Symbiotic Submission - Issue 10: Private Invasion (Updated Nov 16th/Story Arc Concluded)

[PeculiarChangeling]

“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.)

 

...

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[christi]

That was really good, thanks for sharing!  Aaaand I hope there's more to cum.

[PeculiarChangeling]

15 hours ago, christi said:

That was really good, thanks for sharing!  Aaaand I hope there's more to cum.

? I see what you did there! 

[YourFNF]

Personally would try to get free by playing a game of chicken with the creature. It's likely getting energy from me some how so I would just stop eating and drinking. Either it let's go or it needs to find a new host in about 3 days. Assuming it can even survive it's host death.

[Guilend]

Spicy I like it

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 2/9/2022 at 10:13 AM, YourFNF said:

Personally would try to get free by playing a game of chicken with the creature. It's likely getting energy from me some how so I would just stop eating and drinking. Either it let's go or it needs to find a new host in about 3 days. Assuming it can even survive it's host death.

That's not a bad plan if the symbiote does need something from its host, but what would you do if it just left and came back? 

[YourFNF]

4 hours ago, PeculiarChangeling said:

That's not a bad plan if the symbiote does need something from its host, but what would you do if it just left and came back? 

Be ready with a fuck ton of phosphorous and gelled petro-chem

[PeculiarChangeling]

It took me a while, but by popular demand I finally got around to writing a sequel! 

Enjoy some more hardcore kinkiness.

Part Two

 

My face burned with humiliation, so intense that I could feel the warmth radiating from my skin, my cheeks almost as hot and sweaty as the parts of me sealed away inside my diaper.

“I…” I started to say.

Billie stared at me. I’d raised my skirt to show her my ruined diaper, on Haven’s insistence, but I couldn’t yet make the words come.

“Okay, Chars, you gotta tell me what the fuck is going on,” Billie said, leaning against the wall opposite from me. She’d tried sitting down next to me, for a personal, intimate conversation, but the stench from my diaper had pushed her back and now she stood by the open window for relief. “Are you sick? Is something wrong with you?”

(Don’t you dare lie,) Haven whispered in my head.

“I’m not sick,” I explained. “There’s this…thing. It came out of the meteorite we found, and now it’s in my head, making me do things.”

“That’s insane,” Billie said. “I’m not exaggerating. Chars, I think you need to see someone. Like a doctor, or a psychiatrist or something.”

“I’m not crazy!” I objected, though I had a hunch she might be right. “I…Haven, can you help me, please?”

(Tell her the truth, and I’ll show her.)

I buried my face in my hands, too embarrassed to say it out loud.

“Who the heck is Haven?” Billie asked.

“I…” I mumbled. “This is really, really hot.”

Haven did nothing. I flushed deeper.

“You said you’d show her!” I objected.

Still nothing.

“Chars…” Billie reached up, putting a hand over her nose. “I don’t know if you ate a weird mushroom while we were hiking or what, but you really need to go talk to a professional. But change your diaper first, you really stink.”

(Please,) I thought. (Just show her you’re real.)

I could swear I heard Haven laugh, before they acknowledged my plea. (If you insist.)

They plunged into me, and my eyes widened with realization at just how they planned on showing off their existence to Billie.

I dropped to my knees in front of the couch, and Haven’s slick, cool form shot up my body, wrapping around my arms and forcing them behind my back. Billie yelped in shock as she saw the black symbiote that had overtaken my body, and though she couldn’t see him fuck me inside my devestated diaper, she could hear my moans of pleasure well enough.

“F-ffuck,” I cried out, squirting into my diapers in seconds. I fell down, and with my arms held behind my back, that left just my exposed diaper sticking in the air.

Sweaty and limp from pleasure, I rolled onto my back, and Haven retreated. Looking up at Billie, I mumbled, “Do you believe me now?”

She nodded, horrified. “Oh my god.”

“It… I can’t stop it,” I mewled. “It keeps saying it owns me.”

Haven whispered a thought into my head, and I turned pale.

“What?” Billie asked.

“It said…it’ll only let me take off this diaper if you change me,” I admitted meekly.

Billie stared, eyes darting between my humiliated expression and the overused diaper sagging around my hips. “That’s… it can’t enforce that, can it?”

“Haven says, it doesn’t care how badly I rash, and that if it wants to it could heal it. And it…can always find a new host if I’m too damaged to be fun.” I shuddered, terrified of the implications.

“O-okay,” Billie said, though her head shook. “Um…”

“I bought changing supplies, they’re in my bag,” I said. “With my other, um, diapers.”

(Already ‘your’ diapers,) Haven thought smugly. (So quickly you accept your new role.)

“Fuck, okay, sure, fuck,” Billie said, her head still reeling with the situation. “Okay. Tell Haven I’ll do this thing on one condition.”

“It can hear you,” I said. “It feels everything I feel, I think, that’s why it…tries to make me feel things.”

“Then, Haven, I’ll only do what you want if you promise to let Charlie go in a week.”

Haven purred within my head. (Does she think I’ll agree to that?)

“It won’t do it,” I quickly explained. “But Billie–”

(That’s not what I said. Ask her why?)

“It wants to know why,” I said.

“She’ll be boring in a week, won’t she?” Billie asked. “You can only escalate things so much. So give her a light at the end of the tunnel.”

(Sure,) Haven thought.

“Really?” I asked, my eyes widening.

(I promise. You will no longer be my host in a week.)

I didn’t know whether to trust the symbiote, but I took comfort in the possibility of hope. “Haven agrees.”

“Good,” Billie said, walking over to my bag of changing supplies. She took out the pack of wipes and a fresh diaper, taking a breath to brace herself. “Okay, I can probably hold my breath through this. Just lie back and we’ll get this over with.”

I adjusted my skirt to be completely out of the way and spread my legs, while Billie knelt in front of me, unfolding the new diaper.

“This is absurd, this isn’t real,” she whispered, reaching out towards the tapes on my diaper.

Haven lunged at Billie, and though I cried out, they simultaneously shot up my arms, sticky black semi-fluid pinning my hands to the floor.

Billie yelped and tried to pull free, but Haven had her in its grasp, creeping up her arms like ivy. They pulled her down, tugging her body forward, and though she fought it was hopeless. Haven pinned her to the floor, her nose and mouth pressed firmly into the seat of my diaper, so that every breath she took got a noseful of the foul disaster I’d made in the padding.

“Let her go!” I objected, pulling helplessly at the symbiote pinning my hands and feet. “Let her go!”

Billie let out a desperate mpph and I saw her face screw up in disgust as she was forced to breathe in the stink of my diaper.

(And what are you planning to do to make me?) Haven thought at me.

I had no leverage, no way to persuade or coerce Haven into compliance. I collapsed against the floor, helpless.

Haven let Billie go, retreating from her body. She pulled back, gasping for air and waving a hand in front of her face. “Jesus, Charlie!”

“I didn’t know it’d do that!” I said, still pinned to the floor. “I’m sorry. Can you still…I still need a change.”

She stepped back. “And what if it does that when your diaper is open? No fuckin’ way.”

Haven retreated from me, letting me sit up and say, “Please!”

“I’m sorry,” Billie said. “Chars, I’m really sorry, but this is just too fucked up. I can’t.”

Haven chuckled in my thoughts. (You’re welcome to put on a second diaper.)

I weighed my options between a second layer and letting the diaper leak, and decided on the second layer. I reached for the diaper Charlie had dropped, but Haven’s black form was a step ahead of me, launching out and seizing the diaper, pulling it over my first one. I could feel him working against the plastic shell of my first, soiled diaper, cutting a thousand micro-incisions against the material so that liquids could pass through, and in moments the new diaper was taped snugly over the first, forcing my legs apart with their collective bulk.

“I…” I sat up. “I should go. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Billie mumbled. “Good luck, Chars.”

I ran out of the room on that awkward note, waddling outside and to my bike.

I couldn’t go home. Explaining this to Billie had been hard enough–I couldn’t even fathom explaining it to my mom. I’d have to find a motel or something and crash, and then…

And then what?

“Haven,” I whispered under my breath, standing next to my bike. “Did you actually mean to keep your promise about letting me go in a week?”

(I’d considered it. Why?)

“Well…Billie had a point. You’ll get diminishing returns if you keep doing stuff to me. My whole life can’t just be…this.”

(But you assume you’ll be boring in a week. I’ve gone through your memories–I expect you’ll be entertaining long after that point. Don’t think you can get out of this with any scrap of your current self intact.)

“What if I don’t eat?” I demanded. “I’ll go on a hunger strike until you leave.”

(I can force you to eat. I can force you to do anything I want.)

“Then why don’t you?”

The question hung in the air, and Haven didn’t respond.

“Why don’t you make me march back inside and humiliate myself in front of Billie even more? Why don’t you make me…I don’t know, get on a webcam and blast my diaper on the internet? You could think of a thousand things to do if I’m totally helpless, but you haven’t.”

Still no response–but I knew why.

“It’s because it’s more fun for you if I do it, right?” I asked. “You don’t get to enjoy it if you’re just forcing a limp doll to play out your instructions.”

(Are you getting to a point?)

“I’ll make you a deal,” I whispered. “Okay?”

(Agreed.)

Right. I didn’t need to say it out loud.

I said it out loud anyways. “I’ll be yours for the week. And then you let me go. If you try to play with me after that, I’ll starve myself and go limp and you’ll not be able to get anything out of me at all. But until then…whatever. I can ride this out.”

(How do you know you can trust me?)

“I don’t,” I admitted, getting up onto my bike. My double diapers squelched between my legs and I blushed, half in embarrassment, half in ashamed arousal. “But it’s the best I can do, and I will keep my end up if you don’t leave.”

(Agreed,) he repeated. (Now, would you like to earn your diaper change, or will you trap yourself in that same diaper all week?)

I swallowed. I knew he’d follow through on that threat, too.

“...how do I have to earn it?”

…

My fingers shook as I lay back on my hotel bed, setting up my phone for the video–a livestream onto my new twitter account, made just to show off my week with Haven.

With a dozen hashtags all meant to get the attention of the kinkiest parts of the website, I started the video, sat back, and lifted my skirt. Haven took the camera from me, holding it up so that I could be seen fully, from my bright red face to my heavily sagging double diapers.

I’d practically bought out the local sex shop, a dozen toys sitting next to me on the bed, and had to apologize profusely for the smell to the cashier, tipping generously to make up for it. I didn’t have much cash left, but Haven didn’t seem to care about little things like ‘my savings account’.

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip and addressing the camera. “Here’s the deal. I’ll do anything you tell me to, no strings attached, as long as I don’t have to leave this bed. Please, please someone tell me to change into a clean diaper–otherwise I’m not allowed to.”

The first reply appeared in response. A moment later, the second. Another. Telling me to get naked, to show off my tits, my diaper, to make myself cum–but not a one letting me change.

I swallowed, and moved to obey, feeling Haven’s satisfaction.

It was day one. Six more to go.

 

...

It was the groundswell of enthusiasm about part one that convinced me to write a part two - especially enthusiasm from my supporters on Patreon and SubscribeStar! Thank you all for your comments and replies! 

https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

[christi]

Very nice addition!  It would have been nice if it was more of a mutual symbiosis but I still enjoyed it.  Thanks for sharing!

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 5/19/2022 at 10:51 PM, christi said:

Very nice addition!  It would have been nice if it was more of a mutual symbiosis but I still enjoyed it.  Thanks for sharing!

I'm glad you enjoyed it!

I toyed with the idea of mutual symbiosis, but getting to that point proved tricky with the plotting. I decided to take this down a meaner route, and save my nice side for some other concepts I have coming down the writer's pipeline!  

[christi]

I look forward to reading your next story.

[aldl4811]

This is new and exciting!

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 5/21/2022 at 11:03 AM, christi said:

I look forward to reading your next story.

Thank you! I've got all sorts of projects in the works. ?

 

On 5/21/2022 at 9:09 PM, aldl4811 said:

This is new and exciting!

I'm glad you enjoyed it! 

[PeculiarChangeling]

Contains: CNC, Messing, Leaks, Public Humiliation, Harassment. This is a spicy one!

...

I slumped back onto the bed in a sweaty, exhausted heap.

Six hours.

Six hours.

Haven had finally relented when I ran through the plastic gallon of water I’d brought along to stay hydrated. I’d done as I promised–every perverted, horny, intensely hot thing I’d been commanded to.

I’d fingered myself, both over my diaper and with my hand inside. I’d humped every toy I’d brought along. I’d spanked my thighs until they were burning red, and even now they were so tender I could barely touch them. I’d gagged myself multiple times, with dildos, ball gags, a pacifier, even a pair of panties that I’d soaked in my squirt.

I’d had to do… things that involved reaching into the back of my diaper, though I’d been allowed to wash my hands with the baby wipes I had available. At the moment, a particularly large steel plug still rested inside me, heavy and distracting, since nobody’d told me I could take it out. And this was only the things that the people online could see–they couldn’t tell that Haven was fucking me every moment they could, teasing me when they weren’t, making sure that every time I spanked myself on the thighs, I was impacted just as hard on my ass beneath the diaper so that the red, tender skin ran cleanly up from my lower thigh to my lower back.

And to cap it all off, I stank. There was no other word for it, no way to sugarcoat. The only thing I could smell was myself, my sweat, my mess, my utterly devastated diaper. I’d leaked onto the bed–half from pee, half from squirting so many times I’d lost count. The hotel was going to be pissed, and would probably need to throw out the bed.

And not a single one of the horny fuckers who’d bossed me around had let me change. I was still in the same filthy, messy diaper that I’d put on back at the pharmacy, though I’d needed to find duct tape to secure it in place so it wouldn’t fall off my hips from all the abuse.

“Please,” I whimpered to Haven, lying back on the bed. “Let me change.”

(You had the chance to persuade them, Charlie. Nobody let you. That’s your fault.)

“I can’t keep this diaper on forever,” I mumbled through exhausted lips. “And I need to sleep. It’s not a ‘want’, it’s a need. Human bodies can’t go on forever.”

A moment of thought passed, before Haven finally seemed to relent. (Fine. You may take off your diaper, shower, and then sleep.)

“Thank–” I started to say.

(Leave your diaper on the bed.)

“Uh…” I said, less certain. “Okay.”

Stripping out of the layers of diapers, I wadded it up into a ball. It didn’t look as destroyed as it’d felt - it was just a mottled layer of white plastic bundled up and left like a beach ball on my mattress.

I knew Haven was going to make me sleep on the bed, in the puddle I’d made, but a shower still sounded incredible. My aching butt and thighs longed to be clean, and I felt as though there was enough sweat caked on me to fill a tub.

Shuffling to the shower, I turned the water to lukewarm and stepped in.

(You enjoyed it,) Haven thought as the water rushed over my body.

“Endorphins,” I protested. “That’s it.”

(You can’t lie to me. I noticed how you nudged those other humans in certain directions. You all but begged them to make you spank yourself, and you reveled in the helplessness when you were given what you wanted.)

I didn’t feel like I was lying. I hadn’t done that, certainly not on purpose.

(Had I?)

“Er…” I said, trying to change the subject. “So, what are you going to do to me tomorrow?”

(I want to see how much you heal from that spanking,) Haven thought. (I should be accelerating that process. If you’ve cleared up, then we’ll need to start from scratch. After that, I’m not going to tell.)

I swallowed, then hesitantly asked. “Wait, you can heal me?”

(I amplify your body’s own resources. Your own body is healing you, I just make it work faster.)

I didn’t know what to do with that information, so I just shrugged. “Sure.”

(Your body is clean.)

Taking that as a warning, I turned off the shower and stepped out, drying myself off with a towel. “So… I can sleep now? No strings attached?”

(Just one.)

I swallowed, waiting for the hammer to drop.

(You’ve made your own pillow for the night.)

“I what? I don’t underst–” I started, before getting it.

Blushing and breathing shallowly, I trudged back to the bed. I’d long since pushed all the hotel pillows off to the side, and removed the covers, so the only thing on the bed was my own diaper. My own roughly pillow-sized diaper.

Picking up a blanket from the floor, I climbed into bed. The mattress squelched beneath me, a reminder that I was probably on the hook for a lot of cleaning fees. Moving my diaper up to the head of the bed, I laid down.

Just inches away from my nose, the stink was almost unbearable. No matter how shallow my breath, I couldn’t even turn my thoughts away from the foul stench of my diaper.

I thought, given the circumstances, it might prevent me from falling asleep.

As it turns out, I was wrong. The fatigue of the day had me knocked out in minutes.

…

When I awoke in the morning, I took stock of a few things.

First: Though the bed had already been sodden, the wetness was warmer and damper than I remembered.

“Did I wet the bed?” I asked aloud, rubbing at my eyes.

(You did. I wanted to make sure you got your rest, so I made your body release.)

Nose wrinkled, I sat up, noting that the tenderness and bruises on my thighs and butt had vanished. “How much control do you have over my body, exactly?”

(Enough.)

“Hmm,” I said.

(You have an idea?)

I hadn’t formed it clearly in my head, but the thought crossed my mind more distinctly. I knew about Venom, and even if I hadn’t kept up following anything, I’d read plenty of comic books in my youth.

“Like…super powers,” I said. “Can you do that?”

I felt my thoughts flutter, disturbingly like having someone rifling through a filing cabinet in my brain.

(Interesting.)

“Sorry, whatever,” I said, getting to my feet.

(No, no. Interesting, because…I can. Perhaps not like this, ‘Superman’, but certainly you’ll be stronger than any other humans.)

I hesitated.

(No, no way…)

(But,) Haven thought. (What would you give me in exchange? We’ve agreed that I’ll depart in a week, after all, to find a new plaything.)

I shook my head, walking to the little bathroom sink to get some water. “And I’m sticking to that. I want you gone.”

Haven’s black, inky body grabbed me, stopping me. (You need to put on a new diaper.)

“I need water,” I grumbled, but I stopped short of provoking Haven and walked over to the pack of disposable diapers I’d purchased. “What are you going to do to me today, anyways?”

(I explored some of your memories last night,) Haven said, (Learned more about humans. I think I’m going to get you banned from your mall.)

I blinked, eyes widening. “W-what?”

(I’m curious at what point they’ll deem you unacceptably putrid–will a full diaper do it on its own, or will you need to leak? Will you have to take your skirt off and display how much you’ve ruined them?)

Face turning pink, I tried to protest, but I knew it would be futile. If I wanted Haven gone, I’d have to comply, even if that meant debasing myself publicly.

I got dressed. My clothes were in need of a wash, but Haven didn’t care, dressing me up in my old skirt, my shirt. Though it smelled of sweat, that was nothing: Before I could even leave the hotel room, they forced me to squat, to push, to overpower the sweat stink with a far more acute stench that radiated from my new diaper.

They at least let me bundle up my old diaper in a trash bag and throw it in the dumpster outside. For the mattress, I just left a note apologizing, before getting on my bicycle and riding away.

A full diaper on a bicycle is no pleasant experience. Every bump or crack in the road rattled the seat into my diaper, and my body weight smushed the mess into me.

I did notice, though, my lack of fatigue. Knowing Haven was there, what they could do, I realized they were keeping my body energized.

Locking it up in front of the Four Pines mall, I whimpered. “So?”

(For now, you’re just going to shop for a while. Get close to others. Make sure they notice your stink. If in an hour, nobody’s asked you to leave, we’ll increase your humiliation.)

Swallowing, I waddled inside.

This early on a weekday, the mall wasn’t packed, but it had plenty of customers. With no particular goal and nothing I genuinely intended to buy, I picked the bookstore by the door for my first target.

I weighed my motivations. On one end–I was mortified at the thought of being caught, of having someone recognize me and notice what I’d done, what I was wearing. On the other, at least if I got thrown out early, it’d only be for having a smelly diaper. If Haven forced me to escalate, it would only get worse.

By the wrinkled noses of other shoppers, I could tell people noticed. Some even cast glances my way. Haven forced me to bend over to look at books on low shelves, and I knew more than a few people got a good look at my puffy, sagging bottoms, but nobody said anything.

I moved on–to a Hot Topic, to a clothes store, to the food court to finally get breakfast. I got looks, and pinched noses, and even a few giggles, but no confrontation. Certainly nobody banned me from the mall.

(When you’re done eating,) Haven warned, (Go buy a new pair of white stockings.)

(Why?) I asked in my head, silent so that nobody would notice me talking to myself.

(Because I’m going to make you leak, and it’ll be more visible in white stockings than bare legs,) Haven explained.

I turned pink, but finished eating and got up, waddling to a new clothes store to obey.

There were options. I perused over them, finally selecting one that seemed like it’d absorb the most, that’d stain the most visibly. Wearing them out of the dressing room, I–

“Brian, let go.”

I blinked, glancing over towards the back of the store, to a space well away from any employees or other shoppers. A tall man was standing close to a short girl, uncomfortably close, his hand gripping her arm tightly. He looked smug, she only seemed afraid.

“Come on,” he said, looming over her. “It’s my birthday.”

“Haven,” I whispered.

I was making a lot of assumptions here, but I recognized someone who wanted to be anywhere else when I saw them.

(Her heart rate is elevated, and he’s enjoying himself,) Haven said. (I can smell his endorphins. He knows she’s afraid. He likes that.)

That was all I needed. I walked right up. I didn’t have a public image to worry about, not when Haven was set on tanking it anyways, and I had confidence that came from having nothing to lose.

“Hey,” I interrupted. “The girl said to let go.”

They both looked at me. His grip tightened on her arm. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Nobody,” I said. “But she said to let go.”

She shook her head, a warning to me. Not to get involved, for my own safety. Maybe for hers.

Part of my confidence flickered–if I handled this poorly, if he left pissed off and with a bone to pick, he might take it out on her later.

His nose wrinkled as he finally caught a whiff of me. Recognized what I’d done, what I was wearing. “Did you shit yourself?” he asked.

“You’re going to let her walk away,” I shot back, ignoring his question.

He did let go of her arm, but only to step up to me, to loom. “And why should I listen to you?”

I looked around, then thought, (Haven? I’m kind of out of my depth here. Help me out, I’ll return the favor.)

(With pleasure. I need you to touch him.)

Uncertain, I reached out, grabbing his arm. I didn’t squeeze hard, but I felt a little of Haven’s inky body make skin contact with him.

And, suddenly, the guy turned furious. “Bitch!” he shot, raising his other arm, preparing to throw a fist.

(There you go,) Haven thought in the split second. (Now it’s self defense. Good luck.)

My eyes widened, but my reflexes took over–Haven’s enhancement allowed me to duck, easily, and his punch sailed past me. I wasn’t prepared to counter attack, but he turned and tried to kick me. I sidestepped as well, dodging easily.

(What did you do?) I thought, giggling as another punch soared past me.

(Adrenaline and hormone spike, I turned on his fight-or-flight,) Haven explained.

(Well, keep it up, this–)

A fist connected with my face as I misread a jab.

In that moment, Haven shot up, catching the blow with their inky body, and the guy screamed like he’d just punched bricks, recoiling his hand in pain.

“What the fuck?” he blurted.

It was time to end the fight–and I did, with one well placed kick between his legs.

It felt great. The adrenaline surge thrilled me, and as he slumped to the floor, I saw Haven shoot out from me, a little glob latching onto his leg. (And now…to make sure he remembers his lesson.)

I don’t know what endorphins flooded the guy’s body, but he began to cry, lying down in a fetal heap, right as an employee caught up with us, looking over the scene.

I glanced back at him. He had on a uniform, and looked perplexed. “What–I’m calling security.”

I didn’t have an opportunity to explain. A minute later, security showed up, finally taking in questions. I answered them honestly, leaving out the Haven-related details while the guy sobbed on the floor: He’d been harassing the girl, and attacked me. I’d defended myself. Security footage would show that he threw the first punch.

Confident that I was going to be exonerated, I asked, “Can I go back to shopping?”

“Actually,” the employee said, while the security guard got the girl’s story. “I need to, eh…ask you to leave.”

I blinked. “What? He attacked me.”

“Yeah, no, it’s because…” he blushed. “You didn’t pay for those stockings before you, uh…peed on them.”

I blinked, then looked down. I hadn’t even noticed my diaper leaking, soaking into the stockings just like Haven had warned. “Seriously?” I demanded.

(I told you what would happen,) Haven chuckled in my thoughts.

Thinking I’d been addressing him, the employee said, “Sorry, it’s policy…it’s not up to me. You don’t have to pay for them, at least.”

“So what, I’m banned?” I asked.

“Yeah. Sorry, again.”

“Thank you,” I said, relieved to be done. I’d gotten my ban, I could finally leave the mall and never look back.

That could have gone worse, there was just only one more concern.

(Could we do this again?) I inquired of Haven.

(If you want to keep my abilities, you’ll need to keep me, too,) they thought back. (And all that entails. I won’t stop humiliating you.)

(But you’ll give me your powers?) I thought. (That’s a trade I’m willing to make.)

Haven considered for a moment, and I felt them slip into my diaper, toying with me, making me shudder. (You’re certain? You don’t want me gone in a week?)

I nodded. (I’m certain.)

Haven thrust into me right there in the store. I stifled a gasp in front of the security guard, the employee, the girl I’d just saved.

(Alright,) Haven thought. (You have yourself a deal.)

I straightened, trying to keep a straight face, to hide that I was being actively fucked from the guard, the employee, the woman I’d saved. Turning, I thought, (May I change before I leave? Or do I have to go back to the hotel and then change?)

Haven’s laughter echoed in my brain, not quite coherent words, just pure mirth. (Who said you’re allowed to leave?) Stumbling, I caught myself as–in the same moment they thought this–another probing lash of mass forced its way up my bottom, now filling me in both holes.

(What? I got banned!) I thought, biting my lip, breathing hard through my nose. People stared, and even if they didn’t notice my labored breathing or flush face, they definitely noticed the dark yellow stain that ran down my tights and the putrid odor drifting off of my diaper.

(You got banned from this store,) Haven thought, their thoughts full of malicious glee. (You need to be banned from the mall. Keep shopping, plaything. If you’re not barred from entry in an hour, we’ll see what happens when you’re wearing only your diaper.)

 

...

I'm proud to announce the addition of an editorial team! I've got extra eyes on my work now, which will hopefully help reduce the number of mistakes that slip through. Everyone give them a big ol' thank you!

I'm able to afford editing - and groceries - thanks to the incredibly generosity of my supporters over on Patreon & SubscribeStar.

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Consider this a sequel series - I found a direction for the character that felt like it had legs, and am following that narrative arc now! I plan on using a comic book format - short 'issues' that collectively make up narrative arcs which I'll be posting in clusters. 

 

Issue 1:  Striking Favors 

The alien had ruined my life and given me purpose, and I didn’t know whether to love them or hate them for it.

Haven owned me, and relished demonstrating that ownership. Pushing me to humiliate myself, delighting as I was forced to ruin diapers for their amusement and the public’s disgust. I’d managed to wrestle back only the tiniest amount of control, and even that leverage was tenuous, only available to me because I’d agreed to play Haven’s game–I couldn’t win, not really, but I could forfeit and spoil their fun. So long as I had my trump card, I could fight to at least bargain for bits of autonomy.

I was a thing to them, a source of food and entertainment.

But in exchange, they’d given me a power I could never have dreamed of. Superhuman, that was the only word for it. In the right place, at the right time, I could be incredible.

Emphasis on ‘could’. Two days of waiting for trouble had left me restless, and though I couldn’t say I was bored, the only excitement came from Haven finding new ways to play with my body while we killed time at the hotel.

(Haven,) I’d thought to myself, wincing at the strain on my elbows. (This isn’t working.)

(I think it is–you’re at just the level of discomfort I prefer. Do you think you’ll be able to hold out as long as I’ve demanded?)

The enema sloshing inside my system made it hard to stay focused, but that was just the start. Haven’s inky, nebulous body could form itself into most any shape so long as they had the mass to stretch, and they’d taken to forming elaborate bondage contraptions around me. At the moment, they had grabbed onto the ceiling and wrapped around my wrists, suspending my arms over my head and pulling me up so high that I could just barely stand on tiptoe. It was positively sadistic, but the distraction of a practical conversation helped me resist the bondage. (I don’t mean this, I mean this. Trying to fight crime.)

(You do what I say in exchange for power,) they’d replied. (You’re doing what I say just fine–have I not provided the power?)

(Only in theory–there’s nothing here for me to do. This town just doesn’t have enough danger for your strength to be useful.) I winced again, wishing I didn’t have so much weight on the tips of my toes and my wrists.

I’d been instructed to hold my enema for at least thirty minutes, or else risk punishment–twenty had gone by, but I was struggling. If I held it, I’d get to sleep in a clean diaper, relaxed in my bed. If I lost control, I’d be bound and gagged through the night.

(Then let’s go elsewhere. A city. That’s where other vigilantes work, isn’t it?)

(What, to Central City? I don’t think I could even afford a shoebox there, let alone a place to live, and my bike doesn’t make for much of a commute.)

(Hmm.)

(What?)

(Perhaps there’s a way to solve this problem. Last time we put you on the internet–)

I shuddered. That had been one of Haven’s most devilish ideas–leaving my humiliations to be decided by horny strangers who enjoyed watching me debase myself.

(–there were plenty of people commenting in shock that your performance was free.)

Swallowing, I saw where Haven was going with this. Given the fairly extreme nature of what they made me do, it could potentially be a very lucrative source of cash. How much would people be willing to pay in exchange for total control over me?

Hell, Haven gave me the ability to go beyond what anyone else could do–sustaining more masochistic punishment than might otherwise be safe, because they gave me durability and could heal my injuries in hours rather than weeks. I didn’t need to worry about rashes or infections, and, well–fears about having my face exposed were a bit moot, given that I’d done this once before.

Haven certainly paid well enough, even if they did so with strength rather than cash. Surely the market had to exist.

(So, what are you suggesting? Cam girl by day, hero by night?)

(Something like that. Stay put.)

(You know I can’t move–when did you get a sense of humor?)

Slithering away, Haven kept my wrists bound but extended part of their body to my computer bag, working like an inky production assistant. The computer was whisked onto my desk, and Haven had no trouble logging in–with access to my thoughts, they also had access to all my passwords.

It took them only a minute to queue up the cam site I’d used before, and in that time, I was left to my own devices. All my attention rested on controlling my bowels, keeping the heavy, sloshy enema from pouring out into my diaper, preserving the little bit of reward I had managed to earn.

(Same rules as before,) Haven instructed me. (Anything they tell you to do, you do. Only this time, the instructions all have a price, one that I’ve set. I’ve typed it all out, so don’t worry–you don’t need to explain anything to anyone.)

The stream went live.

(Here’s a question,) Haven considered, body shimmering to more closely resemble ropes, so that their presence as my bondage would not be noticed by anyone watching. (Do you suppose anyone will tell you to fill your diaper in the next seven minutes?)

(But–) I started to think, before forcing a smile as I saw the first comments pour in.

(That would be unfortunate, wouldn’t it? If you had the control to avoid a punishment, but were instructed to fail anyways?)

Trying to nip it in the bud, I faced the screen, doing my best porn-worthy voice, fake sultry tones but authentic desperation. "Oh, god, I really need to go, but I bet the longer I hold it, the worse it'll be–I just want to go right now, won't someone please let me?"

A donation appeared on screen, the text large enough that I could just read the instructions from my bound position. I blinked, surprised at the number attached.

‘You want to go so bad, beg for it.'

(Fuck me that's like three hours at my old job–)

(You have a performance to give, my plaything.)

(Right.)

"Please, please," I babbled. "Let me poop my diaper–I just love having a full, smelly diaper, just let me go, please–"

Another donation, for a positively eye popping amount.

'Let’s see you use your diaper, and tell us how much you like it’.

That was as far as my reverse psychology got me, then. I'd bought ten seconds, then been told it was time to bottom out my diaper anyways.

Cheeks flushing, it took me little effort to obey. All I had to do was let go and let nature take control, so I let the enema pour out into my diaper and knowing I’d just earned myself a punishment. The hot muck immediately made the seat sag, and in case it wasn’t obvious enough yet, I obeyed the second command.

“Th-thank you,” I stammered, “I was just waiting to poop in my diaper–I just love filling them up like this.”

More commands. Things I had to say, to do.

Haven was right–this was my ticket, my way to get to Central City. For the price of my dignity, I would get what I’d asked for, and at this point I doubted I had a choice in the matter.

And, finally, a particularly big donation: ‘Let’s get a spanking started–how hard can you hit?’

...

Support is always appreciated! It's readers like you that let me treat writing as seriously as I do, and I try to return that support and show my gratitude with consistent posts, early access, and exclusive content!

https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

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[sklawlor]

this is great, I love this series.

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 9/16/2023 at 10:57 AM, sklawlor said:

this is great, I love this series.

Thank you!

[Wannatripbaby]

Oooooooo this is an interesting direction! 

We've done the origin story. Had our fun. Now our young protagonist has to deal with the practical side of crime-fighting. 

-how does one actually find crime to fight? 

-and more importantly, how does one pay the bills whilst doing so? 

At least that second problem is easily solvable for our smelly little damsel in not-quite-distress. 😅

[PeculiarChangeling]

Issue 2: Autonomy Arbitration 

 

I wasn’t sure how to handle Haven’s new sense of humor, especially as they got more comfortable navigating the internet.

They’d handled apartment hunting while I slept–using my phone, something I’d have objections to if they hadn’t already invaded my privacy in far more significant ways. All I had to do was read the chat log on Crissie’s List after the fact.

CharChar72:I saw your post. You’ve got an apartment available?

Dylan: I didn’t post about an available apartment.

CharChar72: I’m talking about this: [Plumber Needed - Urgent]

Dylan: Yeah, the toilet’s wrecked, last tennant poured cement down the pipes. Needs a whole rework, and it’s gonna cost my left nut and take a billion years to get it done. You want it once it’s fixed?

CharChar72: I want it now. I don’t need a toilet.

Dylan: What?

CharChar72: I wear diapers. Is that an issue?

Dylan: I guess not.

CharChar72: Give me a ten percent discount, I can move in tonight.

Dylan: Hell, you can’t be worse than my last tennant. You’ve got a deal. Rent’s due every Monday.

I was moderately relieved that Haven hadn’t tried to make a deal trading sex for cheap rent. Still, the lack of a toilet symbolized something pretty clearly–Haven had no intent of letting me regain my potty control.

It’d taken only a few minutes to get my things. I slipped by the house when my parents weren’t home, grabbed the possessions I needed, and departed for the nearest intercity bus stop before I had to explain to mom and dad why my potty training had been set back twenty years. I left a voicemail explaining I was heading back to college early for some vocational training, then put my phone on mute so I wouldn’t have to answer any of their replies.

Nearly my entire life packed neatly into three suitcases–one of which mostly just held diapers and the sex toys Haven had required me to purchase. The only thing that didn’t fit in a bag was my bicycle. With a one-way ticket to Central City, I got onto the back of the bus, excited and terrified at what awaited me.

I was going to be a superhero. Like the kind on the news.

(I’ve done some thinking,) Haven told me, as we sat in the back of the bus.

(Yeah?) I asked. (What sort of thinking?)

(I can see into your mind and taste your endorphins. I know what you really like. I know where your limits lie.) Haven purred for a moment, something I felt as a rumble between my thighs–they’d retreated their form and were currently acting as a diaper cover. (I’m returning your control to you.)

(What control?) I asked.

(All of it. I will compel you to do nothing, except for what you agree to do, what you ask of me.) Though they had no form, I could still picture a Cheshirian grin forming on Haven’s imagined face.

(You’re not going to make me…like, use diapers?) I asked. (No catch?)

(Not unless you ask me to,) Haven replied.

(Well…I don’t have a toilet. Because of you.)

(You’re welcome to find another apartment, or a public restroom close by.)

I swallowed. There was a trick here, a trap somewhere, but I couldn’t see it. (You’re betting that I’ll give in and use diapers because it’s convenient, or because you think I enjoy it, aren’t you?)

(Possibly.)

(It’s unfair that you can read my thoughts but I can’t do the same.)

(Who ever said I would be fair to you? You are Mine.)

On that note, they fell silent, leaving me to do little but stew in my own boredom for several hours.

Haven was, unfortunately, immediately proven right in at least one aspect–given the choice between trying to use the dingy, gross toilet at the back of the bus or wetting my diaper, I peed in my diaper. It was purely a matter of convenience and sanitation, but I felt Haven’s amused satisfaction nonetheless.

I sighed in relief as the bus finally came to a station and I was able to get up, stretch my legs, and seek out a bathroom. I needed to do more than pee, and I wanted to test Haven’s promise. I was going to find a toilet, sit down, and use it like a continent adult, and if they kept their word, they wouldn’t stop me.

The bus station’s bathroom was dingy and ill maintained, but it was at least a bathroom. A real bathroom, not a shaky, awful craphole like the one on the bus. Walking to the nearest stall, I pushed it open–

(Did you notice?) Haven inquired.

(You know I don’t know what you’re talking about, so just tell me what I missed,) I shot back, rolling my eyes. Here came the catch.

(You’re in danger.)

The door behind me opened, and two figures walked inside. I turned–they didn’t have the posture of travelers looking for a john, and as soon as they were inside, both faced me directly. Both women were taller than me, more physically fit, and the one on the left wore a jacket that did little to hide the pistol concealed inside.

Time froze for a moment–not completely, but my thoughts had accelerated, making it seem that the other women’s motions were in slow motion.

(Did you set this up?) I asked.

(No, but it’s a happy coincidence. You’ve found your first muggers, so soon after arriving.)

(Okay, let’s take them out.)

(No.)

I blinked.

(What? But–)

(Not for free. Give me a reason to help you.)

(I–) It hit me, then. Haven had given me privileges back, just so that they’d have the ability to take them away. (How about if I don’t use the toilet for three days?)

(No, no. That’s not how this works. You don’t negotiate, you just give me control, and I’ll decide if I want to help you.)

I swallowed. The woman on the right was saying something–I’d missed it completely–and reaching for her gun. I didn’t have much time.

(Please–) I started, trying to be quick about it. (Make me use my diapers for the next three days. Don’t let me use the toilet.)

(Alright.)

(Will you help me now?)

(No.)

(Er–um–f**k. I don’t know what to–this is hard when I’m panicking, okay?)

(Then stop trying to be coy and give me something good.)

(Please, Haven–) trying to think, I came up with a desperate number. (Edge me thirty times before I go to bed?)

(Gladly.)

(But–okay, fifty times.)

(Since you asked so nicely.)

My peril was getting closer, and Haven hadn’t yet fully complied. Her hand was inches from the weapon, getting closer with each passing thought.

(Make me beg for diaper changes.)

(Of course.)

(And–f**k. Okay. You like it when I’m embarrassed in front of people, right? Make me change my diapers in public bathrooms.)

(Aaah, that’s wonderful–I think that’s enough.)

(Will you help me fight now?)

(‘Help’?)

Before I could ask what they meant, inky blackness shot out and both my attackers, striking their faces, covering their mouths and noses. The woman on the right stopped going for her weapon, and both clutched at the tendrils cutting off their oxygen supply.

The struggle took twenty seconds, and when it was done, they slumped to the ground, unconscious. I didn’t have to do a thing.

(So,) I asked, heart pounding. (This was your plan all along?)

(No plan, I just wanted to see what you’d do.)

(And?)

(And I think I’ve got promises to keep, Mine.)

(f**k. How much edging did I agree to again?)

(Fifty times.)

(Right… is that even doable?)

(I will ensure you've got the physical stamina.)

(f**k.)

...

The story's up to Issue 6 over on Patreon! If you can't wait to read ahead, you can support me and check it out all in one fell swoop!

https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

[kerry]

What is Haven getting out of this? It travels across the galaxy just to find a host who will allow it to act out its kinkiest, most disgusting desires? To what end? And how does a weird black ooze from outer space get a messy diaper fetish in the first place?

Inquiring minds want to know. 🙂

[PeculiarChangeling]

55 minutes ago, kerry said:

What is Haven getting out of this? It travels across the galaxy just to find a host who will allow it to act out its kinkiest, most disgusting desires? To what end? And how does a weird black ooze from outer space get a messy diaper fetish in the first place?

Inquiring minds want to know. 🙂

I touched on this in Chapter One, but it's worth more clarification:

Haven eats hormones. The complex emotional results of blending humiliation with pleasure taste particularly good, and Haven selected Charlie as his food supply. 

As for how he got the fetish - he borrowed it from Charlie, looking through her memories for examples of what left her feeling particularly humiliated and selecting that as his tool for embarrassing her. Mixing in pleasure was the next obvious step, and then once they had internet access, the details of ways to engage with this fetish became pretty clear. 

[Wannatripbaby]

On 9/30/2023 at 3:39 PM, PeculiarChangeling said:

CharChar72: I want it now. I don’t need a toilet.

Dylan: What?

CharChar72: I wear diapers. Is that an issue?

Dylan: I guess not.

CharChar72: Give me a ten percent discount, I can move in tonight.

Now THAT'S how you turn a "weakness" into an opportunity. 😅 I'm surprised I haven't seen more ABDL stories that use that trope. 

"How can you afford this place!?" 

"Toilet doesn't work so I got it for a song."

"Isn't that kind of a big problem?" 

"Not for me. 😏" 

On 9/30/2023 at 3:39 PM, PeculiarChangeling said:

 was going to be a superhero. Like the kind on the news.

Oooooo so Superheroes are common in this world? 👀 Very interesting. 

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 10/2/2023 at 3:15 PM, Wannatripbaby said:

Oooooo so Superheroes are common in this world? 👀 Very interesting. 

You are the first person to notice this!

Very, *very* keen eyed readers who are also dedicated fans of mine might be able to spot something else - but I'm going to stay hush hush for now.

Also - Guess who's got two diapers and is fucking back to being able to swear? This guy! 

...

Issue 3

 

The quality of my new apartment didn’t matter too much when I was bound, blindfolded, gagged, and deprived from all sensory input.

Haven had been given my full permission to deny me pleasure fifty times, and my parasitic alien master had taken to that task with gusto. No part of my body was off limits, no inch of skin was mine to hold back.

In concept, being edged repeatedly was bad enough. Being brought to the precipice of climax, only to be denied, would be pretty torturous on its own. In practice, Haven made things far, far worse.

They knew me, they knew my limits, they could feel when I approached the edge. The level of precision went beyond human, Haven could have me gasping and moaning, nanometers from orgasm, and then pull me back with a flood of hormones that ensured I could never achieve the pleasure I so desperately wanted.

I’d lost count, but I knew we were miles from finishing–it had been…fifteen? Twenty times? Enough that my thoughts were clouded by an inferno of arousal, that it was difficult to think about anything but my desperation to squirt into my diapers, but still an eternity from having this marathon come to any sort of conclusion.

Haven’s inky body wrapped around my eyes and ears, and my limbs were pulled spread eagle, hitched to the frame of my bed by their amorphous pseudo-tentacles.

I’d been stripped near-naked, save for–of course–my diaper, which was sodden, but not yet ready to be changed, not that they’d let me up even if I asked now. They had more important things to do.

Inside my sex, Haven pulsed, and I knew things were starting to build again. Slick, warm pressure rubbed against my clit, and my back arched in anticipated pleasure, knowing things would reach an end soon–my logical brain had been buried by denial, I was willing to take any false hope, any lies about the joy I’d soon be allowed to experience.

(Beg,) Haven instructed, and though I was gagged, mouth held open in a drooling mess, I tried.

My words were nonsense–moans and garbled pleas that no listener would ever be able to comprehend, but I obeyed anyways, asking for release, for anything. Haven’s work moved faster, thrusting inside me beneath my diaper, stimulating me in every way imaginable all at once.

(Please,) I thought. (I need–I need this, please, Haven, just let me–)

A release came, but not the one I wanted. Instead, I felt Haven suddenly plunge into me from behind, filling my ass as heavily as any plug and spreading it wide.

I was helpless to resist, helpless to even complain. All I could do was tense my body as, instead of the orgasmic release that I’d wanted, I instead was forced to release my bowels, expelling waste into the seat of my diaper in a helpless tide.

Haven’s message bypassed rational thought, planting itself deep in my brain–this was the release I deserved. No orgasmic bliss, only heavy, humiliating shame that piled into my diaper, swelling the seat of the crinkly prison I’d been sealed into.

Sweat and repression poured off me, and I sank into the bed as the wave of promised pleasure passed, ungranted.

(Breathe, Mine,) Haven instructed.

Whether this was to ensure I got air and could recover, or to ensure I got an intense shock from the smell that now radiated off me, I didn’t know. It could have been both, but one way or another, I inhaled sharply, panting to recover.

(How many?) I asked, weakly, as I felt a trickle of cool water go down my throat–Haven had, at least, kept me hydrated, though I assumed it was a ploy so that I'd soak my diapers more thoroughly. (How many more? I don’t know if I can take it.)

(Ten,) Haven told me, and I visualized their wicked, amused grin as they said it.

(Ten? But–that–there’s no way it’s just been ten. How long has it been?)

(I’m not cheating, plaything. It’s been ten near-denials in three hours. We can take a break for now, come back to it later.)

(But I can’t sleep until–)

(No, no. You can’t go to bed. If my toy wants to sleep, they can sleep on the floor tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll go buy you a cage.)

Breathing a little longer, I weighed my options. This session alone had me so desperate and pent up that the idea they proposed–being forced to sleep in a cage–turned me on more. I feared how pliable I’d be if I had to endure this again, and again, five days in a row.

Then again, as long as this had taken–I didn’t have the stamina for twelve more hours of this sort of torture.

(A break, please,) I asked.

Relenting, Haven pulled back, their inky body retreating. I blinked a few times–noting that day had turned to night, that I could hear the sound of Central City buzzing outside my window and of the neighbors shuffling around.

The walls were pretty thin–had they heard my desperate moans?

Did they care?

Did I care?

Relaxing a little, I asked aloud, “May–may I change my diaper?”

(You can beg better than that, Mine,) Haven replied.

“Please.” I knew he wouldn’t give in if I just offered words, but I tried anyway. “May I go change? I–I don’t want to go to bed like this.”

(Like what?)

(I–) I had an idea, but I didn’t want to consider it.

(I like what you’re thinking, Mine. Do it.)

Sitting up, I let my mess squelch beneath my bottom, spreading it, smushing it between my cheeks. Making it harder to clean up, harder to change. “Please,” I said, thrusting my hips forward a little, grinding my weight into the diaper seat, feeling every moment of the squelching sensation. I thrust a little harder, taking special note of how my slick, soggy diaper rubbed against me, how the sensations blurred, how my ruined diaper clung to my skin.

“P-please, please let me–”

(Stop.)

I froze.

(Clever Mine, but you don’t get to cum until your edging is all done.)

“What?”

(I knew what you were trying there. I’m glad to see you’ve already been trained so well that you thought to try and enjoy your diapers without so much as a suggestion from me–but it will have to wait.)

I swallowed. Had I been planning that? Sometimes Haven’s insight into my motives was deeper than my own understanding.

Or else they were lying, gaslighting me about my thoughts so I’d think I liked diapers more than I really did.

“Well…may I?” I asked, sheepishly.

(You may,) Haven thought. (There’s a twenty four hour convenience store a block away, with bathrooms available for paying customers. Buy something, and you can use their bathroom to change.)

I nodded, getting to my feet and looking around for my clothes. “Okay.”

(Okay, that’s all?)

“Er…” Right. They’d given me what I asked for, I should be polite. “Thank you, Haven.”

...

Financial support is always appreciated but never required - Thank you for reading!

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Oh heck, and check out this amazing cover art by LittleTheo! 

[Wannatripbaby]

Oh my. O_O that was umm... That was certainly uhhh... I'll be right back. 

*leaves and comes back an indefinite amount of time later*

... Taxes. Yeah, that's what I was doing... Filing taxes... In October... 

#seemslegit

All I'll say is, my GF should be glad I don't have this type of power over her body. 😏😅 

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 10/7/2023 at 1:54 PM, Wannatripbaby said:

Oh my. O_O that was umm... That was certainly uhhh... I'll be right back. 

*leaves and comes back an indefinite amount of time later*

... Taxes. Yeah, that's what I was doing... Filing taxes... In October... 

#seemslegit

All I'll say is, my GF should be glad I don't have this type of power over her body. 😏😅 

I hope your ""Taxes"" went well!