Posted by observer9 on December 20, 2010 at 10:06 [67.248.58.172]
Hi, newish poster. Someone on this board suggested a space diaper story so I wrote one! There is a non-poop version posted on the diaper board. Bonus: The text in in brackets represents where in real life I had to take a break typing to go poop. Unfortunately, I was not alone so my pants was no-go.
Angel had been destined for the stars. Even her name suggested she belonged in the heavens. If any of the countless people who had informed her of that connection and so fostered her interest and realized desire to become an astronaut had any knowledge of the training and job itself they would told her to become a vet or any other job. Instead they had infected her dreams and now she was on Spacelab 2011. In orbit. The training had been brutal. The zero-g and spacewalk training had been especially tough for her, particularly psychologically. Who would have thought she'd have to turn the clock on so many learned habits? Even toilet training? Suddenly she stopped herself. Her thoughts were digressing from the task at hand and it was too easy to lose time and one's mind in space, another part of her training.
The call had come shortly after the alarm went off, a panel had been damaged by a piece of space debris the size of a mosquito, though it was traveling at roughly 12,000 miles per hour. She'd been given an hour to prep which wasn't enough. It took 45 minutes to use a bathroom on a space station and emptying herself was her primary prep for spacewalks, other than getting dressed and preparing equipment and plans. You never knew how long a spacewalk would last and using the on-board toilets was better than the alternative to her. She looked at the alternative clamped down in the cabinet, a diaper. She was now in the process of changing into her “walk gear” and the diaper was a necessary piece of equipment. A full bladder was not a fun thing to have during pressure and gravitational changes.
For this walk she hoped it would go well and quick. She had not managed to relieve herself on the toilet, at least not her constipation. She was certain her increase in fiber intake and fiber pills would kick in soon. So far her supplements had only gifted her with bouts of flatulence. She wouldn't have dared go on a walk but she was one of two on board trained for spacewalks and for repairs. The other was currently using his other expertise, fixing computers. She finally got her nerves and put the special diaper on. Although, like a regular baby diaper it secured with flaps, it fit tighter like a pull-up. The whole structure of the diaper and its special extra-absorbent filler was meant to keep the urine contained and reduce the swelling of the diaper. The urine was apt to travel outside of the diaper in zero-g if it was loose and sometimes even bypassed being absorbed at all. As usual for men it was easier, keeping urine in a diaper with a powered, directional hose was easy. For women it was more difficult, like draining a funnel but in zero-g and in uncontrollable directions without some training.
Not everybody disliked the diapers as much as Angel did. Some even preferred the diapers to the toilets but that was not a good use of resources. It wasted diapers and it wasted water. Urine in a diaper was water stolen from the system.
Finally in her suit and her repair gear packed, she stepped in the airlock. She leaned against a slot and her tether and air supply was attached. She braced for the impact as her suit was pressurized. Her first times experiencing this in training she'd been mortified to need a new diaper so soon. The airlock was depressurized and opened. She walked out into space, and it was a slow twenty minute walk to the damaged panel not 15 feet away. Already she had to urinate and knowing the need would interfere with her walk she voiced over the intercom
“Permission to urinate.” Her voice was gravelly and muted. An even more gravelly and muted voice responded
“Uh, well that was quick, permission granted.” She eased her muscles and felt the relief and warm bloom in her diaper. The urine traveled in odd directions, she hoped none would escape. She was startled to produce a little warm air from her other end. A snickering voice came over the intercom.
“Permission to release flatulent not granted.” Angel grunted,
“Sorry, I didn't feel it coming.”
“Don't worry about it, just be careful of your air.”
He was right, she could feel a warm bubble climbing up her back.
Two hours later Angel finished the repairs and was glad, her fiber was beginning to take effect and two times urinating (she'd peed once more) was enough soiling. She turned to head back to the airlock when suddenly the ship vibrated like a small earthquake, another impact. The jolt had sent a shock into her into her intestines, and she sat there shaking, holding back from what awakened. The voice came on again
“Um, bad news that was a meteor shower on the the port side. This means more outside work to be done. You got supplies?”
[“Yeah, I do but I need a break.”]
“No can do, sunrise is in eight hours and the impact sight is right in the line of shine, if you know what I mean. We can't risk that kind of damage.”
“Fine,” She said, “Where is it?”
A half hour and several tummy rumblings later she arrived at the impact site, damn there was-
“Six hours of work, sorry but don't sweat it, Trick (the techie) should be able to relieve you after two hours.”
At the word relief she cringed, she was really starting to need that but in another way. There was another rumbling. The voice again, snickering.
“Hey, you didn't have a burrito did you? This is going to be a long job!”
As she worked on the ship she also worked on her bowels, it was beginning to get painful. After an hour of releasing air and spurts of urine, her work started slowing down. She hoped to hell Trick would relieve her in time. She tried officially urinating to relieve pressure but one drop and a turd started poking out so she quickly stopped. She realized that she had on the walk peed quite a bit and the diaper had got tighter. As the two-hour mark for this job and personal four and a half hour mark approached she began to get desperate. Even if Trick did get to her soon, she'd have to relieve herself before re-entering the ship or risk the pressure changes rupturing her bowel. The voice came on.
“Bad news, Trick stood up and started puking his guts out. The hallway is still being cleaned. He's in no condition to spacewalk, you'll have to finish the job.”
Shit, she looked at the work she'd completed and estimated at this rate she'd never finish before sunrise.
“I have no option, permission to defecate.”
“Huh?”
There was a tremor and feeling of intense pain in her bowels.
“I NEED TO POOP MY PANTS!”
“Oh, wow I guess if it will speed you up, permission granted.”
She lurched, and finally let go. At first nothing happened, then she felt it start to come out and she did her best space squat. Her breathing got heavy and quickened. If she had been on a toilet she would have been surprised to feel the the fiber inflated turds come out so easily, quickly, and cleanly. But she was pooping her diaper and although it came out fast she was very aware that it was a lot and spreading in all directions, almost creating a whole new layer of underpants made of poop. There was nowhere outside the diaper to go, it was so tight so as the poop exploded out and the relief combined with the warm poop rushing up the front of her diaper over her urine soaked vagina, labia and clitoris ignited a whole other internal explosion, also very warm. All of sudden she didn't feel so icky about the situation. She began to think four hours in this incredibly poopy diaper wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she should go on more spacewalks. On the intercom.
“So on the next school room chat when they ask their favorite question what will you answer?”
“Which question is that?”
“How do you go to the bathroom?”
“We pee and poop our pants!”
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