Widowmaker (Commission)

Some jobs were about getting in quick, taking the shot, and getting out before anyone even knew you were there. 

Others were a game of patience. 

Today, Widowmaker’s game was patience. 

From her vantage point, she could watch the canyon pass below. At some point soon, a payload would be escorted through that pass. It was her job to make sure it didn’t go any further than that. 

She waited, looking down her scope. Time was passing. She’d had stakeouts last days, even weeks, so this was nothing unusual. Widowmaker was nothing if not patient. She would take as much time as she had to to complete her job. 

She felt a twinge of pressure in her bladder. 

Idly, Widowmaker put a hand to her ear. “Spotter, how close are the targets?” 

A few seconds passed. “Half a click away. They’ll be there soon.”

Not enough time to go find a toilet, then. She could hold it for a few minutes, but not for as long as this fight would take, and she didn’t want to be fighting that pressure mid-combat anyways. Besides which, she was already fighting cramps that had become more and more insistent, and dealing with them was becoming a distraction. 

That’s why she wore a diaper. Shifting so that her knees were a little bent, Widowmaker pushed, grunting softly. A hiss of urine began splashing into the thirsty padding, and at the same time she began filling the seat of her diaper with mush. 

She hadn’t realized how badly she needed to go. As the padding was soaked, it began to sag from the weight, layers of absorbent pulp swelling as they did their job and contained her accident.

Widowmaker didn’t blush. 

This sort of thing came with the territory. During a stakeout, snipers had to wear diapers. Widowmaker wasn’t embarrassed about it, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. It was why she’d added a skirt to her usual combat outfit; to conceal the thick layer of padding that was all but mandatory for her. She kept telling herself that as she relaxed, the mess settling in her thick , squelchy padding. She resumed watching for her prey to come into the canyon pass. 

A voice crackled in her earpiece. “The targets are moving into the pass. Moving at thirty kilometers an hour, south by southwest. You should see them any second. Current wind velocity is fifteen knots. You shouldn’t have any trouble compensating for it.”

She leaned into the gun a little closer, looking down the scope. She could worry about changing her sodden, stinky diaper later. Just then, she had people to kill.  

…

Gun slung over her shoulder, Widowmaker walked back to her transport, waddling ever so slightly from the heavy diaper between her thighs. It had been a good day. The payload had been stopped cold in its tracks before they knew what was even happening. She’d done her job masterfully, and gotten out without even being seen. 

Her spotter was waiting by the ship, a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck, watching for trouble. She nodded to him.

“You’ll have your pay deposited to your account,” she said. He’d done an adequate job. There was no special reason to hire him again, but he hadn’t failed her either. 

He nodded, wrinkling his nose a little, eyes drifting down to the bulge around her waist. Realizing what she was wearing, his eyes widened, and- 

She was on him in the blink of an eye, hand around his throat, pinning the unfortunate spotter against the side of the transport. “Watch where your eyes look,” she hissed. 

“I didn’t-” the spotter spluttered, shaking his head. “I didn’t see anything!” 

His nose was still wrinkled, and he was taking shallow breaths. Speaking slowly and clearly, Widowmaker said, “I hired you to watch for prey, not to stare at my diaper. You’re nothing more than a tool. A means to an end. Understood?” 

He nodded this time. “I understand! I didn’t mean to- It was just-” 

“You are not going to say a word about this to anyone,” Widowmaker continued, so close she was almost whispering into his ear. “This goes to your grave, unless you want to end up on my list.” 

He continued nodding, emphatically, willing to say anything if it meant appeasing her anger. 

It wasn’t enough. Widowmaker wanted the lesson to stick. “You will change my diaper.” 

“W-what?” the spotter said, his voice almost a yelp. It was pathetic. He couldn’t even understand a simple instruction. 

“I need a diaper change,” Widowmaker repeated. “You will do it for me.” 

He nodded, trembling, fear making him melt in response to her demands. 

Pulling him away from the transport, Widowmaker pressed a button on the control panel, lowering the back so they could walk inside. She had a stash of spare diapers available, stowed beneath spare ammo and traps, and she pointed. 

The spotter hesitantly picked up one of her diapers, while she laid down, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Grabbing a pack of wipes, her spotter knelt down, fingers shaking as he untapped Widowmaker’s diaper. It flopped to the ground, and though he did his best not to react, she still saw him recoil slightly as the smell grew more intense. 

He looked at her, then back at the mess, taking a baby wipe uncertainly. “Do I just-” 

“If I have to instruct you every step of the way, then you may as well not be changing me,” Widowmaker interrupted. “It’s not difficult.” 

Shivering, he began to wipe her up, cleaning away the muck stuck to her thighs and bottom. He was clearly terrified, and his hands were shaking as he got her clean. It took far longer than it reasonably should have, but he did a thoroughly job, and she was in no hurry. 

Wadding up her old diaper, he set it aside, unfolding the new one. “Um…” 

Widowmaker lifted her hips, letting him slide the diaper into place beneath her. Breathing a sigh of relief, the spotter adjusted its placement, and moved to fold it over her, taking a tape-

“No,” Widowmaker snapped. 

He looked up, terrified. “H-huh? What did I-” 

“Powder,” she reminded, nodding her head towards the stack of changing supplies. 

“Oh, heh… right.” Reaching for the tube, the spotter sprinkled powder between her legs, applying a generous amount and ensuring there was nowhere that didn’t get dusted. 

Once she was properly powdered, he moved to tape it again, tugging on the tapes to ensure that everything would be snug and that the diaper wouldn’t leak. 

Once she was securely padded, Widowmaker sat up, running a finger through the waistband. He’d done a good job, she had to admit. It was dry, clean, and there was no chance of leaking. 

“Good work,” she commented, directing her gaze at the spotter. “Now, if you tell anyone about this-” 

“I won’t,” he said, nodding as quickly as he could. “Nobody’s going to hear a word. They won’t even know that I’ve met you.” 

He continued nodding, in a panic. “I- yes, okay. Yes. I promise, please, just-” 

Around the zipper of his pants, a dark, wet stain began to spread. A reaction to fear. Good. He should be afraid of me. Widowmaker looked down at it, making it clear that she’d seen his accident. 

His cheeks turned pink, and he glanced at the stack of diapers sitting next to them. “I… um…” 

“You can take one,” she said, smirking. “But tell noone from where you got it.”

The spotter took one of the diapers, holding it close to his body. “I… um…” 

“Go,” Widowmaker said. “I’m done with you.” 

Clutching the diaper, he turned and ran. 

Turning on her heels, Widowmaker strutted towards the cockpit of her transport, sitting down in the pilot’s seat. Flipping the control switches on, she began bringing the machine to life.  

It had been a good day. She’d killed her targets, and she’d made bank on a bounty. There wasn’t much more that she could ask for. 

The engines rumbled, and she felt a little twinge in her bladder. 

Widowmaker glanced over her shoulder. The transport doors were closing. She could stop them, walk out, and find a place to squat and pee outside. It would only take a moment, after all. 

The smart thing to do would be to take off her diaper, pee outside, and then take off. She didn’t need diapers all the time. Her control was limited, but not nonexistent. 

Instead, Widowmaker watched the doors close all the way. Spinning around in her seat, she finished booting up the engines, taking her time with the preflight checks.

She had absolutely no intention of getting up to pee. She was already wearing a diaper, after all - why waste it? 

Throttling the engines, she lifted off, and in the same moment, she stopped holding her bladder. The thick diaper soaked up the pee easily, staining yellow as she took off, leaving the canyon behind.