It's your stop (poop)

The blissful sensation of this woman sitting in your lap as she pisses on you and dumps her load at your feet is almost intoxicating. You're relaxed enough, yet incredibly aroused, that you've completely forgotten about the large pile being formed in your seat and the constipation had disappeared. Your head swirled with what you want to do with this beautiful woman, from the normal like fingering her, to scissoring, to the more **** like eating her out as she peed or even more with her asshole. So many things you wished you could do right then and there, but no time at all.

You soon hear the conductor call out your stop, breaking out of your trance. Maybe any other day you would have not even bothered and just spent the day with Felica, but that was sadly impossible. You'd miss work more than what your vacation and sick leave could cover. Any more absent or late days and you might as well make a career out of being a hooker, least that could be a possibility in this world. In any case, you didn't want your to hear your bitch of a boss' shit come out of her mouth instead of her ass, and her kiss-ass girlfriend standing there with a smug grin, probably gets off by watching.

Politely, you tell Felica that you need to get off. Understandably, she gets off of you as you grab your purse. "Just make sure that you don't hold back, ok?" She tells you, in which you nod. That's when you remember that you're suppose to clean up you poop. Fortunately, Felica says that she'll clean up for you. You thank her and say you'll repay her. That's when she hands you a card with a phone number on it, "I'll hold you to it." She ends her sentence with a kiss on your lips. You stumble from almost fainting as you exit the subway.

Once you get your bearings, you quickly leave the underground station and head up into the city. Unlike the suburbs, the city seemed more or less the same in this new world. Only difference was that, while some people were still bottomless or completely nude, most of the people walking around the crowded sidewalk were wearing diapers. Some looked clean, some were a slight tint of yellow or brown mixed, while quite a few looked like they've been wearing it for days and were still going. You almost stop to watch a woman down the street, talking on her phone as she waved down a taxi, her padding practically past it's limit and it's contents leaking down her legs. As soon as the cab pulled up and she sat down onto the leather cushion, her diaper exploded out of her waistband and leg holes, covering herself and the entire back of the cab with piss and shit. But none of that fazed her, the cab driver, nor any of the bystanders that witnessed the whole thing, besides you of course, and they all carried about their day.

It took you a good solid minute to regain any composer and to hurry up to work. You soon make it to the office building and catch the elevator before it closes. The inside of the car reeks with urine, both fresh and dry, along with other distinct smells. You push the button for your floor, only to realize that the panel is covered with cum, making you wipe you hand. If that wasn't bad enough, two of your co-workers are busy plowing each other behind you, while an older gentleman urinates in the diaper he's wearing, only to forget what he's doing to take out his dick and precedes to piss on the elevator door then shove it back in again and then repeat the process. This doesn't bother anyone else in the elevator but you. You take a few seconds to calm yourself. This is what is considered natural in this world, and this was still just your first day. Once you got into the swing of things, then it shouldn't become an issue... right?

The elevator dinged with your floor as you and a few others filed out of the car into a large room filed with cubicles. The sounds of phones ringing, keyboards typing, and people chatting sounded exactly like it did back in your old world. Except, you'd hear the occasional sound of balls slapping, moaning and screaming, of what sounded like water from a hose hitting the wall at full ****, or the sound of grunting followed by an audible plop on someone's plastic chair mat. At this point, it really shouldn't surprise you, yet it somehow does. You make it in to your own cubicle. It looks exactly like it did back in your old world, apart from the package of adult diapers sitting underneath your desk. Ignoring them for now, you immediately take your seat and start up your computer as you need to clock in right away. The start up takes forever, making you more anxious. You've been so anxious that your bladder has filled again and hasn't been released since the subway. As soon as you log in, you quickly navigate to the company's time card website and clock in.