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Hello, everyone! I've lurked this forum for years, but shamefully never contributed meaningfully. That changes today. This story is a bit unorthodox, and it'll be very slow in introducing any diaper/ABDL related elements, so be warned. -- Introduction: The 28th Century It was the dawn of the 28th century, and the hundred worlds of humanity all wept. This period of troubles began with a force called the Sagittarian Scourge: rumors had long circulated of aliens, mysterious and malign, moving slowly in from the galactic North. Far from the tendrilled bioforms scientists had long hoped to find, these rumors spoke of robotic drones on lithe metal legs stalking the most distant colonies of man, mutilating people and fleeing to elude detection. Ships of indiscernible origin were spotted in the interstellar voids, answering no calls and moving towards the fledgling worlds of the North. Few on the inner worlds heeded these tales and dismissed them as colonial superstition, until it was too late, and a tide of robotic invaders began sweeping over newly-christened planets. The Sagittarians, named for their equine appearance and horrific speed, proved indominable to poorly-trained human defenders. They would recover quickly from gunfire, stitching their metal flesh back together in minutes. Their weapons were accurate, and their numbers were terrifying. Ymir VI, New Java, and Tarquinia—some two billion souls in total—were lost within two years, never to answer their subspace beacons again. As the robotic plague reached its third year, and human forces lost battle after battle to the deathless machines, panic spread among the civilians. They began to realize that—for the first time—that their civilization was under attack from without and from an enemy without reason or quarter. Refugees, fearing the metal menace, filled humongous ships and made for the inner worlds and the safety offered by hundreds of years of infrastructure and civilization. On one of these overcrowded, miserable barges, a veteran named Servilius promised victory to the frightened humans if only they trusted his expertise and appointed him commander. When that ship reached a small but wealthy trading world called Tyche, those people proved true to Servilius and overran the colonial government. From there every ship on that world was confiscated, and the Servilian despot’s conquests began. Every person in the hundred worlds knew him soon: he had a rounded, kind face topped by wolf’s eyes. His voice was soft and low, practically pleading those he met to believe in his good intentions. His wrath, however, was legendary, if those who survived it were to be believed. Servilius was far from alone in his quest to capitalize on chaos. Piracy rose in the wake of the mass-redistribution of resources that the invasion heralded. Some worlds abandoned their obligations to lesser colonies to shore up defenses at home. Older (and perhaps more well-meaning) governments mobilized every force at their disposal to intercept or at least deter the Scourge. But as the third year drew to a close, no victory had yet come. As the crisis reached its fourth year, the Sagittarians slowed their advance, and the warzones grew all but silent. the Inner Systems Alliance (ISA), encompassing several of the oldest colonies of mother Earth, reactivated their military branches to counterattack as one. But their fleets would not fight alone, for the Strategic Command Bureau had obtained a new weapon: a marvel of science which could turn the tide decisively into humanity’s favor. This tale is about that weapon, the Psion, and the people who made it known to history. -- Chapter 1: Ægir b, Rán system ‘Perhaps it was inevitable that I’d be called up again,’ thought Dr. Danuta Petrovna as she re-read the notice. It had come shortly after the Psychologist had closed her practice for the evening, producing that familiar ‘ding-ding’ for priority messages that her tablet sang. She’d quickly headed home under the dusk of Ægir’s glowing rings and sat down to read. The letter from the Strategic Bureau began “LCDR. Petrovna,” (not ‘Dr.’ as she preferred) and proceeded to inform her that the ISA once again had need of her: “Given the extraordinary circumstances of the current time, the ISASCB has selected you for a returning commission. This is not an optional offer. The Inner Systems have need of your experience and skill-set in the name of humanity’s common defense, and you must return to service by the attached date. Your compensation package will include a veterancy bonus in addition to your previous pay-grade…” Danuta skimmed the rest of the letter and glanced up at the living room wall, where her service certificate and rank was framed. It had been almost nine years since her tour in the navy expired. Her time on a ship had been great—life changing, even—but a career in uniform didn’t sit right with the woman. She could manage any number of junior officers and work with superiors easily, but she had never ‘made the difference’ in the world she wanted. After returning Danuta had entered a Psychology program and pursued her true passion in pediatric practice. The practice was her ship now. Her patients were her men (minus the military decorum of course), and their development was her mission. Nothing was more important than the mission. This fateful message was always a possibility, however. It didn’t matter that her distance from the conflict had almost totally isolated her from its material effects. Nor did it matter that she was a doctor, as behavioral doctors weren’t seen as necessary homefront workers. The ISA reserved the right to call her into action once more, although she never considered it could occur until those “Sagittarian” horrors were spotted almost four years before. The news was filled with conflicting reports: some said the monsters had retreated, others that they would target the inner systems next. Some said they were undefeatable. She preferred not to consider those last possibilities. The notice told her she had until April 15th to arrange her affairs and report to Skadi (Ægir b’s capital) for her commission. ‘So it’s really happening?’ she pondered. Danuta replaced the tablet and went to her kitchen to fetch a drink. She wouldn’t get to have alcohol on a ship, so it behooved her to enjoy a little now. The old whisky she kept in a biometrically-locked cupboard over the range turned bitter as she considered the possibilities. A new commission would mean a new ship, and a new ship nowadays probably meant combat—something she hadn’t ever seen much of. Given the magnitude of the threat at hand, combat could mean defeat, or even death for her men and herself. She had never been a very nervous person, and all military work carried risks, but Danuta was unsettled by it nonetheless. She couldn’t let that distract her from the mission though, so she knocked back the rest of her drink and got back to work. Besides, someone needed to prepare the practice for her absence. -- April came much too fast, (it didn’t help that ‘months’ on Ægir b were twenty-two days long, about one orbit about the great gas giant) but Danuta was an industrious worker. On top of refreshing her technical skills from the navy she managed to put her practice in the care of a younger partner she trusted. The condominium she had overlooking the perpetual planetrise of Ægir was tidied up and left with her younger brother Simon, who would stop by occasionally to keep things in order. He lived on the other side of the moon, only a few hours away by maglev. Danuta relished her (possibly) final appointments, taking time to ask every patient about their plans for the coming year and what they’d do while she was away. One child, whose parents had first brought him in two years ago for his anger issues, fell into a blubbering mess, and Danuta had shared in his tears. She reflected on them and refused to get emotional again as she tied back her blonde hair and donned her uniform—still crisp out of its vacuum-packaging from years ago. The dress uniform was the same navy blue of the ISA’s interstellar banner, bearing thin white stripes on the legs and cuffs. It rode a bit stiffly on her, obviously having been made for a younger and slightly fitter her. But it would do well enough, she thought. She straightened the garment out and finalized her travel preparations. Then, all her effects in-hand, she set off or the maglev station to answer the call once more. Danuta thought herself beyond the age where vanity was appropriate, so she deliberately traveled light. Her carry-on bag held underclothes, a uniform jumpsuit, and a few personal effects. On her person she kept the usual travel documents and the tablet, which contained more information than many old libraries. She worried as well, and that probably weighed her down more than everything else. This wasn’t just worry for her; rather, she worried for the world, those patients she called her little soldiers, and for Ægir b, the pristine untouched moon that had always been home. -- Skadi was the first city built on Ægir b in the twenty-fourth century. That had been at the closing of the first great colonization wave, before the moon was terraformed and warmed into a near-replica of Earth. Consequently, the city bore marks of that age: rusted bulkhead frames lined the doorways of the maglev station; ancient permacrete sealed the gaps between bricks to avoid air loss; and arrows to the nearest oxygen masks and pressure rooms could be seen in every hallway. It all served to remind one of how tenuous humanity’s hold on the void was, and Danuta struggled not to draw comparisons with what would soon be her situation. The utilitarian architecture of the capital left very little open space and had done little to help the twenty thousand or so offworlders who had come to seek shelter. Danuta had never seen these people in the small city that was her home, but over the past four years talk about them became ubiquitous. In Skadi the refugees were countless, pitching tents and collapsible habitats wherever there was space. Moving through the streets a throng of children who bore the pallid faces of Northern Jovians accosted her, asking for food or credits. She politely turned them down (and didn’t actually have any). Their parents, huddled around a table in the nearby tent camp, scowled at the uniformed woman suspiciously. The ISASCB’s planetary HQ occupied one of the city’s most ancient buildings, a concrete behemoth shaped roughly like a giant brick adjacent to the spaceport. As she approached Danuta found she was far from alone, as hundreds of other returning servicepeople lined up outside to check in and receive their orders. There were maybe twenty million veterans on the planet, and odds are most of them were being called up as well. As she settled into place a few enlisted male sailors stepped aside in deference. Looking at the younger men she could tell they were dreading their prospects. She didn’t blame them, and she doubted an individual commander like her could change much of anything. Once through the line, which tapered split for officers and enlisted, she approached a young desk-bound receptionist. “Hello sir. Can I take your name, rank, and serial number?” the girl asked. “Of course,” Danuta didn’t need her papers for that, “Lieutenant-Commander Danuta H. Petrovna, Oscar-Hotel-Alpha-611281.” “Thank you. Let me retrieve your assignment information.” The receptionist typed the data into her terminal, composed of a viewing screen and optical keyboard. A moment passed and her face scrunched up as she read something. “Is there a problem?” Danuta asked. “No Commander. I’m just double-checking that you received the correct assignment.” “What is it?” “It says here you’re to report to Wing Orbital A.S.A.P. under paramount orders.” Danuta was nonplussed. ‘Paramount’ was ISASCB jargon for ‘the highest authority,’ usually the sitting Alliance President or the Commander-in-Chief. Her rank would normally see her taking orders from a Captain or less, so this was unprecedented. There must’ve been some mistake. “Well, do what you need to do.” “It’ll take just a moment sir.” The receptionist insisted. She typed away for a minute and then compared some data with a similar readout on her handheld tablet. “Well sir, it seems this is your assignment. The security checksum passed. If you hand me your tablet, I can provide you with the specifics, but it says most of the details will be given in-situ. There’s a shuttle bound for Wing departing at 1900, so I’ll reserve you a bunk on it. Is there anything else I can do?” Danuta glanced behind her to see a sizable line of other soldiers waiting to receive their orders, and she decided to keep it brief. Her questions could be answered later. “No. Please just copy the data over. I’ll figure it out.” Danuta handed her device to the receptionist, who linked the two machines with a touch and pressed a button to order the copy. She handed the device back with a professional smile. The woman wasn’t a day over twenty—the same age Danuta had enlisted. “Good luck with your assignment, sir.” “Yes. With yours as well. And stay safe.” -- Chapter 2: Wing Orbital, Rán system The pretty, orange star Rán was often said to ‘greatly prefer its personal space.’ This was due to the void of natural objects between it and Ægir, which orbited at a distance comparable to the old Sun’s Jupiter. This was a fine arrangement, as Rán was young and liable to spew out giant flares of plasma every so often, scorching anything too close. Wing Orbital had been one of these things: a colossal space station built to house and coordinate the first wave of settlers in the 2330s. Its iron core was welded to rotating hab-rings by way of kilometer-long spokes that served as facilities themselves. It was built to orbit one paltry AU from Rán, and all was well for many years until a stellar prominence tore off its solar arrays and decimated the on-board computer systems. An up-and-coming mega-engineer from FI-Virginis (a nearby colony of that time) was hired to salvage the station, and his solution was to attach chemical thrusters the size of football fields to the station and move it out beyond Ægir’s orbit, where it would be safe from further damage. Considering the price of replacing all the flared components, his method was cheaper by miles. The station thereafter bore its own mobility engines as well as his name. By the 28th century, the station had been divided between the civilian and military administrators of the Rán system. Danuta’s shuttle, one of those newer ones that could comfortably cruise in subspace even near a planet, spent a mere five days en route. During that time she inquired with everyone on-board about what their (or her) mission might be. There were no satisfactory answers, and—more importantly—no evasions. Therefore, she convinced herself that none of them were lying or concealing it from her. Only time would tell, so she resolved to pass that time in her passenger bunk with the latest literature in her field—something she’d had precious little time for over the last month. Her reading provided a few insights into what was already on her mind: stress-related issues were growing quite common on the newer colonies. The Sagittarians, still almost totally mysterious and quite undefeated, had infested the waking (and sleeping) minds of people both close and far from the conflict zones. The whole conflict had rocked humanity’s collective perception of safety in solitude—or, that at least aliens would be happy to meet them—and the damage was showing in reports from psychological researchers everywhere. She pondered whether the aliens were responding to a perceived invasion of “their turf,” in which case they would stop eventually. That seemed like a nice scenario, as otherwise it would only get worse. That kind of thinking was bad for the mind though, and a poor mind made for a poor mission. She moved on to other papers as she steamed towards the behemoth station. -- Danuta’s last time on Wing Orbital had been at the conclusion of her tour of duty. It had changed very little, and the giant rotating docking bay was nearly a familiar sight. Upon her exit from the shuttle she stretched in her uniform and took in the memorable smell of artificially-scented air. Yes, the station was old, but it was considered a marvel of engineering for a reason. Nowhere in space could one be safer! She trotted down the habitation rings toward the SCB Headquarters, lodged in the lower half of the station some two miles below. Upon arriving she found it too had remained the same. The regalia lining the huge lobby was tacky for the 2500s, its lighting was still poor, and even the guards standing at the security checkpoints inside looked like the same guys she almost remembered. They didn’t find her quite as familiar though. “Sir. Your identification please?” One of them asked. “Oh, yes. Hold on.” Danuta produced her tablet and summoned her stamped service record—complete with a flattering ten-year-old photograph. The guard looked over it and stopped when he saw the “paramount” flag on her file. He produced a pulse scanner and ran it over each surface of her uniform to detect bugs and other concealed items. Usually this was reserved for higher-security meetings. “Alright, Commander. You’ll want to take the lift to level 5B. We’ll call up for Paramount to meet you there.” He ushered her past to where a rail-lift sat embedded in the wall. He had neglected to mention who Paramount was, but Danuta doubted she could convince him to. She did as asked, and the lift began whirring up a spoke of the habitat ring. As the lift grew closer to the station’s core, Danuta felt the vertigo of the decreasing gravity, which soon settled at a comfortable 0.7g—just like Ægir b’s! She stepped off the lift, entering a reception area to a series of offices. A passerby directed her to a room numbered 5B-101, the door to which she slid open and stepped inside. 5B-101 was a simply-decorated conference room, with tinted windows overlooking the ever-tumbling vista of deep space; however, far from the panel of bureaucrats or fellow officers Danuta was expecting, Paramount was a single man sitting in the nearest chair. They locked eyes. He was only slightly older than her, and the flecks of gray on his moustache completed his Rear Admiral’s uniform—wait, a Rear Admiral? Danuta spied his nameplate, which read ‘CASIMIR.’ She realized that this was the man who'd been her captain for three years back in the Navy. Their relationship had come as close to friendship as rank would allow. ‘Casimir got promoted again! Why didn’t he tell me?’ She recovered—slower than she’d liked—from the shock and saluted. “Lieutenant Commander First Class Petrovna reporting, Admiral Casimir.” The Capt—Admiral now, waited a short, grueling moment and burst into a warm smile. He stood up and extended a hand. She shook it. “Acknowledged Commander, and at ease please. It’s been far too long. Please take a seat.” His voice was the same, if a bit deeper given his age. Once seated he offered her a glass of water and began: “You’re probably wondering why I went through the trouble of asking you here with so little explanation, Petrovna. You’ll have to forgive all the cloak and dagger that went into it, as it was critical to maintain some semblance of operational security for this.” Danuta nodded, still looking quite beside herself. “I see. Respectfully Admiral, I would appreciate some clarification on what exactly this is. I was under the impression that my re-enlistment was in relation to the reactivation of the fleet; furthermore, congratulations on your promotion.” Casimir nodded, sipping from his own glass. “Thank you, although I was unable to make much fanfare over it at the time. And yes, an explanation would be in order. You’ll be glad to know that this does relate to the Scourge. You’ve certainly seen the SCB scrounging up everyone who can pretend to sail a starship right now—and have no doubt, they need them. But when your name came up in the redrafting list, I asked them to reassign you to a non-front-line project, because the Petrovna I know is cut out for something bigger than a glorified petty officer rank.” He pointed towards her and flicked his finger away at the end of that sentence—a classic Casimir gesture—but Danuta was still confused. Was he trying to promote her? “But what is the project, Cas-Admiral?” Casimir sipped again and returned to a more stoic expression. “Just use Casimir, Petra. And of course, I’m getting ahead of myself again. You know how this ‘war’ has been going so far. We haven’t even faced those robotic terrors in a full-fledged space battle, and the President is wearing his brown pants to work every day. When the Scourge attacked those dirt-farming settlers on Tarquinia, they were using alliance-manufactured guns—our soldiers’ guns! And they were still massacred to a man. Troop morale is in a black hole Alliance-wide, and no number of new flashy ships or propaganda broadcasts have been able to raise it. And with Servilius running around with a pirate fleet there’s any number of domestic disturbances we may need to respond to.” He paused, perhaps reflecting on the grimness of his speech. He continued. “The point is: The Alliance needs to bring something to bear when the Sagittarians decide to attack again. They could show up on another colony in a year, or next week if they want. And if they hit one of the tiny worlds, we might not even get word before everyone with a beacon is dead. That’s where my project comes in, Petra. I have found something that can turn this whole war around. But I need you to help me perfect it.” Danuta sat back and took it all in. “Casimir, you know I’m not an engineer. If it’s a weapon you want, you’re better off at a hardware store in the upper hab rings.” “But that’s where you’re wrong, Petra. You are exactly what we need. You told me before your commission ended that you wanted to pursue psychology and mental medicine, right? You used to say, ‘The human mind is the hardest ship to steer,’ so I can tell what you’ve been sailing since you left the Navy. Your awards paint quite a flattering picture.” “How is my civilian career related to this, Casimir?” She didn’t appreciate the diversion. “Come with me. I’ll show you what I mean, and this’ll all make sense.” With that Casimir typed a brief command into the sleek com-watch on his wrist and stood up, making for the door. Danuta had no choice but to follow, annoyed as she was with his non-sequiturs. Casimir entered the lift and brought them to ring level 4C, which opened into an empty, sterile-smelling hallway. Danuta recognized it as part of the R&D branch of the military offices. Casimir walked her into a former laboratory space, which had since been partitioned with one-way glass, separating it into an observation area and a second, seemingly-empty space. Casimir tapped his com-watch and spoke: “Control, release the sample: I.D. Artemis-2.” Before Danuta could ask what he was doing, a segment of the wall in the confined space slid open, revealing a black, folded-up…thing. As the light hit it the object moved as if fluid, unfolding ten lustrous legs and scurrying into the lit room. Unfurled it stood a towering nine feet tall like a gigantic praying mantis, its segmented body reflecting the fluorescent light like polished obsidian. Its head was a confusing, asymmetrical mass of light-reflecting diodes and surfaces which might have been sensory organs, and its two front-most legs were partitioned into sharpened ‘claw’ and ‘arc beam’ segments, both equally lethal. Dany stepped back involuntarily as she gazed at the Sagittarian, although the trapped creature could not see her. It began moving aimlessly about the room, prodding the walls with its claws and emitting sounds like clockwork as it moved. She knew that it was intelligent and would attack upon detecting any human, either obliterating her at range or bisecting her with its claws. “Why did you bring this thing in here, Casimir?” Casimir stood still, seemingly unfazed. Before answering he barked into his com-watch, “Mr. Olb, come to the demonstration area please.” He turned to Danuta. “Patience, Petra. These nightmares are difficult to capture, but well worth what we’ve learned from them. Just give me a moment.” Turning back to the watch, he ordered, “Control, active demonstration A.” As he concluded his order, four tiny gun turrets slid out from the ceiling above the captured Sagittarian. They each swiveled to the target and then unleashed a hail of charged neutron blasts, melting the armor of the alien and then tearing its metallic innards apart. It gave an almost pitiful screech as one of its legs gave and it went crashing to the floor, motionless.” The turrets retracted. There was a moment of silence. “Is that your weapon?” asked Danuta. Casimir simply shook his head. Almost immediately the Sagittarian began stirring again. Tendrils of black, gooey metal leapt across the holes in its body, gradually filling up and reforming the carapace. Soon, even its damaged leg looked new, save for ridges and burn marks where the original damage had been. It stood and resumed its routine of scouting. ‘So that’s what it looks like. An enemy that can’t die,’ Danuta thought solemnly. A moment later the door to the observation room slid open, and a tall young officer walked in, leading by the shoulder something most odd—a child. It was male, olive-skinned, maybe 13 or 14 years old by his height, and clad in the simple jumpsuits the SCB gave to youth camp cadets. His hair was buzzed down to a 2-guard, and his brown eyes stared blankly ahead—or maybe towards the monster. Either way his demeanor was just wrong, and Danuta struggled to contain her confusion. “Psi.” Began Casimir to the child, softening his voice. “Your mission is to kill the monster as quickly as you can. Please begin.” The boy stepped out of the grip of the officer and walked to the one-way glass. Danuta gawked. “Is this some kind of joke, Casimir?” Danuta, now confused and angry, hissed. The Admiral shook his head. The boy reached the glass wall and rested the palms of his hand upon it. His breathing—until then silent—quickened and grew laborious. Something changed. The monster turned to face the opaque window and shrieked in its mechanical voice. It made as if to charge, but its limbs trembled. Attempting to move, one of its weapon arms began flailing wildly, and its noises grew ever more distraught. The boy, for his part, mumbled and gasped with exertion, doing god-knows-what but not moving at all. Then, as quickly as the weapons had done it in before, the Sagittarian began to crumble. The black fluid that had sewn its flesh together dissolved and began to pour from cracks that emerged in its armor. The computerized voice gave out, and its body dissolved quickly into a pile of metal pieces, which decayed further into dust and puddles of clear fluid. The boy pulled his hands from the wall and began gasping. The remains of the monster didn’t stir. The boy, turning around and facing the admiral, had a bleeding nose. “Mister Casimir, I finished the mission. Ca-” he coughed, "Can I sleep now?" Danuta stared, horrified. She couldn’t detect any traces of emotion in his voice. But she had no time to think on it, as right after speaking the boy fell to one knee and began hacking up blood. Her first aid kicked training in, and she rushed to the boy’s side, trying to hold him upright and elevate his nose. Casimir said something to the officer, who left in a hurry. Then, as the boy began calming down and breathing normally, the Admiral talked. “I’m so sorry, Danuta. This is why I couldn’t tell you before. I would never resort to this if it wasn't our best option. Short of a nuclear blast, you can’t truly kill those things, only slow down their repair process. But Psi—this child—does. He’s done it before on Ymir, and he did it again here.” Danuta glared at her superior, her tears of rage forming. “You can’t be serious.” She jostled the boy, trying to call him to attention, but he seemed to be losing consciousness. His eyes fluttered darted around, eventually closing as he fell asleep. Moisture—perhaps the boy’s blood—spread out on her leg. It wasn’t so. She looked down to see a wet patch forming over the boy’s jumpsuit as he unconsciously urinated on her. “I am, even though I wish I wasn’t.” continued Casimir. “This boy is my secret weapon, Petra, my ticket to total victory. He’s psionic. He faced the Scourge and survived. His gift is so rare it’s never been confirmed in a million years of human history, until now. Understanding his power means undoing the Sagittarians. But right now, Psi is broken, weak, and emotionally strained beyond belief. What he's been through should have destroyed him. I called you here to make sure it doesn't.” The Admiral and the Commander locked eyes, both tearing up. “You’re the Doctor. By any means, you’ve got to save him, so he can save us.” -- To Be Continued. Well, that's done. I hope you all enjoyed this intro, and I'd love to hear your thoughts/critiques of this story as it stands. I can't promise an update immediately, but once some business (final exams) are concluded that will probably change. Cheers.

So I had a thought, and maybe someone here with a working bladder might want to try it. I think it might be easier to untrain your your bladder with cloth diapers, rather then disposables. I've been experimenting with cloth diapers lately to help with bedwetting and I notice it feels remarkably similar to wet pants, except that it doesn't spread. If you could condition yourself to urinate when there is no discernible difference in fabric, maybe your mind would be willing to let go easier? I remember before I began having problems noticing a distinct difference between wearing a disposable and wearing underwear, and thought perhaps if you make the diaper indistinguishable from clothes, and got use to it, your brain would have an easier time adjusting to the idea of wetting whenever, as opposed to only wetting when you feel the diaper. Also, for those of you who are 24/7 with cloth, how do you like it? I haven't found the right fit for me personally, and I don't really know what plastic pants to get, but the last ones I got gave me a very painful rash around the elastic, is it too tight? Anyways, that's all, sorry if I didn't make my point across very well, let me know if I need to refine it.