In December, I wrote a short 3,000 word story about a female punk rock singer who urinated over a fan on stage, partially inspired by real-life events. I enjoyed the tale and played with the characters in my mind over the following days. I said I would write more chapters if there was positive feedback.
There was.
I had plenty of comments and the story fared well in the "scoring." So, I wrote more.
Out of principle, I never release a chapter until I have written and edited the entire book. But, four extra chapters became six, and then eight, and there are now two dozen chapters on my hard drive. Over 70,000 words of golden showers, female domination and absolute filth with a plethora of additional characters. It's about 80-90% finished. Mostly, it needs editing.
I hope to complete the entire story before Easter. But I didn't want everyone who asked for a continuation to wait any longer. I promised I'd write something in the weeks after the first chapter, and it's been nearly three months. So, here is the next instalment and I will release the remainder as they become ready.
If you have not read the previous chapters, then please do so, as the following story won't make much sense.
This is written in British English, so a "nappy" is another name for a "diaper" and I use both terms interchangeably.
* * *
Natasha revelled in her victory, although the tiny margin of my defeat stung. She needed little encouragement to remind me of my loss and hinted at what nastiness she had planned for the weekend ahead.
As well as teasing me, my lodger spent the week settling into her new home. She tidied her possessions, registered with my doctor, and made an appointment at the salon in the town to have her hair coloured. On Friday, the weekly Popbitch email landed, and I scanned through it before I started work. I called out to Natasha in alarm.
Controversial punk rockers, Bitches Against, were in Leicester recently. Local sources report that two members of their group and a member of their entourage seduced some of the bar staff and filmed a kinky lesbian orgy in their hotel room. Two of the band got legless with three of the attendees, played drinking games, streaked through the venue and passed out naked in the Green Room. And the last member of the all-female rock group found themselves at the student nightclub and she returned to their hotel the following morning wearing lime green boxers, signed by their one-night stand. With antics like this, is it any wonder that venues are queuing up to book them for their next tour?
Natasha re-read the article. "It was me and Faye who had the orgy with Nessie and two barmaids. She pulled them when we made her do the merch stall in a tiny lycra dress and no underwear. Paula and Maddison got fucking hammered. Yasmin partied at the nightclub with Vixen and Fox. Yasmin collects the underpants of her fucking conquests. That'll be Vixen or Kat leaking stories to Popbitch." She rolled her eyes at me. "Goddess Records. Our music label. They always do this when we are planning a tour. Helps with ticket sales."
"What about the one from last year that they published? Faye's drunken orgy in the hotel room in Glasgow? That appeared after the tour finished."
"Oh, that was definitely off the fucking roadies. Faye and Martina had a fight with Laurie and the next thing, we get that. Fucking good bloke Laurie, but can be a prick after he fights with Faye. They have a love-hate relationship."
"I'm surprised you haven't revealed that you really leaked over me on stage," I told her. "Everyone seems to think you did."
"Vixen'll do that for the next tour when the tickets go on sale," Natasha said, with a deadpan response. "There will be something about you being pissed on, I fucking promise."
My kinky friend pottered about while I worked from home. She sent me messages all day, taunting me about what she had planned, and sent me salacious pictures. I felt humiliated, but strangely excited. I emptied my bowels mid-afternoon, and after I shut down my work laptop, I walked into the lounge to see Natasha waiting for me, holding a large padded white nappy.
My lodger laid it on the floor and patted it. "Fucking get naked and sit on this," she demanded, and smiled as I removed my trousers, underwear and shirt. My cock rose as I sat on the padded napkin, and Natasha giggled as she liberally wiped my genitals with the scented wipes.
I squealed as they were cool to the touch and she smirked as a small sprinkle of talcum powder dusted over my exposed cock. "Is that really necessary?" I moaned, as she securely fastened the nappy with the sticky tapes tightly around my waist.
"Of course," she mocked and smoothed the front of the white padding. She held a pale yellow shirt that was a little tight for me, that she put over my head and unfurled down my body. It fastened underneath my padded pants like a baby romper suit.
"A present from your friend?" I asked, and she hummed as she sat up, admiring my humiliation. "I look ridiculous."
"You are supposed to look fucking ridiculous!" Natasha snapped. She photographed me, cackled, patted me on my bloated bum and sent me into the kitchen to cook dinner. We shared a few drinks as we watched a film. She ridiculed me, offering me a rubber pacifier or a teddy bear, and I loved the adrenaline rush as I blushed.
Urinating on the couch was a weird sensation; forcing my bladder to let go while I sat on the sofa and then feel the padded warmth across my dick soak and sag around my body. I was certain Natasha could hear the hissing sound, as my prick expelled my pee followed by and a humid glow, which remained as I finished. The cushioned garment bulged, squishy and soft.
Natasha changing me on the floor was a greater embarrassment; I laid on the mat as she wiped my bum with lavender-scented wet wipes and changed the adult incontinence nappy. The pee-soaked garment stunk. After replacing the diaper, my lodger went upstairs to urinate and came down a minute later, holding an oversized translucent baby bottle.
The huge teat was almost two inches long, and pale yellow liquid sloshed inside the big plastic flask. She passed it to me and sat on the couch. "Drink it all up, like a good boy!" my kinky lodger taunted, and she poured the last of the wine into her glass.
"Really?" I moaned, and she glared at me. My resistance faded. I felt powerless in front of me, as she held the bottle to my lips, forcing her pee into my mouth. We watched the second half of the film with my head in her lap, as I laid on the sofa. The familiar taste of her golden nectar filled my tastebuds and my nostrils, taken from the silicon teat that I had to suckle. She subconsciously stroked my hair as I drank her water.
Her actions were both loving and vile; she had wanted to humiliate me and I adored her for it. Sexual submission had quickly become my addictive narcotic. I had never experienced such sordid kinks with my previous lovers, but since Natasha had exposed me to BDSM on stage, I needed to keep feeling those highs from submissiveness and humiliation. I felt a sense of tranquil calm and unbridled arousal from our play and Natasha understood what I required. My lodger was my drug dealer, and I loved whatever she gave me.
