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Found 3 results

  1. Child’s Play A Story of Yayoi Yamamoto, Operative of SLA Industries by InkuHime (aka Incognito Himitsu) This is one of my favourite stories. I've done some rewriting on it since I first posted it years ago. This is an action adventure dark (grim dark?) science fiction story based on the TTRPG SLA Industries. There is a strong, central plot line that involves diapers, but it is not a conventional ABDL diaper story. Chapter 1 Here Comes the Rain Again A long, narrow truck pulled to a stop on the Lower Downtown raised walkway. The vehicle shifted back and forth as three men climbed out of the cab. Two were rather large, one husky, the other fat. The third was a thin man, covered from head to foot in leather. The one in leather was a Prop, a mercenary and killer for hire. He was known on the streets as ‘Bent for Leather’. They had stopped for the girl sitting on the edge of the walkway. Small, thin, covered by a dirty, plastic poncho against the ever-falling rain of Mort. It was hard to tell much about her, hunched over with her head resting on her chest as she was. Still, she looked young; the Skin Trade's biggest seller was youth. And if it turned out she was not young, well, pretty, still sold. And if not pretty… that was one of the things the Prop took care of. The fat man approached her first; he held a hypo-gun loaded with Bio-block in his chubby hand. It was a bold move, but it was dark, and the high, wet walkway was deserted. The girl did not even look up as he approached. She might have been already drugged out of her mind. So much the easier for them if that was the case. He was beginning to reach forward when the girl did something totally unexpected. She kicked back and rolled backwards off the walkway's side, dropping out of sight. The three men looked at each other, surprised, though it was difficult to tell with the Prop as his face was masked by leather strips. "Must've known what we was planning," the husky man said. "Chose death over getting caught." "Stupid little bitch," the fat man said. "Now we got to find another one to meet quota." He moved to the walkway's edge, looking down, expecting to see the girl's broken body forty meters below. A hand grabbed him around his ankle. A quick pull and he was falling, screaming all those forty meters to the ground. The other two had not seen what had happened; to them, it looked like the fat man had jumped. They stood there, trying to figure out why two people had just decided to throw themselves from the walkway. The muted rumble of a pair of fusion turbines made both men look upwards. Above them was a figure in a suit of Silverback armour. As the armoured angel tossed away a plastic poncho, the Prop understood. The girl had not jumped from the walkway, and it was very likely his fat companion had been pulled. That realization had him going for the pistols at his side. Before he could reach them, a knife—hurled with exo-armour-assisted strength—punched through his throat. Even as the Prop’s corpse hit the ground, the armoured figure alighted on the walkway and grabbed the husky man around the wrist. She hyperextended his elbow, twisted his wrist, and forced him onto his toes. He screamed in pain and then screamed louder as she jerked him around, flinging him over the side of the walkway and then holding him from a fall by his injured arm. There was something of a cat tormenting a small rodent in the actions. "Shut up," she snapped, giving him a shake. Her words and the agony cleared his head for a moment. Adrenaline flooded his body, chasing away the pain and giving him clarity. He knew he was in great danger and that his only chance of living rested in the hands of the small, armoured girl holding him. "That's good," she said as he stopped screaming. "Tell me, who you’re with?" "Slap and Tickle," he said, breathing hard, trying not to start screaming again. "And where are you operating?" "I can't tell you?" She let go of him, allowing him to fall for a moment before leaning forward and snatching him again by the wrist, bringing him to a painful stop. "You can." Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he had lost bladder control. He was close to passing out from the pain. "They'll kill me," he sobbed. "What makes you think that I won't?" "Down at the old Handara warehouse, Level Three. That's where we were supposed to bring this load. I swear that's all I know." "Thank you," she said and then released his hand. He screamed until he stopped. She did not even watch. "This is Operative Yamamoto; I need a Shiver team at Walkway One Fifty-Six, Sector 7B, Lower Downtown, immediately," she said into her helmet's microphone. As she spoke, she stepped over the dead Prop and walked to the truck. "Roger that Operative Yamamoto," the voice on the other end replied. "Expect a team to arrive in five minutes." "That's too long.” She pulled open the rear doors of the truck. "I need them here now." "I'm sorry, Operative Yamamoto," the operator on the other end said calmly and politely. "There are no teams closer to your location." Yayoi keyed her microphone off and made a rude noise before turning it back on and saying, "Understood." Her tone was despondent; she could not help it, not when looking into the truck. A metal bar ran the length of the roof. Plastic ties around their wrists and over that bar, twelve people, very young men and women, girls and boys, were hung like meat. Few were tall enough that their feet reached the rusty metal grate beneath them. All so sedated that they might as well be dead. The desire to move caused her heart to race. Always before, when she learned of some processing centre, she would arrive too late. The big players who knew the names and had the client lists would be gone. There was a mole somewhere, leaking information to the Skin Trade. There had to be. Someone was getting in the way of the investigation, maybe even slowing the response time. Five minutes felt too long. She wanted to go but would not leave the victims there, where anyone, or anything, could get at them. So she waited until the Shiver unit showed up, rolling onto the walkway in one of their APCs. She gave them a quick briefing on what had happened. Made sure they knew what to do. Satisfied that the victims were in good hands, Yayoi leapt from the walkway, slowing her fall with her armour’s turbines. She landed gently on the rain-soaked road below, not far from the two dead men. Nearby, hidden under a pile of garbage, was her SCAF bike. The armoured security plates slid back at her command, the engine roaring to life. She straddled the vehicle, gave it power, and roared out of the alleyway and onto the street. Once she got some speed, Yayoi activated the main turbine, lifting the bike into the air. The hydraulic system pulled the wheels into the main body, changing the motorcycle into a one-man helicopter. Speed was of the essence now. Any chance of getting her hands on someone important depended on how soon she could get there. If they knew she was coming--and had to know she was coming--they would be clearing out. Seconds. She believed that it always came down to seconds. She would arrive to hear the echoing of a door slamming somewhere, the smell of cigarette smoke still in the air. Those who might know something already clear. The opportunity to score a telling blow to the Skin Trade was always out of reach. Maybe it was already too late, but she had to try. Go Fast. Go Faster. This time, it might be different. If only she could go faster. Soon, she was dropping below the raised streets, speeding among the web of walkways and roads, nearly scraping the buildings as she went. Three levels under the so-called surface of Mort was not too deep. Not when it was possible—if suicidal—to travel down 285 levels. Still, it was deep enough for her. She hated Lower Downtown for so many reasons, only partly because that was where her prey lived and thrived. Ahead of her was the warehouse, an old, supposedly deserted building. It looked abandoned, but the Skin Trade did not survive by making their presence visible. The SCAF landed on the roof of the building, the turbines throwing up a cloud of grit and dirt. She jumped off the bike, moving quickly, just in case anyone started shooting at her, making her way to a doorway on the roof. As it was, there was no threat there. There was not much of a threat anywhere in the building. As before, Yayoi had arrived too late, perhaps by less than a minute. That was all it would take for the people in charge to scatter and hide, going deeper into the shadows. There were always a few people who would remain behind. The stupid or the desperate, trying to salvage something of value. A kick of her exo-armour tore the door from its hinges. Yayoi followed, diving over the walkway and dropping to the warehouse floor, her automatic pistols ready. She ordered all there to put their hands on their heads and not move. Those too foolish to listen, she shot. It was a waste of bullets, but dealt with the problem quickly. Those that remained did as she ordered and, therefore, were just maybe smart enough to be worth questioning. There were also about sixty victims there, nearly half of them already dead. The Skin Trade was like any other business. They got rid of inventory that did not sell. She had to keep her temper as she questioned those she had left alive. They knew little, could tell her even less and were not nearly as bright as she had hoped. Hangers-on, temp work, just people looking to make a little extra money and not interested in asking too many questions. Mort was full of people like that. When the Shivers arrived, she turned the scene over to them and trudged her way back up to the roof. Looking around, making sure she was alone, Yayoi took off her helmet and screamed as loud as she could, as long as she could, until her throat began to hurt. She coughed for several seconds and then wiped some tears from her eyes. After taking a deep breath of the bad air, she put her helmet back on and got onto her SCAF. Time to go home.
  2. I haven't been much of a video game player. Some years ago, I received a Christmas gift of Sid Meier's Civilization II. That shows you how long it has been since that game is no longer supported. I think the game is up to VI now. My latest interest is Hogwarts Legacy. I've been a huge Harry Potter fan for a number of years, though I did sort of show up late for the ball. Anybody else play that game? How are you doing? Me, I'm finding out just how bad my combat skills (read keyboard manipulation in the dark) really are after having some early successes. Next week I'll have the house to myself for a couple of days. I'm planning on a marathon diapered game playing session. That'll be fun!
  3. UndieNites

    Gaming

    Hey, Just wondering how many other people here are in to, or have a passion for, gaming. I love gaming in general; I especially enjoy RPGs (such as RuneScape), MOBAs (such as DoTA II), and adventure/action games (such as Assassin's Creed).
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