DsGSilver 782 Posted February 5, 2020 Popular Post Share Posted February 5, 2020 (edited) Many of you probably know Present's stories March of the Valkyries and The Conqueress. If you haven't read them, they're wonderful stories, full of messing and fear accidents. We've been collaborating on more stories set in this universe, featuring the character Ulrika. And, like it says in the title, there's some extra art by Livinginfinite at the end. Hope you enjoy! Virago Queen: Thunder “We’ll be arriving at the war camp within the hour, Your Majesty,” One of Ulrika’s royal guards informed her. “If all has gone according to plan, the fort should have fallen.” “That such a small obstacle has troubled us for this long is an embarrassment,” Ulrika responded coldly. A single, understaffed, lightly-armed Gothian fort had stalled a major military operation for weeks on end, and Ulrika had grown tired of the commander’s excuses. Redirecting a larger army, she intended to crush the fort into ruin on that very day. That army had been embattled with the fort since dawn, and should have achieved victory well before her arrival. God save them if they, too, have failed me, the queen thought bitterly. Along with a small contingent of royal guards, her assistant Iris also rode alongside her. The young lady was being her usual quiet, reserved self. Her face bore a somber, pensive look that Ulrika knew reflected Iris’ desire to be as far from the site of a battle as possible. She was a gentle soul, and appreciated being as far away from danger, and from the more gruesome side of nature as possible. The roar of distant thunder demanded Ulrika’s attention. For a moment, she thought it might’ve been cannonfire. Breathing a sigh of relief, she observed as a blanket of clouds released a deluge upon the land some ways away. Her bladder felt a kinship with the storm, and threatened to release its own deluge. She’d been riding for hours, and had not one opportunity to relieve herself. Certainly no opportunity presented itself where she could relieve herself without exposing her most closely held secret: the large diaper wrapped snugly around her waist. Ulrika had convinced herself that she’d be able to hold it until they arrived at the war camp, but she quickly lost faith in that plan. Even though they were so close, she knew that her generals could hardly wait to inundate her with meetings and discussions. It would be at least another few hours before she had a moment to herself. Exhaling in annoyance, the Virago Queen opted to release her hold then and there, and at the very least end one of her discomforts. Iris had ever proven to be a faithful and loyal confidant, and would be more than happy to change her later. With a sharp inhale, she let go. Almost immediately, the warmth of her piss flooded the front of her diaper. The hot urine filled the space between her thighs, and then reached her rear. She hated the sensation of it, but she couldn’t resist the blissful smile that came with the relief. The garment began to swell, and forced her legs apart ever so slightly. The queen’s bladder continued to empty itself, and she began to worry that it could leak. “The camp is just ahead, now, Your Majesty,” One of her escorts said. His announcement caught her entirely by surprise, and her stream of piss momentarily doubled in its intensity. “Ah, e-excellent,” Ulrika replied. She tried to remain stately and regal, but it proved difficult to do while she was actively urinating in her pants. “All of you, ride ahead and prepare them for my arrival.” “At once, Your Majesty,” With a hard spur of his horse, the guardsman took off, the others following closely behind him. At last, her bladder was empty. The diaper between her legs was swollen and soaking, and she feared it could leak at any moment. “Iris,” She said, in a commanding yet gentle tone. The young woman jumped slightly in surprise, “Y-yes?” “When we find a moment to ourselves, I shall require your assistance with a delicate matter.” For a long time, Iris had served the queen in this way, and Ulrika knew her message was clear. Even so, the blush of her cheeks was certainly telling of her predicament. “Oh, of course, my Queen. We should be well-stocked of your… equipment.” Iris knew better than to say aloud that the Virago Queen wore diapers. Nonetheless, Ulrika was grateful for her assistant’s discretion. The two women approached the outskirts of the war camp, and none too soon. The sensation of the wet diaper being squished against her by her horse’s saddle irritated Ulrika to no end. Busy soldiers and officers scurried about, carrying arms and munitions to and fro. Many people were shouting, and many soldiers were running ahead, weapons at the ready. It was then that Ulrika realized: perhaps it wasn’t just thunder she’d been hearing. ------------------------------------------- The Virago Queen certainly has an interesting way of showing gratitude, thought Brenna. She served her queen as a lord commander with a decently sized regiment under her control. Before that, however, she was called the Howling Gale on the battlefield. She was a famous warrior, having slain countless of the throne’s enemies. For her courage and valor, she was to be awarded with power and authority. How nice those things had seemed, before Brenna found herself overseeing the most pitiful group of pants-pissers she’d ever seen. An unfortunate symptom of having an almighty warrior-queen serving as an icon to your people was that it inspired even the most unfit citizens to sign up as soldiers. The Queen had felt that if anyone could turn these weaklings into killers, it would be the Howling Gale. What followed had been months of Brenna and her subordinate Signe attempting to educate nearly three hundred women in the ways of war. She’d tried to teach them advanced techniques, but it was all so far above their heads. She’d tried to show them basic battle strategy, but Brenna was better suited to carrying out strategies, not making them- certainly not teaching them. When they finally met an enemy in open combat, half of her forces wouldn’t even leave their cover, preferring instead to wallow in their own puddles and messes. She’d punished them thoroughly after that. They’d improved, at least a little, but then she was commanded to capture a Gothian fortress. Every last offense she’d planned against the enemy base crumbled when exposed to her regiment’s sheer ineptitude. And now the queen will finally see the hopelessness of trying to train these people, she thought. Scandian reinforcements had arrived some days ago, and immediately seized control of the situation from Brenna. Whatever plan they’d concocted had been thrown into chaos when a contingent of Gothian reinforcements took everyone by surprise. And now Brenna found herself stuck in a ditch with five of her soldiers. Gunfire soared overhead, effectively serving as a roof. Skilled as she was, Brenna knew that showing her head over the edge of the pit was certain death. She was condemned to wait until the Scandian forces had pushed far enough to draw the focus off of them. She found the waiting distasteful, but her company in the ditch was absolutely intolerable. Five soldiers, and three of them had pissed themselves. One of the wet women had a large brown stain and wet bulge resting in the seat of her trousers, and she was confident she saw another bulge in the seat of the woman next to her. Only two of them had managed to not ruin their underwear in some way. When, at last, the gunfire abated, Brenna wasted no time standing and climbing out of the pit. “C-commander Brenna!” one of her soldiers called after her. Brenna turned to see the woman she was only fairly sure had soiled herself addressing her, “W-w-what should we do? There’s so many of them,” “Either follow behind me or cower in this pit,” She replied gruffly, “Whatever you decide, just keep out of my way.” Readying her rifle, she charged forward, free at last of that filthy hole in the ground. Bullets raced by her as she advanced. She didn’t scare easily, but the fear of being shot was a powerful and universal one. She felt the familiar adrenaline rush, the erratic and rapid beating of her heart, and the slightest twinge in her bladder- all long time companions of hers. Swift as the wind for which she was given her title, she gunned down two Gothian soldiers before they could move to dodge her. Charging through the barricade they’d been using, she was ambushed by a hidden man. With startling speed, he raised his knife, and brought it down. A small gasp escaped her lips, but her instincts took over and kept her alive. With a speedy sidestep, she dodged the knife, and drove the butt of her rifle into the man’s throat. He stumbled and fell backwards, giving Brenna enough time to raise her weapon high, and bring down the bayonet into his chest. She was panting, and felt dampness at her crotch. While she prided herself on being fearless, it could be said that her body was not as brave as her mind. She had a consistent tendency to leak on herself when in combat. To remedy this, she wore thicker underwear than most. Layers of cloth wrapped around her groin in an approximation of panties. She would defend to the death that this garment was not a diaper, and that she did not wet herself. Collecting herself, she analyzed the battlefield around her. Scandian cavalry had begun a fierce charge, and appeared to be smashing apart any Gothian lines. Before long, only the Gothians taking cover in the fort would be safe, and only until Scandian forces breached it. The thought of being the one to take the enemy stronghold filled her with excitement. At last, this thorn in her side could be removed. Ignoring the minor wetness between her thighs, she pressed on, towards the fort. ------------------------------------------- Ulrika found herself somewhat happy that she’d emptied her bladder before reaching her destination. She’d been able to do so slowly and deliberately- ensuring no leaks. Had she entered into the warzone before her with a full bladder, she knew there was a good chance she’d have caused it to overflow. She was ashamed to know such a thing, but she couldn’t deny it. Minutes after her arrival, a large force of Gothian soldiers had arrived to break the siege. She couldn’t be sure of their numbers, but there was certainly no shortage of them. Scandian soldiers rushed to take positions behind hastily made fortifications. The cacophonous shouts of countless officers attempting to organize their forces formed a background of noise to the innumerable gunshots and the thunder of cannons. Beside her, Iris was shaking, looking like she might fall off of her horse at any second. Ulrika half expected to see a growing urine stain upon her servant’s red dress, but it seemed Iris managed to keep her bladder under her control. “Iris,” Ulrika said in an authoritative voice, hiding her own fear, “Get somewhere safe, wait until the fighting is over.” “Y-y-yes, Your M-Majesty,” The woman could barely speak, and her face was pale as death. With a kick, she sped off on her steed, searching for shelter. Ulrika longed to join her. Already, her heart was pounding, and a cold knot in her stomach threatened to take control of her body away at any second. She shook her head, and steeled herself. She was the Virago Queen, not some little infant who soiled herself and ran at the slightest fright. She would be the stone that this Gothian army would break upon. Pulling her grand, double-barrelled rifle from its holster, she rode towards the sounds of thunder. ------------------------------------------- Signe could not tell if she was the luckiest or unluckiest woman in the world. She’d been a short distance from the rest of the camp when the Gothians launched their surprise attack, and this allowed her to use the surrounding woods for cover while she fired on the assailants. However, she’d been apart from the others on account of her need to relieve herself. She’d hoped to find a moment of privacy, but now found herself trying to snipe Gothians whilst keeping her thighs held together. The young soldier had positioned herself atop a small hill, and had a grand view of the unfolding battle. Scandian fortifications and a few old buildings had made for excellent cover to lay siege to the fort, but now the Gothians had pushed so far forward many of these defenses now belonged to them. An enemy soldier rounded a corner, and levelled his rifle at the female soldier taking cover there. With a quick twist and a squeeze of the trigger, Signe planted a bullet in his chest. The man and his rifle crashed to the ground, unmoving. The woman she’d just saved looked towards Signe’s impromptu nest, still in a bit of a stupor. With her sharp eyes, Signe noticed with sympathy that there was a quickly expanding stain on the front of the woman’s uniform pants. She turned her attention to a line of Gothian marksmen who’d reversed one of the Scandian barricades, and were using it for cover. They were effectively turning a long stretch of ground into a killing floor. Signe fired, and the first of the Gothian soldiers dropped. The one closest to him lost his focus, and in that second she took him down, as well. The remaining soldiers crouched low, fully hiding behind their cover. With their overwatch ended, Scandian forces promptly advanced towards them. They wouldn’t last much longer. Signe then turned to the next cluster of Gothians. She aimed and placed her shot, but felt a slick heat flowing into her underwear just before pulling the trigger. Alarmed at leaking, her shot went wide, and impacted a tree next to her target. With some gestures and shouting, suddenly the eyes of several Gothian marksmen fell upon her perch. Signe’s eyes went wide, and she dove behind a nearby tree trunk for cover. Lying flat on her stomach, she pressed her body against the ground as tightly as possible. A hailstorm of bullets followed only a second after. Dirt and bark were launched into the air, and the terrifying howl of passing bullets was all she could hear. Her bladder, made lax with fear, spilled its contents into her trousers. Lying flat upon the ground, it soaked the front of her pants, puddling in the dirt, and reaching down to her knees. The fetid warmth spread to the bottom of her shirt and jacket, and tears of relief stung her eyes. Her stream died down to a trickle, and at last it was finished. Doing her utmost to remain hidden, she crawled away from the stump, moving downhill. She would need to find a new position, and she would need to be more subtle. Crawling through the brush, her cold and clammy pants stuck to her thighs, and the scent was thick. Signe had heard that Queen Ulrika would be making an appearance that day, and she dearly wanted not to face her queen in piss-soaked clothes. Once she’d found another vantage point, she took care to conceal her location. Without the nagging of a full bladder, her accuracy and reaction notably improved. Earlier, she’d wished for a quick battle, so that she could finish it and retreat to somewhere private to empty her bladder; now she was hoping it would rage for long enough that she’d dry off under the sun. ------------------------------------------- Iris hadn’t needed much convincing to run to safety. She’d sped away on her horse, but soon found that the Gothian assault had been so rapid and brutal that shelters were in rather short supply.Much worse than that, though, was her appearance. She wore a red dress, and rode a horse of excellent breed. She looked to the Gothians very much like a person of high standing within Scandia. She looked very much like a target. Struggling to find anywhere that looked safe, and like it would continue to be safe, the young woman had no choice but to dart back and forth between anything that resembled cover. When the first bullet sped passed her head, she nearly fainted. With every ounce of willpower she had, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her horse’s head for stability. A long jet of urine soaked into her panties, sending several droplets down her thighs. More bullets came, each one only narrowly missing. In her addled, terrified state, she decided to abandon her mount, and seek a small hovel to hide in. Dismounting while as numb as she was proved difficult, and she more akin to falling off her horse and landing on her backside. Her legs shaking and unable to carry her, she crawled over to a large stone wall, one looking to belong to a church, and covered her head with her hands, willing the fight to be over. ------------------------------------------- Ulrika’s anger at the failure of her forces was immeasurable, and matched only by the dread that filled her heart. The Gothians were known for fighting ferociously to the bitter end, and they’d haunted her nightmares since she first began her campaign against them. The Virago Queen did everything in her power to clear her mind, and focus on the battle. Mounted atop her powerful steed, and wielding her ornate rifle, she rode to the site of one of the more fierce engagements. She came upon two Scandian soldiers, both huddled behind some crates for cover. One of them, at least, was attempting to fight. She leaned over the boxes and fired, although the large wet streaks down her legs betrayed her fearful incontinence. The other, however, was sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, no weapon in sight. She sat in a large puddle, and a large, rounded bulge rested in the seat of her pants, tinging them brown. “Disgraceful!” She shouted at them. The one who still had her weapon spun around in alarm, before lifting her hand in a shaky salute when she realized who had approached her. The other looked up, and whimpered slightly. “You are here to fight for your country, soldiers! If you cannot even keep from soiling yourselves, then you have no place on my battlefield!” “Y-yes, Your Majesty,” The one who’d only wet herself replied. She shook slightly, and Ulrika noted the renewed wetness blossoming at the woman’s crotch. “If you’ve any honor or love for your country, you’ll advance and fight for it!” Seeing the mighty Virago Queen in all her splendor, the whimpering soldier managed to stand. Urine dripped from her trousers, but she gave a dutiful salute to Ulrika. “For Scandia!” She said, with as much force as her voice could muster. “For Scandia!” Said the other, as she turned to resume firing. Satisfied, Ulrika rode ahead. Bullets flew by her, and she knew she must have been the target of more than one Gothian gunman. Heat around her groin informed her that her bladder had just released whatever urine was still inside it. Once again, she found herself silently praying that the stress and strain the fight was putting on both herself and her diaper wouldn’t cause a leak. She tried to remain calm, and to center herself; the army here was positively massive. The Gothians were fighting with their usual suicidal vigor, but they could not hope to defeat their much larger host. Her fear was intense, having already overwhelmed her bladder, but Ulrika was still a skilled combatant. As she rode, she quickly shot down the Gothians in her immediate vicinity. Her forces were following quickly behind her, having been galvanized by her presence. With the might Virago Queen serving as their inspiration, the Scandian army was ready to vanquish any foe. And the Gothians knew that. Already she looked the part of an officer, and thus a target, but when it became clear that she was the legendary Queen and the architect of Scandia’s imperialism, nearly all guns were trained on her. The first few bullets smashed into the ground near her horse, and she thought little of them. As more came, she kicked her horse into a gallop. Speeding through the battlements, the ground around her was being torn away by the hailstorm of gunfire. Tears of abject terror burned at her eyes, and she wanted so badly to scream. Her fear took root in her bowels, then, and spilled its contents out. Wet mush filled the back of her diaper to the brim, coating her rear end. As her backside smashed repeatedly against the saddle, her release was smeared against her. At last, a bullet hit a mark. Mercifully, it had missed Ulrika herself, but instead struck her horse in the flank. It reared upwards in sudden pain, flinging her from its back. Wasting no time, she righted herself, and stood up just in time to see her horse running off into the woods. In a frightened panic, she turned and ran towards the nearest cover she could find. Her legs did not take her far, and she tripped and fell forward, behind a stone wall. A shrill, terrified scream startled Ulrika, and she looked up to see none other than Iris pressed against the wall. She was shaking, and it seemed as though she wasn’t expecting the storm of bullets Ulrika had brought to her hiding place, and was certainly not prepared for someone to jump in with her. A wet spot had blossomed on the front of her dress, and grew rapidly into an irregular, oblong circle. Trails of wetness raced down the sides of the crimson fabric while a large stain gradually worked its way to the bottom. Streams and drops of piss fell from her hem, creating a growing puddle underneath her. As she continued to wet herself, she calmed slightly, and seemed to recognize who had just joined her. “Q-Queen Ulrika?!” For a second, she almost looked relieved. “Iris? I ordered you to go somewhere safe!” “There wasn’t anywhere! This was-” The shouting of Gothian words silenced the both of them. Someone was close, and calling to his compatriots. Ulrika did not know the words he spoke, but she knew the tone. Here! Here! She imagined him relaying to his friends, She’s hiding over here! She reached for her weapon, only to find it absent. It had been thrown to places unknown when she fell from her horse. The two of them were defenseless. Her heart racing, she lifted a brick from the ground, preparing to defend herself. Footsteps drew near. Closer, closer, until Ulrika was certain the soldier would round the corner at any second. But with the crack of a single rifle firing, the footsteps abruptly stopped. Ulrika turned towards the source of the shot, and saw a female Scandian soldier rising from cover. A large wet patch adorned her trousers. The woman began to walk towards them, until the explosive thunder of artillery drowned out all other sounds. A spot not too distant from their hide was smote with a fiery explosion. The markswoman dove into a nearby building for safety. The miniature earthquake it created shook Ulrika to her core, and she cowered behind the wall. Tucking her knees in, and covering her head, it was all she could do not to pass out. The Gothians had seen her run this way. They’d heard the words of the soldier who’d come looking. They knew she was hiding. All they had to do was destroy any potential cover until they finally struck her. When the next explosion came, Ulrika soiled herself even further. More wet mush filled out her diaper, creating a bulge in her trousers. It would take a miracle for it not to leak. A third explosion came, but never a fourth. The queen dared to look up, and beheld that the fighting was nearly over. Scandian forces had advanced extremely quickly, and braved the walls of the fort. Within minutes, the fighting would be well and truly over. She stood, taking stock of how heavy her pants had become. She’d produced an impressive amount of shit, and she was certain the front was practically waterlogged. Iris, too, had calmed herself, and shamefully grabbed the front of her dress, feeling the massive piss stain. “Is… Is it over?” Iris said in her demure, timid voice. Stumbling over to the edge of the wall, she peered at the fort, and saw the concluding battle. While her assistant inspected the fort, Ulrika’s eyes were drawn to the back of her skirt. The queen was disheartened to see that, despite everything, Iris had actually managed not to soil herself. Ulrika hated her own cowardice so very much. Even her servant, who was woefully frightened of everything, hadn’t made as much of a mess of herself as Ulrika had. “It… Would appear so, yes,” At the queen’s observation, Iris loudly exhaled in gratitude that they were safe. “Iris,” She muttered, getting the young woman’s attention, “In a moment, I shall require your… assistance.” --------------------- “Disgraceful,” Brenna’s forceful voice rang out over the now quiet war camp. Her regiment now stood in formation in front of her. Nearly three hundred pairs of pissed pants. Brenna couldn’t be sure how many had soiled themselves, but the absolutely nauseating odor indicated it was a sizeable portion. The soldiers before averted their eyes. Their faces burned with shame, and she knew some were crying, or close to crying. Entirely unacceptable behavior for warriors of the Scandian empire. Even her right-hand-woman Signe had wet herself in the fray. Brenna was certain this entire assignment was intended to be a punishment for some unknown slight against the Virago Queen. And speak of the Devil… Brenna thought, seeing the tall and imposing figure of her country’s ruler approaching. The Queen’s assistant followed close behind her, looking much like one of Brenna’s less-than-continent soldiers, with the massive urine stain on the front of her skirt. Standing in the proper posture, Brenna saluted her queen. Predictably, Ulrika wore quite a scowl on her face. Murmurs spread throughout her regiment, and the many soiled soldiers clumsily and inelegantly snapped to attention and saluted her. “Your Majesty, Queen Ulrika! I-” “Choose your words carefully, lord commander,” Ulrika said with a dangerous edge in her voice that made Brenna’s throat feel dry. “I want you to explain to me, firstly, why an imperceptibly small force held you at bay for this long. Long enough that enemy reinforcements could arrive. Had my forces not joined the battle when we had, you and your entire regiment would have been killed. Secondly, explain to me how it is that hardly a single one of your troops managed not to ruin their uniforms with their own waters and waste. Explain to me, ‘Howling Gale’, how you permitted this disgrace to befall your homeland.” Brenna could feel her composure cracking like glass. The Virago Queen was legendarily cruel when it came to punishing failure in her ranks. A slight warmth at her groin warned her how close she was to losing control of her bladder. She swallowed, then answered, “My queen,” her voice was hoarse, “I did all that I could to teach these people. They aren’t soldiers, they-” “You were to make them into soldiers,” A cold fury radiated behind her words. Brenna coughed slightly, the dryness in her throat almost choking her, “I… I failed to do so, Your Highness,” admittance of failure did not come easily to her, but the queen would not tolerate excuses. “Lieutenant Signe and I tried fervently to educate our charges, but it is my belief that none of them possess the mettle to serve in your armies.” The words did nothing to assuage the mighty queen’s anger. “How ‘fervently’ could you have tried, lord commander? The people I left in your care could only cower and wet themselves when they were called to serve.” “Your Majesty, I must confess that I do not understand!” Brenna’s voice was confused and desperate. “I am one of your finest soldiers, I have slain countless many of your enemies. Why have I been relegated to teaching these overgrown children who cannot even control their own bladders? Have I done something to warrant this punishment?” Her tone shifted from pleading to angry by the end of her rant, but her blood ran cold when she saw how Ulrika’s face twisted from cold fury to murderous intent. Quick pulses of her piss soaked into her underwear as she leaked even more. “Commander Brenna,” Ulrika said slowly. She took a step forward, and Brenna quickly took a frightened step back. “I placed you in charge of this regiment specifically because of your talents. I had faith in you to turn them into loyal and powerful soldiers of Scandia. All you have to offer me are excuses and accusations. All you can give me, after all that I have given you, is failure.” The queen continued to walk towards her. Brenna had completely abandoned her posture, and was fearfully backstepping. The warmth of urine saturated her groin. She knew that she was not just leaking, she had begun to wet herself. Her regiment only watched, silent and bewildered. In the quiet, the harsh hiss of her voiding bladder was clear as day. In disgust, Ulrika lowered her gaze to Brenna’s crotch. She raised an eyebrow when there was no wetness there. Brenna could feel her release flooding her privates, the garment growing heavy between her legs. “Are you… ” Ulrika began, but continued to observe. The queen’s gaze sharpened even further. Brenna guessed that she was piecing together what was hiding under her trousers. The terrifying queen’s visage evaporated whatever control was left of the lord commander’s bladder. Hot piss sprayed into her underwear, soaking them beyond their capacity. Crescents of wetness formed on each of her thighs, and raced downwards. Small puddles formed at her feet. “Shame upon shame,” the queen said coldly. With a quick and harsh motion, she gripped Brenna’s trousers, and yanked them down. Brenna gasped loudly as her special, protective undergarments were put on display. The white cloth had been thoroughly stained yellow. “You insult and chastise them, when you are no better. Perhaps I truly did overestimate you, Howling Gale.” The edge in the queen’s voice was pure ice. Brenna was certain the Virago Queen was going to have her killed. “Y-Your Majesty, P-please!” She begged, as a quick burst of flatulence and accompanying crackling announced the emptying of her bowels. Wet mush piled in the seat of her “panties,” some escaping the cuffs and dripping down her thigh. The release was large, and her now bulging underwear began to slide down her thighs. Gripping the sides, she pulled them back up, too numb with fear to mind how it made her mess press against her rear. “Lord commander Brenna, I hereby strip you of your rank. Wash the filth off of yourself, and meet me in the command tent for the assignment of your punishment.” Brenna felt tears stinging her eyes. Her entire regiment could only stare, wide-eyed, at her pathetic display in front of them. Ulrika looked to Signe, and spoke, “Lieutenant Signe, I presume?” “Y-yes, Your Majesty!” Signe dutifully answered, a little surprised to be called upon. “You killed a man who was only seconds away from revealing my position to Gothian cannoneers. I daresay my servant and I only escaped the bombardment thanks to you.” “Ah, uh, of course, Your Majesty! I would gladly lay down my life for you!” “And yet,” Ulrika’s eyes drifted down to the wetness of Signe’s thighs. “It would appear that fear made a fool of you as well.” “F-forgive me, my queen,” “However, despite your fear, you fulfilled your duty as a soldier. You did not let your terror stand in your way. You accomplished much today, proving your courage.” “Yes, Your Majesty,” Signe opted for a simple response. “I see now that I made an error appointing the Howling Gale to be the commander of this regiment. If anyone can teach them of courage and duty, it is you. I hereby appoint you as lord commander of this regiment.” The queen and her assistant departed, leaving a stunned Signe and a shamed Brenna standing alone in front of the many Scandian Soldiers. A chill breeze swept between Brenna’s bare thighs, reminding her that her trousers rested around her ankles, and her ruined diaper was perfectly visible to hundreds of people. Holding back her tears, she yanked her pants back up, cringing as it forced the cold, wet, and soiled garment against her body. The former lord commander silently left, searching for someplace to clean herself off. --------------------- Ulrika was well aware of the hypocrisy of her condemnations. Even as she paraded the lord commander’s incontinence before everyone, Ulrika herself still had yet to change. Her own undergarments were still swollen with her urine, and sagging with her waste. She reminded herself that the facade was critically important, and that if she needed to be a hypocrite to ensure the success and morale of her empire, then she gladly would be. But what truly bothered her was not the carefully crafted charade, the lies, deceptions, or hypocrisy- it was the honesty of her praise for the markswoman Signe. Like most of the inept regiment, she had wet herself, but hardly seemed a coward for it. The vision of the woman, clad in pissed pants, fearlessly gunning down the man who would have taken Ulrika’s life was burned into her mind. All that she, the Virago Queen could do, was to curl up and soil herself like a frightened child. Along with her respect for the woman, Ulrika felt a burning envy of her courage. She had to pause in her walk, and pull her pants and diaper back up, as the weight of her earlier fear had caused them to slide down her legs. A quick touch of her rear confirmed that she’d produced a considerable amount of shit in her pants. The shame of her incontinence burned hotly, but not nearly so much as her shame in her own cowardice. “Ah, Your Majesty!” An older man’s voice called. One of the generals sent to destroy the fort. He and the other generals and commanders had gathered around a small table with a map. They were discussing and preparing the greater offensive- the invasion into Gothia from this point. It was a discussion she would need to be present for. Naturally, it would be taking place when Ulrika’s pants were full of shit. Fighting to clear her mind and keep her blush at bay, she approached the table. They each welcomed her with a proper salute, and made way for her to view the map. It wasn’t even a minute until one of them made the comment Ulrika would’ve rather died than hear: “Does anybody else smell that?” She veritably froze on the spot, her mind racing to concoct an excuse for why she smelled like a latrine. “Oh!” Iris chimed in. She clutched the large wet stain on the front of her dress, “I… I am terribly sorry… That smell is me.” The young woman visibly spread her legs slightly, to give the impression that she had soiled herself, “I couldn’t reach safety, and I was terribly frightened! All the bullets, and the fighting, I just… ” She squeezed the hand that held her piss-stained skirt, once again emphasizing her accident. Ulrika had very clearly seen the woman’s rear, and there was no hint of Iris having lost control of her bowels. Her able assistant had just eagerly offered up her own dignity to save Ulrika’s. In that moment, Ulrika was considering renaming a city or two after Iris in gratitude. The men around them had mixed reactions. Some chuckled, some looked with sympathy, and others looked away in disgust, or just due to the awkwardness. Finally, one of them shattered the tension with a quick jest, “What were you so scared of, miss? You had the Virago Queen by your side! You couldn’t have been any safer in the sturdiest bunker in the land.” The others nodded their agreement and chuckled along. “Well, I do suppose I can see that now,” Iris commented, giving a quiet, little laugh. Thinking back to the two of them hiding and wetting themselves, only to be saved by someone else, Ulrika’s self-loathing thoughts of her own cowardice resurfaced, and she wished them to be gone immediately. “Yes yes, enough teasing my assistant,” She said, getting everyone back on track. “Today we begin what I intend to be the final campaign into Gothia. I will have no more delays, no more failures.” With that, they began their planning. For over an hour, Ulrika and Iris stood there in their wet and soiled clothing. When, at last, it had ended, they retired to the command tent- a large, almost luxurious tent that had been erected in anticipation of the queen’s arrival. It was private, devoid of people, had no windows to the outside, and would be an excellent place for the two women to clean and change themselves. Once they had entered inside, and there were no prying eyes or ears to bother them, Ulrika turned to face her assistant. “Iris,” She said, more gently than usual. “Highness?” “... Thank you.” Ulrika was not skilled in offering up genuine gratitude, and Iris’ smile told her the young woman knew the significance of her thanks, tacit as it was. “Of course, my Queen.” The tent lacked any suitable changing table, so they’d have to make do on the floor. While her diaper had miraculously spared her trousers from the torrent of piss and shit she unleashed into them, her clothes had otherwise been soiled by rips, tears, burns, blood, and dirt. Stripping them off, she stood before Iris in only her heavily soiled diaper. The two had long ago done away with any discomfort between themselves in regards to nudity. Iris produced a fresh diaper from her bag, and Ulrika prepared to lie down for changing, when they heard it. “So this is the mighty Virago Queen, in all her splendor.” For a second, Ulrika was certain it had only been a nightmarish conjuration of her own imagination. The voice belonged to man. A man who spoke with a thick Gothian accent. She felt liquid warmth pouring into her diaper. She fought to stand up, to assess the situation. Emerging from a hidden space in the spacious tent was a man in Gothian uniform, clutching a pistol in one hand and a saber in the other. He had a look on his face that was a cross between utter disbelief and unabated joy. Iris’ legs were shaking. She grabbed onto Ulrika’s arm to steady herself. She was still wetting her diaper, although it could hold no more by that point. Golden rivulets broke through the garment, and coursed down her muscular legs. The man- the assassin- looked on with a smug grin. “I would’ve preferred to kill you on the battlefield, but I must say… this is proving far more enjoyable than I predicted.” “P-please… don’t… ” Ulrika stammered out a meager plea, but she knew it was pointless. The ferocity and perseverance of the Gothians had haunted her nightmares for quite some time. She knew there was absolutely no way he would let her live, not when he had the power to shatter the leadership and morale of the people invading his homeland. “I don’t know how you managed to fool all of us into being afraid of you, but it won’t matter now,” he levelled his pistol at her head. Ulrika could only close her eyes as tears streamed down her face. There was a gunshot. A thunderous sound that heralded death. Ulrika heard a wet squelch, and was sure she’d soiled herself even further in her final moments. But then she heard a body hit the ground in front of her. When she was certain it was not her that had been shot, she wiped the tears from her eyes, and opened them. The assassin was dead. A bleeding hole in the back of his head told the story of how. Standing behind him, jaw hanging open in shock, was the former lord commander Brenna. Ulrika’s senses returned to her, and she recalled that Brenna had been instructed to meet her in the command tent. Such a small action had saved she and Iris’ lives. Of course, she now had a disgruntled commander that she’d publicly humiliated staring at her in her state of incontinent undress. “Your Majesty,” she said, slowly, carefully, “Have I… interrupted something?” Ulrika attempted a reply, but it emerged only a choked, sobbing sound. With a cough, she cleared her throat and spoke, “L-lord Commander… I believe you have earned yourself a… promotion,” she hated having to concede anything to the woman who had so disrespected her earlier, but now she would need to keep her quiet. “It seems I have,” an opportunistic smiled creeped onto Brenna’s face. “I don’t want a position teaching whelps how to fight. I want to be there, my Queen. I want to win glory on the field of battle. Give me that, and I can promise not to ever speak a word of… this.” “Perhaps a position in my royal guard would suit you, then… Howling Gale,” she gritted her teeth in frustration. Once again, she’d been saved from imminent death when all she could do was beg for mercy and cower in fear. And to be saved by someone she was meant to be disciplining. Her trials today knew no ends. “I think that sounds perfect,” Brenna only then stowed her pistol away. “As a show of good faith, I’ll keep anyone from entering the tent for as long as I can. Give you time to make yourselves presentable. And I promise to forget what I saw,” She gave a slight wink with her last remark. No one in all the world could speak to her like that, least of all one of her subordinates. Brenna was a skilled warrior, and now had saved her life and was privy to her darkest secret; but even so, she would be made to heel. Ulrika considered how many ways she could have Brenna punished, but for the time being, she elected to finally change out of her truly ruined diaper. Edited August 31, 2021 by DsGSilver (see edit history) Concensus, blooper, DuffMan and 5 others 8 Quote Link to comment
Keita123 1,103 Posted February 6, 2020 Share Posted February 6, 2020 Is this a reupload? I swear this reads familiar. Quote Link to comment
DsGSilver 782 Posted February 6, 2020 Author Share Posted February 6, 2020 28 minutes ago, Keita123 said: Is this a reupload? I swear this reads familiar. If you're in the Council Discord, I may have posted it there before. Otherwise, it may just be because it's set in Present's setting, with several of his characters. Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted February 6, 2020 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted February 6, 2020 I loved that story it was a very enjoyable read DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
THEO WANDER 170 Posted February 7, 2020 Share Posted February 7, 2020 Great story I love fantasy but there isn’t much omo wise I tried to write a similar story but it was never very well received but this is perfect DsGSilver 1 Quote Link to comment
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