Gamer Pants: The Stat Dump

Contains: Pants wetting, messing, diaper use, semi public embarrassment

Another story exploring the ToddleVerse concept! This one's also a spiritual sequel to Gamer Pants, using some similar themes and ideas. 

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System Booting…

User Profile Loading…

Profile Loaded. Entering the Totalverse.

Sal glanced back over her shoulder, winked at the camera bot floating behind her, and then performed a running leap for the next platform.

Hovering in the air ahead, with a deep pit below, she needed an ideal trajectory to make it. Her body was in peak condition, but as she waved her hands out, trying to grab the lip, she came up just short.

Instead of making the jump, she fell into the pit. Sludgy, thick mud broke her fall, but it splattered over her pink-and-blue jumpsuit and tangled her matching dyed hair.

Above, the camera bot moved to get a good angle of her lying down there, groaning in discomfort.

She pulled herself together, and got to her feet. “Let’s… try that again.”

The hike back to the front of the level was tedious, and muddy, and deliberately slow and annoying to get through. Other games allowed users to blink from point to point, restarting levels in an instant, but this game–a hacked rebuild of a popular obstacle course platformer that’d been overhauled to insane levels of difficulty–had disabled. Every failure was felt, and experienced, and gave her time to talk to her audience.

The TotalVerse had given rise to a whole new world of gaming, and in particular, pro gamers.

Gaming in VR was already incredible enough. A person could experience physical perfection–maximum strength, speed, agility–without a day of effort, and that alone had given rise to countless power fantasy games of all stripes.

For some, though, just experiencing that power wasn’t enough. It was one thing to feel peak human performance, it was another entirely to have to use every ounce of that performance and still be struggling.

That’s the niche that Sal–Publicly, QueenCee–lived in. Hard games weren’t enough, she longed to conquer the impossible, and to fight her way through every challenge and win on her own terms.

Climbing up the ladder, out of the mud pit, she reclaimed the starting platform. This particular game was a fucked up fusion of obstacle courses and Mario stages–all sorts of moving parts, platforms that’d throw you off, invisible walls, and other impossibly tight challenges–all decorated with candy easter colors and child-friendly smiling faces that were at odds with the difficulty.

“Alright.” She beamed at the camera, wiping mud off her face. “Let’s try something a little different–I think I almost had it.”

Opening up the ingame menu, she eyed her stats. There were a lot of complex, nuanced interactions, but for video game simplicity’s sake, a lot of things were boiled down to obvious, simple number metrics. Still far more than you’d get in an anthro game–one of the classic, TV-controller setup style games–since something like ‘Dexterity’ just wouldn’t cover the range of interactions needed.

Still, this was a matter of finding the right buttons to press. She needed longer jumps, so she stole a couple points from upper body strength and moved them into her legs, as well as lightening herself up as much as she could.

Feeling an extra spring in her step, she nodded, crouched to start, and ran.

The first jump she made easily, dodging over the spinning ankle trap that had tripped her on her first try. Next was a backflip over a launcher that’d throw her well off the map if she stepped on it, a quick roll underneath a swinging arm, and then she got to her feet, knowing the ground would drop out from her if she didn’t hurry.

She ran, and lunged over the pit. She made it, this time, grabbing the narrow ledge with the extra inches that her stat shuffling had bought. “YES!” she hollered, towing herself up and rolling onto the next raised platform. Progress, even a little progress, felt fantastic and she showed it with an enormous grin.

And, as she got to her feet, she saw a cannon turning to aim right at her.

“Uh…” she looked around, her smile vanishing. Already, Sal knew she’d lost this, simply by not knowing what to do. Still, she had a chance to figure it out, to gain some knowledge before she went down.

Next to her, a big metallic door sat between her and the next platform. She lunged towards it–

WHAM!

A foam cannonball bopped her on the head and sent her soaring over the edge.

Fall.

Plop.

“Ugh.”

She got to her feet, checking on chat while she trudged back to the start, shaking the mud out of her jumpsuit. They were good natured about it–some jokes about her masochistic streak, and even a few people suggesting that this level was impossible.

“Not impossible,” she said, “Just because nobody’s beaten it yet, that doesn’t mean it can’t be done. It’s just never met me.”

She loved her chat. Not everyone in it, of course, but for the most part her following were supportive and a great crowd to cheer her on–and the sparse assholes were so rare that a small mod team could keep them under control. When she’d come out as trans–after much anxiety about whether she should even be public about it–they’d stuck with her as loyally as ever. Everyone in the TotalVerse had a body that’d been tweaked or modified in some way to suit them–nobody seemed to care that some people modified a few more things than others.

Returning to the top, Sal tried again. This time, she got tripped up and fell early, and the mud soaked up into her socks. On her next try, she made it to the door and shoved her shoulder into it, trying to throw it open, but it was just too heavy. Before she could push through it–WHAM!, and a faceful of sludge as she hit the ground again.

And, as a result, she was back at the stat screen, trying to figure it out.

“No backseat gaming,” she said, hushing the crowd as they suggested wild min-max combos. “I need the strength to push the door open, but the agility for that jump…”

She tried a new combination. More muscle, but hopefully not so much that it’d slow her down.

Into the mud.

She pulled from the stats that boosted her speed, but then she couldn’t make it through the early obstacles.

Into the mud.

She pulled from her manual control, but then she lacked the grip to pull herself up after the big jump.

Into the mud.

She even tried one gimmick run where she cranked her jumping ability as high as it would go and tried to leapfrog over the whole level.

Into. The goddamned. Mud.

It just…couldn’t be done. Not with her skill level, not without finding a place to shave stats that wouldn’t effect her performance.

“Ugh!” she declared, picking mud out of her ears after her fiftieth fall in as many minutes. She didn’t need to worry about injury–in the game, her body was indestructible–but it still hurt, particularly in the pride department, and she would swear the mud had splattered just about every part of her body that the VR rendered–which, given the level of realism, was quite a lot.

Balling her fists, she got to her feet. While she trudged back to the start, a text reader informed her of a recent donation.

“Keep at it! There’s a trick to the design nobody’s figured out yet–I’m sure someone’ll get it eventually.” Attached was a hundred dollar donation, which brightened Sal’s mood plenty. The donor was one of the mod’s designers, so she thanked him, gave a thumbs up to the camera, and climbed back up to the starting platform to give things a think.

“Okay chat, ideas time,” she finally said. “No more brute force. We’re going to solve this puzzle before we move forward!”

They offered up a few ideas–mostly bad ones. Several that were out and out impossible, and most that relied on some janky interactions in the way physics worked in the VR. She could try those, but in Sal’s experience, physics exploits were uncomfortable at the best of times, and she doubted that was it.

What she needed was to guess the trick.

She looked over what options were available to her. Clothing wasn’t totally restricted–there was a vast array of options for things she could wear. She glanced down at her trademark jumpsuit, pink on one half and light blue on the other, in a very cotton candy style. It hugged her body and didn’t get in the way, and she didn’t want to swap it out unless she had to.

Besides, no obvious options sprung to mind as she scrolled through the clothes choices. More advanced options like a squirrel suit weren’t available, and certainly not power ups like anti gravity boots or a jetpack.

There wasn’t much else on the table. Clothes and stats.

So, she returned to stats.

Scrolling through, she examined every one, looking for dead weight.

“Yeah,” she said, glancing at chat, reading the useless suggestions. She loved ‘em, sure, but nothing was less helpful than a backseat gamer who hadn’t even played the mod. “I know, I tried–wait, no…No way…”

There it was, staring her in the face. The mod had left on all the physical sliders, including, curiously–potty training, one of the oddest inclusions in the gaming suite, and an option that most games turned off by default.

She glanced at the camera bot. Did she really want to test this out live?

Then again, half the point was defeating the challenge on her own terms, with her own solutions, her own trial and error.

“Okay, don’t laugh,” she said, though the statement really only primed them to laugh harder. That was fine. It was funny, and they’d get to enjoy the show.

Grabbing the potty training slider, she dropped it down until she had no bladder control, and examined her points total. Just a couple of stat points–not enough to make a difference.

Swallowing, she pushed the slider the rest of the way. Zero potty control. And, as a result, she suddenly had a dozen points to work with.

Even with those extra points, it’d be difficult, but it’d be doable, which…

She looked down, curious why her thighs were suddenly warm. She’d soaked her jumpsuit, staining her thighs and crotch with an obvious wet stain that shone clearly through the bits of mud still clinging to her jumpsuit. A puddle was forming on the starting platform, and by the time her bladder trailed off and stopped leaking, the yellow marks were incredibly obvious.

Blushing, she glanced back up at the camera, as though chat hadn’t noticed before she even did.

“Erm…” she said, quickly punching the new stat points into more useful areas. “So…yeah. That should do the trick, just make sure not to save any replays!”

Crouching, she took a running start.

She made it over the first set of platforms, through the obstacles, past the long jump, even into the door. She finally threw it open, made it to the other side, and–

“Whoa!” she yelped as a trap door opened beneath her.

She plummeted down, landed in the mud, and…

Blrrcch–

There was nothing she could do as her uncontrolled bowels gave way, suddenly, mushing out into her jumpsuit. Even if she wanted to change it back, she could only adjust her stats from the starting platform, so it would at least take a short trudge before she could stem the building flow of muck. At least the mud covered the visible stains, but the game’s cartoonish art style apparently included stink lines, which quickly rose up around her.

And, adding insult to injury, her bladder gave way again too.

Standing, she wrinkled her nose and blushed. “Well, the solution stinks,” she said, winking at the camera. A pun struck her, and she added, “I guess you can say that’s my, eh, dump stat–but it gets us what we need!”

Waddling back, trying not to squelch things too much, she got back up on the platform. She could only refresh her clothes for free once per day, a limitation that the TotalVerse set so they could skim credits off people, but she took advantage of it, refreshing her jumpsuit–perfectly clean cotton candy colors, no yellow pee stains or brown skidmarks down the back. Not even any mud!

Bracing herself, she took another run at it.

The extra stats didn’t make it easy, not by a long shot. It was still hard, and on top of the physical challenges–the jumping, running, and flipping necessary–she had to remember the precise order of every obstacle, react lightning fast to changes, and see what was coming.

On her latest attempt, she made it over the trap door, caught her balance, and had her legs swept out from under her by another spinning arm.

Into the mud–and, as soon as she landed, she heard another obvious blrrrt–

“Ah,” she said, turning pink as she packed her jumpsuit yet again. The mod had been custom programmed, so that every failure would lead to a rather large accident, and given the feedback her nose was giving her, a smelly one at that. “Um…I’m glad you all can’t smell this, but…”

She refused to spend credits over something this trivial. Instead, as she slogged through the mud and waved away the cartoon stink lines around her, she resolved to change outfits.

She had a jacket top that matched her jumpsuit, pink and blue, but for her bottom…

Turning so that her body was between the cambot and the options screen, she moved through the options and selected a pair of sweatpants and, to her chagrin, a thin, generic diaper that was available as part of the level’s free clothing choices and had just enough padding to absorb an accident without getting in the way. Chat would know what she’d changed into–it was on the heads up display, for cripes sake–but she pretended to try and hide it for their fun.

And then she tried again.

Progress was slow, and grueling, and even changing after every attempt, she was spending far more time trudging back to the start in a full, sodden diaper than she was actually running the course. Every bit of progress had some new trap around the corner, or a pitfall, or just a tricky leap that took several tries to get the hang of, and every failure lead to an all-too-familiar blrrrch and hiss as she used her diaper to its fullest.

And, naturally, chat was loving it. She already had a light, friendly stream–predicated on humor and keeping her chin up through difficulty. Adding humiliation onto masochism only furthered the jokes, and she kept her smile up throughout, even as the air around the base of the platforms got increasingly difficult to breathe for all the accidents she’d had.

She almost thought about giving up.

Almost.

Then she heard that one of her rivals had made it to the second-to-last platform, and her competitive spirit kicked in.

Conjuring up another fresh diaper, she eyed the course. She was going to own this challenge before anyone else could, and damn whatever she had to do to accomplish that.

Grinning to herself, she whispered, “Get a load of this.”

She ran.

In all the attempts, in all the practice, the first parts of the course had become second nature. She didn’t think, she just flowed through the hazards, leaping from platform to obstacle to climbing section back to a new platform.

Even as new traps came at her, she dodged out of the way, skating narrowly between two swinging arms and tumbling towards the exit.

Just one jump to go, one final leap. Crouching, she kicked off, jumped, hands waving to grab on to the ledge.

She made it. Hauling herself up, she panted for breath, feeling a wave of triumph and joy wash over her as confetti sprayed and a ‘success’ jingle played. She’d made it to the final platform, and now she had her chance to gloat before moving onto the next level.

Chat went wild, and several donations flooded in, including another from the level’s developer. “Congrats on figuring it out! I knew someone would–it’s just too bad you missed the little parting gift I left on the finale.”

Sam frowned, glancing around. “Parting gift? What’s he talking ab–”

A loud air horn bwaaap sounded, and every single platform in the room vanished. She fell down into the mud, yet again, and this time the programming didn’t stop at just an accident. Incredible, unstoppable pressure rolled through her and swelled her diaper, so much that the expanding accident ripped the seat of her sweatpants.

And, above her, the platforms rematerialized, while the sound of recorded laughter rang in her ears.

She rolled her eyes. Of course there was a post victory trap, and she’d fallen right into it.

“Blegh,” she said, sticking out her tongue and pinching her nose. Speaking in nasal tones, she whinged, “Come on! That was cheap! I won fair and square, and now I’ve got to do it again!”

Getting to her feet, Sal tugged up her diaper so that it wouldn’t fall completely off her hips, waddling squelchily back towards the starting platform, making over-the-top faces for chat’s benefit.

She loved her job.