If it had started when the water level was almost as high as her entire body… she helplessly shuddered again at the disgusting thought.In an effort to distract herself again, the girl thought back to the command given that put her in this position – or more specifically, the explanation he gave right after the order. He said that she would be fighting against three other subjects at once: numbers 528, 360 and 146. The way he’d phrased it made it sound like they would all be teaming up against her.She’d fought all of them separately before in other ‘practice matches,’ but never all of them at once. She knew from personal experience that only one of them was really a threat individually… but the three of them together might be a little more difficult. The whole point of the exercise would likely be to help the three of them work on their teamwork – their abilities did have an impressive level of synergy, so it made sense for the people in charge to want them working together.When the girl felt the air once again make contact with the top of her head, she knew her time was almost up. In a few moments, the experience she’d avoided as long as possible would be upon her. And this time, there was nothing she could do to put it off any longer – she just had to deal with it now. And if the past three months were anything to judge by, she would be given next to no time to recover from it before they sent her to do the next thing on their agenda for her.It began when the water dipped below her nose and the water in her sinuses drained. The moment the inside of her nostrils were exposed to the frigid air being pumped into the tank from the room outside it, they began to tingle for a moment. It was a sensory experience that would tell her brain it was time to expel all the water in her lungs and stomach. She could feel the all too familiar intense waves of nausea growing stronger and stronger, coming closer to overtaking her by the second.But she wouldn’t let her body win just yet. The water level in the tank was barely below her chest at this point – if she were to give in and vomit up all the contents of her lungs and stomach now, her stomach acid would be thrown into the water and would probably get all over her. Even though she knew she’d be taken to a shower right after this, the thought of having bile on her skin for even a few moments, no matter how diluted, was just too disgusting for her to bear.So she fought back against the biological urges which she had been modified to have using the only weapon she possessed. Using the same asset she used to read the minds of the other people in the room, she clamped down on the electrical signals her brain was sending to her body, preventing them from causing any more havoc for the few seconds it took for the rest of the water to drain from the tank.Once her whole body felt the cold breeze of the air-conditioned room, she released her grip on her brain, and allowed her body’s genetic programming to take over. She violently retched, the mix of water and bile in her stomach and lungs spilling out of her mouth as if it were a running faucet. The pale, clear yellow liquid cascaded through the gap between her two feet, splashing against the grate beneath them but ultimately falling through it into the piping below.Even after there was no water left to expel, she continued to gag and cough uncontrollably for a good long while. The experience had felt just as vile and repulsive as it always did. And as per the usual, some of the diluted stomach acid had splashed off the grate and onto her feet and lower legs. It wasn’t much, but she still made a mental note to give them special attention in the shower that she knew would come right after this. “Good. Now lower the glass casing. Our supervisor should be on his way to take her already.”The man sitting at the computer said this in an equally quiet tone to that of his first command. Like with every command he ever gave, he offered an explanation for it, because in his mind, orders were generally easier to follow if you knew the reason why they needed to be carried out. He always seemed to be somewhat muted and generally never displayed outward emotion, but the girl knew that it was just the way he’d chosen to cope with the human rights abuses he had to watch and facilitate on a daily basis. When he’d chosen to work for the government, he’d never wanted to be a part of a project like this one. But because he now knew about its existence, he couldn’t quit or transfer out to a different department, so he’d chosen to deal with his unwanted position by numbing his emotions as much as he possibly could.In fact, quite a few of the people working here had a similar mindset, and chose to cope with their situations in a similar way. The girl known to them as number 735 bore the likes of them no ill will – they didn’t ask to be put in this position, and none of them liked it, so there was no reason to harbor any resentment towards them. They knew what they were doing was wrong, and they did, to varying levels, regret the things they were forced to do to keep their jobs and, by extension, their freedom. That was enough for her.But the ‘supervisor’ he mentioned… that man was different. The supervisors of this project knew full well what they were getting into when they transferred into their current positions, and they typically felt no remorse for the horrendous acts that they watched and enforced. They had little to no moral objection to the abductions, the genetic experiments, the ‘practice matches’ where they made teenagers fight with the intent to kill each other, or any of the other wrongdoings that went on in this facility.In a few seconds, after the glass of the tank was fully lowered, this team’s supervisor would probably come strolling in with a gentle smile on his face that, combined with his thoughts, showed how completely vile and disingenuous he really was. He would offer her a hand to help her stand up, a towel for the trip to the nearby shower room, and he would ask her what she wanted to eat for her meal before the match.And no matter how much she hated the false kindness he displayed and the darker thoughts she read in his mind, all she could really do was just accept the fake gestures and continue to go along with the fate she’d been unfortunate enough to become trapped in. Because the moment they detected a hint of resistance from her, she knew they would decide she was not worth the risk of keeping around… and they would order her dead.And after the things they’d done to her, there was no place left on earth where she could escape to that wouldn’t fear, hate and rise up against the inhuman powers that she commanded. So yeah, dark shit, huh? It's gonna get worse in the main story eventually, trust me. Anyway, I'm gonna keep the author notes relatively short for the time being while we catch up with the forum I originally posted this thing on and Deviant Art, so this is where I'll leave you. Expect the rest of the chapters to drop in the next hour or so until we're caught up, at which point I'll be releasing the newest chapter on that forum, DA and here simultaneously. Ciao!
  7. Yo, so it's finally time to get my version of EoS off the ground! I decided to be lazy and essentially just reuse a story chapter I wrote several months back instead of making something all new, for the simple reason that everything about the female Kirito that I wanted to change from Darksyn's version had already been incorporated on some level into that chapter and I just didn't feel like rewriting it all since this version isn't old enough to suck. So I just took the version from that and modified it to fit its new setting. This story as a whole will be my highly personalized version of the premise that Darksyn is using to write his version. My version of this story is probably going to be absolutely nothing like his version, but I thought it would be instructive to tell you all the main ways that it will differ aside from having a different story. First off, while Darksyn's and mine will both have yuri, the pairings will be different. Darksyn's will be Kiriko/Asuna, whereas mine will be a yuri harem centered around my own completely differently written Kiriko. Second, Darksyn's will have a wide variety of fetish content, both diapered and not, while mine will find a way to put literally every main female lead in diapers relatively quickly after they're introduced. Third, Darksyn's Kiriko will have a DEX/AGI build, while mine will have a STR/AGI hybrid build (also, mine is going to be a solo player who eventually becomes more overpowered than canon Kirito, but you probably won't think of her as a Sue by the time she is). Fourth and finally, the stat scaling for player and monster attributes will, as far as I can tell, be completely different (in my game, no player will start out with more than ten in any stat, and even getting above five in a stat at level one is rare). That's about it. There's not gonna be any fetish content for a few chapters, fair warning. I tend to prefer to take the time to make my readers care about the characters and the setting before delving into that stuff. The bathroom needs system will still be present in the story before the fetish content, however. With everything I wanted to say out of the way, read on! Era of Survival: Rise of the Empress Chapter One: A Little Project “Big sis, I'm going out for kendo practice!” The call came from the other side of my bedroom door. I had expected something like this – I'd heard the footsteps as the speaker approached my room loud and clear. I knew that my sister, Suguha, was probably waiting there for any response I could give. Even a simple, one-word reply would have been enough to satisfy her. Despite this, I didn't say a word or even make a sound. My feet, which I had been dragging from side to side across my stained wooden floor before she approached, had come to a complete halt. Consequently, my black leather computer chair stopped swiveling around, matching my complete stillness and silence to the letter. The door was locked, as it usually was when I was in my room, so she couldn't just come in whenever she felt like it. Her only way of checking on me was to come up to the door and listen for my voice or sounds of movement. And because she was even more painfully straightforward than I was, she didn't even think of not announcing her presence so obviously, so she called out each time, giving me every chance I needed to react like this. Knowing all of these things and taking full advantage of them, I remained as quiet and still as humanly possible in order to wait her out. I didn't want her to know I was even awake. And since it was Sunday, the idea that I could still be sleeping in was conceivable, even at such a late time as twelve-fifty in the afternoon. Eventually, my plan worked. After a grand total of ten seconds of waiting, she began speaking again. “I prepared lunch for you. It's in the fridge whenever you get hungry. In case you're asleep, I'll text you about it in a bit. I'll be hanging out with the club after practice, so I won't be back to log into that game you recommended until tonight. See you then, sis…” I listened to the sound of the footsteps walking away from my room with an ounce of guilt. It wasn't really my style to just give her the silent treatment like this. My reasons for avoiding my sister weren't even her fault – in fact, they had nothing to do with her at all. The only connection they had was that all of my anger, acrimony, and outright hatred was currently directed at her mother… In other words, my aunt. Suguha and I weren't really siblings, but I still thought of her as one because we were very close growing up. Her mother, on the other hand, could barely hide her resentment of me for most of my life, and I'd picked up on it before I was even toilet trained. By this point, I was pretty sure it was because I reminded her of her sister – my real mom – whom I knew was my grandfather's favorite child. A fact which I knew because the old geezer never shut up about it or how I was the spitting image of my mom. And due to a string of events at school over the past year, we were having a difference of opinions over our living arrangements. I wanted to move somewhere else, to basically run away from some people I'd accidentally alienated, I did admit, and well… she didn't like that idea. In all fairness, she had the stronger argument on her side, but the way she was handling the problem didn't exactly scream parental figure of the year. “I already bailed your sorry ass out of one school system, kid. I'm not doing it again for a reason that isn't even half as valid like this.” My current personal pick for the next cover model of Punchable Face Magazine actually said that right to my face just the night before. Was I supposed to thank her for doing what any sensible parent would have done in light of the circumstances? Even right after she blatantly told me my current problems weren't important enough to warrant similar actions? "Go to hell, Midori," I muttered under my breath, making sure to be quiet in case my sister was still in the house. What a joke. That jealous hussy just wanted to watch me suffer in a way that my real mom, who was dynamic, outgoing and didn't struggle to be social or keep her friends, never did. The only thing I seemed to inherit from my mother was her physique, from the well developed figure to the incredibly short height. My personality, intelligence and thought patterns? They basically came straight from my dad with no alterations, as much as I hated it most of the time. This was why I didn't want to talk to Suguha at the moment. I couldn't let it slip that I was fighting with her mom. Or even worse, let it slip that her mom was my aunt, and that we were actually cousins, which I had tactfully kept hidden from her for the past five years. So until my emotions cooled down a little, I had decided to hold off on speaking with my sister as much as possible. BZZ-BZZ This noise, coupled with a subtle shaking feeling coming from the inside pocket of my dark gray denim jacket, interrupted my thoughts to notify me that I'd received an email. A single buzz would have been a text, and three of them would have been an app notification, but the presence of only two, along with the current time, told me exactly what to expect. Rather than get out my phone, I swung my computer chair around to face my desk, where three large, high-resolution monitors, both blackened due to inactivity, stood next to each other in a way that made them look like the three obtusely angled sides of a trapezoid in a geometry problem. Under the desk, there was another surface, attached to the one above it with a sliding mechanism. It was currently rolled under the desk, hiding what I kept there. I slid it out, and a keyboard and computer mouse appeared over my bare frightfully pale legs, still kept slender yet toned from my kendo days and the regular indoor weight training routine I’d kept even after I quit the sport. Since I almost never went outside except to go home, to school, or to certain stores, my skin looked significantly closer to that of a white American than that of a Japanese girl. In fact, my own family members all had considerably darker skin than I did, and they weren't even super huge on outdoor exercise or outdoor activity in general. When boys around me at school thought I couldn't hear, many of them described it as a charm point… and coupled with the other such points they'd discuss, I usually had to fight back a shudder of revulsion and the urge to slap them across the face. Knowing my bizarrely and disproportionately high physical strength, I could very possibly snap their necks by accident if I actually went through with a slap like that. Shaking my head to clear it of such morbid thoughts, I shifted the mouse, and all three monitors lit up, showing three different screens. The cursor moved to the one on the far right, which showed my work email inbox. It had just updated to show the new mail I'd received. The sender was just the person I'd been expecting to hear from around this point. I clicked on it, and it popped up in a little miniature window on the side of the screen. Sender: Kayaba-Sensei Subject: A Quick Notification I trust that your copy of EoS came safely in the mail. I wanted to inform you that upon successfully logging in for the first time, your account will be that of a normal player. Your developer status has been suspended to make it fair on the other players. That was all it said. I'd been corresponding with him since shortly before summer vacation, and to date, he'd never sent a message longer than a mid-sized paragraph. He was very brief and to the point, always conveying everything he needed to and nothing more. The honorific I used to refer to him, sensei, was purely sarcastic. He was hands down the smartest person I'd ever met, but as much as I'd tried to learn from him about his craft, the man had never taught me a damn thing I didn't already know. Sometimes I got the distinct impression that he avoided telling me anything new just to screw with me, but he was more the serious type, so it didn't really add up. And besides, though he never directly taught me anything, he sure didn’t keep me from learning things on his own, like the programming language he literally invented from scratch for the game he’d just called EoS. Said game, the acronym of which stood for Era of Survival, was a little project he'd been working on for quite some time. It was an MMORPG, and the first of its kind on the particular hardware it used. Back around the time summer vacation was about to start, Kayaba scouted me as a beta tester. He found me through my blog, where I built and sold custom high end computers, often with modified operating systems to fit the recipient, and had quite the reputation for being one of the best and most reasonably priced in my field throughout all of Japan. I also did computer repairs and upgrades, reviewed new parts shortly after they came out, and gave advice to people looking to build one themselves, which only added to my popularity. Still, my reputation aside, it never really added up how he managed to find me. After all, I was a computer nerd, albeit a multifaceted and successful one, and he was a revolutionary quantum physicist who happened to have an interest in the gaming industry for reasons I never understood. Realistically speaking, our paths shouldn't have normally crossed. Yet he contacted me through my blog's dedicated email, asking to meet up, and after asking me a few really odd questions, he offered to let me take the last slot of EoS' closed beta, which would take place over summer vacation. As was probably obvious, I accepted, and he gave me a developer account to allow me to see all of the under-the-hood functions of the game. I also had a direct contact line to the programming staff in case I noticed anything that needed adjusting, which I had admittedly used a few times to iron out some particularly big problems I’d found. To be perfectly honest, I was glad that he had decided to take my developer account away. Considering I still vividly remembered everything I'd learned from it, suspending it wouldn't exactly remove my unfair advantage from a knowledge standpoint, but at the very least, I'd have an equal standing with the rest of the players. I didn't like being special in ways I could avoid it, so having a developer account had always bugged me during the test period. Deciding that by this point, there was no way that my sister was still in the house, I clicked the reply button, entered a new subject header, and began typing out my response. I kept it short and to the point, as in tone with that of the message he sent to me as I could muster. Subject: Too late for fairness Considering my memory is eidetic, the damage has kind of been done in terms of giving me an unfair advantage. But I'm still grateful for the gesture, since I'd like to appear as normal as possible, and having a purple "Dev" next to my player name wouldn't exactly make that easy. The game got here just fine, by the way. You did send it first class, after all. I've already got the cartridge in my Nerve Gear, which I set up for use again yesterday, so at this point, I'm just waiting for the hour to turn so I can play. After finishing, I hit send, and the message composition window disappeared. It occurred to me that most people in my shoes probably would have been total kiss-asses. However, it never really occurred to me to treat him as someone special, even if he most certainly was such. Because at the end of the day, whatever his reasoning was, he was the one who sought me out to play his game, not the other way around. So at the very least, this meant he held me in some regard from the start. I got his attention by doing what I normally did, so I never saw any reason to change my behavior. Finished with my correspondence for the moment, my eyes turned to the web page open on my far left monitor. It was a live countdown to EoS’ launch time, down to the thousandth of a second. It was telling me I had about six minutes to kill before the server went online – enough time to take care of the remaining preparations. First on the list, I shifted my gaze to the monitor in the middle, which had my blog’s front page loaded. I wanted to let my followers know I’d be playing the game all day, and therefore that I wouldn’t receive their emails until nighttime. I moved my mouse over to the text box which said “New Blog Entry Here,” then clicked on it and immediately began to type. Just a heads up to all followers and customers, both current and potential: I’ll be playing Era of Survival all day since it launches today, so all emails you send will be responded to after I log off late tonight. Thanks for your patience and understanding! And to those of you whom I convinced to get one of the hundred thousand first release EoS copies: I’ll see you in the game! I’ll be going by the same name I do on this blog for easy identification. And just a heads up: if even a single one of you fuckers steals my username’s normal spelling, you will be entitled to one brutal in game death a day, courtesy of yours truly! See you all online! My message to my followers complete, I quickly hit send and swiveled the chair around to face my room, takins survey of the task that lay before me. The floor wouldn't exactly count as spotless, but it was very well organized. Anything that took up space on the floor was properly packaged or put away – nothing was just lying around messily. However, when my eyes moved about a meter up, I found a completely different picture before me. In the center of the bedroom, I had three card tables set up. Not a single one of them had any spot with even ten centimeters of free space in any direction. Almost all of the surface area was taken up by ongoing projects – at least five half built computers stood out like mountainous islands among everything else strewn about the tables, each surrounded by an amalgam of parts that still needed to be physically installed. I probably didn't have time to finish any of them or make any room, so I turned to the right, coming face to face with my bed, the entrance to my room, and my dark violet walls that I got painted shortly after moving in. I had wanted to paint them black or dark gray, but my aunt vetoed both of those, telling me that having a room those colors would only make my depression worse, which she said would defeat the whole purpose of moving to a new house. So I settled for a very deep purple, since I'd been told all my life that my anomalous bluish gray eyes looked violet in the right lighting. My bedroom door was a bit atypical for a Japanese household, but not incredibly rare – rather than having a sliding door, I had a European-styled wooden door, with a bronze-colored metal knob that could lock from the inside. This was an absolute necessity from my standpoint, and it was honestly the reason we chose this house specifically – its doors locked and if they were locked, you couldn't just force them open. My queen-sized bed had a memory foam mattress that I didn't have when we bought the house. Instead, I bought it a few months later, as the first purchase I made in full with my own earnings from the computer business I'd started. However, at this point, one could not see the mattress directly, because of the presence of plain navy blue sheets, leopard skin-patterned blankets that I'd bought on a whim, and three fully built laptops that were currently situated on the bed. The two at the foot, which I kept there with no worries since my feet didn't even reach that far down even when I stretched out, were ones I'd built for the purpose of selling that I still needed to modify the operating systems of. The third laptop, currently charging on my extremely fluffy pillow, was what I currently used for running my blog from the bed when I didn’t want to get up, making purchases, and the occasional gaming session in bed. This was what needed to move – in order to play the game that was about to go online, I'd need to lie down in bed and make use of the pillow currently occupied by my portable computer. I stood up, walking over to my bed and grabbing my laptop with both hands. Setting it on the floor for the moment, I then turned to my large, whitish, oak wood nightstand, my eyes zeroing in on one particular device sitting next to the lamp. It was a streamlined helmet colored a dark blue, with an emerald green visor in front to cover one's eyes and a long, blue cord stretching out of the back end, the color of which matched the helmet. That cord was already plugged into the wall – I'd set it up the night before. I grabbed the helmet and set it on my pillow, the pillowcase of which matched the leopard print of my blanket. I made sure to be as careful as humanly possible when setting it down and moving the cord – if I somehow accidentally damaged it at this stage, I wouldn't be able to play EoS for days, possibly weeks. These things were sold out in stores all across the nation. After making sure everything was perfectly fine, I grabbed my laptop from the floor and set it in the spot on my nightstand where the helmet had once been, with notably less care than I'd used just before. That damn computer was durable as hell, so I didn't need to worry about it nearly as much. I cast another glance to the live countdown. Three minutes left before I could start playing. As much as I hated adding to the stereotype, I had to admit that the passage of time seemed excruciatingly slow now that I was paying close attention to it. I didn't want to be even a second late in logging in to make sure I got to use my username instead of some random troll, so I couldn't really leave my room, and there was nothing left to do inside it that wouldn't take more time than I had. With nothing left to do, I sat down on my bed, deciding to just get ready a few minutes early. I swung my bare legs onto the bed, absently noting that I'd gone the entire day so far without changing or putting on any clothes aside from my jacket, which was more of a comfort than anything else. I'd just kept wearing what I'd slept in, like usual – this time, a dark gray shirt and a set of black lace underwear that I'd received from an asshole family member as my fourteenth birthday present the month before. While the message of “get laid” that such a gift sent was irredeemably insensitive and somewhat cruel to me, I'd taken to wearing them anyway, because no matter how much I hated that idiot for giving them to me, they were certainly very comfortable, and they were also my favorite color. The fact that they were comfy was weird in and of itself, because they were lace, and therefore not supposed to be as comfortable as what I normally wore. I'd done a little researching shortly after receiving them and I'd found that the brand my family member had chosen was actually really high end, and that it typically made underwear with both fashion and comfort in mind. Knowing I'd probably just killed another thirty seconds, I made a grab for the helmet on my pillow. Turning it a little as it rose through the air, I gently slid it on my head, then shifted around a little on the bed before inevitably lying down. I didn't even bother getting under the covers – though winter was quickly approaching, I still didn't feel cold. Everyone in my family seemed to be remarkably temperature insensitive, to the point that changes in temperature that weren't at least five degrees would go completely unnoticed unless we constantly monitored the thermostat. As I lay there waiting, my eyes wandered around the visor of the helmet I wore. There were two displays, both very small, showing across the whole thing. Those displays would not be visible at all unless one was wearing the helmet – they appeared on the visor using the same technology that EoS ran on. It directly displayed the images to one's brain as pre-interpreted visual data, so there was no need for the displays to actually be on the visor. On the far right, in the upper corner, there was a battery icon. Mine indicated that it was both fully charged and plugged in, the latter detail being shown by a lightning bolt in the middle of the battery. Which made sense, considering it had been charging all night, and even before that, I hadn't used the thing since EoS’ beta, where I always kept it fully charged and ready for action. The other display, situated in the upper right corner, told the current time in text about the size of the battery icon. It only had hours and minutes, no seconds, and it was a twenty-four hour clock, rather than a twelve hour one. As I looked at it, the readout said 12:59. All this super slow-paced thinking had worked marvelously for killing time. Although how I actually managed the feat of slowing down my normally light speed thought processes was a bit of a mystery. I knew I could do it on command, but I'd never figured out how it worked. I had less than a minute to go. This was the most excited I'd felt in months – back in the beta, I'd been positively addicted to EoS, and I'd spent more time playing it than I did anything else, to the point that I'd forgone meals and sleep regularly to keep going. Even though I wouldn't be able to put the same amount of time into it now, during the school year and with my computer business not on hold, I still planned to play as much as possible for someone with my schedule. At long last, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the clock turned to 13:00. Filled with joy and anticipation, as soon as the numbers on the readout changed, I uttered a single phrase, just two English words. The words that, unbeknownst to me, would be the catalyst of an event that would change my life forever. “Link start!” Well, what do you think? Personally I'm of the thought that for an installment that was mostly written seven months ago, it holds up with my current stuff pretty decently. But you guys are the judge of that, not me! Be sure to let me know how I did. If you're one of the people who has also read the original version of this chapter over on FFN (I'm looking at you, Shirou), be sure to tell me if you think the changes to this version made it better or worse, too! I'm kind of on the fence about whether I want to continue using the story this first chapter came from as a base for the next chapter as well. See, I'd have to rework a lot more of the next chapter in order to make it work correctly, because the original version was set in a death game version of Gun Gale Online, and as such was futuristic rather than old-fashioned. It'd take almost as much effort to rework it as it would to simply write the next chapter from scratch... but if I went with using the existing chapter as a base, you'd get to see scenes from Klein's perspective. What do you think I should do? One way or another, I'll see you next time!
  8. dreamsofdoom

    Yuri Omarashi?

    Hello! I've been searching everywhere for some yuri omarashi. Yuri is hard to find as is, if anyone knows of any please let me know where to watch. Thank you so much (/.\)
  9. Kirito

    34376248 P11

    From the album: 恥ずかしくないよ

    © http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=34376248

  10. Version

    300 downloads

    This is a really cute short non-h Touhou doujin I came across tonight. This is skeptically tagged with "Yuri", but it's non-h, so there's not any "action." Still very cute though.

    Free

  11. Version zip

    458 downloads

    I have a teddy bear i do that to sometimes! ^-^ Note: This is in Japanese.

    Free

  12. Version zip

    1,368 downloads

    WARNING: This series contains small amounts of diaper messing. View at your own discretion. Check out "Virtual Diaper Enema Friend" https://omorashi.org...r-enema-friend/ & "Virtual Female Doctor Diaper Ward" https://omorashi.org...or-diaper-ward/

    Free

  13. Miles255

    2900dbe52e4ca3470b2787b8f3a879cc.jpeg

    I hope her parents can get a refund on that costume.....
  14. OmoCommando

    TooSleepyToThinkUpProperFileName.jpeg

    From the album: OmoCom's General Omo Artwork

    Commission by @Charlie Kirby
  15. This will mostly likely be a 1 shot -- Both students third years After graduating from their second year together at the all-girl's academy, ano and nena decided that they had feelings for each other. However, they decided not to act on them in this moment. Ano is a blond-haired forgetful "nerd" who is now in the third year with Nena, the sleepy and shy one of the two. Ano was the more shy one, around the two, though. She just didn't know how to express her needs. When the mid-terms of their 3rd year came around, Ano was feeling very nervous as she had forgotten her study materials, like usual. Nena, being the more responsible one of the two, promised to lend Ano materials in a study session in one of the rentable-rooms in the other building. Their academy was built like a castle, and had 3 different buildings. In one of them, there was rooms in which you could rent out for summer camp and stay overnight and such. Nena lived in a small apartment alone which at the moment has been undergoing some maintenance. In the meantime, she rented out one of the school's summer camp rooms. Ano was on her way to the building when she noticed a slight twinge in her bladder. Ano was used to this feeling by now, since she had a small bladder and always had to borrow things, but she tried not to mind it and sneak out to go. Ano was now over the wide gym track which consisted of melancholic green grass that sent you into the air when you jumped on it. It was so tempting for her to go here, but it was after school now, and the track team was just on the other side of the school. So instead of going, she went up to the large black building and met Nena inside. "Hey. My room's on floor 2, I'll show you there." Nena joyfully and peacefully says as she grabs her friend's small and soft hand. "O-okay.." Ano shyly says as she is dragged along by the usually drowsy girl. As Nena led Ano up to their room, Ano felt another twinge on her bladder and let out a little moan. "A-ah!!" Ano quietly says as she holds her crotch. "Hm?" Nena notices Ano and Ano quickly takes her hand off her crotch and blushes. Nena smirks as they walk into the room. They studied for about 2 hours before Ano came out and said "Uh, Nena, Where's the bathroom around here?" Nena then responded with "You should know that, it's your 3rd year here! If you have to go so bad then just go." Nena says laying her pencil down to take a sip of tea. "W-what do you mean?" Ano says with her fingers now inside of her undies. "I mean, it's right around the corner. Just walk there. You'll be fine." Nena says with a micheavious look. "A-ahh! I can't!" Ano shrimped to the ground as she lost the ability to move without wetting herself. "Aye, aye, what am I gonna do with you?" Nena says letting out a yawn. She then picks up the skinny blond and starts walking down the hallway. This was until, she felt a warmth trickling down her. "Hey, are you peeing on me?" Nena quickly says, but then realizes that Ano is completely asleep. "Aah.." With the feeling of Ano just letting it out all over her, she realized her own need, and decided to have some fun with it. After Ano finished going, there was a large light yellow urine puddle on the floor. Nena wakes her up, and she nibbles on Nena's cute school outfit as she opens her eyes. "Mmhm. W-whhaaahhh?" Ano realizes as she feels the wet spot on her crotch and skirt. "Don't worry about that now, but I have to go and I'm about to just burst right here!" Nena says as she crosses her legs together in distress. "Aah!!" Ano didn't wanna make the puddle larger, Ano stripped down Nena's panties and let the warm, strong, pee stream sink onto her tongue. "Mwwaaah-g-good girl.." Nena says in pleasure as she pets the girl's long, straight hair. "Aaghh.. What are we gonna do about this mess?" Ano sighs as she pulls up Nena's panties, for which most of the pee had been collected in her mouth, but there was still a big mess on the floor. "Well, my uniform's already dirty-so.." Nena strips so that she's just wearing her cute black and pink bra and undies, and then mopped the floor with her uniform. Ano was wet too, so she decided to do the same. She had on a light blue-striped bra and panties. They then walked back into their room and put their clothes in a pile. Ano wanted to show Nena a movie for the broadcasting club, so she inserted a disc into her computer. They laid back on Nena's futon and cuddled as they did have feelings for each other. Afterwards, Ano asked if she could stay over, and Nena agreed. They talked about school and their relationship, and decided to be girlfriends. Besides, can't have something happening to the two of them like this when they're going in different directions. -- Hope you guys enjoyed! I had some issues with describing some things since it's been a while since I've played this, and I haven't exactly studied up on all the environments. There isn't a route for Ano x nena in game, but I totally ship them! And this is omo, so a little pee play won't hurt anyone
  16. Version

    1,040 downloads

    WARNING: This series contains heavy amounts of diaper messing. View at your own discretion. This is part 3 of the OM☆HM series. Click here for part 2. Japanese scans are 4218x6048 English scans are 1920x2750

    Free

  17. So, a while back I decided to write something tuned to the style of the Salem Witch Trials. I'm hoping that this doesn't break the site's guidelines against adult-rated content, but seeing as I CAN'T FIND THEM ANYWHERE, I'll have to just wing it and hope this story doesn't break the rules. As a forewarning, this story is focused around a homosexual female couple. Detailed lesbian sex scenes are imminent. You should only stick with this if you are willing to invest yourself into a long and detailed story. Word count: 8,832 (Buckle in for a long one) Chapter One: The Trial Two naked bodies pressed together in full embrace, partaking in the most forbidden and unholy of method. In public, unwed, and- most damning of all- of the same sex. Both of these heathens had a seam between their legs, and neither a cock, yet both women bump and grind as though they had. One vagina pressed harshly against the other, sliding the moist flesh until both bloomed pink. The voices of both tried in vain to remain in silence, giving the occasional moan or whimper that even a child couldn’t mistake as pain or torment. No, both of these maidens were clearly enjoying their perverse actions- a most criminalizing tell. Had either gotten naught but suffering from this event, that one might survive the opinions of their friends, family and the Lord’s judgement. But instead, both reveled in their crime, and so both would be doomed. They had both snuck out of their beds in order to be here tonight, hiding away in the upper loft of a barn right on the outskirts of their village. They did this together on every night that they both decided felt safe. The village of Granville MA, circa 1694 AD, had little more than a set of twenty houses, two farms, a few more buildings meant to serve for storage and production, and a single Church set right in the middle. Everything was separated by thick foliage and forest, a dirt road connected the houses and farms to the Church but interconnectivity was difficult. Most people had to pass by the Church before they could visit a neighbor, or else tear up their shoes and clothes to take a shortcut. The two learning each other in the barn now, had both passed that Church earlier tonight, being reminded of whose will they broke before ignoring such warning and being with each other regardless. Amity, the younger of the pair, had grown into marrying age a few years ago, but she often refused the advances of the other young men of Granville, most usually citing petty reasons such as ‘he didn’t look like he could chop enough firewood’ or ‘I don’t want to consummate our marriage during such a hot summer.’ In truth, she never felt any attraction to the opposite sex, much to the mystified annoyance of those whom tried to woo her; for she held the greatest grace, charm and beauty of any woman that any man had ever known. Even the married men often cite the inability to compare her with their own wives in their youth. The question of why she could not feel a desire to be with a man one day solved itself when she personally met the Clergyman’s daughter. On the day she met Selah, she was immediately smitten with the desire reserved only for a Husband. Selah, the one still thrusting her hips into Amity’s groin, had lived under the watchful eye of her Father, the Clergyman of Granville’s Church. He spoke, listened and very closely watched under the authority of the Lord himself, keeping the activity and wishes of the villagers in staunch check. To commit a sin while he was aware was to grant an insult upon him as much as his Savior. His preferred method was that if someone were to take an eye, take their head in kind. So when she felt the spark of interest upon meeting Amity, the loveliest woman that she had seen up close, she quickly moved to stomp out that spark inside her heart. With paper shoes it seemed, as she didn’t think about that meeting again until two sunrises later. And then she couldn’t stop. When she found Amity invading all of her thoughts, Selah found images of perversion joining them. If her face could evoke such a will to sin, what could her body do? If her reputation for turning away men was true, what would she think of a woman like herself? She desperately tried to turn her thoughts to the Lord, pray for respite from the lust, but even during Church her face would become flustered and red from both her own traitorous thoughts and God’s lack of mercy. As both young ladies continued pleasuring each other, slit to slit with their legs crossed over, the day that they had confessed to one another flashed through their memories. Selah had been trying to work up the courage to confess her sins, but decided against it as the only person who could listen was her Father. Even if she took a confessional in secrecy, he would recognize his own daughter’s voice without effort. She dared not admit the betrayal of her thoughts willing her to be with another woman to such a strict man. Amity had been chased into the Church by one of her more persistent suitors, one whom had become irate with her many refusals over the couple of years that she had denied the men that wanted her hand in marriage. Yet even he would keep his desires in check in the house of the Lord, and one supervised by such a zealous Clergyman. When Amity entered the Church, Selah had been sweeping the wooden floor down the middle of the aisle. Both immediately looked at each other. Both blushed slightly when they realized whom they were looking at. The suitor entered close behind his desired wife to be, but appeared much calmer and pretended that he was there strictly to make a prayer and get back to work. After he left, Amity and Selah were alone together. Sitting upon a pew, Amity watched the Clergyman’s daughter work and clean for some time until Selah could no longer keep her thoughts entertained mentally and, as the more inexperienced when dealing with her emotions, sat down next to the younger. She couldn’t come up with an excuse for why when asked. Things progressed quickly. Both talked to each other until the topic of recent thoughts and desires came up, at which point neither could summon the courage to lie while sitting in the Church, both speaking in whispers for the sake of possible eavesdroppers. Amity, tired as she was of the men that lusted for her, was the first to suggest that both women make something of their newfound desires. Selah, however, expressed that she wanted nothing more than to uphold God’s Law and banish the thoughts that had corrupted her waking hours, insisting that she was merely succumbing to jealousy that her lesser attractiveness and dedication to the Lord (as well as the “protection” of her Father) had kept the young men of Granville away from her and attached to Amity. Amity herself was distraught by this result, believing Selah’s words until a few days later when the latter’s resolve was finally broken, ironically so by her own denial of the truth. She had lamented the entire time from when she had refused Amity’s request, demanding of herself that she accept the offer of companionship. It became so desperate that she had begun damning God in her heart and mind. There could be no worse sin than to damn the Lord, right? So she chose what she believed to be the lesser of two evils and finally relented. That night was their first together. They hid away in the bleak darkness and sheltered in the loft of this same barn, spending more hours than they dared to risk on intimate talking, discussing their lives, experiences, childhoods, wants and needs, what they saw in each other, what they wanted for the future. And in the end, they departed with a kiss. The following week, Amity came to join the clergy in all of their activities, if only to be closer to Selah. She joined every prayer, sat next to the icon of her affection at every opportunity, and made sure that they shared a pew during each preaching session. Their second night was at the end of that week, both sneaking out to meet at that barn again. The pair spent the evening and some of the morning speaking again, but took it a step further. They kissed, and soon after felt the desires that the Lord kept reserved for married men and women. They wanted to see each other, beneath their clothes. Both were hesitant at first, believing that they were about to reveal that which was reserved exclusively for the sight of a husband, but they also knew that by hiding away and having the intimate touch of a kiss with each other, they had already sinned in the eyes of the Lord. They couldn’t go back as easily as they could go forward. And so, they started to disrobe. Their thick garments proved as cumbersome and difficult to remove as always, but Amity was the first to get down to her skivvies. Pale moonlight streamed in through the hay hatch of the barn, illuminating the young woman’s seemingly perfect frame, highlighting all of the curves that the thin cloth clung to. If she didn’t know better, Selah would have sworn that she could see through the pantaloons and nightshirt. Eventually those came off as well, and the Clergywoman was stunned. Were she a man, she felt she may have simply passed out from Amity’s physical beauty. And by the grace of God, she was the first to witness it. It was as though a well-designed carving of all of the desires of a lustful man had come to life, a red-haired young lady with a soft, round face, clear green eyes that seemed to reflect the world, thin shoulders that simply screamed of femininity, a perky pair of breasts that fit perfectly in human hands while hanging firmly to her chest, her waist curved inward slightly before rounding out at her hips, which took a perfect curve down to the thigh. And between those thighs lay the most precious part, the place that even a husband should not get to see more than once a day. Amity’s vagina was a delicate, one might even say fragile, little cleft sitting underneath a soft wisp of red hair, framed perfectly by her thin inner thighs that left a small gap of open space. A thin fluid seemed to be seeping from it, something that neither woman seemed to understand. In Selah’s mind, this was a woman blessed with true beauty, yet here she was wasting that beauty on another woman instead of blessing her future husband with it. Selah realized it was her turn to finish undressing. In the face of such outstanding beauty, she froze up for a moment, becoming truly jealous of Amity’s body, but she overcame that feeling with the knowledge that she would be leaving the younger woman on the spot, as she was already naked. She couldn’t simply let her be the only one. Pulling off her own trousers and undershirt, the Clergywoman came to stand before Amity in her own nakedness. She had long brown hair that usually stood tied up in a bun and headdress, but in truth it went down to her shoulders, her face was a bit more pointed and gaunt, but her piercing eyes had a light brown tint that almost seemed to glow even in the darkness of the barn. Her shoulders were slightly broader than what would be considered normal for most women her age, but her breasts stood larger than Amity’s, even if they hung a bit lower because of the size. Her hips went down in a straight line, not curving in and not curving out, while her thighs stood out as a bit thick despite all of her attempts to keep fit when she had the time. Between them lay Selah’s vagina, petite and, similarly to Amity’s, untouched, though the difference lay in the fact that it was harder to see thanks to a thicker bush of hair and thicker thighs leaving no space between them. Most men would consider her beautiful, but before Amity, she felt inferior and self-conscious. Those feelings vanished when the younger lady made a move to kiss her again. Their second night ended shortly after, they had both resolved to look at and watch each other’s bodies, but not touch. They had enough respect for themselves, one another, their families and their Lord to not go that far. Yet. On their third night time affair, they could hardly keep their hands off of each other. Fear of the Lord’s judgement had practically vanished, and this became the first time they’d touch, poke, prod and break their virginity, at least in the sense that they’d never had a truly sexual encounter. This would continue for the next couple of months, a once-a-week meeting in the barn that would result in ever-increasing romantic submission, giving into their base desires over staying strong for the Lord and their respective families, risking banishment or execution as much as eternal damnation. For they had fallen in love, and would not be swayed away from each other. Even so, they couldn’t simply leave Granville, as they loved their families almost as much as they loved one another. To run away and elope would be a heartbreaking insult, a betrayal over all that had been given. So they stayed, and worked to keep their relationship a secret for as long as they possibly could. That secret remained for a time, but eventually it was a mix of fate and choice that revealed it. As autumn began, the Clergyman held a prayer that called for Fertility, citing Biblical verses that regarded the Lord’s commands to be fruitful and prosperous. This particular prayer session inspired four of the oldest men that had yet to be wed, the oldest of whom was a mere five years older than Amity, to make a stubborn bid to gain the hand of the most beautiful maiden in Granville. They all immediately seeked her out and began competing with each other in impressing the young woman. As she had been reputed to be the one that would refuse all proposals, they all doubled their efforts in a bid to convince her, more so since there was more competition for it than the village had ever seen. Initially believing that she would merely have to be patient, smile and nod, and come up with various excuses to get them to leave, Amity was quickly disappointed when they proved remarkably persistent. Perhaps they were fed up with her refusals and, eager to gain a wife, had resolved to not take ‘no’ for an answer any longer. Every attempt to get to the Church for a respite from the small horde chasing her was denied when one of the men caught her attention with questions while the others got behind her and blocked the path. To outright ignore the interest of a suitor was to spit in the face of him and his family, she couldn’t get away by simply staying silent and rushing through. In the end, the sun had been at its highest point when Church ended and the men had come looking for Amity, and by the time her true predicament had come to a head, the sky was orange and the sun was low. The young maiden had been in a dire situation for the past few hours, between the morning prayer session and the suitors keeping her company against her will, she had been holding her water from sunrise to sunset. Amity could do nothing to relieve the pressure and pain in her abdomen, as even if she were to run off for an emergency, the men would surely follow her. Even if she were married, it would not be permissible to allow even a husband to witness her in such an intimate moment. Even parents could not witness the relief of their children after a certain age, only with the very young in order to clean up after. And so she had to keep holding on until they gave up. Everybody had to sleep some time, right? Even so, she knew that she could not keep holding on. Even in her puritan upbringing, her bladder was petite and weak, at least by the standards of the other villagers. Not that she knew what those standards were. She did all she could to balance her need to pass water, the annoyance of the suitors and her patience in keeping still and allowing no signs of her need to show. But inevitably, nature won over her silly culture. Right when Amity felt that she was about to explode, and literally so as punishment from God for her infidelities with Selah, the very person she was thinking of at what she thought was the end showed up, managing to find them on one of Granville’s many paths. She called out to the men and grabbed their attention, asking why they were hounding an innocent woman in the way they were. Being faced with such accusations from the Clergyman’s daughter of all people, they were forced to turn, listen and defend themselves. Amity turned off the path, facing Selah and mouthing a thank you before she headed into the woods. Unfortunately, nature decided to pick this very moment to take the young woman’s control away. She sensed it just seconds before it happened, the slight burning tingle of a rushing liquid filling up her urethra, a sensation that she had not felt since she was very small and was reminded of recently in her night visits with Selah. Knowing she could only make it as far as the nearest bush before her dress became fully saturated, the maiden panicked and- in her puritan mindset- wrongly believed that it would be better to try to save her dress. In possibly the worst mistake she could have made at that instant, she lifted the dress and tried to hide behind the bush. She knew better than to expose herself to a group of five people however, and kept her pantaloons up even knowing that they were going to become soaked. The water was spilling out of her belly before she made it to the bush, but she was still able to squat down. Tears soon joined the various liquids that were leaving her, but even in her sadness she did all she could to keep herself from sobbing or making any other noises. It wasn’t enough to stay quiet, as it only took a few more seconds for the suitors to notice that she was no longer there and follow the sound of her urine spilling through her trousers and onto the bush. Not knowing if she was in some type of danger or simply ran off, they took off running only to find her passing water a few feet away. With a collective gasp, their discovery had doomed her. Amity was urinating, right next to the path where anyone could see, in front of four unmarried men, with her dress held high out of the way. Worse still, the liquid running through it had made the thin white cloth of her pantaloons semi-transparent. They could see it. But their puritan upbringing was just as strict and harsh as everybody else’s, and so their first coherent thought was to do something about this heathen. One of them spoke to another, “Go get the Clergyman!” The one he spoke to nodded and ran back up the path as fast as he could. Not understanding the implication, Selah followed after him, begging him to stop and wait. The other three waited until Amity finished her accident before grabbing her by the arms and picking her up from her squatting position, letting her dress fall back down. They refused to speak to her directly, but contemplated among themselves whether they had caught a witch. Amity was crying for the entire time that it took the fourth man, the Clergyman and his daughter to return. “What have we?” Selah’s Father spoke up. The first to respond was the same suitor whom had told the other to bring him. “This woman, Amity. When your daughter appeared, this one lifted her garment and began passing water right over there.” He pointed to the bush. “It seems she has distaste for this dedicated woman of the cloth and for the holy joining of Marriage, for we have all been trying to gain her hand all day, yet she refused up until now where she revealed herself to all five of us. It almost seems arrogantly Satanic.” “You believe her a Witch, boy?” “Yessir, a heathen against the Lord’s law.” “Then she shall be tried as such.” The younger men thrust Amity out toward the elder and bearded man, and as soon as he held his grasp upon her, Selah spoke out. In the opinion of all five males, spoke out of turn was more appropriate. “Father, wait, please. These four have been lusting after her all day long. The poor woman has merely not been given a chance to pass water in private; she could not escape from them to tend to herself. You know it isn’t right to judge so harshly upon a victim of such circumstance.” “No, child, this is a grown woman in my care. She, like any other, is above the creation of a mess known only to babes and the newly born. Any adult knows how to hold their water until they reach privacy, no matter how long that takes. This was a deliberate defiance. Leave us, I must take this witch to the constable.” The Clergyman had made up his mind, and he would never back down from a decision of his own. Selah knew that any attempt she made to change that decision would be met with an immovable resolve, petty insults and, if she continued to persist, a stinging “reminder” of her place. That night, Selah went to the barn and openly cried, not caring whether any passersby heard her wails. She longed for her Amity to suddenly appear and join her with the music of news for her own safety and innocence in the eyes of the village. But she knew that in truth, the implication of being a witch was as good as a death sentence as soon as the word was uttered. And it was made all the worse that she had seen with her own eyes, the humiliation and torture that those four suitors had delivered upon her beloved. With a heart tearing in two and a mind following suit, Selah disrobed herself and, with a tear-streaked face, turned her head toward the hay hatch to watch the source of the moonlight streaming through. She clasped her hands together and got to her knees, feeling more pure in her nudity than she’d ever felt in her thick garments, and began a silent prayer that begged and pleaded to preserve Amity’s life while cursing the lives of the men whom had brought this devastation upon both women. The very next day, Amity’s trial had passed in seconds. The Jury of twelve merely needed to hear the word “witch” and they all fell into an air of worry and fear, immediately passing their verdict before all of the evidence could even be discussed. Selah did not appear until the execution stage was being set up, though once she had spotted the love of her life, the distressed women could not keep their eyes off of each other. Amity’s eyes were filled with pure terror, as though she had been robbed of every sense and ability except for sight. She could not move, she could not speak, and everything was said and done so quickly that she could hardly hear it all. Brought before the Church, the entire population of Granville had to stand between the trees as they watched Amity be brought up by the Clergyman and executioner to the wooden stage. Selah had an up close view of everything, as she had been requested by her Father to join him on the stage as he gave a final prayer for Amity’s passing. It was supposed to be some kind of public display of the village’s unity or some damnation like that; the girl cared not for such nonsense any more. Her lovely Amity was about to be executed, for the crimes of horny young men, no less. In one fell swoop, the daughter of a Clergyman found herself running low on faith. Even if this were some divine punishment for their joint homosexuality, then why was the more justified among the couple being punished and not the one whom should have always been the more focused on holy purity? And why were the men whom had lusted after her until she suffered pain and embarrassment not being punished at all? Finding this lack of justice very, very disturbing, the young woman started to look for some way to fix this tragedy herself. As her Father took his place next to his daughter, Selah spied the ornamental knife sheath attached to his belt. Everybody had some kind of self-defense weaponry just in case of wild animals or a Native attack. His just happened to be a fancy and capable knife. As the Clergyman began reading out some passages of his personal bible on forgiveness of those who have sinned and submitting to the will of the Lord and Savior, Selah began to understand the full hypocrisy of this strange man standing next to her. He may still be her Father, but a man who could cast away the life of an innocent woman so very easily for something she didn’t do, and then speak to a crowd about forgiveness- she realized that she wanted nothing to do with such a man. Slowly and with a stealthy grace, she removed the knife from her Father’s sheath, and backed away. Hiding the knife behind her back, even the executioner would not be able to see the cutting tool as he was waiting at the lever for the Clergyman’s signal. If anybody had noticed her suspicious behavior in backing away from her Father, they did not speak out against it. It gave her enough room to get to Amity’s pedestal. She gave her a glance, both seeming to share thoughts and confidence and fear just through eye contact alone, but they remained silent. Through a miracle of miracles, Selah was allowed to hop down to the back of the hangman’s post with nobody making a sound about what they must have seen. Perhaps there was a general assumption that as the Clergyman’s daughter, she had been asked to check the integrity of the rope. And check it she did, as she began using her Father’s own knife to cut that rope from the knot. With that, the noose around her beloved’s neck was as threatening as a necklace. Just in time, as the Executioner pulled the lever just as the rope snapped under the blade. The wooden platform opened underneath Amity’s feet, and instead of dropping her into the lethal care of the noose around her neck, it dropped her foot-first into the dirt that kept the stage connected to the ground. Selah, as the only person who knew what had happened at the end of all motion, quickly bidden that Amity run for her life. She did so, stepping back onto the stage and breaking into a sprint with her savior directly behind her before anybody witness to this absurd resolution could come to understand that their prisoner had escaped. They made it as far as the corner of the Church’s front side before Selah heard the booming, enraged voice of her Father shout out in defiance, demanding the capture of both women. She could tell by the finality of his tone that, within seconds, he had come to terms with the concept of disowning her as his daughter. Both young women ran as fast as their legs and oversized dresses would allow, lifting them up to make more room for their legs to gain greater strides. They seemingly flew in their haste, passing through the wall of trees surrounding the Church and onto the dirt path that led toward their secret rendezvous site, the barn. However, Selah had no plan to simply stay there and wait, for the rampaging and fear-sickened mob behind their pair had kept pace and remained unshakeable. It would be impossible to simply run in and hide, for they would see and corner them. No, they headed there now only out of coincidence and a split second decision to keep running in a single direction. In the minute that it took to get there, stress and despair had played their tricks on both women, making it feel like an hour’s sprint. Amity and Selah both ran around the structure, heading straight into the more heavily-wooded area beyond. They weaved around trees, blew through the brush and kept their balance as they went up and down the variety of grade, doing all they needed to do in order to stay alive as their own friends and family seeked to take their very lives. Even with their numbers, the religious and fear-driven fervor of the Granville lynch mob allowed them to keep pace every step of the way. Despite the will and bravery of both women, the chase came to an abrupt and sudden halt when Amity’s foot caught on a tree root hidden under the thicket that she was trying to step over. Selah turned around to help her back up, reaching out a hand to try to continue their desperate escape, but when Amity tried to reach back and grab it, the slightly older woman suddenly thrust herself down next to her. When the younger opened her mouth to question it, Selah held her finger to her lips in a silent ‘shush’ motion. This compelled Amity to be a bit more aware of their situation. The bodies of both women had managed to fall deep into the thicket, a large bundle of twigs and leaves and vines camouflaging them even though the thorns ripped at their thick clothing. The sound of feet stamping the ground in a herd, a large group moving through the forest, could be heard. From two different directions. As the two women spied from out of the thicket, through the leaves and branches they could see both coming groups, the townspeople of Granville and a roving band of Natives. Both of them recognized from the markings upon the skimpy and revealing- at least, to their own standards- clothing of the savages approaching that they were Mohegan, one of only a few tribes in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Within seconds, both groups had stumbled upon each other. The Natives, having been conducting raids on villages and destroying things that the puritan settlers had been building for decades, could only have sent this group so close to Granville to seek a fight. They were prepared, unlike the villagers whom had only come with a handful of weapons if any. Despite this, the Clergyman continued to lead them all forward. Convinced that numbers and God were on their side, he shouted out “THE LORD BE WITH US!” using the religious fervor that they had used to keep up in their chase with the so-called witches. They closed the distance as Native archers drew their arrows. Selah watched her Father reach for his ornate knife, which she had taken to save Amity. When he drew his hand back and found it empty, his warlord sprint into the fray stopped short, and on his face he showed the most distraught expression that she had ever seen him wear before the other villagers charged ahead and blocked her view. The twang and whistle of bow and arrow filled their ears, seemingly deafening the cries of the villagers as they got half-way to the Natives. Many of those pushing forth suddenly found lengths of wood protruding from their chests and necks, toppling them over only for their dead or dying bodies to be trampled by those whom immediately followed. Selah drew her Father’s knife and held it in her hand, looking down upon it rather than watching more people fall. A tear was shed onto it, but just as her Father had come to terms with losing her, she was able to come to terms with what she was witnessing now. If she were given the choice to change any of this… she would still do it all over again to keep Amity. The younger of the couple kept her eyes up. Another round of arrows flew out from the Native archers, striking and killing another line of villagers. As those behind them again trampled over the fallen, she noticed a particular body come to rest, mangled with broken bones and a twisted and arrow-pierced neck. It was one of the suitors whom had harassed her yesterday. She had to resist the urge to pop out of the thicket and go over to spit on his corpse. Such a move would certainly be their death, so Amity kept her temper in check as the villagers collectively came into striking distance of the Natives. As soon as they did, the dark-skinned savages drew tomahawks and spears, taking on the people of Granville whom were mostly armed with short knives and pointy sticks thanks to their expectation of a public execution before returning home to their muskets. The Natives experienced absolutely no difficulty in countering the knives and fists with their bigger, longer weapons. The entire engagement lasted a withheld handful of minutes. By the end of it, every man who had given chase to the women was dead, save one whom the Natives had surrounded. The Clergyman, he had failed to join the men whom he had rallied once he realized that his weapon had been stolen by his own daughter. He was the only one not to charge. While every other villager was killed in the fight, the Natives merely had to nurse a few wounds. They appeared to be deliberating what to do with him when the elder man began speaking a prayer. Selah watched, unable to hear her Father’s final words, until two of his captors closed in. One of them drew a tomahawk and raised it high, and Selah closed her eyes before she heard the wet ‘thwack!’ of stone cutting through skull. When she opened her eyes again, her Father had already disappeared among the many bodies. It would only be around ten minutes later that the women would be allowed to move again, the Natives taking as they pleased and then moving on. To where, neither could guess. Once all was still and silent and no living soul could be seen beyond the thicket and trees, they slowly rose and began pulling themselves out of the mess of leaves. Both women kept their eyes and ears open, watching closely for any movement that might have represented a threat. Just as their kept their caution, they also kept their curiosity, checking the bodies of their once-fellow villagers. Amity recognized, in turn, one after another the faces of the men whom had tried to doom her. The four whom had pestered her and prevented her from getting away even just for one damned minute of privacy, just to relieve her most natural of needs. Her face flushed as she remembered the heat filling her pantaloons, her desperate move to save the exterior of her dress to hide her mistake from the eyes of anybody that would see the front of it. She remembered the sting of hypocrisy that those same men delivered upon her by calling her a witch specifically because they could not allow her just a mere moment to pass water. In an outburst, she relieved a different kind of urge by spitting upon the cold, lifeless face of each of them in turn. Selah looked down as she passed another corpse, one with a large seam in the head, starting between the eyes and ending somewhere within the scalp. It was her Father, the Clergyman. She stopped in her tracks, staring down at him. She wasn’t sure if she was glaring with contempt or gazing down with acceptance. In the end, did it really matter? She and Amity were both alive, despite his attempts to hunt them down. She remembered, just before this massacre began by his own command, the look upon his face as he realized she’d taken his knife. The despair, no, the betrayal that he had felt. She knew that it was unlike anything she had ever felt and, if she were lucky, would never feel. As much as she wondered now that she may have gone too far, she would even so do it again. Amity came first, no matter what. Even the Lord himself could not change that. His eyes were still open. After a moment’s thought, she kneeled down and placed her hand over her Father’s widened eyes, gently closing the tired lids of a dead old man. As she silently prayed for the Clergyman’s immortal soul, a thought came to her. She considered returning the knife to its sheath, leaving it with its rightful owner, but something nagged at the back of her mind. She felt that she would need it later, and so held on to it. Both women finished giving what “respects” that they were willing to give. Amity started heading back toward the village, expecting her beloved Selah to follow close behind, but instead the latter grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “Amity, we can’t go back that way. The other women of the village will see us returning after ourselves and their husbands ran into the forest. With the men dead as they are now, those women and their children and anyone else whom didn’t follow us will seek vengeance against us, already believing us both to be Witches.” Amity’s face went through multiple phases of expression, starting with shock. Annoyance. Protest. Defiance. Realization. Defeat. And finally, understanding. She nodded solemnly a few seconds after her better half finished her explanation. Both of them would need to head in the opposite direction, leaving Granville forever. Assuming that the village would survive that long without the hard labor that the men provided. With neither supplies nor shelter, they left the one-sided battlefield behind and began travelling east by foot. It took hours of constant walking before the pair even broke the tree line and happened upon a clearing, but it meant nothing more than a few minutes of direct sunlight as the forest resumed about fifty meters away. It was shortly after this break in the trees that they found anything truly interesting. The dirt and rock of the forest floor broke and split open to a fast-running creek, fresh water flowing through the stone-pecked riverbed barely fit to carry a fish through. The women both rushed forward and leaned down to scoop the water out with their bare hands. Bringing handfuls of water to their lips, the pair took their fill until their incredible thirst was slaked. Throats sore from drought became refreshed, even as the scratch remained, a result of their dry stretching being repaired. The younger woman pulled herself away soon after, leaving the elder to look up at her as she continued filling her mouth. Surely she must still be thirsty; they had been walking for most of the day! Her muscles gave a fiercer ache than anything her Father had delivered upon her in childhood, they demanded more. So why had Amity stopped drinking? Selah felt it before she’d thought of it, a buildup of pressure just above her loins. In the stress of the past twenty-four hours, she had failed to notice the pressing signals that her body had been giving her. Given that Amity had been closely watched either by the Jailor, or the Clergyman, or the Jury or even her beloved ever since holding her water to the point that her bladder had failed by over-effort, it was no wonder that she resisted the urge to drink. “Amity… are you… okay?” “Hm? Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” “It’s just… you haven’t, er… You haven’t passed water, since yesterday. Have you?” “Oh, I- Um… what does it matter, Selah?” “Ams, please be wise. You’ve suffered an ordeal yesterday. Your body can’t take what you went through too often. If you need to relieve yourself, you should do so immediately.” “I… I suppose… that you are correct.” Amity shifted from foot to foot, letting her defenses down and showing her need physically. She started undoing the ties that held the dress close to her waist and kept it from becoming loose. Selah decided to join her, the full weight of her own need making itself known once she had realized her stress kept it hidden. By the time Selah had gotten herself down to her undergarments, Amity had bare herself from below the waist and appeared to be straining. Selah realized that the last thing either should be doing in such a position was straining; they should have been more relaxed than anything else. Locking up, she watched her beloved’s nethers, a spot that both women had mutually enjoyed and understood as well and as intimately as their own faces. At the end of a minute, nothing had emerged. “Amity, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you… passing?” “I… I don’t know. I know that this is nothing you’ve never seen, and I’ve done this out in the forest all my life, but my body… it simply refuses to let go.” “Here, lift up and allow me to see.” Selah spoke those words just as she had slipped her pantaloons down to her ankles. She stood back up, letting the dress cover up everything that she had exposed below the waist, and approached her beloved, holding nothing but the purest of intentions for the health of the one she cared for most. Amity obliged and bunched as much of her dress as she could lift up around her breasts. The red-headed woman watched from above the hem as the lovely brunette got an eyeful of every inch below her midriff. “Oh… oh dear.” The slightly distressed voice caused Amity to panic slightly. “W-what? What is it!?” “Your… your stomach, it looks… bloated.” “B-Bloated? What do you mean, how?” “I… I just, I don’t know! I’ve never seen something like this before.” And it was true, in a completely puritan society, a lady would normally never allow themselves to get to a point where they were absolutely bursting for a pee, and the sight of a desperate lady showing their overfilled body was all but impossible. “Amity, I think it’s your… water. You just have to relax and pass it normally.” “I… I can’t. It won’t come out, I’m trying.” Through an epiphany that she couldn’t explain, Selah somehow knew why. It had to have been the humiliation that those damned suitors had put her through, all the death she had just witnessed hours ago, or a combination of everything that had been accosted on her since she’d last gone. Surely, the stress on her body had grown to an extreme and became so deep that each of her muscles refused to relax. Remembering how she felt each time the pair spent the evening together, how she had to desperately fight the onset of sleep for what could have been an hour between their glorious finish and getting up to dress and part from each other for the good of their secret, Selah realized the key to making Amity relax. And so, with the mindset focused on perversion for the good of her lover, she approached the young red-head. “Amity, try to relax and let me work.” She crouched down next to the desperate girl who quickly looked on in confusion. She opened her mouth to respond and question the motives of the older maiden, but was interrupted as a hand flew down to cover her mound. Amity made a sound of surprise and fell backwards, not at all expecting Selah’s erotic mood. Landing upon her back and the dress and pantaloons that she had placed behind her, she groaned slightly from both the shock and the sloshing pain within her bladder. Before she could recover, she found her beloved crawling on her hands and knees into position over her body. Propped up on all fours, the young Clergywoman took on the look of something less Puritan and far more lewd, her dress hanging off her hips and draped over her rear end so as to expose both of their bodies to the open air. At first, Amity showed resistance to the sudden onset of her lovers’ lust-filled advance, not wanting to accept what was about to happen in broad daylight. Her mind had still locked in place the idea that their activities needed to remain in secret, at night, under a roof that was sure to never be visited. But that was when she realized, she had tricked herself without notice into thinking that there was still a secret to be held. They had left town for good, they couldn’t return. Even if someone saw them out here, it could not result in making things worse. And of the handful of people that had seen her sully herself last eve, only one had survived to see her now. She had seen the bodies herself; there was nobody left to judge her and the one who was still alive never would. She practically melted into Selah’s probing hand as she came to terms with the fact that their previous lives were over and done. Selah watched from above the cute face of her lover at first harden, resisting her advance, then slowly soften as she gave in. Once all of the tension in that beautiful Irish-born face vanished, the hand that she had buried between her shapely thighs suddenly exploded in warmth. The feeling came first, but the sound came in the same second- a sharp hiss that emanated from below. Surprised, the brunette pulled her hand away and changed her gaze from the girl below her up to her soaking hand. It dripped and shimmered as though she had just dipped it into the creek, but the slight coloration and scent betrayed its true nature. Amity had just peed on her fingers. Looking back down, she found Amity with eyes shut tight and visibly fighting back tears as her urethra clenched back up in direct response to the realization of what had happened. The elder of the two, feeling neither contempt nor pity for the younger, simply smiled and leaned down to kiss the desperate girl. When their lips connected, the tears threatening to streak down Amity’s face declared an immediate surrender, receding back into her tear ducts or being blinked away. She felt her body beginning that same process of surrender as her subconscious mind finally decided that she was safe to do what she needed to do. Her body began trembling ever so slightly, the show of a shift in her physiology that Selah felt through her lips. Amity’s body tensed from head to toe, only as a final step before her body began its most desperately needed function. Her mouth opened fully, pushing Selah’s lips away and prompting her to pull back, in a massive sigh of true and complete relief as her waters began flooding out, producing a hiss that would have been deafening had they not both accepted this outcome. Selah leaned up, getting to her knees to watch as a thick stream gushed out from the delicate cleft of the maiden’s nethers. By the grace of the Lord, she had somehow been given the impossible possibility to watch a woman pass water, a right that to her knowledge no man, husband or otherwise, had ever carried. Just that fact alone made her feel strangely giddy. As she watched the deluge of pent-up urine flow from the slit of the woman she cared for above all else, Selah remembered the previous evening that she had spent alone. She remembered most of all the purity and clarity that she’d felt after shedding every scrap of cloth that she’d worn. Wanting that feeling above all else at this moment, she reached down and drew her dress upward, pulling the hem above her head and revealing her own body to Amity’s gaze, had she happened to look during the stupor of her incredible relief. She pulled it up and began pushing it off, hoping to get her outfit removed entirely in one motion. Just as planned, friction drew her shirt off of her torso along with the dress, and so she was able to remove everything. In a fluid move, she kneeled sans dress, sans undershirt, sans pantaloons before her lover, absolutely bare for the sun to shine down upon for the first time in her life. When she looked down at Amity again, she had her arms and legs splayed pointlessly outward from her center, eyes pointed upward and mouth hanging open, panting as though she’d just run the length between Granville and Boston, to and back again without stopping. The dirt between her spread legs had turned to mud already, yet she had not stopped nor slowed down her long-overdue piss, still going strong enough to create a short but thick arch. Indeed, she must have been truly suffering, even though the discipline of their Puritan heritage kept her from displaying her need until Selah pointed out that she need not hide it. Even though Amity’s dress was still being worn and the hem was in danger of getting stained, the stream arched clear over it and left it entirely dry. Watching the display made Selah’s crotch dampen with another kind of fluid- one that, as she’d discovered in the time spent with Amity, equaled a heightened desire for sex- although the scene also reminded her that she too would need to pass water soon, as she had not done so since shortly before the escape from Granville. Still, seeing the awe-inspiring infinite fountain emerging below would surely put her need to utter shame. Eventually, after what felt like a certain eternity, Amity’s bladder had finally diminished, allowing her arch of gold to become short and thin before dribbling down her naked slit and marking the back of her dress with a pale yellow stain. Even with her body fully emptied and satisfied, she remained in the same position, panting and unmoving until Selah deliberately grabbed her attention. “Oh, Ams?” She’d said in a sing-song voice. It was enough to make the tired young woman crane her neck up and open her eyes again. And the sight she was gifted with was enough to take her breath away even as she panted for more air. Not only was Selah naked as the day she was born, but she had taken it a step further by taking a finger of each hand to each side of her labia, and parted them. Without the dim night time moonlight, it was easy to see the soft pink interior of her vagina, and it was only a foot or two away from her face. Before she could say anything however, that same icon of what made her woman truly a woman began leaking a clear fluid in spurts. Amity almost questioned the odd liquid until it emerged at a faster, steady pace. Just as she had a moment ago, Selah was relieving herself right before her very eyes. It was almost surreal to, not only watch someone pass their water right in front of her, but to do so out of sheer desire rather than absolute necessity- the sight that she had given to Selah just seconds ago. The image captivated the red-head, wondering if this was the same glorious, seemingly holy image that she had given to her beloved just now. Emerging with a hiss that paled in comparison to her own, Amity knew that she’d had no dire need to do this; it was purely a want to please her. That thought alone, that Selah was willing to break any taboo just to make her feel better, made her mouth go dry again. As she watched, she slowly started undoing all that was left of her own dress. It came off easily enough, leaving her in her undershirt which she pulled over her head as swiftly as she could without breaking her neck. Joining her in her jovial nudity, Amity tossed all of her clothing aside with no consideration for where it went or if she would be getting it back later. She was far too entranced to plan for what comes later. Right now, there was a naked woman before her that required, nay, deserved her touch.
  18. n o b o d y

    Anime Wetting Collection

    Version zip

    1,160 downloads

    This is my personal collection of omorashi, about 275 photos! I've collected them from many random sources like gelbooru/danbooru, konachan, diaperedanime.com, i think only a few of them are from here. Be sure to follow the file, i may add more in the future!

    Free

  19. Lately, I've been spending quite a lot of time playing Rune Factory 4, and through some searching I've noticed there is relatively little fanfiction about it, and none that I can find that has any omorashi content. Naturally, I've decided to give writing some of my own fanfics for RF4 a go, and so this thread will contain any stories, one-shot or multi-chapter, that I put to paper. I will be tagging what I write based on the content within, like so: Contains: Example, Example 2, Example 3: The revengening. This way, if anybody wishes to use Ctrl-F to find a particular type of content, it will be clearly marked - Allowing people to skip messing stories, for instance. Additionally, for the sake of anybody reading who may not be familiar with the cast, I will be placing character images from the Rune Factory Wiki before the tags as reference. As this is being written, I am working on my first story for the collection, and so will be posting it in my second post. If anybody has any writing prompts, requests or suggestions, I'm open to them, aside from M/M content (I am simply not interested in it or writing about it) or diaper content, since it feels like it would clash with the setting too much.
  20. The idea for the setting of this thread was inspired by a chat with @writerforce6, and they will be posting their own, different take on the core idea at some point. I'm somewhat of a fan of SAO, but it felt to me like the games the story takes place in aren't very deep or particularly well designed, and so I've decided to take existing characters and drop them all into a different 'world first' VR MMORPG. I hope to make this an entertaining and titillating read. Before I get to the first part proper, I will re-iterate in case anybody has missed the tags: This story will contain messing and diapers in addition to the usual omorashi fare. Turn back if you're averse to either. ------------- CHAPTER - ONE 'Finally.' Kirigaya Kimiko clutched the hard-copy case of Era of Survival to her chest. A huge fantasy castle held in an endless sky dominated the box art, with the title added just above the spires near the top of box, almost an afterthought. Now, after a lengthy beta test to work out the last of the bugs, EoS was about to go online. It had been a few hours since Kimiko had run through the Nerve Gear's initial set-up. It was a hassle - The storage for her personal data had been wiped at the end of the beta, forcing her to do the same, frustrating questionnaire and body measuring as the original. With an added couple of embarrassingly private questions added to the list. 'I hope Suguha didn't overhear any of that,' she thought to herself, opening the case and inserting the game chip into the neural-interface headgear before placing it on her head and laying down on her bed. "Here goes..." She muttered, closing her eyes as her heartbeat picked up in excitement. "Link, Start!" ------------------------- 'Kiriko' opened her eyes in a black void. As soon as she got her bearings, a series of windows popped up in front of her. They followed her movements as she looked around. "Still as black as ever." She sighed theatrically. The interface was the only thing around her, and she felt as if she was floating. They demanded her attention, and wouldn't let her go until she had finalized her character creation. Starting Weapon Skills: Shortswords, Arming Swords, Longswords. Finalize? (Yes) As if the game needed to ask! Ages before the beta had ended, Kiriko's mind was set on her starting gear and build. Starting Armor Skills: Cloth armor, Leather armor, Light metal armor. Finalize? Again, she input her carefully chosen choices. Starting Body Stats -- "This is new. Back in beta, we had to log in fully to see what the game gave us." Her eyes scanned through the list. Strength - Average, for a female player. Carry Weight - Similarly to her Strength value, her beginning value was normal. Endurance - Same again... Agility... She nearly did a double-take. "Eighty-five out of a hundred?!" Evidently, metrics had changed in the last few weeks of development! Dexterity - One of the things she was particularly strong with - She started with the maximum base value possible. From her discussion with Argo back in beta, this seemed to be an unlikely, but not impossible result. Still, the thought of being one of the most precise players in the game made her giddy. Perhaps if she trained her strength, she could pick up Archery. The list continued on, showing minute details as she leafed through her stats. Underneath her starting Hunger/Thirst gauge. "Oh. So that was why..." The devs had kept one of the more... colorful functions in the game, it seemed. Bladder Capacity: Above Average. Bowel Capacity: Average. Bladder Control: Strong. Bowel Control: Average. The blush from the questionnaire segment returned in full force. Before, it had simply been an optional feature... It was one that she had tested. It definitely felt like the real thing. Shaking that from her mind, she picked out her gear and finished character creation. A blow glow enveloped Kiriko, and in a flash of light, she was placed in an unfamiliar town. Her avatar had manifested around her, and she looked down at her hands and body to see that her appearance was what she wanted. Blue-black sleeveless tunic and lightweight cuirass protecting her modest chest? Check. Brown fingerless gloves and studded leather bracers? Check. Loose-fitting shorts, leather knee-pads and high boots? All clear. A gust blew down the road, blowing her long, straight black hair out behind her as she looked up to see players spawning in for the first time. Everybody was doing much the same as her. Hopefully, she would be able to locate one of her fellow beta testers and group up. One thing she had learned early in testing was that EoS was a PUNISHING game when played solo. Reviews of the decades-old S.T.A.L.K.E.R. games flashed through her mind as she recalled the first time she had tried to solo a kobold camp and had gotten her ass soundly whooped. That was a mistake she wouldn't make twice. ----- Please, tell me what you think so far. I intend to make this a long-running fic, and it will progress at a steady pace. Fetish content might be a bit lacking occasionally, but it will happen.
  21. Sissy_trap

    2fd1df6535f5a3ca5610f01a91df69ca

    Some nice Gymnastics training :P
  22. Story time: So after a long absence from writing, I made a second attempt on the turn of the new year, releasing an interactive story on here. I enjoy it and it's helped to put me back on track with writing, but I decided to get back into my favourite thing. Short stories. Now, I'm still really rusty after this absence and I'm well aware this story won't be 10/10 best story of the year, but I'm proud of the effort I've put into this and I want to share it with this great community. It's based in my own world which I created a few years ago, following one of my main characters, Yunoko Tanobi when she was a teenage thief. It's just a short detailing a small part of life. So enjoy. Also, feedback and improvement is greatly appreciated. Especially in regards to writing omorashi and general descriptive work. Edit: after a discussion with Moocom, it turns out yuri is acceptable in fiction, so I present my first effort at writing a yuri scene along with this. Again, feedback is appreciated. __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Ask any thief, lowlife, or criminal in Monsai where the best place to get a strong drink, a warm bed, or a good woman all out of the vigilant gaze of the cities guard, they would always point you to one place: Taverne d'égout, a tavern hidden well in the bowels of the Monsai sewers, ran by an strict elderly lady known only as madam lamplight, frequented commonly by all manner of shifty folk. Those willing to make the trek through the filthy, rotten sewers would find themselves in the rowdiest, most rambunctious club in the cities underbelly, from dusk til’ dawn, noon til’ midnight, the lavish rooms of the Taverne d’egout surged with a tremendous atmosphere as loud jazz and drunken cheering filled the halls. Serving girls, scantily clad in golden thongs, their breasts exposed, roamed the lounge. For Yuka, this place was heaven, her home away from home where she spent her nights in the company of her fellow thieves, getting drunk, playing cards and on some special nights...in the bed of one of Taverne d’egout’s fine ladies. Tonight however, Yuka sat in the company of her friends, half sloshed on a crate of expensive wine and winning her share of their loot in a game of cards. “Haha! Read em’ and weep, losers!” She cheered, slamming down a royal flush onto the table. “Bring that gold my way!” The other gamblers slammed their cards down in anger. Yuka pulled in her prize, at least four hundred gold. “You guys just paid for an hour in the opium den tomorrow!” “That’s the fifth time in a row!” Saki slammed his own cards down. “I’m starting to think you’re pulling one over on us, Yunoko!” He was a short man, thinner than most with a head of greying hair. He was a man well past his prime, but still one of the best thieves in the city and one of Yuka’s best friends. “Me? Pulling one over on you, Saki? You know card tricks and sleight of hand are amateur tricks of the trade, right? I’m insulted you’d even insuate such a thing!” Yuka put on a mock expression of shock. She reached for her wine and took a sip. “Now quit checking out my fine tits and shuffle those cards!” “Gah...Anyway Yuka,” Saki began, his fingers running over the deck of cards. “me and a few of the boys were thinking of hitting up that giant boat in the port. You know the one, right? That freighter bringing in all those precious metals from Norsekar? Gold, silver, platinum, I’ve also heard a thing or two about some emeralds aboard it. But it’s all there, ripe for the taking once they turn the lights off for the night!” “It’s a tempting offer, but I have plans tonight with a very special lady.” “Oh really?” Saki peered up from his cards, a keen interest in his eyes. “Who is it today?” “The same girl it was the other day, and the same as the week before, and the week before that.” “You’re still spending time with Ania? The church girl? No idea what the fuck that girl sees in you, Yuka.” “You're kidding right? Have you seen me? There's a reason Madam Lamplights whores would rather have a romp on me than your frail old butt! Same for any other woman in this city! Her included.” Yuka was not a typical girl, appearance-wise, she was a girl of sixteen, but her shaggy and ragged blonde hair, and freckled cheeks made her look younger, and more boyish. Her skinny frame, at 6ft tall and undersized breasts didn’t help to show her softer female side. “I don't mean your looks. I mean that beautiful and charming personality that comes with you. Why a lady of the church would want a foul-mouthed, heavy-drinking, whore fucker like yourself...I’ll never know…” Saki laughed. He took a swig of his ale. “Saki, that’s the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me, but I’ll pass, I made a promise to Ania that I’d make her see heaven.” “You’re missing out, Yunoko.” Yuka downed her wine and got up from her place at the table. “Take it from a girl who’s been fucked by more than this cities law enforcement: No I ain’t.” She patted him on the shoulders. “You all have a good night. I’m cashing out.” In the dead of night, only thieves and lowlifes could be found wandering the streets of the merchant district. The perfect time of night for Yuka to be wandering the lonely passages and alleyways that made up Monsai’s merchant district. She made her way through the streets, warm summer air and the aroma of spiced meats filling the air. The lanterns on the walkway dimly lit, cloaking most of the market in shadows. The church was the largest building in the merchant district, towering over the small stores and trading centers beneath it. A grand and ancient structure that predated the founding of the city. To the simple people who merely gave the church a passing glance, it was a grand structure, held in high regard for its service to the gods, where miracles were performed and those who sought a life of philanthropy and virtue could call home. For the workers and poor of the Monsai’s lower districts however, the church was much more than that, it was a haven for folk with no place to go, no place to sleep. When they got sick or injured, it was the church who cured them of their ailments, doing their services free of charge to help their fellow man. Looking up at the carved stones and stained glass windows reminded Yuka of her first encounter with Ania, a tale befitting of a charming love story, the lone thief who turned up to the church one dark evening in winter, battered and bruised after a rough encounter. She made her own way through the cold streets to the church of the apostates, weak and weary. She collapsed before she made it through the door, awakening some time later by the warmth of a roaring fire, a guardian angel smiling down on her. That ‘guardian angel’ was a young apprentice named Ania Timora. Ania took care of Yuka over the winter, nursing her injuries and caring for her like a saint, tending to everything the young thief needed. A friendship bloomed between the girls, and quickly Yuka began to realize the feelings she had for the holy girl. After the cold winter passed and Yuka was free to leave, she had never felt the same. She went weak at the knees just thinking of that girl who had cared for her, her gentle smile, warm and delicate like that of a caring sister, and the soft, sweet scent of incense and berries, a scent that made Yuka shudder with delight. After some time, she could not hide her feelings any longer, she confessed her affection to the holy girl, shouting to the heavens and declaring her love. But one thing stood between her and true love, Father Kuragi, the head of the church of the apostates, an old burly priest who demanded his apprentices gave everything to the church. And demanded all apprentices take a vow of abstinence. Thankfully, Ania shared her feelings, but was torn between the church or Yuka, so both girls worked on a compromised, letting Yuka do what she did best: sneaking her way into a place, doing what had to be done, and leaving before anybody was privy to her presence. It was a sound strategy. Although at times Yuka made her way around the side of the church and walked over to one of the pillars running up to the roof. There were plenty of handholds and crevices running up the building that allowed her to climb up towards the roof. She scaled the pillar up halfway, shifted over to some loose stones above the windows and climbed the rest of the way up to the ledges on the top of the church, where the sleeping quarters were. Finally, Yuka climbed up onto the ledge, a cold air wafting past her. From up here, most of Monsai could be seen, the slums and lower industrial areas were lit by a thin veil of lantern light. To the far east, the emperors palace could be seen, a beautiful building illuminated by large torches that watched over the whole city. It was an exquisite view, but it didn’t interest Yuka. She looked into the window, her heart racing as she caught the sight of a girl sat before a small shrine. Ania, the short girl with tanned skin and the looks of a cute doll, rounded bright cheeks and sapphire eyes that gleamed in the light. She sat in prayer, her legs crossed and head tilted towards the floor. She wore a set of white vestments common to the female apprentices, the folds draped around her feet. Yuka tapped on the window. Ania turned, her face lighting up when she saw who stood outside her window. She got up from the shrine and made her way over to the window. “Good evening milady, I have come to see my favourite girl in the city." “Yunoko?” Ania smiled warmly. “I've missed you!” She pulled Yuka up from the ledge and into her private chamber, where the familiar scent of incense and rosewater awaited her, an aroma she'd grown accustomed on her late night visits. Every time she made one of these late night visits to Ania's private chamber, she would have a small lantern of incense hanging from her bedsit. They took no quarrel about lying down on the bed, embracing each other after being reunited after a week apart from each other. “I’ve missed you this past week.” Ania said softly, burying her head into Yuka’s arms. “I’ve missed you too.” Yuka pulled Ania in closer to her, she had a pleasant scent of lilac on her robes. “I’m sorry, it’s been a busy week for me.” With Saki and Makita planning their big raid on the imperial palace, Yuka had been afforded little time to herself. Tonight was the first night she had free and she hadn’t thought twice about coming to see Ania. Just the thought of her made Yuka tingle with glee, her cute face, her short dark hair, she was perfect in every way, and as they sat reunited, it made her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. “Since it’s been awhile, what do you say we have some ‘private time’?” Yuka felt her ladyhood tremor at the offer. “I’d love nothing more. Just let me hit the pisser and then I’m all yours for the night. ” She got to her feet and stumbled along toward the door. Since leaving the tavern, Yuka had felt her night of drinking weighing down on her bladder, but she had been so eager to see Ania that she had pushed her need to piss to the back of her mind. “Yunoko! Wait!” Ania reached out and grabbed her arm. “Y-you cannot go out there. After that break in last week, Bishop Kuragi has started doing rounds around the whole building.” The moment she heard those words, Yuka's face slumped. Suddenly, her bladder, teeming with a gluttonous amount of wine, felt much heavier than it did a second ago. She had gone from being in complete control, the master of her own bladder, to a trembling child on the verge of leaking. “Y-you're shitting me, right?” “I am not! He thinks it was one of the new apprentices stealing from the church. He's been doing rounds the past week to make sure nobody leaves their rooms after curfew.” I knew I shouldn't have stolen those fucking candlesticks! She thought. Brought a good price though...Gah! I really need to take a fucking piss! Why did I have to drink so fucking much!? I'm gonna fucking explode here! “What am I supposed to do then, Ania? I'm about to burst!” Yuka wanted to yell it, but she knew well from experience that attracting the attention of half the church while she wasn't meant to be there was not a wise move. “You know I can get past that old godfucker, right? You know how agile I can be.” The young maiden blushed. “I-I do...but I don't want you risking it. He threatened to banish me the last time he caught you here. I told him I got rid of you just to get him off my back and thankfully he believed me. If he catches you again…” “Come on, Ania.” Yuka begged, bouncing to stave off the pains in her bladder. Were she anywhere else, whether it be the Taverne D’egaut or out in the streets of Monsai, she would've just pulled her shorts aside and let loose wherever she pleased. There was a pleasant sense of freedom whenever she pissed outside, it was a feeling Yuka could never explain. It was somewhat of a sexual thing for, the quiet sound of her pee splattering against the surface, the relief of emptying a whole nights worth of wine from her bladder, and the warm steam rising against her bare legs in the cold air. It was near orgasmic for her, but she had to display some semblance of decency in Ania’s presence, for all her big and crude talk in front of her fellow thieves, Yuka when soft near Ania, suddenly losing her crude manner and softening up. “Can you not hold it for an hour or two? Just until Kuragi takes a rest?” She thought about it for a moment. “I could...” A sharper twinge struck her, causing Yuka to try and hold back the flood rushing desperately towards her pee hole. “Nope. Nope. Nope. I gotta piss right now...” She forced a hand down her shorts and pressed it against her urethra. Ania sighed. “Can you not go back down and do it in the alley?” “No! I can’t climb back down, as much as I'd love to. Look at me!” Her legs were bent and trembling under the strain of her muscles, a hand rammed down her shorts, pressed against her crotch, and a pained look on her face. “I let my legs get more than an inch apart, I'm gonna fucking piss myself. And I mean REALLY piss myself. Do you not have a jug or something? Ah, what about out the window?” “Really? What if somebody s-sees you? Or somebody is below?” “Ania, please don’t make me get on my knees and beg to piss out the window.” She sighed again. “T-then...do it out the window...please.” The rosy red cheeks flooded back. Yuka always thought Ania looked adorable when she blushed, like those cute dolls she would see in the windows of the toy stores. “Just keep it quiet.” The strain on her muscles as Yuka kept holding back from wetting herself was too much for her drunken state to handle. The second Ania had given her permission to relieve herself out the window, Yuka didn't hesitate to make the most of it. She staggered along, holding her maidenly area to make up for her failing efforts at holding it in. All she wanted to do was unzip her shorts and let her piss rain down into the filthy alley below. She yanked her shorts down, revealing her shapely backside to Ania and let her shorts fall freely around her ankles, lifted a leg onto the window sill to steady herself, the warm summer air wafting against her hairless region, and relaxed, letting her stream flood out from her between her legs. A pale dribble fell onto the window, followed by a quick but relieving spurt, “Ohohoho, ah my sweet lord...” She moaned as the spurt quickly became a strong stream pouring from her maidenly passage. The pleasure and relief sent shudders throughout her body, it was a feeling comparable to sex itself, at least to Yuka. “Ahahahaha...this…this is heaven…ah...ah...ah...” Her pale stream continued to pour out, raining down onto the stone below. Her eyes rolled back and a large smile ran from cheek to cheek. “I wish you didn't have to look and sound so...immodest.” Ania responded to the moans and sighs with a rather embarrassed tone. “Are you almost done?” “G-give me a little longer.” It was hard to talk, the joy and ecstasy Yuka was feeling as she felt her wine filled bladder slowly deflating with each second it spilled from between her thighs had hampered her words with stutters. The amount of alcohol in her probably didn't make things any easier. A good minute passed before her stream died down, a few final drops spilled out onto the window. “Ahhhh...that felt fucking great...” Yuka continued. “I should probably stop drinking so much.” A sentence she followed with a laugh; that was something she could never say with a straight face. “Okay, all done. I, eh, need something to wipe with though.” “Let me get you a tissue or something.” “Well hurry up, wind is starting to get cold. And I have my cunt on display for half the city.” “Like that ever bothered you.” Ania said with a giggle. “Besides, they can look all they want. You're all mine.” As Yuka finished wiping, she felt the warm touch of Ania's bare breasts against her back. “I've missed you so much." She whispered sensually. The transition from polite and coy nun to lustful lady was always something that attracted Yuka to Ania. To see the quiet lady of a lord show her darker and more debaucherous side, it made her heart race and her ladyhood quiver. “I've been waiting for this all day...” She grabbed Ania and carried her to the bed, climbed down on top of her naked body and smirked. “I’ve missed you so much.” She snuffed out the lantern and began making passionate love to her partner. Engaged in their kiss, Yuka felt her soft spot quivering again, she had been softened up by kissing, her ladyhood called out to her, she needed this, she needed stimulation, she needed pleasure. Overwhelmed by desire, she stripped off her shirt, revealing her firm, albeit slightly undersized breasts. She grabbed her lover by the cheeks of her soft backside, desperate to do everything she could to please Ania’s beautiful naked body. As their kissing continued, Yuka took her chance, as if possessed, her hands moved from Ania’s backside, slowly moving along between her legs. Ania pushed her head into Yuka’s breasts, stifling a moan as Yuka’s fingers slipped into her maidenly passage. The warmth and moisture as she went deeper made her own place tingle. She grabbed Ania’s hand, forcing it toward her own legs before Ania did it for herself, slipping her own fingers between Yuka’s legs. A pleasant, almost orgasmic sensation ran through her whole body. Yuka also wanted to moan, the feeling of her own hands caressing Ania’s soft passage while having her own fondled almost made her explode. She bit lower lip, tightening hold on Ania’s backside with her free hand as another jolt of pure ecstasy shot through her. She could feel Ania’s fingers inside her, stimulating her, her breathing got faster, her ladyhood got warmer, she couldn’t hold back. She could see it in Ania’s eyes as her own fingers did their work, her fast breather, her heaving breasts, her quiet but still audible moans. Both girls were nearing climax. Another minute of Ania’s fingers rubbing against her was more than enough. Yuka pushed herself back into Ania’s breasts, she began shaking, the warmth around her ladyhood grew more intense. Suddenly, the world seemed to stop. Her mouth shot open and she stifled her final climatic moan into Ania’s soft breasts. Ania mimicked the motions, burying her own head against Yuka’s stomach, she moaned loudly, her warm breath against Yuka’s skin. She pushed herself off Yuka, lying by her side, breathing heavily. It was amazing, well worth the weeks wait. Yuka, also short on breath, lay spread out, her maidenhood satisfied. “T-t-that...w-was...g-gr-great…” She uttered between breaths. “I...come...come...here…” She pulled Ania close, grasping her backside once more and holding the girl close. “I...I...love you…” The next morning, the sun outside shone brightly, casting a beautiful golden glow over the city. Yuka awoke in Ania's bed feeling tired, worn out, drained of her energy. It started out as a gentle night, some kissing and gentle fondling before Yuka could no longer control herself, her week of celibacy had only made her lust for sex worse. When the time came for them to move beyond kissing, she leapt on Ania like a beast possessed, working every part of her soft body beside her lover sleeping peacefully with the sheets cast off, revealing her naked body and giving Yuka a more than welcoming view of her beautiful backside in the morning sun. Yuka inched herself close, and pressed herself against her naked lover, enjoying the feeling of her ladyhood pressed against the warmth of Ania’s rear. Ania yawned and shuffled around on the bed. “I hope you enjoyed last night.” “You may be a lady of the gods, but you have the lust of a devil.” Yuka smirked. “You’ve ruined me for other women.” “That’s good.” She yawned again. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the privy.” “You know, I wouldn’t mind accompanying you to the privy, milady.” Yuka said with a sly yet playful tone. “I think it's only fair after what you saw yesterday.” “Don't be so vile, Yunoko.” Ania replied, blushing and giving Yuka a soft slap. “Oh right. Holy girls don't piss, do they?” She turned on her side and yawned. “Speaking of pissing, will that godfucker have gone to sleep? I wouldn't mind ACTUALLY using the toilet this time.” Ania smirked. “Yes, he should be gone now. It's still early so we might be able to get there and back before any of the new apprentices wake up.” “We? Are you expecting company?” Yuka smirked. “Very funny. Get your clothes on, and please be quick, not only do we have little time before the rest wake up, but I've been holding it in since supper.” “As milady commands.” Yuka hopped up from the bed, a spring in her step that she could only get from a night of passionate and glorious sex. She grabbed her shorts and shirt, lazily throwing her shirt on as her eagerness to get to the privy hurried her. Just as she was about to get her shorts on a loud and elderly voice boomed outside the door to the chambers. “Sister Ania! It is time to wake up, my girl!" “Darn, I forgot about today.” Ania whispered. “I promised Bishop Kuragi I’d assist him with the wounded.” “Oh come on…” Yuka whispered back. “I don’t even get to take my morning piss before that cunt showed up…” Another bang. “Ania, we don’t have long. Up! my girl!” He had a strong voice, which just made him more irritating to Yuka. “What the fuck am I meant to do?” “Eh...eh…” Ania frantically searched around. She gasped, pointing to the window. “Back out the window…now…” With the old 'Godfucker' banging on the chamber door, there were few options for a quick getaway. There's weren't even a few; Yuka had one choice, to climb down the side of the building in just her shirt and nothing shielding her maidenly assets from the lingering eyes below. “Guess I'm going out the fun way.” Yuka muttered. It wasn't the first time she'd been forced to make a quick getaway. There was another bang on the door, prompting Yuka to make her getaway, she hurled her shorts from the window, slipped her boots on and climbed out onto the ledge. With her usual quick feet, strong hands, and an unsuspecting breeze sweeping against her bare arse, Yuka climbed down into the alleyway below. “Well that was a hell of a night.” She grabbed her shorts, threw them on and made her way into the merchant district. Yuka made her through the bustling city streets of the merchant district, taking a favoured shortcut through a small maze of market stalls and cramped passages. Early morning was always the busiest time, a chaotic rush of merchants and pedestrians flooded the narrow streets. The smell of exotic spices and fresh cooked kebab swam through the smoke filled air as Yuka danced her way through the masses and made her toward the harbour. On some mornings her friend Mori was down by the water, enjoying the peace and quiet, indulging in a little morning fish, and of course having an early drink. She turned off from the busy street, seeing the masts of the merchant ships peering over from the harbour walls. The sweet exotic smell faded into a salty reek of fish, the commotion of the market faded away with each step until Yuka was left with only the sounds of her own feet and carefree humming. She passed under the archway, taking in the sight of the sun glowing above the ships in dock. It was quieter down on the waterfront, the bustling sounds of the merchant district far behind the gentle rocking of the nearby vessels. Yuka made her way down to the water, sliding down the railings of the staircase with her humming in full tune. A few elderly gentleman sat hunched over their fishing rods, their sagging eyes focussed on the waters for even the faintest nibble. Along the waterfront, perched on a small seat far away from the rest of the fishermen, sat a small shaggy haired boy, dressed in tattered clothes. “Good morning, Mori. Doing a little bit of morning fishing?” She greeted her younger friend, pulled up a spare stool and made herself welcome to the alcohol he often brought with him on his early morning fishing trips. She pulled a dark brown bottle from his basket. “Aw, come on...rice ale? I thought you loved me better than this.” “I didn’t count on you visiting me. Thought you’d want to spend all morning with Ania.” “Nah, didn’t even have a chance to take a leak before that Godfucker Kuragi came banging on the door. Oh right…” Yuka sat her bottle down. “If you’ll excuse me, still gotta piss.” Instead of making her way into the passages beneath the streets, where she would be given some privacy, Yuka took a few steps behind where she was sitting, stood against the wall and pulled her shorts down to her knees, she arched back and rested her hands comfortably on her butt. She relaxed and let her bladder empty against the wall, a dark stream poured out from her, splattering against the stone. She felt a slight warmth as her bare shins were sprinkled by a light shower of piss. “So did you have fun?” Mori asked, a slight stutter of embarrassment in his speech as he was forced to hear the pattering of Yuka's piss. “A lady doesn’t fondle and tell, Mori.” “Oh please.” He scoffed. “Like that’s ever stopped you.” “Only when Madame Lamplights fine ladies are involved, you have every right to hear about my fantastic conquests! The things I do with Ania, however, are only for me, her, and those apostate gods above watching us.” “Well listen to you. Talking like a girl in love.” He sniggered. “Is that what this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach is? I just thought I needed a good fart.” Her stream softened to a light trickle “Ahh...nothing like the first piss after a night of sex...heaven…” She shook off the final drops and pulled her shorts back up. She took her seat back beside Mori and opened her bottle. She took a sip, shuddering as the bitter ale hit her tongue. “You know...maybe it is love…” She smiled, sat back and let the bright summer day wash over her body.
  23. I'm just gauging interest for a Zarya/Mei omorashi fanfic that I might write! Mei would be the one wetting, and it would likely be a casual/non-Overwatch AU or take place during their time off, or something. =P