Cute_Kitten

Thank you everyone for the comments and replies. I love hearing your opinions and what you think of the story, characters, events, etc! I'm working on updates for Moonlight Shadow and Bad Seed. I'm also finishing up a diaper story with sex in it for Amazon. Maybe I should throw some in this story, too? On with the story. ************** “Stupid Margaret.” Hunter mumbled sleepily as he stumbled over to the couch. The enormous, swollen diaper forced his thin legs far apart and made him waddle like an unsteady toddler. She had disappeared for lunch, saying she wanted some fresh air before she slunk off to no doubt drink her lunch and get a little beer with her fresh air. He was already asleep and dreaming of strangling her before his little body hit the cushions. His diaper swelled even more as his bladder let loose. Wet crescent moons appeared by his inner thighs on his black onesie and charcoal grey slacks as the absorbent material could absorb no more. Not long after, the office door opened and Margaret sloshed her way back from an extended lunch. She leaned in the doorway, squinting at the bright fluorescent lights. She was not surprised to see them still on. She had left her workaholic captain to pick up her slack. Death never took a holiday, and neither did the reapers. Death and the associated paperwork were their reason for being. Hunter was one of the most dedicated of all. Personally, she couldn’t care less. There were so many human souls streaming in all the time and there were so many reapers the souls would eventually get where they were meant to go. They literally had all of eternity so what was the hurry? It was all so tedious. Her mission and her assignment from the celestial higher-ups were keeping Hunter’s bottom clean and rash-free. That was easier said than done. Hunter was as prickly as a porcupine and stubborn as a mule. He looked cute, sweet, and adorable. His fragile looks brought out her maternal side. Too bad in actuality he was as cuddly as a crocodile and too damn proud for his own good. Hunter’s desk was neatly stacked with piles of completed paperwork- both hers and his. The top of her desk was empty but bits of paper stuck out of several drawers along with a few bra straps because sometimes a bra just got so uncomfortable she couldn’t stand wearing it a moment longer so she took it off and shoved it in a drawer then forgot about it. One glance and she knew Hunter did not go through her drawers to look for any missing paperwork. Her drawers were just as she left them; a perfectly disorganized disaster. She knew exactly where everything was in the chaotic mess. There was a method to her madness. The only time things went missing- a bottle of aged brandy, some nail polish, an important document or two, a couple of adorable blue diapers and a tub of lilac scented baby wipes- were when Hunter lost his temper and cleaned her desk himself, determined to tame the chaos. If he never would have touched her desk, then things would not have gotten lost, so technically it was the diapered neat-freak’s fault. Margaret swayed in the doorway and swallowed a drunken hiccup. The soft sound of someone stirring in their sleep on the couch drew her attention. The back of the couch faced her, so she could not see if anyone lay on it. But after centuries together, she knew Hunter and his habits. If the lights were on late, then Hunter was here. Usually asleep on the couch. She tiptoed over to find Hunter curled up on his side and snuggled into the indentations permanently left in the cushions from her own body after a few centuries of naps on the couch. His small hands were tucked under his cherub cheek. His pert little nose twitched. He looked so innocent and pure in his sleep like a cute, fragile doll. She leaned over and noticed the wet crescents on the dark clothing. His diaper ballooned out, easily visible to anyone who saw him. His enormous diapers were hard to hide. His gargantuan diapers made it hard for him to be intimidating, even when he was growling and snarling like a Rottweiler. He was just too cute. Margaret repressed a squeal and knelt down in front of the couch. His usual scowl was gone. A tuft of platinum blonde hair fell into his closed eyes. His lashes were long and inky black against the soft ivory skin. He looked so sweetly vulnerable; there was something exposed and unprotected about him in slumber. Protective, triumphant glee surged through her; she was one of the very few privileged enough to see this side of him. She sighed heavily. Her warm alcohol-laden breath washed over his little face, causing his pert nose to crinkle. His skin was so smooth and pale, carved out of porcelain, just as soft and delicate as a baby. To her, he was a baby. Her baby. Her fingers gently caressed his cherub cheek. He stirred slightly, pink lips parting as he breathed. Her hand drifted to his bottom, patting the bulbous padding through his clothes. The diaper squished under her fingertips, messy lumps mushing. He shifted and the wet crescents on his inner thighs grew as his diaper leaked some more. “Shall we change that yucky diaper first, or feed you?” She knew from experience he was so exhausted he wouldn’t wake up for a diaper change or a feeding. Her blue eyes watched the wet stains on his pants grow bigger as he peed again and his diaper leaked yet again. Luckily he hadn’t peed enough to leak onto the couch yet. She smiled. “Definitely a new diaper first.” Margaret gingerly picked Hunter up, one arm supporting his limp head and the other his bent knees. He was an unconscious babydoll in her arms, breathing softly as he automatically snuggled against her. Her touch, her smell, her soft voice were all familiar to him so even in sleep he felt safe with her. Tucked into a far corner of the room was a changing table carved of polished hardwood. It was an exquisite work of art that looked like it could have belonged to an emperor of a far eastern country. The legs were curved and carved into intricate, detailed dragons with their snarling heads at the top. The shelf below held a rainbow of incredibly thick, plastic backed diapers. Solid pastels and bright bold solids let Hunter pretend he was a big boy. A big boy who helplessly pottied in his pants. At least he didn’t cry when he peed or pooped himself. Margaret wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Hunter was so used to his diapers he only realized he needed changed when his diaper was near leaking, and even then sometimes he didn’t notice. Crying when he wet or messed himself meant he at least realized after the fact he’d pottied in his pampers. Or asking for a diaper change. But even when he wanted a clean diaper, he still had too much pride to bring himself to ask her for one. He’d rather sit in his own waste and wait for her to check his diaper and pick him up and carry him, forcing a diaper change on him whilst ignoring his protests. The top of the changing table was a soft vinyl mat in an obnoxious bubble gum pink. Hunter hated it; Margaret loved it only because he complained about it every single time she laid him down for a diaper change. The mat was as soft and thickly padded as his diapers so she knew it was both waterproof and comfortable. Gently, one hand supporting his head as if he were a newborn, she laid him down on the pink mat and fastened a safety strap across his chest. She removed his pee-stained clothes with well practiced ease, never disturbing him. He lay naked before her, nude and exposed except for his swollen, leaky diaper. A soft whimper escaped his pink lips as chill air hit his exposed skin. She quickly pulled a clean pacifier from a small basket on the lower shelf. She gently touched the rubber tip of the nipple to his mouth. His plump lips automatically parted so she could slide the mint green pacifier in and he started suckling immediately. His soft suckles filled the quiet room as he quieted down in his slumber. His long lashes never fluttered as his pacifier bobbed up and down. “Good boy. Now for that leaky diaper.” Over the centuries, she’d become no stranger to leaky diapers or diaper blowouts. Even the gargantuan diapers she kept Hunter in could only handle so much.

Heading to the scriptorium to vote. Nanotechnology sounds fun!

Hopefully it got back out and it's not a mom who is going to have babies. (It is spring after all) even though baby animals are adorable. They're more adorable out in nature, not in the house. If it was dead you'd probably smell something funky I'm assuming? At least it's not a skunk! You'd definitely smell that lol! 🦨

On average 3-5 diapers per day, depending on a variety of factors from the type of diapers I'm wearing to fluid intake. Thicker plastic backed and absorbent diapers like a Megamax or a Rearz last me the longest. I can usually get 3-4 hours out of them even if I'm drinking a lot of water so my bladder constantly dribbles.

That would definitely be scary! I'm used to things going bump in the middle of the night. I have cats. 🤣 Maybe something just fell? Or maybe it's just a racoon or something and hopefully the animal will leave the same way it came in? Just as long as it's not Pennywise the Clown

If you're feeling overwhelmed, you can try to break it down. Edit once for clarity and continuity- Do character actions and words make sense? How does this scene or part advance the plot and affect the overall story? Then proofread once for the mechanical aspects like spelling and grammar. Are you trying to do everything all at once and getting overwhelmed? If you feel too overwhelmed, you can recruit the readers to help you out. Give readers a note at the beginning of the chapter like "hey guys I'm having problems deciding what to edit. I don't know what works or what doesn't work. Feedback would be appreciated!" That way reader feedback can offer you some guidance and perspective on how your story is doing and what works for you and areas you can improve on. Everyone's editing process is different. Some people heavily edit. Some people barely edit at all. Even the act of writing varies writer by writer. Some people plan things out and have pre-writing notes on who the characters are, their personalities, their backgrounds, and have the plot figured out as well- what will happen, how the characters feel about it and how the story events will affect and shape the characters, etc. Some people fly by the seat of their pants and just make everything up as they go along. Some do a bit of both. Experiment and see what works for you. If you want to try planning ahead, just google "writing plot maps". There's simple and detailed versions out there and there's youtube tutorials for filling them in/ general writing tips and exercises so you can experiment and learn what works for you and what doesn't. Heck, there's books on how to write books. 😆 There's books that focus on just one or two aspects of writing- everything from plotting to character arcs to editing. And tons of free youtube videos all on the same subjects. When you write (or do any other hobby or skill) long enough, you'll be familiar with it and you will know through experimenting what works best for you and what doesn't and how to fit writing time (or knitting time or surfing time or whatever) into your daily life.

There's a saying: Comparison is the thief of joy. If you enjoy writing them I say write. We all started somewhere. Some of us have been writing for years, so we've had plenty of time to hone our craft. Writing is like any other skill: the more you practice the better you get. So if you want to write like a writer you admire, just keep writing! Don't let other stories make you feel bad like you're not good enough. Use them as a learning experience! There's a technique some writers use to improve their own writing. It's called "read like a writer". Take any story or book you love. Read it once for enjoyment. Then go back and deconstruct it. Take a few moments to analyze a scene to figure out how the writer made that scene work- pay attention to things like how the author reveals character through the characters actions and words, how the plot flows, etc. For example, was it a sweet romance that melted your heart? Try to figure out how the author made you feel that way. Was it a horror story that had you soaking your pampers? Try to figure out how the author scared you. It's just all words on a screen that comes together to pull the reader into a fictional world. Editing your stories is always good. Even professional published big name authors like Stephen King edit. Hell they have professional editors lol! But you also don't want to fall into the trap of over-editing. I'm reiterating but writing is a skill like anything else. The more you practice the better you get. Like any hobby, you should only do it if you enjoy it.

Don't forget grass and soap flavored ones! The soap ones look a lot like the marshmallow flavored ones. 😂

I find getting my eyebrows waxed soothing. Never had a Brazilian or gotten my privates waxed though. Too sensitive and I've heard from other ladies it hurts too much. I do keep down below shaved though. Not for aesthetics but for hygiene since hair follicles can trap smells and hold onto odors (or so I've heard). So shaving helps with odor control whilst diapered. When it comes to aesthetics, there are no wrong answers. The correct answer is "whatever feels right to you/ for you." Do you like being shaved or waxed down there? Does it make you feel more babyish? Then go for it! Enjoy it! Does you like a full bushy bush? All that hair down there doesn't bother you? Then go wild and enjoy the bush!

At least it wasn't ABDL print diapers. I'd be afraid to see the headlines. Still, that's nasty and unhygenic and needs to stop.

Oooh. Let's see. My favorite Easter candies I'd want in an Easter basket are: ..we have a local choclatier that does some fabulously delicious chocolate covered pretzels that are the absolutely perfect blend of chocolate and salty-sweet. I also like Cadbury's eggs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean from Harry Potter, and peanut M&Ms.

So no surprise Spongebob ABDL fanfiction? 😆

The hardwork of the admin and mods to catch the scammers is noticed and appreciated. Y'all rock! 🏆 I guess the Nigerian princes wanting to share their riches and wealth of yore have evolved into Nigerian Dommy Mommies. There should be a pokemon of this. 🤣

Alas, as tentacles do not seem to be an option, I'm gonna head over the the Scriptorium and vote for the robot with the shiny chrome.🐙

It warmed up a little bit my way. But it was also windy and rainy. 😑 I'm not ready for it to be super hot and summer, but I'm so over the very cold temps and wearing a winter coat. At least the flowers are blooming. And roadwork season is well underway. 😡 Why actually fix the potholes nice and even with the rest of the road when you (general you) can just dump a blob of cement and instead of a big hole, make a big bump that people still have to avoid. 🤦‍♀️

This behavior appears to be repetive and ongoing with this person. I hope the court gets them the help they need and keeps the daycares safe. Her behavior is not just making ABDLs look bad (because the vanilla normie population will read headlines like this about an ABDL person going into a nursery/ daycare and the normies will automatically go "That ABDL diaper freak was going after the babies! Pedophile!!) it was also hazardous and unsanitary. That is a health hazard and can make people- especially little kids - sick. I'm wondering if maybe this person has an untreated mental illness and needs help from mental health care providers?

That really sucks. Sorry you have to go through that. I hope you win and NarutoABDL does not get away with his scam this time. Thank you for naming and shaming the culprit though and sharing it with us. It will help spread awareness and hopefully no other writer falls prey to his scam.

Stilted, grammatically correct dialogue in stories is a writing/ editing problem IMO. (The editing phase of writing can be used to catch things like this. Either the author themself or an editor if the author has one). Some writers or those new to writing may struggle with this. One trick some authors use to read their dialogue out loud so they hear how it sounds and can adjust accordingly. Current case law so far has set the precedent that author-written works are copyrighted. AI-generated are not. In hybrid works where someone has added to whatever the AI came up with, only the parts the person wrote would be copyright protected. At the end of the day, people are free to do what they want and we rely on the honor system. So someone can slap their name on an AI generated story and call themself an author and claim they 100% so totally wrote it and they really are a real author. They can also buy a black belt from Amazon and call themselves a kung fu master. Doesn't make them one. The problem a lot of people have with AI are the ethical concerns because of some AI models being trained with illegally pirated books. Those are the subject of some ongoing lawsuits from professional authors and publishing houses. AI should only be trained with works in the public domain.

Mental illness is hard, and the same mental illness can affect each each person who has it very differently. So a treatment or medication that might help some people might not be very affective or helpful to other people. Each person is different and from my very limited understanding of it, finding the right treatment or medicine or combination of treatments and medications seems to be trial and error per patient until doctor and patient find something that works best for that particular patient. And that's in addition to getting to the doctor and then picking up the medications etc. Which sounds like it should be mundane and routine from an outside perspective but it can be much harder than it seems at first glance, especially if the person is sick, not feeling well, or otherwise struggling with their condition and having a bad/hard day.

A Caregiver or a robot nanny would definitely help in those situations!

I wrote this to try and break through my writer's block. It's one of my silly slap-stick stories. This was meant to be my April Fool's story but time got away from me with work and life obligations. The base of this story is a really, really old story (seriously it's one of the first stories I ever wrote) that I have completely cannibalized and re-written hopefully for your laughing pleasure. If you want more serious and angsty diaper boy stories I'm currently working on Bad Seed and Moonlight Shadow. There's more parts to this story, too. THE DIAPERED AND THE DAMNED by CuteKitten aka C.K. Kat So. Being dead sucked. It really sucked. When you’re dead, you’re done. Life officially over. You shot your shot. Bought the farm. Took a dirt nap. Sleeping with the fishes. Kicked the bucket. Shuffled off the mortal coil. Traveled to the Great Beyond. Don’t worry. It happens to everyone eventually. Some sooner, some later. Hundreds and thousands of people die every single day. Have been for millenia. Everyone wants to feel special, feel they’ll be remembered. Most of them are forgotten within a generation. You think when you die you see a white light, your life flashes before your eyes, then voila you’re sitting on a cloud up in heaven playing a little golden harp. Yeah, no. It doesn’t work quite like that. Also, sorry to disappoint you, but there is no diapered limbo run by hot not-quite-demon- nurses named Judy. That one really seems to bum out a lot of people. So. You die. Your soul goes to the next realm. And you wait to be processed. What, did you think death let you escape paperwork? Hah! Where do you think humanity got the idea of bureaucracy from? Now we’re coming to the point of our tale. Who does all that afterlife paper and soul shuffling? Reapers, that’s who. Grim reapers. Soul reapers. Harvesters of the Dead. Whatever. We’ve been called many things. At the end of the metaphorical day, we’re the ones who harvest souls and escort them to the afterlife. And process the paperwork. There’s a whole bunch of us. We’re like an office and an army of the afterlife all rolled into one. We’re divided into Divisions, which are further divided into squadrons. The head of each Division is a captain. This particular little tale features our youngest captain and his vice captain. Hunter is 1800 years old, a skilled prodigy with a keen, quick mind and diligent work ethic. He’s a tiny thing who can barely pass as a human 18 year old. He’s pretty like a girl and dainty as a doll. But he’s got the ruthless spirit and strict discipline of a Roman general. It’s said he rules his Division with an iron rod. The only thing he ever flunked was potty training. Rumor has it he got hurt during Field Duty- you know, the whole escorting newly dead souls to the afterlife thing- and has been padded ever since. I don’t know how true that is. We’re not supposed to talk about it. It’s disrespectful. So of course it’s a hot topic of reaper gossip. His vice captain is boobalicious. Actually she is Margaret. A lazy alcoholic renowned for her huge jugs that often fall out of her low-cut tops. She looks like a hot pinup girl. She easily could have been a hot not-quite-demon nurse named Judy. Rumor has it she was assigned to Hunter to change his diapers and breastfeed him. He is only 1800 after all. He’s a virtual baby compared to the other captains. The next youngest after him is 4,000 years old. Enough blathering. You know a bit about Hunter and Margaret now, so let’s start the tale. Before I take off, let me set the scene. To keep it simple, just think of the afterlife where the reapers reside kinda sorta like the world of the living. Just, you know, full of dead people waiting to be processed. You’ll get your judgement and final verdict, a review of your life. Then you go up or down. Maybe it’s not quite that simple. Or maybe it is. Hell if I know, I’m just a paper-pusher. Even if I knew, think I’d tell you and spoil the surprise? Anyway, our story starts off when it’s night. You know the drill- navy sky, glowing moon, twinkling stars. Blah blah. Okay I’ve heard this story a bajillion times. I’m outta here- I’ll catch ya at the end. Narrator is peacing out. The glass windchimes outside the Third Division office window tinkled in the night breeze. Captain Hunter finished his paperwork just after midnight. He shuffled papers then straightened the various stacks filling his desk. A shiny black typewriter was shoved into the corner of the room, collecting dust. Humans considered it vintage, from the 1920’s. Hunter considered it a new fangled contraption and had no interest in learning to use it. He preferred the classic brush and ink pot that was popular with humans 1800 years ago. Some of the older reaper captains used the typewriter in their paperwork. Hunter hated how weird the printed words looked, so different from handwriting. Just because something was new didn’t mean it was better. He put the ink-laden brush in a clay cup of soapy water. An underling reaper would wash it in the morning. He yawned, stretching his cramped muscles. His eyelids were heavy; they kept slipping close as he battled against sleep. His fully saturated diaper barely crinkled; every bit of the absorbent padding was full of pee. It was near full capacity and dangerously close to leaking. He preferred trusty cloth diapers and rubber panties to these new-fangled plastic backed diapers that started off so thin he was terrified he’d leak after one wetting but then they absorbed all his pee and swelled to quadruple their original size. But Margaret insisted these disposable one-use diapers were easier and more efficient, much like the typewriter. She argued that she didn’t have to worry about making sure his cloth diapers were washed and cleaned, which left more time for her to focus on her fair share of the paperwork. Which for her meant drinking and sleeping and slacking off until Hunter bellowed at her. But it was hard to intimidate the underling assigned to change his diapers and wipe his wet and poopy bottom. She certainly lacked the discipline and work ethic he was renowned for, but she was diligent in keeping him in clean diapers and avoiding the diaper rash he had often ended up with before she was assigned to him. He was so dedicated to his work he would sit in a wet and messy diaper until it leaked and he was forced to stop and get changed. He was so, so tired. He could barely stay awake. He was caught up for once on the never-ending paperwork, so his determination and steel will sheathed themselves. His body was ready to collapse into sleep at his desk. He was too exhausted to make it to his private quarters and his cozy bed with soft blankets and cuddly stuffed animals. He would be sleeping in the office tonight. The frequent late nights like this were why he had a large comfy couch in the vast office. His lazy, work-skipping vice captain Margaret believed it was for daily naps while he did double duty on the paperwork. “Stupid Margaret.” Hunter mumbled sleepily as he stumbled over to the couch. The enormous, swollen diaper forced his thin legs far apart and made him waddle like an unsteady toddler. She had disappeared for lunch, saying she wanted some fresh air before she slunk off to no doubt drink her lunch and get a little beer with her fresh air. He was already asleep and dreaming of strangling her before his little body hit the cushions. His diaper swelled even more as his bladder let loose. Wet crescent moons appeared by his inner thighs on his black onesie and charcoal grey slacks as the absorbent material could absorb no more.

The print on those is very cute. I might have to try them! I prefer plastic backed diapers, but I like cloth backed for when I want discretion or for the hot summer months even if it means more diaper changes are needed. My favorite cloth backed is Rearz Active Air but the Kiddo diapers look really cute and they've gotten good reviews so I'm excited to try them.

That sucks you have to make two trips just to get your prescription filled. I heard Amazon has a pharmacy service, but I don't know much about it. Would that be an option? Or could your shrink send your prescription to your pharmacy for you and save you a trip? (Maybe they don't offer that service? I know some doctor offices do and some don't in my area). I had a bad sinus infection and I did a telehealth/ online healthcare clinic to get diagnosed and they sent my prescription to my pharmacy so I just to pick it up.