Rain_Attica 165 Posted January 29, 2023 Popular Post Share Posted January 29, 2023 This is the story of a cute, redheaded human girl who wets herself and has sex. It's obviously more nuanced than that, but you'll find that out. There is messing, but I'll make sure there is an indicator where the messing part is, so that you can see it. This story is a one-shot. No more chapters after this. Characters Erin O'Donnel, the narrator and main character of the story. Erin is a medicinal researcher, a peon in the massive system that is the corporation which owns the planet she was born on. Erin has high hopes of doing something meaningful with her life, instead of just obeying the plan set for her and fitting into the paradigm. She also likes to wet her pants and have many, many orgasms. Columbia Jacosta, the head of the Research and Development department of Chimera, a terrorist organization turned government. She is cool, calculating, and horny. Columbia is hispanic- the picture does not QUITE do her justice in that sense. Mist- The leader of the terrorist group "Chimera". Mist is an enigmatic figure, and there is almost nothing known about her. She is extremely protective of her identity, and wields great power. She doesn't have a last name, like Madonna. The Story Begins... Chimera! Oh, to work for Chimera! Never in my life, not once, have I felt the sense of purpose, the dignity, and the righteousness, that I feel working for Chimera. They call it a terrorist organization, but they simply don't understand. Through Chimera, we are freed. *I* certainly was! I had given four years to Medicorp, before Chimera came. I had been raised on Planet Medicorp, I had been taught by Medicorp Education, I had been hired and trained by Medicorp Inc. The corporation had been my world- nay, it had been my universe! I would have been lucky to consider myself a cog in the machine. No, no matter how hard I worked, I was never a 'cog'. Perhaps a pin, or a screw- but nothing so important as a cog. Then, Chimera came, and set me free. To explain, for those of you who may not understand- in the year 2248, corporations own planets. There are no countries, no governments. There is only the rule of PSI, and the obedient corporations which live to serve the Psionic Order's desires- and line their pockets in the process. I lived on the planet Medicorp. I was born on the planet Medicorp, and I was fully convinced I would die on the planet Medicorp. It may seem bleak, but to be frank, it was a decent existence. I had food to eat, a comfortable bed, work that challenged me, and luxuries that tittilated me. This did not change when Chimera took over, save for the fact of tittilation. Oh, how very tittilated I was, by Chimera. To explain further-- Chimera was a terriorist organization which rose in the year 2251. "Chimera", the beast with 3 heads, they called themselves! An apt title, because of their three departments. The "Enforcement Department", which, to the media, was little more than a gaggle of thugs- the "Humanoid Resources" department, ran by a literal gangster, turned political- and my favorite, the "Research & Development" department, headed by Mistress Columbia Jacosta- the most beautiful, intelligent, powerful woman I have ever seen in my life. I am not ashamed to admit I had masturbated to her several times. That is, before I met her in person. My name is Erin O'Donnel. I am a green-eyed, red-haired, pale-skinned, freckled girl. I like to believe I have an attractive body- my breasts are a C cup, and I am within my ideal BMI. I am a scientist, if you haven't guessed this by now, and I once worked for Medicorp. I confess, while I did watch the Galacta-streams concerning the rising of Chimera, I never considered that they might come to my planet. I also never cared, until I saw Mistress Columbia on the screen. I immediately fell in love with her. Though she might have loose morals, though she might be callous, heartless, and manipulative, I still love her. In fact, I love her even more for this. She is the epitome of everything I had ever hoped to be- attractive, intelligent, successful, powerful... brave. Unfortunately, I will never be brave- but I like to fantasize. I also like to fantasize about situations in which I am not brave. That is, ah, situations in which I wet myself in terror. I get off to this sort of thing. Medicorp is- sorry, was, the premier producer of medical supplies in the known Galaxy. You may have guessed from the name. As for my job, I was a Gene Mapper. I spent my days tweaking and tinkering with DNA and RNA strands to try and produce an "Ideal Cell", the end-product of my job, which could be cloned and injected. The concept was that an Ideal Cell would behave like a stem cell, but with a specific purpose pre-programmed into it. Ideal Cells could be injected into cancer to re-grow the cancer cells into functional tissue- not just 'destroying' the cancer, but actually manipulating it into something good for the body! I was very proud of this research. I was also proud of my role in it. This sort of research was planned by generations- In the ancient past, like perhaps the year 2023, this project was started with the expectation that scientists like me would give their entire lives to it, breed, educate their children, and have their children replace them. Naturally, this is a lot of pressure. Being a fundamental part of this ambition made me proud, but also gave me nightmares. I wet the bed until I was 12 years old. I also still wet the bed sometimes, even though I am 26 years old, but it is very rare. I also occasionally wet my pants. This will be explained later. Putting it simply, I often get very distracted- very involved in my work. When Chimera came, I was blessed enough to meet Mistress Columbia and shake her hand. My 'involvement' in my work soon bordered on obsession. While the ownership of the planet changed, the goal did not- and I was absolutely determined to produce results as quickly as possible. While "Ideal Cells" were originally designed as a cure for cancer, they could very easily be used in curatives and wound bindings- something that is in high demand, when you are trying to overthrow the government of an entire galaxy. I cared not for the far-reaching medical goals, or the consequences of rebellion- the only thing I cared about was impressing Mistress Columbia. So busy, I was! Busy, busy busy! Oh, I was especially busy, on the day of the breakthrough. It had been four months since Chimera had liberated the planet Medicorp. Certainly, a number of my friends and colleagues had died in the invasion, and I survived by hiding in a closet and crying to myself- but it had been worth it. Under Chimera I was better paid, given more time off, and more benefits. Also, I was assured in the knowledge that my research would help a woman I revered as a Goddess, were I successful. I distinctly remember having discomfort in my belly that day. Miss Columbia herself was on the planet, touring the facilities, and I was completely determined to complete the research. I neglected the needs of my body, focusing instead on the computers, the microscopes, the glass slides. Eventually the discomfort in my belly went away- I paid it no second thought. I clocked in early, I skipped my lunch, and I worked into the evening- by 1600 Galactic Standard Time, the prototype of the Ideal Cell had been completed. As I was the head of this project, I gathered the data (Put it on a thumb drive,) and rushed it to Mistress Columbia herself. This was the second time I had met her, the second time I had been graced with the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand. I gave her the materials. She flipped the device idly in her hand, plugging it into a wearable computer attached to her wrist, and parsed the data in a matter of seconds. She did not seem interested in it, much to my dismay. But the dismay did not last, because it seemed that I was the thing that had caught her interest. "You've spent your whole day on preparing this data for me, haven't you?" She asked me, looking me over. Her eyes seemed lascivious to me- but that may have been my hope, rather than my observation. "Yes!" I told her eagerly. "I wanted to make sure it was ready for you, Miss Jacosta! This- This is my life's work, and you hold it in your hand. I hope that it pleases you." "Indeed," the woman replied to me, as if it were not important at all. "I'd like to show you something. Will you come with me?" She asked me, yet, she also reached down and grasped my hand. I almost fainted then and there, but I persevered, and went with her. Her question was a command, and I was compelled to obey. In a daze, I allowed her to lead me along by the hand, unaware of what was happening. We gradually made our way to the suite she was staying in. A mere wave of her hand unlocked the door, and she brought me inside. Fear gripped me at this moment- me, personally, invited into the home of a genius? I wasn't worthy! "Shhh," Mistress Columbia cooed to me, as if sensing my anxiety and fear. Her hand was soft against my cheek, and I looked expectantly up to her. I had not realized it until just now, but she was nearly a full foot taller than me. I felt small in comparison, but I also felt pleasure. "Come with me." The bronze skinned woman lead me gently over to her refresher room, and parked me in front of the full-length mirror on the wall. "What do you see?" She asked me. The nuance of this question overwhelmed me. I was unsure what I was supposed to see, and began hyper-fixating on the various details of my dress. "M- My lab coat's collar is slightly uneven on the left side?" I asked, and Mistress Columbia shook her head. "No, not that! Try again." I tilted my head, reached up and neurotically plucked at my wavy red hair. "I- I didn't brush my hair properly this morning?" I asked again, but the brilliant scholar still shook her head. "Not quite," She told me. "Do you need a hint?" Sheepishly, I nodded. I may or may not have needed a hint, but the act of asking for help ingratiated myself to her, made me dependent on her- I desired this greatly. Immediately, I got my wish. "Here," Mistress Columbia said, tantalizingly raking her fingers up the back of my thigh, until she gripped my bottom. "You don't feel it?" She asked me. "Are you truly that incompetent?" Panic gripped me, at that sentence. "I- I'm--" I stammered, as she moved in closer to me, still squeezing and groping my ass. "Look," She commanded me, as her hands wandered across my body. One hand stopped at the front of my thigh, and tapped my inner leg. "Look here, with your eyes, dimwit. You don't see?" She asked me once again. Though I had been in a state of elation the entire time, I managed to come down from my high just enough to follow her hand with my eyes, and look at myself. I looked at my inner thighs. Wet. They were wet. Slowly, my eyes widened as I realized. Wet! My pants were wet! I had ignored the needs of my body in order to push out the finished product of my research, and my urethra had given up on me. I had lost bladder control, and urinated in my pants. Worse, still- I had completely wet my pants, and I didn't even notice. I had scurried up to Mistress Columbia, bowed and groveled and presented my research to her, and the entire time I reeked of piss, my pants clinging wetly to my legs. A wail of absolute dismay escaped me. I remember my face being hot, so hot- I must have been blushing, my cheeks bright red. I reached down to cover my groin with both hands, as if that could somehow hide what I had done- but Mistress Columbia grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away. "Bad!" She chided me teasingly, leaning in and putting her chin on my shoulder. "Grabbing yourself between the legs, at your age? That's almost more shameful than wetting yourself." My free hand slowly went down to my side. My body trembled, my throat felt dry. I swallowed, though nothing was in my mouth, staring in the mirror at my pissy pants. "I... I'm sorry..." I managed to stammer out. I wanted to cry, but I refused- I needed to be strong, even in this situation! Yet, even though I felt that way, Mistress Jacosta broke down my walls as if they were made of paper. "You're sorry?" She berated me, reaching up and pinching my jaw with her thumb and forefinger. "You come to me, presenting some research I could have come up with in the shower, having pissed in your fucking pants, and you think sorry will fix it?" I began to cry. My toes curled in my shoes, my hands clenched into fists, and I tried as hard as I could to keep a straight face- but it wasn't enough. I cried. Tears began to streak down my cheeks, ruin my mascara. I was unbelievably ashamed- I was horrified, that not only had I done such a thing, but Mistress Columbia was punishing me for it. "I- I'm- s-- so-- sorry---" I stammered out, trying not to choke. I tried as best as I could, but the only thing I could manage to do was look even more pathetic. Mistress Columbia Jacosta adored this. I could see the way her lips spread open in a sadistic smile of delight. I could see her perfect, clear white teeth. I could see the wild lust in her eyes, that she kept just barely under control. "Piss-pants," She taunted me, fingers raking across my bottom as she moved around in front of me. She stood face to face with me, looking down at me- pinching my jaw and forcing me to look up at her. "You are the most pathetic creature I have ever had the misfortune of meeting," She told me. The scientist pinched my jaw, forced my mouth to open ever so slightly, and leaned over me. Columbia swirled her tongue in her mouth, cleared her throat- and spat directly in my mouth. "Swallow," She commanded me, pushing my chin up with her palm, so my mouth would shut. I wanted to gag- I wanted to cough, to throw up. Mistress Columbia must have sensed this, because she pinched my nostrils shut with her free hand, narrowing her eyes cruelly at me. "SWALLOW," She demanded again... and I did. Blood rushed to my labia, as I became aroused. Columbia gave me a few condescending pats on the cheek, smirking down at the terrified look on my face. "Good girl," She said to me, and I felt a flush of heat between my legs. "You're cute," the golden blonde woman complimented me, sliding her hand behind my lower back. "I- I'm- This isn't p- proper--" I rebutted, trying to adhere to protocol, but I was utterly, completely under her spell. "You aren't proper," She taunted me. "You don't have much worth, either. Except, that you're cute. Except, that I like your body." She tilted her head into a kiss to my cheek, and I completely melted for her. "M- Miss-- Miss Columbia-" I began, and she put an index finger against my lips. "Mommy, " She corrected me. "Mommy, or Mistress. You don't get to call me anything else. Now, what should I call you?" She asked me, coaxing me back into the bedroom. My head was spinning- I wanted to be her property. I wanted to call her 'Mommy'. "Since you still pee in your pants, should I call you baby?" She asked me as she laid me down on the bed, even in my wet pants. "Perhaps I should call you PET," she teased me yet again. My words caught in my throat, as her hands went to my waist and began undoing the buttons on my pants. My heart was beating so fast, I could feel it in my throat. I covered my face with both hands, laying back on the bed, the feeling of shame somehow stronger than my arousal. "W-What-- what are you doing to me?" I stammered, as Columbia was beginning to pull down my pants. The question seemed to stun her. After a brief pause, she crawled up onto the bed, to sit next to me. "I... am trying to have sex with you," She told me, in a straightforward, yet somehow comforting manner. I lowered my hands enough that I could peek past my fingers, up into her amber eyes. "B- But you-- You said all those... those mean things..." I whimpered. The bronze haired woman smiled sweetly at me, bending over such that she was face-to-face with me, brushing a strand of my red hair out of my face. "I'm dominating you," She stated. My cheeks got even redder, my pussy got even wetter, and I had to cover my eyes with both hands again. "You don't like it?" Mistress Columbia asked me. "I can smell your pheromones. Every signal in your body is betraying the truth, girl. You're sexually attracted to me." Even though she was right, I shook my head with embarrassment, parting my fingers so I could look through them. "B-but... but... I... I peed..." I managed to stammer, feeling a tingling sensation in my scalp. "I... I w--... I we...." "You wet yourself," Columbia finished for me, and I covered my face again with both hands. I nodded in acknowledgement. The soft ceiling light of the room lit up my eyes, as I felt my wrists taken and moved away. My eyes snapped open, to see the woman I worshipped face-to-face with me, a playful smirk on her lips. "I like that," She confessed to me. Before the words could register, she tilted her head in, and our lips met. She moved my hands up, up above my head while she kissed me. Her tongue went in my mouth, and I closed my eyes and writhed my tongue along with hers. It was erotic, naughty, but also... tender. I remember that kiss very fondly. A little strand of saliva connected our lower lips as she broke away, and the brown skinned woman rubbed her mouth with her wrist. "I like pathetic girls like you, who wet themselves. I like them very much," Mistress Columbia told me as she stroked my cheek, still flush with blood. She scooted over to the edge of the bed, standing and taking a few steps away. "D- do you like my research?" I asked, shuffling back and sitting upright, propped up on my elbows. A deep, exotic laugh reverberated out of the woman. "Oh, no. Well- I'm interested in your method, and your dedication. But, your research?" She asked me as she turned, facing me and plucking the hems of her skirt with both hands. "Child's play." Despite the act that she was about to commit, Mistress Columbia was the picture of grace, and confidence. She winked at me as she lifted her skirt. She licked her upper lip, parting her legs. I could see her panties clearly- white silk, underneath tan pantyhose that was almost invisible against her legs. "Watch," she commanded me, as if I wasn't already rapt with her. Her panties darkened, as a gush of urine soaked them, and began to run down her inner thighs. Her white panties discolored yellow. Pee gushed down her legs, soaking her pantyhose, splattering all over the floor. She did it effortlessly- there was no pause, no awkwardness. I watched the woman I had been obsessed with piss herself like it was nothing, and my hand went into my wet pants. I didn't even realize I was touching myself. "Mmmmmm, that feels good," She moaned, as if to taunt me. A smirk tugged at the edges of her lips, as she watched my shocked, aroused reaction. I stared at her like an imbecile, my mouth wide open. My mouth must have been inviting, because she came closer to me. She shrugged her lab coat over her shoulders, allowing it to drop off her body into her pee puddle. Mistress Columbia pulled the zipper of her skirt up, the piece of clothing coming undone and falling to her feet as she let go of it. With one hand, she pulled the sleek amber top she wore up over her head, and tossed it aside, crawling into bed with me. "Now we're even. You wet yourself, I wet myself," The bronze haired woman said in an effort to soothe me. Still, I couldn't speak- still, I couldn't think. I mentioned earlier, that I sometimes pee in my pants- frequently it is an accident, but sometimes... it is on purpose. All those times I pissed myself, touched myself, and came, I never imagined sharing this kind of debauchery with another woman- much less a woman who I worshipped. Mistress came onto the bed, straddling my body. She pet my hair fondly, cupped my cheek with her palm. "Mmm, I like pee. You do too, don't you? I could tell." She pinched my cheek, wiggling it like I was a child. "I... I do," I remember replying. "I like to wet myself. It feels good," Mistress Columbia confessed to me, as she crawled her way up. She reached down with both hands, holding me by my cheeks, keeping me in place. "I like to pee on people, too." She scooted up one last time, and lowered herself onto my face, grinding her groin against my mouth. "And... I like to make them drink," my Goddess told me, holding my head in place. Squirming, positioning herself just right, she began to wet herself again- urinating into my mouth, through her panties. "Drink," She commanded me. I couldn't say no- I couldn't deny her. I didn't want to. "Drink," She demanded, and I did. I swallowed her pee. I drank her piss happily. After the pee play, Mistress Columbia finally stripped off her pantyhose, and panties. She peeled my wet pants down off my legs too, teasing and insulting me the entire time. She got me naked, and we had sex. It felt like hours, the time we spent having sex- she touched me, groped me, fingered me. I climaxed in nearly record time! However, that wasn't the end of it. Mistress Columbia fingered me, licked me, caressed me- she gave me pleasure I used to only dream of. She wore a strap-on, and fucked me like I was her plaything. I orgasmed again, and again- but even though I experienced such wonderful pleasure, it paled in comparison to the climax I gave her. I still remember the sound of her screams of pleasure- I still remember the taste of her cum. I lay entangled with her in bed, once we had finished. The sheets were haphazardly cast over us. She laid on her back, one hand holding my thigh, the other rubbing my back. I laid on my side, attached to her- my thigh up on her lap, my head in the crook of her arm. I nuzzled against her side, slid my hand up and squeezed her chest, and she giggled. "You haven't had enough?" Mistress Columbia asked me. "I have," I murmured, "But I still want to touch." I raised my head and scooted up, so that I could breathe and speak. "You really think my work is child's play?" I asked, my pride wounded. Columbia pursed her lip, giving an 'mmm' of thought. "Your work is interesting, and it will serve Chimera well. But, it is not why I came here." This admission inflated my ego. I smiled, pleased, squirming and gently sliding my hips up and down, rubbing my wet, gooey pussylips against Mistress Columbia's thigh. "Did you come here to fuck me?" I asked, and the darker skinned woman replied with a sultry chuckle, her hand going down my back to squeeze my ass. "I did," She admitted that too. "But, there was a reason more important than that." My humping became more eager- before I knew it, I was aroused again, and wanted to have sex. "What reason?" I asked impudently. Mistress slid her arm underneath me, and pulled me on top of her. I was smaller than her, and I fit quite comfortably on top of her- our breasts mashed together, face to face, looking into each other's eyes. My eyes shone with nothing less than utter infatuation- hers glimmered with playfulness. "You wet yourself," She told me, and my face went red with embarrassment. Before I could protest, she put her hand behind my head and pulled me in, silencing me by kissing me. Regardless, I frowned at her once the kiss was done. "W-what do you mean?" I demanded. "Your body language- your expression. You give away endless information about yourself, pet, in ways that only someone like me can see," She told me. I opened my mouth to protest, but she put her finger against my lips instead, and shushed me. "You're a bottom," She told me. "Submissive. Obedient. You're exactly what I want. I could see that tell-tale discoloration on your pants, even though you think it washed out." At this point, my face was red enough to serve as a backdrop for a Tarantino film, but still, Mistress wouldn't let me speak. "You pee your pants for pleasure, don't you?" She accused me, craning her neck up and kissing me before I could deny it. "You wet yourself and masturbate, hmm? I'd say... at least three times a week." She was correct. After some minutes of sloppy, passionate kissing, I managed to pry myself away. My face was hot and red, and I had a bratty expression of frustration on my face. "S- so?" I asked, as if it were totally normal to do what I do. "So what? What are you going to do about it?" This was the wrong question- or rather, the right question. Mistress Columbia pinched my nipple and twisted, narrowing her eyes at me, pulling me against her warm, soft body. "I'm going to punish you," She threatened me, twisting my nipple a little harder. I whimpered at the pain. "Pathetic, piss-pants girl. You're my bitch, now. You're never going to make it to the toilet again." We had sex again, after that. ---- I woke up in her arms. I hadn't expected that- Columbia Jacosta had a reputation for being callous, manipulative, and selfish. I had expected her to leave in the night, having gotten her fill. But she didn't. I woke up in her arms, and I was the happiest girl on Planet Medicorp. I squirmed, writhing my way up so that I could kiss her on the lips, but when I opened my mouth, she put her hand against it. "Terrible," she muttered in a half-awake daze, and I frowned at her. "Oh, and your morning breath is better, is it?" I taunted her. One of her amber eyes popped open, and she looked directly down at my face. Ten minutes later, I was tied, bent over, hanging from the ceiling, and being whipped on the ass with a bundle of plastic cords. I genuinely cried with pain from the experience, and also had an orgasm. "This is turning me on," I declared to my Mistress, about half an hour after my punishment session. Mistress Columbia was dressing me up. I was trying to squeeze into a pair of her pants- and I wasn't capable of doing it alone. Despite the fact that the Hispanic woman who I had completely submitted to had a plumper, thicker bottom than I did, I still could barely fit in her jeans. She was holding them by the belt loops, yanking them up for me. "You have to bounce," She told me, and I looked over my shoulder at her. "It feels like you're giving me a wedgie!" I complained. Mistress laughed at me. I love the sound of her laugh- tinkling, classy, rich and passionate. "Do you want me to give you a wedgie?" she asked, and I sheepishly nodded. "I want to wet myself while you give me a wedgie." Mistress tugged hard, and the jeans finally came up over my hips. "That can be arranged." Columbia had dressed me up. I never wore clothes like this, not on purpose. The pale denim jeans that hugged my every curve were one thing, but the black high-heels I was standing in, the white halter-top that didn't cover my belly, the fuzzy faux-fur scarf around my neck- Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead in something like this. "I look like a prostitute," I complained. My Mistress spanked me in rebuttal. "Prostitutes get paid. You're a slut." There was something immensely enjoyable about the way I looked, the way I felt. I knew I looked garish, but I also felt indulgent. I turned on one heel, looking over my shoulder in the full length mirror that Mistress Columbia had shown me my pissed-in pants just the previous day. "I feel pretty," I declared. In the heels, I was only just barely taller than Columbia- she had to pinch my chin, and pull my face down, to kiss me. "You are pretty." Mistress Columbia walked a circle around me, analyzing the fit of the outfit, reaching out and tugging out a wrinkle here, a fold there. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, you are pretty." To me, this was a compliment beyond God- I was pleased to be pretty for Mistress. I wanted nothing more than to be her pretty plaything. I spent all my years studying, researching, working- It was what I knew, it was what I was good at. Yet, I still felt a pull, a desire to be cute, obedient, and stupid. "Thank you, Mommy~" She treated me like a prizewinning dog, the way that she trotted around me. Her finger pushed into my thigh, running up towards my groin. I stood still, but I couldn't stop the tingling sensation from going to my head. "Plump thighs," She determined. Columbia went around behind me, and I felt her palm grope my butt, rubbing up and down. "Good ass, mmm, yes. Excellent ass," She determined. I blushed girlishly, like just getting fondled was totally normal. "T-thank you," I replied. Her hand slid up my belly, under my shirt. It lingered there on my stomach, and she gently gave a little pinch. "Good. Some fat." That same hand slid all the way up, under my shirt, and cupped my breast. It squeezed, caressed, groped. "Very nice. Pleasant breasts, squeezable." She played with my chest far longer than was needed for a simple assessment- I felt myself giving in to it, felt my body grow warm, my labia swell with arousal. Mistress let go of me, running her hand up and down the side of my body, feeling the depth of my curve. She leaned in, nibbled on my earlobe, and licked the side of my face. "Wet yourself," She commanded me. So, I did. I wasn't aware of it happening, at first. I didn't do it because I wanted to- I did it because she ordered me to. "W... what...?" I asked in vain. My urethra relaxed, and I started urinating well before the command even registered with my brain. A hot, wet crescent of pee gushed across the back of my thighs, under my ass. The tightness of the denim pants I wore had considerable effect in the way I wet my pants. Those glistening crescents grew a little larger, and dozens of rivulets streaked down the back of my thighs. I wasn't wearing any panties, so the force of my pee stream against my jeans made for an audible hsssssssshhhhh, the obvious sound of my wetting serving to further humiliate me. "A-- ahh-- ahhh....." little whimpers and moans escaped from me, as I pissed my pants helplessly. I was drenched- the back of my thighs were soaking wet, down to my knees, before I was even aware I was peeing. My awareness suddenly snapped in, and I looked down at my lap, seeing the wet patch darkening the fabric on my lap. "Ah!!!" I cried out, shocked at what was happening. I managed to cut my pee stream off. "H- How did you--" I stammered out, but Mistress Columbia shushed me, putting a finger against my lips. "Wet yourself," she commanded me again. I'll never forget the feeling that washed over my body. It felt warm all over, I felt tingles in my fingertips. I felt as if my mind had simply melted. My eyes half-lidded, my entire body relaxed. My urethra relaxed. I resumed pissing my pants in full-force, as natural as if I had been sitting on the toilet. Wet yourself, wet yourself, wet yourself... the command was integral to my very being. Mommy told me to wet myself, so I'll wet myself. I'm wetting myself... my pants are wet... I'm peeing in my pants... "M... Mommy..." I muttered, my head spinning from the accident. My pussy was positively burning with *need*, but I felt like I couldn't move. I felt my pee gush down the insides of my legs, down the back of my thighs, down into my socks and heels. It felt so good! It felt so right. "Mommy, I... I went pee-pee...." I muttered, speaking words that weren't my own. Mistress Columbia breathed deeply, trying to control herself, but it was clear that she was beyond aroused. She turned me, reaching up and taking my chin, forcing me to look over my shoulder. "Do you see?" She asked me. "See..." I murmured, still in a trance. My eyes flitted to my own legs, in the mirror. They scanned up the back of my calves and thighs. Wet... I was wet. My pants were soaking wet. I had peed my pants. Somehow, seeing it like this snapped me out of the trance. My eyes opened wide, my cheeks blushed pink, and I went to start taking off my pants, but Mistress stopped me. "Don't you see?" She asked again. Two of her fingers ran up and down the hot, damp piss patch on the back of my thighs. "Women are most beautiful when they piss their pants." She was right. I'm not sure how I suddenly comprehended this- I'm not sure how my outlook suddenly changed. It wasn't mind control, because I knew about that. It wasn't a perverted delusion. My tight, tight jeans were soaking wet with pee, because I had wet myself, and it was gorgeous. I couldn't help but pose in the mirror. I stroked my wet thigh. I pulled my waistband out, looked inside my jeans. I pulled the waistband of my jeans out, and wet myself, so that I could see the pee stream splatter against the denim. It was beautiful! It was naughty, kinky... but it was beautiful. "How did you do that to me?" I asked, fascinated with what had just happened. I bent over, rubbing my hands up and down the back of my piss soaked thighs. I stared at my wet pants in the mirror, like I was in a trance. "I instilled the command in your mind, while you were sleeping," Mistress Columbia explained to me. She tugged my jeans waistband out with one hand, reaching into my wet pants with her other hand, teasing my clitoris with two fingers. "There are plenty of commands that will work on you. Most, demand obedience... but some..." Mistress didn't get to finish her point. My apartment was fairly small, though it served my purposes well. A connected bathroom, a kitchenette and living room, a bedroom. We were in the living room, in front of a mirror, getting frisky when the front door opened. It wasn't supposed to do that- It had been locked- but, whoever was coming through the door couldn't be stopped by such a simple mechanism. "Some demand what?" A female voice interrupted their session, modulated through a mask that made it sound almost robotic. Her voice had a monotone, a kind of plainness to it, and yet, it was utterly terrifying. Mist. Mist, the de-facto leader of Chimera. Mist, who was Mistress Columbia's boss. Mist, the woman who was an enigma, unknowable, uncontrollable, and unstoppable. Mist, the woman who nobody knew, yet everybody knew. She just traipsed through the front door, and saw me getting fingered by Columbia, in a pair of pissed in jeans. My face turned pink with shame, but the intruder didn't seem to have any shame of her own. Mist wore a full body suit, a compound of rubber, latex, and elastic. The shiny, sleek black fabric covered her entire body, and she wore a helmet on her head which concealed her face. The tightness of her suit seemed fetish-like, but that didn't matter- the suit never, ever came off. "You're late, Jacosta," The woman scolded her subordinate- imagine that! The brilliant, dangerous, beautiful Columbia Jacosta-- a subordinate! "I can see why. Tardiness, however, is inexcusable." I felt an urge to reply, to stick up for my Mistress, but Mommy stopped me by clamping a hand over my mouth. It was quite a strange sensation, being in the direct presence of this kind of power- mainly because Mist was much shorter than I expected. She didn't even make it up to my chest in height, and yet, she was one of the most dangerous, most feared malcontents in the known galaxy. "I was going to be on my way. I swear, after I was done here-" The blonde woman protested. Though Mist wore a full helmet, and I couldn't see her eyes, I couldn't help but feel like she was analyzing every inch of me, and finding me wanting. ******************MESSY BELOW************************* "Mess," Mist commanded, before my Mistress Columbia could finish her explanation. The events which followed were, at that point, the most amazing thing I had ever seen in my life. Columbia had dressed me in these tight jeans and a halter top, but she herself had dressed rather snappily. A tan skirt that hugged her legs, white stockings, platform shoes, a button up suit jacket, the same color tan. Her golden hair had been done up into a messy, wavy ponytail. Her look seemed a mixture of casual and professional, and she looked very confident wearing it. It was, therefore, incredible to watch her ruin it. Sweat beaded on Mistress's brow. Her knees quivered, bent uncontrollably. "N--no... No, please--" She begged, but the spell had already been cast on her. She trembled, attempting to resist. I watched her clench and unclench her hands into fists, watched her toes curl in her shoes. "N-no... no! A- ahh... ahh!!" Mistress cried out in despair, huffing, sweating, trembling- but she could not disobey. I watched a glistening, dark wet patch blossom across her butt in that tight little skirt. I watched pee streams run down between her legs, pouring off her skirt like little waterfalls. I watched her face turn pink, her fists ball up, her knees bend. I watched her wet herself, but that was only the start. She completely urinated in her skirt, pee streams dripping straight down, off her bottom. "No! Nooo!!" She cried out pitifully, her knees quaking. A little tent poked out in her skirt, on her bottom- the tent grew bigger, more defined. Then, all at once, the little tent bulged out and made a big, dirty lump in her skirt, with a shameful FFFLAAARPTTT!! sound. Blood rushed to my labia as I became aroused. I simply couldn't help it- the woman I idolized, the woman I loved, helplessly and completely wetting and soiling herself right before my eyes. Columbia's legs quavered a little more, before she bowed down and fell onto her knees. Her mouth hung open in shock, her eyes glazed over with despair. Mist strode over to her, her boots clicking and clacking on the floor as she approached, latex-clad glove reaching out to pet the devastated woman's hair. "How embarrassing," She scolded the scientist, patting her a few times on the cheek. "To do such a thing in front of your newest toy. Stop pretending, would you? You love this." A tremor ran through the girl, her cheeks tinging pink, and she looked away. She couldn't face me, not after that. I was still in shock, at this point. I hadn't realized just what I was contending with. Even if watching Mistress Columbia pee and poop her skirt got me hornier than I'd ever been- and I admit, at this point, I was a pee girl only- There was still this unnerving tension, when I looked at the masked woman. I felt the fear of death, I felt the helplessness of submission. That was when I gingerly reached back, felt my own bottom, and realized that I had also pooped in my pants. The command hadn't even been directed at me! "I- I'm-- I'm sorry--" I stammered out, but my voice caught in my throat. My breath caught in my throat, as well. I realized that I was unable to breathe. I watched as the masked woman came towards me, her hand out, and realized much too late the dangerous truth that I ought to have known from the start-- PSION. My feet left the ground, with a flick of Mist's fingers. I quivered, I peed. There wasn't much left in my bladder, but I wet myself in fear all the same. This was a sort of helplessness I was not prepared for- I desired to submit to Mistress Columbia, it aroused me- but submission to Mist was an inevitability, a necessity if I wished to keep my life. This was the secret that none lived to tell. This was the truth behind her mysterious powers, her charisma, her ability to command. Psion! She was a Psion! And I? I was a victim. I floated down, onto the floor. My body moved the way she willed it to, and my fear kept me from moving at all. I was her rag doll. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, as I was lowered onto my butt. I winced, as I felt the mess in my pants mush all over my butt. It felt disgusting. Something like this had never happened to me before, and I hated that it sexually aroused me. I winced and whimpered as I was bounced up and down, slid back and forth. "What a dirty girl you are," Mist said to me. Her words had no emotion, no personality behind them- I got the impression that she simply didn't care. "I- I--" I stammered, terrified and horny. "I'm... a dirty girl." I liked saying that. At least, I convinced myself that I enjoyed saying that. She flicked her fingers out, and I was slammed back, onto the floor. I laid on my back like that, squirming and whining. My pants were soaking wet, cold and clammy. There was a filthy mess all over my ass. I was more turned on than I ever had been in my life. Mist approached me, straddled me. She put her heel against my groin, and started to grind it against my pussy. I made little whimpers of pleasure, and humped the deadly woman's heel. "A harlot, I see," Mist insulted me. "A degenerate. Very well. I know just what to do with degenerates like you." She stepped further up, still straddling my body. Looking straight up, I could see between her legs. It was like a junction of obsidian. Her fingers weaved into a little flap that ran up her belly from her crotch, and she pulled a zipper up, exposing herself. Violet? I could have sworn I saw violet skin. It made no sense to me, so I blocked it out. Even though there was this violet cunt peeking out at me between the zipper teeth, it couldn't have been. Psions were humans. They were always human! There was no such thing as an alien Psion. There was, however, a cunt right above me. There was also a hand in my piss soaked jeans- my hand. She parted her labia with two fingers, exposed her urethra, and started to pee on me. I writhed, moaned, and masturbated. The most powerful woman in the entire galaxy- at least, as far as I knew- was using me as a toilet. I was honored, and very, very turned on. The arc of her pee stream began to fall, her urination began to taper off. Mist squatted down, right over my face, urine dripping steadily off her cunt as she finished. "Good girl," She said to me. She gave me that same condescending cheek pat that she had given to Mistress Columbia, and then reached down and zipped her suit back up. "M-Miss--" I stammered out, but it wasn't necessary. Even without saying it, she knew what I wanted, what I needed. Her latex clad hand dove right into my pee soaked pants, and she began to rub and finger me. She did it with near medical precision, two fingers pumping in and out of my piss and cum drenched pussy, her thumb flicking and rubbing against my clitoral hood. I orgasmed in roughly five minutes. "My, you've found an obedient one," the black clad woman mentioned to my Mistress. After I came, she put her fingers in my mouth, and I quite willingly sucked my own ejaculate off them. "Shameless, as well. I understand now, why you were late. Unfortunately, I cannot allow this to happen again." A strand of saliva stuck to Mist's fingers as they popped out of my mouth, and she looked back to Mistress Columbia, who was still blushing and squirming. I didn't realize it at the time, but Mistress pottying in her skirt and not being pleasured immediately after was driving her mad. "You are coming with me." She hoisted my Mistress to her feet, starting to guide her towards my apartment front door, which the bronze haired woman fought against. "N- no! I can't go out there! I have to clean up!" She complained, and Mist sharply struck her on the bottom as punishment. "You will go where I command you to go. You are going to march with me to your bedroom. Everyone is going to see that you wet and soiled yourself." Dragging the reluctant scientist towards the door, the helmeted woman turned back to look at me, tilting her head with curiosity. "And you... are going to forget," She said with a wave of her fingers. "Forget what?" I asked, but to no avail- there was no way to figure out what I had forgotten, forever. While they were on Planet Medicorp, my new Mistress, and HER Mistress, visited me a number of times. I had many, many orgasms. All in all, it was a mostly positive experience. The only issue I had come to face was the strange water bowl chair, that had it's own room. Why did it have its own room? It didn't make sense! I did enjoy looking at the strange room, however. There was a perverse enjoyment, standing in that room when I wet myself. I also have been finding myself doing much more laundry lately, but I suppose that makes sense. I pee my pants every day, after all. Sometimes I get the feeling that there's supposed to be something that I can use for that... but it's easy to dismiss such a thought. If I'm not supposed to piss my pants, why does it feel so good? Sashabear, Theonlysaneperson, Asuna.bed.wet. and 6 others 9 Quote Link to comment
Rain_Attica 165 Posted February 4, 2023 Author Share Posted February 4, 2023 Bumping this, since it pairs with the other Story that I wrote, which I just bumped by replying to Quote Link to comment
peeing archer 2 Posted February 9, 2023 Share Posted February 9, 2023 love this, please make more:) Quote Link to comment
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