I wonder how people existed before computers. Seriously, how did people function before the web and phones? Don’t mistake me for your average 14 year old, stuck on Whatsapp and Snapchat, but modern technology has not only given me my independence, but a handy little income.

My parents met working on cruise liners. Not your floating hotel monstrosities, I mean the actual QEII. She’s a navigation officer and he’s an engineer. When they decided to start a family, then moved to desk jobs, but as I got older they missed their lives on the waves. Figuring I was pretty responsible for a thirteen year old, they let me stay at home while they went back to sea.

It’s not like I was left alone, I have aunts and uncles who’ll pop by on weekends, and I’m video chatting with my parents every night. They get the shopping delivered, give me a pretty chunky allowance and have the neighbours spy on me to make sure there aren’t any parties happening. One major condition is that I keep up with my homework, they don’t want the school calling home as that’s when the shit would hit the fan.

It’s been six months now and it’s all going well. We’re just into March, and I’m looking forward to my Easter Holidays, so I can jet off to the States and meet the parents for a two week break.

So, school ... It’s basically school isn’t it? I do well enough in classes. Got a couple of besties. When we are not competing with each other in class we talk about boys. Both Cady and Eve date, I don’t. I’m not that forward as to ask anybody, and next to my mates, who’d want this tiny little skinny ginger girl. I’m fourteen and barely have any tits. Yeah, there are boys I fancy, and Eve would probably set me up if I wanted to, but I keep chickening out from asking.

Oh, and there is Jonny Peters. He’s eighteen and he is captain of the sixth form football team. There are rumours he has a professional contract waiting for him after he leaves school. He is like an awesome football and rock god and about the only guy we all agree that we’ve have his babies without a second thought. If Hannah Lowe didn’t exist. We all hate her. She’s Jonny’s boyfriend, she’s rich, beautiful and really fucking nice. It makes us hate her even more, she is genuinely friendly and eager to please. It’d be far easier to hate her if she was a bitch, but no, because she’s nice we have to try extra hard to hate her.

I play football too. I’m no Jonny, but I’ve been the top scorer for both my town and school teams for the last few years. I play as striker. Yep, little me surrounded by girls who are a foot taller and weigh twice as much. I’ve always been on the small side, but I’m still waiting for a growth spurt. Still, I’m quick, at least over 40 metres or so, and can twist and turn with the ball like nobody’s business. The coach says I’m good at ferreting around and finding gaps. She calls me the Mighty Atom, cause I do throw myself after balls against much larger girls and can often come out victorious, or flattened. Two other advantages I have: the first is that referees take pity on me a lot, because I’m small, and the other is that I don’t have massive boobs getting in the way or needing to be uber-strapped.

I’ve built up a good partnership with Mel, she’s in both my town and school teams as plays as the other striker. She’s more of a centre-forward, she’s big, holds up the ball for me and is a good aerial target. I can pick up twenty goals a season just from crosses coming in to her, and me getting onto the end of her headers down.

So, that’s my day normally. Up, wash and breakfast, then walk to school. After school I either play football or go swimming. I come home, shower, make my own dinner, do my homework ready to show mum and dad when they call. Then I’ve got a couple of hours of camming before I go to sleep.

Oh yeah, I cam.

So, it’s a bit of a story, but last summer I had a bug, some sort of sickness, and one of the side effects was incontinence. So, when you are thirteen and wake up having pissed yourself, it’s not good. When later that day you are walking in the park and piss yourself, it’s really bad. Lucky I was wearing a dress, so all I had to do was get rid of my sodden panties, as nobody had noticed. Anyway, it happened again, at home and so I fessed up to mum, who took me to the doctors and one round of tablets and it was all cured.

But the thing was, yes it was mortifying, but it was fun. I liked it. I liked peeing, and I liked the feeling that people were watching me pee. I also liked the feeling of piss soaked clothes next to my skin.

I started investigating online, and that got me into the watersports scene. From them I heard about webcamming. With the various financial stuff Dad had sorted for me, it was easy enough to start an account as a model and one very weird night I found myself on cam, drinking a lot of juice and then pissing for an audience of thirty guys (I assume they were mostly guys).

And so that’s where the weird cottage industry came from. As Atomic Wetlands, I spent 5 nights a week drinking juice, playing music, chatting to randoms and pissing. In two hours, I could get at least two good pees in. I’d often start with a ‘caught short’ where I piss in my clothes, then would normally for the next one actually piss on cam. I’d perfected a load of positions so the Friday special was often me upside down, so I could piss on my face. Depending on what I’d been drinking, I actually kind of liked the taste, so they’d generally be a few times a week when I would piss in a glass and drink it later.

So what was the industry? Well, I had an army of supporters, well I called them a navy. As well as paying for the cams, they would buy the videos I’d post. I pretty soon started getting requests for my soiled underwear. Perfect, they were offering four or five times the cost of the panties (easily replaceable because they all thought white cotton panties were the sexiest for this schoolgirl). Jeans or dresses I’d peed in, they went on ebay, and seriously, they went quickly on ebay. I always buy two of everything, one for me to wear and another for me to piss in and sell. Guys would send me dresses. Sometimes they’d pay for me to piss in them and send them back, others just wanted to see me wearing it on cam. Some guys would send me drinks. I had two rules, nothing with alcohol and everything had to be sealed. Four months in, I was clearing a grand a week, even with the endless trips to Asda for new underwear and uniforms.

The joy of PO boxes meant that nobody knew where I lived and I was careful to not use anything that could tell them who I was or where I lived. I figured that my Navy had three thousand sailors in it, there was almost no chance any of them lived in my town, so I wasn’t going to bump into any. Not that I really wanted to, either. While the countless dick pics, videos of them pissing or wanking and long and sordid explanations of exactly what they’d do to me and most of my holes when we met, were flattering, they were pretty creepy.

On cam, the chat community was pretty much self policing. Anybody got out of hand, I could boot them and the rest of the community wouldn’t stand for people disrespecting me. I was just a schoolgirl after all. Well, I was pretending to be an eighteen year old pretending to be a fourteen year old. Being fourteen made it that much more believable. I would talk about made-up friends at school, but a lot of the time, I was just changing the name of real people, but it added to the illusion.

I wasn’t going to tell anybody at school. Cady and Eve are both uber-vanilla tight arses and wouldn’t understand the first drop about what I was doing. Plus, I’m well aware that it would be gossiped around the school within an hour. Mel might get it, but I reckon that she’d start trying to get on cam with me. It’s not exactly a secret that she’s into girls.

So, It’s a warm Sunday in March, and I was in my school football kit. We had an 8 team tournament which was probably going to be a knackering day. We were divided into two pools of four, then semi finals and finals. We had two pitches and each match was twenty minutes long. We were playing at the park down the road from the school and had got a pretty good crowd. As well as the array of parents and teachers from each school, a smattering of the boys teams from our school had come to watch, including, joy of joy, Jonny. Well, I’ve got somebody to show off for at least.

Mrs Anderson, our coach, didn’t have much to do for the first game, we were a pretty fixed first team, and while she promised to rotate people around, she wanted a strong squad out in the first match. That meant that Mel and I were up front.

We’d beaten St Adrian’s twice during the season and neither time was close. We knew that their defence lacked speed, so I pushed right up and tried to position myself halfway between their right-back and centre-half. I made a few little darts, to make it clear to them that I was quicker than them, which led them to pull back their defence to inside their penalty box, leaving a load of space for our midfield to set to work. Five minutes in and the dream team struck, Lucy escaped down the left, the full-back was caught in two minds about guarding me or tackling her, when she finally went for Lucy, it was too late, the cross came in, Mel got her head to the ball and the centre half who was meant to me tracking me was out of position and I was able to rush in and tap into the bottom corner. Just before half time I repaid Lucy, this time I wandered over to the wing, and putting in a low cross, she drifted in unmarked and put away the second. In the second half, Mel headed in from a corner just after the restart and I was withdrawn to let Rosette take my place. She was another speed merchant that we normally brought on towards the end of full length games, the last thing that a defence who’s had to put up with myself and Mel all game is another speed demon. She almost got on the end of a good Mel knockdown, but the two of them rarely play together so were not on the same wavelength. In the end we’d won three-nil, which was a pretty handy start.

The next game saw the defence and some of the midfield swapped around with Mel, Lucy, Molly, the right winger, and myself all keeping our spots. Greycoats play in a private schools league so we hadn’t faced them, but I was feeling on a high after the last match and got straight into it off the kick off, robbing the ball off their midfielder and charging the defence, I nutmegged their centre-half but couldn’t quite beat their keeper. Three minutes later I did the same thing to their other midfielder, this time put the ball out to Molly who sent in a low cross through the six yard box and I came sliding in on the end of it, one-nil. I glanced over and saw Jonny cheering. I awarded myself +2 smug points. Their coach was absolutely flipping her lid and screaming obscenities at her midfield that made even me blush. It didn’t do any good as our next goal was off a long clearance up to Mel who held it and laid it off to me as I came charging in, rocketing the ball into the top corner. We almost dream teamed the third, Lucy’s ball in, found Mel, who found me and I got the ball stuck under my feet. It took a lot of wiggling to find a bit of space and then I backhealed the ball into Mel’s path and she notched up her second of the tournament. They got one back just before half-time, but it didn’t stop the coach yelling at them. She threatened to replace both the midfielders and I bet she wished she had and I robbed the ball off them for a third time and this time I did beat the keeper. So that was my hatrick and I had Jonny leading a chant of “Atom”. We got a corner just after and I was trying to jostle at the near post when the midfielder came in and sandwiched me between the goalpost and her dumbass body. Luckily it was only a glancing blow, but the assistant ref saw it and the ref deemed it a red card, and a penalty. That was my fourth. They didn’t change formation, but those last three minutes we ran rampant, passing to each other at will, it was only when we knew that time was almost up did Molly stick in a cross just at the right height for me to dive in a header through the keeper’s legs. Five goals in twenty minutes for me. It was only because we didn’t have many spares that I didn’t walk off with the match ball.

I got high-fives from all the boys as I came off, Jonny last. I almost went to hug him! Still, I may never wash that hand again.

With two wins, we were through the group stages, Seven Trees, who were our next opponents had lost both their matches and were out of the running, so for both of us this was a dead rubber. The Mel, Molly, Lucy Rosie attack was dropped and we played with a six man midfield and only 3 at the back and one up front, Rosette. We got a 2-1 win, and a bit of a break as there was still another group game to play and then we were in the second semifinal.

I did ask Miss who did the draw for the tournament as I thought that the other pool was a lot tougher than ours. Miss suggested, with a smirk, that I shouldn’t ask those kind of questions.

We were back to the starting line up for Gladstone Grammar. They were much better than the three teams we’d played so far. Despite Mel and myself doing everything we could, we got no joy out of them in the first half. Lucy did win a free kick out wide with four minutes to go and from the resulting confusion, Mel got her foot to the ball and scored but it was clear seconds later that something was wrong. One of their defenders had, accidentally, landed on her, and there was quite a bit of blood coming from her leg. The St John’s Ambulance and Mel’s parents were soon on the field and Mel left, bandaged up, on a stretcher. They assured us that she was fine, it was just a deep cut put would need stitches. The rest of the game was goalless and we were all pretty down coming off, despite winning.

I went off to find Mel, she was being loaded into her parent’s car to be taken to the hospital.

We had to wait for the third place playoff, which went to Gladstone and then some short games to decide the minor places. The final was to be thirty minutes and against Bastard Edmund Catherick. I think it’s supposed to be Blessed, but we’ve never called them that. They beat us once this season and we got a draw out of them the other time. What they had was speed. Their defence was quick and also pretty big. Mel could bash them about a bit but Rosette and myself, not really. Rosette was lanky, but didn’t really have the strength to contest battles in the air.

Not that it really mattered, as we barely had the ball for the first ten minutes, what we got was snuffed out pretty quickly. Tackles were flying in from both sides, but almost every loose ball went to them. Long balls were coming out, but their defenders were beating us to them. It was only after twelve minutes did Molly get a run at their defender, but couldn’t get a cross in, opting to kick the ball off their fullback for a corner. I went near post again and this time the ball reached me and a jumping backheal into the net. Miss described it at half time as a Zola moment.

They threw on three subs for the second half and Miss replaced Rosette with Amber, who was an attacking midfielder by preference. She had a heck of a shot on her. The plan now was to try and play balls into my feet and I was to lay off to Amber. Or to run and create space for Amber and the rest of the midfield to exploit. It didn’t work, as that would have needed us to have the ball. This time our defence wasn’t strong enough and they quickly got a goal back, followed by another one. Eight minutes left of what was turning into a siege. They’d won another corner and everybody dropped back apart from me. With my size, I’m not exactly much of a help in defence, and with me up front, they need to keep two players back to track me. Instead of standing on the half way line, I waited on the edge of the centre circle. Sandy, our goalkeeper, saw me and smiled, we had a plan. She caught the high ball in and I set off. She kicked the ball just before I crossed the half-way line at full speed. The defenders, who’d been drawn forward, were miles behind and appealing for offside, despite the fact I was in my own half when the ball was kicked. Sandy’s kick was perfect, landing in front of me and I was able to take it in stride. I looked up and saw the keeper running at me, I took another touch then went for the chip. That’s where I made a mistake. I knew it had beaten her, and I was confident it was on target, so I turned around to play it cool and not watch the goal, instead I wanted to watch Jonny’s reaction. I never saw it. Next thing I knew was that I was at the side of the pitch with an ambulance guy checking me over.

Aside from the worst headache ever, I felt okay to carry on, I tried to explain this as I got up and promptly fell over again. Okay, so I didn’t have any balance. Miss told me to sit down, I’d been subbed, I couldn’t get back on even if I could walk. We were winning anyway. Their keeper hadn’t stopped when I chipped her and just ran into me. Imagine a polar bear running through an oblivious penguin, that’s what happened. If polar bears and penguins ever met in the wild and you know, one is north and one is south. I suppose they could meet at a zoo. Anyway, their keeper was sent off and they didn’t have any more subs to use, so one of their defenders went in net, and we just fired shots in at her, and Amber scored from outside the box.

I heard the final whistle and cheer. We’d won. I wanted to join in the celebrations but Miss was insistent.

“You need to get checked out at the hospital. Are your parents here?”

I told her they weren’t and managed to persuade her not to call them and that I’d message them. Miss was still stressed as she had to deal with the tournament, me and a full afternoon and evening of things she’d planned to do. There were no other teachers from our school here, then a knight in shining armour came to our rescue.

“I’ll take her to the hospital.” Jonny offered.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, sure, I was going to chill this afternoon. I can drive her there and stay with her ‘till her parents turn up.”

“Okay, but make sure you bring the parking ticket into school on Monday and we’ll pay it for you.”

He tried to help me get up, but I just fell over again. Squatting down he put one hand under my knees and another behind my back and effortly lifted me up and carried me to the car park. Lucy and Molly followed him with my stuff and opened the door on his Alfa Romeo for him to put me in the passenger seat. He popped outside to make a phone call then we set off. He drove steadily, with the radio set to football commentary. After a while he did say something.