Search the Community

“Come on, it landed over here!” I called, cresting the ridge on the side of the bike trail. “Jeez, Charlie, slow down!” Billie called up after me, panting for breath. I shook my head. “And let someone else beat us to the punch?” She could catch up. I wanted to find the meteorite. We’d been out for a hike when it soared across the sky, unmistakeable. A ball of fire with a black, smoky trail plummeting from the sky and into the woods ahead of us. I’d grinned and told Billie, ‘Last one there stinks like a rotten egg!’ before taking off, wanting to beat the other hikers to the treasure. I could see clearly the broken branches that the plummeting meteorite had left. Triangulating the position with a guess, I slid down the steep hill, digging in the heels of my hiking boots to stay upright. My miniskirt caught the edge of a bush and flipped up indecently, but that’s why I wore a pair of athletic pants underneath. What I hadn’t planned on was that a pile of leaves and brush were disguising a pitfall at the bottom of the slope. Instead of sliding to a gentle stop, I lost my footing without warning, fell, snagged my pants on a thorny branch, and twisted my ankle. (Goddammit), I groaned to myself, extricating my limbs from the pile of leaves that’d disguised the gap in the ground. Then I stood up, and–Riiiiip. “Goddammit!” I repeated out loud, feeling sudden cold air on my right thigh as a big section of my pants ripped open. My ankle hurt to stand on, but I limped out of the hole and sat. Prodding at the injury distracted me so much, I didn’t even notice the charred black crash site a few feet away until it gave a little crackling pop. I blinked, looked over. The meteorite was within arm’s reach, black and sooty from its entry into the atmosphere, clods of dirt clinging to its shell. I reached over to wipe away some of the dirt and pick it up, not thinking about how it’d likely be burning hot. When I touched it, though, it felt cool. Icy, almost. I puzzled at that, picking up the rock. It was about the size of a basketball, and other than the dirt chunks stuck to it, perfectly round. Another pop sounded, and the shell suddenly split in my hands, cracking sharply in half. I could have sworn something black and viscous spilled out right onto my lap, but when I looked down, nothing was there. (An illusion,) I guessed. (Or maybe some kind of gas? Should I be worried?) “Chars!” Billie called, coming around the side of the hill, winded. “Jeez, girl, you scared me!” “I’m fine,” I said, standing up. My ankle didn’t really hurt anymore, and my skirt helpfully concealed the hole in my pants. “Come check this out–the meteorite was hollow!” I didn’t think anything else of the strange optical illusion, more fascinated by the meteorite itself. In retrospect, I should have been worried. … We rode our bikes back to town, the meteorite halves in my backpack. This’d been a weekly activity for me and Billie when we were in highschool; traveling out and exploring the surrounding world for hours on end. Now that we were both well into college we still reenacted the ritual, but only when we came home on holidays. I knew I’d get an earful from mom once I got home about not having my phone on me, but I couldn’t be bothered. I was on break, nobody but me got to have my constant attention, and I was an adult–I didn’t need anyone nannying me to ensure I was safe. We got back to Billie’s place. Technically it belonged to her parents, but both were out of town for a couple days, so it was all hers until the weekend. “Jeez, Chars,” Billie panted as we stopped in the driveway, taking out her fob for the garage door. “Aren’t you out of breath? You’re not even sweating!” She was right–I felt great. The whole ride home, it’d been as though I’d had a helping hand pushing me along. (You did.) “What did you say?” I asked. Billie blinked at me. “Huh? I didn’t say anything.” “Oh, you–never mind.” We walked our bikes into the garage and she shut it behind us. “Movie?” “Yeah!” “You go pick something out, I’ll be right back,” I said, not explaining explicitly that I needed the bathroom. It didn’t need to be spelled out, after all. She nodded, and I slipped inside and to the right, towards the master bathroom. I knew Billie’s house nearly as well as my own home, she didn’t need to tell me where anything was. I locked the bathroom door behind me and reached to slide down my pants, finally taking a moment to inspect the tear in– They wouldn’t slide down. I frowned and sat down on the toilet seat, lifting up my skirt. The pants looked normal enough, but when I reached to undo the button, it wouldn’t budge, and despite the waistband having a little give, I couldn’t for the life of me pull them down from around my waist. Frowning and looking closer, I saw the tiniest hint of black residue around the button, and– (Hello.) “What the f**k?” I blurted. (Thanks for the ride. I was worried I’d be stuck with a host that had no real will of its own.) (Okay what’s going on, I didn’t think that.) (No, you didn’t. I did.) I stood and hurried to the mirror, inspecting my reflection. I looked normal enough, but I had apparently gone crazy, hearing voices in my head that definitely weren’t coming from me. (Oh, you’re going to be fun,) the voice in my head purred. (I’ve been exploring your head for the right buttons to press, and I think I’ve located one.) Involuntarily, memories flashed through my head, childhood sleepovers where I’d had to flee in embarrassment after wetting Billie’s bed, occasional accidents at school due to sheer bad luck, the most humiliating memories of my childhood and teens. “I don’t understand,” I gasped. “Why–who–what are you?” In answer, I felt something trickling up from around my waist, something not quite liquid and not quite solid, an inky black entity that slithered up my neck and showed itself in the mirror. (Your hormones are delicious, and this’s only been an appetizer.) I shook my head as the inky whatever-it-was disappeared down my shirt, though I felt it teasing over my nipples before it vanished from my senses. I’d lost it. I’d begun hallucinating. I’d– (Oh, I’m very much real, and I promise I’m not going anywhere. Tell me, will you wet yourself now, or will you leave and invent some excuse to try to hide it from your friend?) “Wh-what?” I stammered, outloud. My cheeks flushed pink at the thought of wetting my pants. (That rush–I’ve certainly found the right buttons. I don’t think I’ll let you use the toilet again for a long, long time, at least not while you’ve got such feelings associated with it.) I swallowed. It was insane, but I trusted the voice like I’d trust a bear trap–I had no confidence, except that it wanted to hurt me. “Would…” I started. “Would you–” (You don’t have to speak out loud for me to understand you, you know.) “Okay, but this is less confusing,” I replied in a whisper. “Would you accept a compromise?” (Why would I accept a compromise on your humiliation, when I can force it from you at will?) “Because…” I started to say, but I couldn’t say it out loud. My idea had no merit, I’d just give the thing, the whatever-it-was, more ammunition. But, unfortunately, I’d thought the idea, so now it knew. (Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.) “No,” I said. “I changed my mind–” (I’ll keep these pants sealed to your body until you go get those. My patience will outlast yours, I’m not going anywhere and you cannot stop me.) I rubbed my face with both hands, squeamish at the thought, but…I didn’t have an option. I’d need to go buy some diapers. Splashing a little water on my face, I braced myself. My hands were shaking, and my cheeks were flush with– (No, it’s not excitement,) I told myself. (Yes, it is.) I dried my hands and left the bathroom, hoping to sneak past Billie without an explanation. No luck, she heard me and called down the hallway. “Hey, how about that new Venom movie?” “Eh, I heard it stinks,” I deflected. “Hey, something can stink and still be fun,” Billie argued. “Who were you talking to, by the way?” “Um…” I didn’t have a good answer. “Long story. I have to go, uh, run an errand.” “Are you okay, Chars?” She asked. “You look worried.” “Just gotta go,” I said. “I’ll explain it later.” (Will you, now? That’ll be interesting.) “Ooookay.” Billie was dubious, but didn’t press. I left on my bike, pedaling to get to the pharmacy on the edge of town. I could feel the symbiote on my body, now, enhancing me in little ways, putting energy in my pedaling. (I don’t want you to get tired yet,) it assured me. “Thanks?” I whispered back. More concerningly, I could feel it exploring my body. Phantom sensations tingled up my nerves as it slipped around, between my legs, around my breasts, over every inch of my skin, learning me better than any boyfriend or girlfriend I’d ever had. I parked my bike, locked it up, and walked into the pharmacy. It was your standard little store, a dozen shelves and cheap fluorescent lights that had never been replaced since they were installed in the seventies. “Hey, Chars!” (Oh, no.) (Oh, yes!) I knew the guy working behind the register. His name was Jim. We’d gone steady in highschool. The flame had died out about junior year, but we’d stayed friends, and…well, it was a small town. I guess he’d stayed and gotten a job. “Uh, hi,” I said. “Can I help you find anything?” he asked. “Um…” I said. “My…grandma…needs to get some diapers. Thirty six inch waist?” It was conspicuously my measurements, but I didn’t know how else to ask. He smirked, but didn’t press the obvious lie. Maybe he’d even bought it. (I can smell endorphins on him. His body is laughing at you.) My blush only deepened. “The sizes aren’t that precise,” Jim said, “But if the stuff on the shelf isn’t what you need, I’ve got a few options in the back. I’ll be right back.” I felt even stupider for not just grabbing a pack off the shelf and buying it without explanation, but I’d already dug this hole for myself. While I stood awkwardly by the counter, waiting for him to return, I felt the symbiote move, slipping beneath my panties. “No,” I whispered, but it wasn’t like I could stop it. The symbiote slipped inside my sex, formed into something almost solid, lapping at me with a degree of personalized passion that no sexual partner had ever matched. It knew me, it knew my body, my memories, the way I reacted to its touch, and it used that to make my knees almost buckle in seconds. I pressed my hands to the counter, hiding that I had suddenly begun to sweat, hiding that I was being fucked within an inch of my life while Jim returned, holding a pack of diapers labeled ‘Southcoast Supreme’. They looked unreasonably thick, but I didn’t really know what adult diapers looked like. “These should fit you–” he started to say, correcting quickly with, “–ur grandma. Are you alright? You seem flush.” “Just…” I said, a squeak escaping my lips. (Oh f**k,) I thought. I could barely speak, and my poker face had to be absolutely terrible. “Can I pay?” “Uh…yeah.” Jim scanned the package of diapers and rang me up. I had to fish through my backpack for my purse while the symbiote rode me hard beneath my panties, holding me tortuously on the edge of orgasm. I stuck my card in the chip reader, hurriedly snatched the package of diapers, and fled to the bathroom without another word. Only once I made it to privacy did the symbiote give me any relief–it didn’t let me orgasm, but it at least let up, no longer forcing me to the edge so frustratingly that I wanted to cry. I locked the bathroom door. “F-f**k…” I mumbled. (See? You can enjoy our relationship, sometimes.) I shook my head. “Okay, just…give me a name. What can I call you?” (Why do you want that?) “Because this’ll all seem less fucked up if I have something to call you,” I said. “Less like a weird dream. I don’t know. Humor me?” (Be a good girl and put on your diaper, and I’ll give you a name.) I obeyed meekly, shucking out of my pants. I was excited, and it felt wrong to be excited. As I slipped down my panties, the extreme wetness of the cotton stood out–in just a minute of incomplete teasing I’d ruined them. I eyed the toilet. Now that I had my pants around my ankles, I could potentially get away with using it before– The inky symbiote launched itself up my body and two tendrils shot towards the wall. It yanked me away from the toilet, forced my body down onto the sink countertop and held me there, unable to wriggle free. (Think of defying me again, and I’ll do more than make you comply,) it warned. I squirmed, but my body was stuck firmly down to the countertop. “I…” I started. “I need to get my diaper.” That meek response bought me a little wiggle room, and it let me go. I was able to stand, kick my pants the rest of the way off, rip open the package of diapers and retrieve one. I unfolded the thick, rustling plastic with tentative hands, feeling the soft plush padding on the inside. (Am I really doing this?) I thought. For once, my symbiote didn’t reply. Uncertainly, I folded the diaper between my legs in a standing position, reaching for the tape, but I needn’t have bothered. The void substance bubbled up around the outside of the diaper, smoothing it down and wrapping it around me, sticking down the tapes securely. It fit perfectly, thanks in no small part to the many small microcorrections that the symbiote had made to its snugness and tape placement. I bent to pick up my jeans, but the void wrapped around my wrist, pulling it back. (Your skirt only,) it warned. (No pants.) My skirt wasn’t long enough for decency, which is why I wore it with the pants to begin with. Checking in the mirror, I saw clearly that the bottom of my diaper peeked out, visible to anyone who might try and check out my ass. That was unfortunate, since I had a nice ass. “Now what?” I asked. “I did what you asked.” (You can call me Haven.) I swallowed. Haven. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, except– Haven slithered beneath my diaper, suddenly probing inside me once again, though not in the same way as before. It pushed against my back door, slickly sliding inside like an enormous plug, filling me up heavily. I bit my lip and suppressed a moan, sinking my weight against the wall. I hadn’t expected the sudden resurgence of sexual intensity. Nor did I expect the sudden warm mass I felt, piling up in the seat of my diaper. I hadn’t felt any need, any push, only surprise and confusion as a mess spilled out of me. I tried to squeeze and fight the tide, but Haven held me open, utterly helpless to keep from ruining my diaper. And it wasn’t done. As I sank to my knees, a piece of Haven shot up my shirt, my neck, my chin, sliding towards my mouth. While one end of it fucked me from behind, thrusting into my ass and forcing me to fill my diaper all at once, the other end probed my mouth, pushing between my lips and sliding its tentacle-like form deep into my throat. I bottomed out completely. Sliding to the floor, my weight landed on the ever-swelling mush in my diaper. Hormones and instinct controlling me, I sucked on the probing thing in my mouth, totally overwhelmed by Haven’s hopeless domination. I could smell my diaper, the mucky odor filling my nostrils, but the deep humiliation only drove me down harder into a totally submissive headspace. Once Haven went after me completely, it didn’t take long. It took only a moment as I felt a third slick, rigid tentacle slip inside me, my every hole filled by the symbiote that had come to own me, and I shuddered and moaned and squirted into my diaper, washing away the wetness indicators with a body-shattering orgasm. I lay in a heap for a moment, and in a small act of mercy, Haven let me recover and catch my breath. (I will do this to you,) Haven reminded. (Whenever I want to, and you cannot stop me.) In the moment of post orgasmic bliss, I was alright with that. Slowly, though, the needs of reality started to creep back in, and the state of my diaper came to the front of my mind–in just a minute of devastating passion I’d utterly ruined it. “Um…” I said. “Can I take this off, please?” (No.) I could almost hear Haven’s wicked laugh. (You promised your friend that you’d tell her why you had to leave, and I’ve decided I’m going to enforce that promise. I’ll be holding this diaper on you for as long as it takes, until you confront her face to face and explain what you just experienced, and how deeply you enjoyed it.) I swallowed. “And then?” I asked, meekly hoping for a generous answer. (And then I think I’ll want to play with you again.) ... Here's your reminder that I've got a free newsletter, and subscribers to my newsletter get all my stories send right to their email! If that's not enough for you, how about the fact that you'll get a free copy of 'Delta Lambda's Little Stinker', a magical college hazing story that you can't read for free anywhere else online? You can sign up here And of course, I've still got my Patreon or a SubscribeStar, if you'd like to support my writing financially. The sequel to 'The Magic Collar' is already up to be read! Patreon SubscribeStar