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Curse of the Crinkle Crate Composed by Horatio Husky Featuring and Commissioned by Kazard the Fox! Chapter 1 The Box I… Want… Couch Time… Now… were the thoughts of a certain blonde-haired fox, as he absentmindedly fumbled with the keys to his small, cozy home. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyelids half open in a vacant stare as he maneuvered his key into the lock of his front door. The day had been absolutely miserable, all of his clients had been in a bad temper when he spoke with them about their problems, and one of them even seemed to believe that the fox didn’t really know what he was doing. Of course, he knew what he was doing! He’d graduated top of his class by no small miracle, the fox was very talented at his work, but the lack of appreciation and frustration that was thrust upon him by his clients was not something studying could have prepared him for. At last, the key turned, and the door swung wide open, shouldering his bag he strode inside and carelessly dropped it in the front hallway, kicking off his shoes and closing the door behind him with a click, locking it once more. Give… Me… That… Couch… thought the fox once more, as he strode into his living room. However, his couch did not seem to be on the agenda just yet, for the fox almost tripped over a wooden box in the center of the room. Kaz was taken aback, how had this gotten in his home? He didn’t remember lugging a rather plain, heavy looking wooden box into his home. Its dimensions were around two feet by two feet, and a foot and a half tall. Kneeling down, his tail now twitching with apparent interest and curiosity he inspected it closer to find that its lid was hinged, with the front opening to the container facing towards him. What on earth… Did somebody break in and leave this here? He thought to himself, as he reached forward with a paw and tentatively opened the strange box. The lid thumped onto his carpet as he gazed into what was held within the strange item, and was even more confused to see that the box only contained two items in it. A thick square of plastic upon closer inspection Kaz found to be a white, adult diaper, and a note next to it, written in fancy cursive. He picked it up, his eyebrows furrowing as he perused through a short poem, a strange feeling of warmth he didn’t recognize bubbling up in his insides as he did so. For a year and a day obedient shall you be, To the rules and whims of the box at your knee, Letters and rules shall be provided from these wooden confines, Giving you instructions, tasks, items, and lines, And lest you not listen to my behest, Shall you not have your day-to-day be the best! For control and independence are no longer yours From now you’ll always be clad in diapers! Diapers? Control? Is this all some sort of prank that got delivered into my house that one of my friends managed to sneak in? He turned the note over and found that more was written on the back of it, this time not in the mysterious cursive font as on the front. The rules are simple, Kazard. For a year and a day you will be completely unable to control your bladder nor your bowel, making it that at any time whatsoever, you will completely and utterly mess and wet yourself anywhere you are. Within this box, you will find your solution to this new conundrum in your life, which you have agreed to participate in by opening this box. Whenever you open this box you will be supplied with plain white diapers perfectly matched to handle whatever punishment you give them. It is recommended that you also invest in other supplies related to padding, such as powder and anti-rash cream, but those are up to your discretion. You may try and not wear your diapers, but you will find that it is wiser to comply with the rules and keep yourself nice and secure; your continence will not return either if you do not obey the rules set before you. If you wish to communicate with the box, you must do so through a bargain written on a note to express your wishes. However, be warned: the box is liable to interpret and balance any request or boon as it wishes if whatever you offer is not of equal value, so it may be wisest to obey as instructed and keep yourself diapered at all times of the day, otherwise, the consequences will be severe. With that, we hope you enjoy your next trip around the sun padded up! This has to be a joke… Boxes that interpret poetry and supply diapers whenever opened? This isn’t even a funny prank, this is pathetic. The fox dropped the diaper and note back into the box with contempt, what a stupid thing to waste his time with. He got up, the couch now forgotten as his stomach rumbled its hunger aloud to the room. He padded over to the kitchen, turning the kettle on and rummaging through his dry food cabinet, retrieving a large bag of chips. He held the bag in his maw as he stretched, reaching up to the higher shelf to grab himself a chocolate bar. It was just out of his reach, and he strained, leaning against the counter to support his weight as he grasped after his sweet. The counter must have been wet, however, for he looked down as he felt something damp against him. The bag of chips dropped out of his mouth and onto the counter below him. The counter hadn’t been wet, no. It was he who had gotten wet.

Hello everyone, its been a while since I posted here or even roleplayed. I was hoping to try to try to get a story based roleplay off the ground like the one I did with @Nappy_Queen called My Baby Husband. I am really into shrinking and diapers and I would love to chat about a possible rp with anyone. Please feel free to dm. I have an open mind but really would like size play with it. (note: I usually play the small one)

Hi there! This is about a fictional ABDL community that I'm working on. It features adults who live in a kinky community for ABDLs. Everyone is over 18. I have about 10 chapters done and will be posting them here over time. Here is a detailed disclaimer that talks about the content and themes of this novel:: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65186383 Content Warnings Extensive Diaper Use (Wetting and Messing) Extensive Regression themes Extensive Sexual themes Adult Nursing CNC Spanking/Corporal Punishment/Orgasm Control-Denial/Chastity Bullying and teasing Humiliation ------- Previous chapter is here: --- Chloe sat on the stool in the upstairs preschool playroom and fumed. She turned her head, slowly, inching her chin millimeters at a time to make it seem like it wasn’t moving at all. The clock was directly behind her. “Chloe, face the wall,” said a voice from behind. It was the voice of Mr. Hentier, the grownup in charge of this section of the playroom. “If I have to tell you again, you’ll stay there longer.” She snorted and returned her head towards the dull pink walk ahead of her. Whatever. Without being able to see the clock, Chloe guessed that only ten minutes had passed. That meant another twenty remained. Well, twenty minutes remained on the stool, though her discipline wasn’t going to end there. What a fucking baby, she thought. Tattling because she’s a big crybaby and can’t handle the truth. Chloe had been rudely disturbed during her nap, and had to make things clear. She stayed under her covers, because her covers were the best thing available to help shield her nostrils. She yelled and screamed with righteous fury. These miserable two months could not end fast enough! Her roommate gave it back (though with tears) until a stern knock came at the door. Not waiting for permission to enter, as the two women inside were merely preschoolers, Mrs. Marath burst in. “I’m bigger than she is,” Chloe said, whining when Mrs. Marath began ripping the covers off and grabbing at her arms. The smell was even worse without the covers on her face. “She’s lying.” “Oh, nobody cares,” the grownup said, annoyance dripping from her words. “Behave more, then. Then maybe someone will believe you.” Chloe had still pleaded her case while she was marched down the halls of the Preschool in pajama pants, which did a poor job of covering her Todders, and a black bra. Mrs. Marath hadn’t even given her time to put a shirt on. She was dressed like a goddam Nursery stinker. “She pooped in the room,” Chloe pleaded. “I told her to get out and that she was a baby.” “And that’s all you said?” Mrs. Marath laughed. “You want to keep going? I haven’t decided how many spankings to assign you. And besides, I don’t see pullups on that bottom of yours yet, so you shouldn’t talk.” Chloe held her tongue. Everyone agreed that it was a faux pas to mess in a Preschool dorm room. Hell, it was frowned on in Daycare, so even though Jaclyn was essentially a Daycare baby at her core, she still should have known. It wasn’t even her first time in two months. Sometimes, in cribs, people couldn’t help it. But in Preschool there were beds, and there were always nighttime grownups to help find a potty in a pinch, if you pressed the button in the hall. This, though, was a midday mess. Unacceptable really. Jaclyn had gone out of her way to do it or take her business to the room and stink it up and Chloe had told her so. If she said dumb or bitch or shit pants thumbsucker, that was what Jaclyn likely needed to hear. Go ahead, little crybaby. Tattle on me for being a big meanie. Just make sure you tell them why I was a meanie. Then we’ll see whose reputation stands in the long-term. Oh right, nobody is going to care about you because you’re going back to the DAYCARE! There was a boy beside her, sitting on his own stool, also staring at the wall. His name was Karl, and Chloe did not know him well. He wasn’t new to Preschool, in fact he’d probably been here for the last year and a half, the whole time she had. Maybe even longer. But he was quiet and uninteresting and she didn’t find him altogether attractive. A waste of a man in pullups, really. He’d been sitting on the stool since before Chloe had been brought into the playroom, and Chloe had overheard that his crime had been skipping his chores. As boring a sin as he was a person. Chloe wasn’t sure what the Nursery penalty for skipping a chore was, she wasn’t even sure Nursery babies could tell time. But in the Daycare and Preschool, truancy called for a spanking after a timeout. And Chloe knew that well because she’d been on one of these stools for the same thing just yesterday, and she had had a makeup chore this morning because of it, and after she completed it, she would still have to plead to her room grownup Mrs. French to get her outdoor privileges back. Though Jaclyn’s crybabyness probably caved any hope of that until at least tomorrow. At least Chloe had a good reason to get in trouble. Mr. Hentier walked over to the stool area to fetch Karl. Chloe watched him stand and follow the grownup out of her sight. She made sure not to turn around too much to bring the grownup’s wrath once again. The pair did not walk far, and Chloe heard them clearly. “You’re wet,” Mr. Hentier said. “I’m sorry,” Karl said. There was no more on that topic. His pullup, in addition to his shorts, was going down around his ankles too, right there in the playroom. “You need thirty,” Mr. Hentier said. And then he began to bring the palm down on Karl’s bottom. Hentier brought it hard, and the smacks were loud and crisp on the man’s bottom. The punishment stools of the upstairs playroom were located along one wall, right beside the potties. Both of the Preschool playrooms were considerably smaller than the massive ones that could be found in the Daycare. Even the smaller Daycare playroom dwarfed both of the Preschool playrooms. The Preschool building lent itself to smaller alcoves and quieter spaces. It had a large upstairs library, which was the only library in all of Nurserton. There were more changing rooms, rather than theme-park sized ones in Daycare. Occasional potty rooms were sprinkled throughout all of the floors in a far greater density than could be found in Daycare. They were still the bowls on the floor potties though. Flushers were for Juniors and grownups only. Chloe could hear the conversation in the playroom behind her. Preschoolers, overall, were a disappointing bunch. There wasn’t a whole ton of difference between what Preschoolers did for leisure, and what Daycarers did. Games, baking, watching Disney, taking naps (this wasn’t so bad). They just did the same things, but did them in slimmer, less stinky diapers. Karl’s spankings punctuated the din of a crowded playroom. Perhaps about two dozen other Preschoolers were in there now, but many of them hushed to watch Karl get a spanking. Karl’s punishment was over as soon as it began. Chloe knew it wouldn’t feel that way though. There were footsteps and rustling as Karl got dressed. Mr. Hentier would be taking him to the changing room down the hall. She waited, counting in her head and imagining the distance it took to get from the punishment area, across the playroom, and through the door. She turned her head to look at the clock and her surroundings. Fifteen minutes left, she saw. She also saw that the playroom had gotten a bit more crowded than it had when she was first marched in here. A group of Preschoolers were watching Star Wars, almost a dozen were having a very elaborate tea party. Two women were having a handstand competition, their skirts flipping to reveal their diapers underneath. A bunch of babies were nearby her in the lounge playing a card game, probably Magic the Gathering. Beside them was a single woman, sitting in a chair with her legs crossed, meeting her eyes over the cover of a book. It was Jessica, one of the few special ones. The soon to be Juniors. Chloe almost wanted to laugh every time she saw her. It was earlier this year when Jessica had been dragged out of the outdoor pool with a stinky swim diaper, and the pool had only opened in early May. Jessica had no chance in undies. “You’re supposed to be turned around,” Jessica said, folding her book closed on her lap. Chloe stuck her tongue out back at her. She didn’t turn her head back for her, though. Chloe knew that Mr. Hentier would soon be back. When exactly he did, Chloe couldn’t be sure. That he had shoes on barely made a difference against the carpeted floor of the playroom, and grownups were just averaged sized adults after all. But then she heard uppity Jessica’s voice. “Chloe turned around for a while,” she said. “Did she?” answered Mr. Hentier. His voice got louder. “Did you turn around Chloe?” “No,” she said. “She’s lying, ask anyone.” “No, I believe you,” he said. Then the footsteps got louder. Chloe heard his clothes rustle. The pink on the wall became purple as his shadow cast over hers. “You earned fifteen more minutes, and it’ll be more if you argue.” Chloe didn’t even nod. She sat and stared at the wall and fumed. Stupid Jaclyn and stupid Jessica. They were friends, that’s what it was. They were both sitting together at breakfast this morning, they were often together. Probably met as thumbsuckers in the Daycare together or something. Daycare babies who couldn't cut it always stuck together. They liked to hold hands as they rode the elevator back down to stink town. Jessica included. Jessica very much included. Who did she think she was? She wasn’t even a Junior yet. She’s probably all hopped up on her newfound power. The little bed puddler. Whatever. It’s just a half hour. At least she wasn’t getting locked in her room. She felt her diaper through her pajamas. It had been a little wet, and her last change had come before lunch, towards the end of potty training. She’d pooped on the potty at the beginning of class and got a star, and then she wet for the rest of class until she needed a change. She’d wet at lunch, and the grownup who checked her as she left the cafeteria let her go. After that, she went back to her room to take her nap, during which she wet again. She woke up to pee; she wasn’t a bed piddler, though she’d barely gotten to drift off to sleep again before Jaclyn came in to crap her pants. Now, probably no more than an hour since the end of lunch, she had to pee again. She let it go. She’d hit her twenty stars a few days ago anyway. The minutes ticked away, though they did so in secret, somewhere behind Chloe. Timeout can, at times, represent its own sort of sedentary adventure, and sure enough, Chloe did not spend long alone. Two women were brought this time, and Chloe felt confident enough to crane her neck to look at them. Penny was the one whom Mr. Hentier sat down just beside Chloe, a tall brunette, strong and rather intimidating, who always wore pigtails and was the poster child for big-but-not. Yes, Chloe knew that someone foolish, like a Jessica, might think that it was herself that was the biggest hypocrite in the whole building. But it was Penny. Chloe, at least, never lied about having earned pullups. She was honest about that, not just because she didn’t actually want pullups, but because she didn’t care about being the biggest. She admired Sofia, another Preschooler, who never did her number #2 in the potty and earned all her stars the hard way, simply because she found the whole concept of using the plastic potties repulsive and decided to use them as little as possible. Chloe sympathized with that. Penny was the type of baby who couldn’t see how Sofia or Chloe was bigger than her, and even when backed into a corner with all the evidence that her few dalliances in pullups didn’t amount to much, she still wouldn’t. To take shit from Penny was all the more annoying because Chloe had her own, very valid reasons for being ‘below-average’. Below average, at least, as the Preschool went. The other woman sent to the stools was Ariba, one of the youngest people in the entire village. A fresh, fresh, 21-year old. Chloe would only learn later that Ariba was there for pouring a bowl of cereal, milk and all, down the back of someone’s diaper. Mr. Henriet sat her on Chloe’s left, so that Chloe was the prisoner in the middle. “Mr,” Penny said, seated upright on her stool, “I have to go potty.” “You know the rules,” Mr. Henriet said. “I really have to go,” she said. “You should have done that before you started playing with yourself,” he said. Penny turned herself and stomped her feet. “Please! I need my stars!” No you don’t, Chloe thought. You coulda shit in the potty in PT today. Penny hadn’t. During PT, during Simon Says, Penny had bent forward and filled her diaper, and then kept on playing. Before that, multiple grownups had all but led her to the toilets and asked her (as they asked everyone) if she had to go. She’d said no. Penny was doing worse than even Jaclyn, as she often did. The only difference was that Penny always managed to offset her failures with a passable month, though just barely. It was no secret that if Penny ever missed the mark and was finally put in Puffington Pluses, she’d never climb back out of Daycare. Mr. Henriet walked away after only saying to Penny what everyone knew he’d say; “Hold it, you’re a big girl.” That was the rule. In the Daycare they’d swoop you off a timeout stool to carry you to the potty, and sometimes even knocked time off a timeout for potty success. In a world of stinkers like Jaclyn, grownups had to cherish every poop that got in a potty. In Preschool, you held it through your timeout. Penny crossed her arms and huffed. A few minutes later, Penny put both hands on opposite ends of the stool, lifted her bottom up, and did her business. Chloe watched it all happen and then buried her head in her hands. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, loud enough for Penny to hear it. All she did though was hold her chin high in the air and examine her personal piece of the pink wall. A whisper came from Chloe’s other side. “Who did that?” “Who do you think?” Chloe complained. “You,” Ariba said. “Eat me,” Chloe spat back, still in a whisper. “I don’t pay to eat pussy,” Ariba snarled. “Especially not from a bitch like you.” The grownup’s voice, now tired, rose up from behind him again. “For God’s sake ladies,” he said. “No talking! How hard can this be!” Chloe chewed on her tongue, but couldn’t help herself. “Ariba called me the b-word!” Ariba groaned from beside her. Mr. Henriet could be heard growling behind them. Once again he crossed the carpet to reappear behind the ladies. Chloe began retelling the events, starting from Penny’s accident. “She’s leaving out that she said ‘eat me,” Ariba said, taking both of her hands and karate chopping her own diapered crotch. Mr. Henriet registered this in silence. “Did you say the b-word?” Ariba considered for a moment, and looked at Chloe. Then she turned her head toward Mrs. Henriet. “Sure did. Didn’t stutter one bit. Bitch bitchy bitchy-ass bitch bitch assbitch poopybitch little pussy is a coin slot bit..,” Mr. Henriet did not listen to any more. In one motion he scooped Ariba up. He lifted her off the stool and into the air. Ariba laughed like a crazy person. Chloe watched, breaking the head-turn rule once again, as Ariba was hauled over his knees, as her diaper was ripped off and the spankings began. He didn’t even ask her to count, he just began…bam bam bam! They were serious and they snapped. He covered thigh and upper cheek. Ariba laughed through the first fifteen until she started to squeal and cry. Now and then Henriet would stop and tell her to hold still. Eventually, he asked her if she was sorry. “Didn’t stutter one bit,” she said, through tears. The spankings resumed, and come the end, that moment of continued defiance would turn out to be only the halfway point. Ariba soon began to bawl as if Mr. Henriet’s hand was in fact a hot poker, branding her bottom with every slam. The 21 year old would not return to the stools. Instead, Henriet would fix up her diaper and send for an attending Junior, who would take Ariba back to her room. Ariba was in for a decent grounding, which would start with room-confinement until possibly dinnertime. Chloe would receive yet another fifteen minute extension for her poor choice of words, which was even worse because of Penny’s stink. Worse yet was that Penny only had a twenty minute timeout, meaning that she’d be let off the stool without a spanking and taken to the changing room before Chloe was off. The spanking finally came, after an hour on the stool. Chloe’s lower back hurt, as did her thighs, though she didn’t know why. She’d know why soon enough. Henriet took her to the wooden chair he had set up beside the stools and had her stand in front of her while he untapped her soggy diaper (he checked for number 2 first, just to humiliate her). Chloe’s eyes met many of the other playroom denizens. The numbers had thinned since she’d been dragged into the playroom Mrs. Marath’s haughty storm. The heat of the high afternoon was passing and many of the babies had pilfered outside. Or, the juice and other drinks everyone had for lunch had done their work, and the changing room was packed. Chloe had thought Jessica had left, but there she was, pullups around her ankles, seated on a plastic potty with a Junior standing beside her. Oh, what a showoff. Chloe felt many eyes on her when her diaper came down, and the air in the playroom felt cool now that the warmth of her pee had fallen away. Her hair was trimmed to nothing, as was everyone’s who still needed diapers and pullups. It’s easier to change that way, but here, cheeks and lips out in the middle of a room that boasted a few dozen, Chloe felt even more naked. Mr. Henriet made sure she laid across his lap such that her butt faced the most populated angles of the room. He told her she’d have to count to 45, thirty for what she’d said to Jaclyn, and another fifteen for how she’d acted during her timeout. If she misbehaved on his knee like she had been since she’d been there, he warned, it could be more. After ten Chloe was already panting and closing her eyes before the hand came down. “Are you going to apologize to your roommate?” he asked. “Yes sir,” she said. His legs against her stomach made it hard to breathe. After 12: “Are you going to do it again?” “No sir,” she said. If Jaclyn doesn’t mess in the room again, I’ll hold off. After 20: “We’re going to use respectful words when we don’t like something, right?” “Yes.” “Yes what?” “Yes sir!” She was panting for real now. She wasn’t even halfway…though she would be if it hadn’t been for Jessica and Penny and Ariba. He’d switched to her thighs and back again, and everything was burning. After 25: “You’ve been a bad girl,” he said. After 26: “Where do bad girls belong?” “Right here sir!” Fuck that one hurt bad. After 31: “Where do you look when you’re in timeout?” “At the wall sir!” After a few more she bucked and almost slid off. Mr. Henriet didn’t scold her, and helped her readjust across her lap. Seeming to know she was nearing her limit, the last dozen were quicker pops. Built on the earlier spankings, these still stung. They would continue to sting for hours. Chloe’s misdeeds continued that day, though that was the end of what she was caught for. After her spanking, Mr. Henriet took her to the changing room. She had to watch Penny’s poopy butt get changed, making that the second such privilege this day alone. She didn’t see any of Jaclyn, not in the playroom, not with her best friend Jessica. Surprisingly, Jaclyn hadn’t been in the upstairs changing room, though Chloe supposed that more than an hour had passed since her faux pas in their dorm room. Hoping that Jaclyn was getting lost in the woods, Chloe returned to her room. When she opened the door, she found that Jaclyn wasn’t there. The smell was, though, but perhaps it was her imagination. She didn’t take her clogs off to step on Jaclyn’s bed to open the windows. That, at least, was fair. Chloe figured that she’d resume her nap, now that it was almost two hours after she’d tried to start it. Laying down felt better than sitting, after all, and a few more minutes of the breeze and Chloe’s room wouldn’t smell like poop anymore. Yup. It was Chloe’s room. Not Jaclyn’s. Jaclyn was meant for a crib. That was for sure. She took her skirt off and changed her shirt into something comfortable. She put headphones from the cabinet beneath her bed and laid on her tummy to avoid feeling the sting of her bottom. She procured an old iPod. A laughably ancient artifact by outside standards, it was a perfect one for Nurserton. It provided music, but no phone to the outside world. More importantly, there was no camera. She didn’t remember where she got it. That was the case for many of the things in her cabinet. And it would not be the case for something else. Chloe relaxed for a while, and then stood up and shut off her iPod. Yes, that would seem fair. She thought. She walked to the door and opened it. The hallway was empty, all she could see was a row of still doors. Ariba happened to be one of her neighbors, and hers was the only room where the light was on. The door wouldn’t be locked, but Ariba would be dead meat if she was caught coming out for anything less than a fire alarm. Chloe shut the door and returned to her room. It couldn’t be anything obvious, nothing that she’d wear on a regular basis; nothing that she’d notice anytime soon. Normally, nondescript and regular things were the best targets; like the headphones and the iPod. Even if the original owner had seen them in Chloe’s hands, as they had, in fact, they would have no way to prove the Chloe’s were indeed theirs. Often, they wouldn’t even suspect it. Fancy personal onesies and clothing items, things that Jaclyn had acquired plenty of over her time here, wouldn’t do. But this item needn't be for Chloe’s benefit. This was for Jaclyn’s loss. She reached into a drawer on Jaclyn’s bedside table. There she found Jaclyn’s jewelry box. She took it out and opened the latch. There was a little song that played when she did, something she’d heard and rolled her eyes at countless times. It was a little Disney song. It reminded Chloe of Cinderella. What a drooler. There, sitting on the side of the box was a smaller, inner box. She reached in and opened that box, black and felt, which housed a single pair of earrings…small and shiny, with a pink heart set in the middle. Chloe had seen many roommates get their demotions, and knew that in the craziness that the move entailed, baby Jaclyn wouldn’t have time to even open her jewelry box to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. Baby Jaclyn wouldn’t think of it until she was set up in her boisterous baby room, and then she’d suspect that she’d lost her precious earrings somewhere in transit. Even if she blamed Chloe, she’d never find them. Chloe left her room, diaper dry and ass sore, and marched off to her hiding place. She gave Ariba’s door a good tongue for posterity. The felt box was still in the larger singing jewelry box, which itself still remained in Jaclyn’s bedside drawer. Its contents, however, jingled in Chloe’s pocket.

I remember mine pretty vividly. I was 17 and at boarding school, and it wasn't super long after I came out to my best friend. I'd done quite some thinking and decided that I was going to get some diapers. During an off-campus trip, I picked out a pack of disposables at Target, did self checkout, then tried my best to hide them on the way back. When I first put one on, the feeling was strange. I just felt so right. At the time, it was my first time wearing a diaper in 15 years. But it didn't feel like it, it felt like I'd never been out of them. I loved it, it just felt so secure and comforting. It's been a journey ever since. What about you guys?

Just wondering if it’s okay to mess your diaper several times before removing it. I know people do it but, is there any cautionary advice to be offered? Any problems that people normally run into when trying to mess a diaper multiple times?

Disclaimer: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65185502 Content Warnings Extensive Forced Diaper Wearing (Wetting/Messing) Extensive Public and Private Humiliation Extensive Corporal Punishment and Bondage Extensive use of the themes of fear, shame, guilt, and dread Some consensual sexual slavery/servitude themes Occasional Sexual Themes Occasional Sexual Intercourse ***I do not condone any of the events or themes in this story, and do not intend to glorify or advocate that anyone conduct their life in this way. Nobody should model any sort of erotic behavior on the events of this story.*** Previous chapter: ------ Lily rested her mop on her shoulder. After a moment with her eyes closed and her breath steady, she peed. Warmth surged out of her. It hit the front of her diaper like a tennis ball against a wall, and then it sloshed backwards beneath her. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t a good feeling. She didn’t like her pussy being dipped in a pool of her own hot urine. But it was a familiar feeling, and fleeting. The diaper absorbed it all to carry it like a pocket against her inner thighs. Whatever peeing used to feel like was a distant memory. Another inmate walked by, heedless of the wetness on the ground. The woman smelled like sweat. She smelled of worse things too. This inmate had clearly come from the yard, and brown streaks of dirt from the women's tennis shoes followed the inmate through the part of the block that Lily had been told to mop. Lily sighed and took the mop off of her shoulder. She held it over the bucket, wrung it out, and then plunged it back into the soapy broth. Clean the floor from Cell 230 to 260. That’s it. That’s all she had to do. So she set out to deal with the tracks left by the other inmate. She didn’t bother yelling at her. What was the inmate to do? It’s not like there was a mat by the big double doors that separated the interior of Cellblock A from the yard. One couldn’t leave shoes anywhere but in one’s own cell (against the wall, under the cot, if one didn’t want to anger a guard during an inspection). This wasn’t a house, where shoes were left by the door. This was a public place. And nobody cared whether or not the floor was actually clean. Lily did though, so Lily mopped. She started in the direction where the woman came from, towards the double doors to the yard. She wasn’t supposed to go beyond cell 230 with her bucket and mop, that wasn’t her job. Her job was to just clean the floor from Cell 230 to 260 and to do it, and nothing else, for an hour. That ‘nothing else’ included talking, but she spoke anyway. Other inmates that she knew would come by and they’d say hello. Sometimes they’d ask her if she knew where another inmate went, or if the guard walking on the upper deck was in a good mood. Those bad moods really mattered because that determined if even a little amount of conversation merited discipline. But almost always, even the surliest guards don’t feel like writing a discipline report on an inmate for some chitter chatter. That doesn’t mean they never did, no, they absolutely will at some point and there is also nothing to do about that. But there’s no point in living to avoid it. They’ll write up an inmate when they want to, and Lily had learned to accept it. She took a look at the nearby guard. He was a big man, and thick around the belly. He had a belt with a club in it, though she’d never seen any of them actually use those. He was up on the upper deck, and he looked like he had seen the same thing Lily did; a woman coming in from the yard in muddy shoes. He made his way to the nearby staircase and went in the direction of the orange-clad woman in muddy shoes. Mopping wasn’t enough to fully occupy Lily’s attention, even if it was difficult to make out the dirt footprints against the reflective surface of the floor. She felt like a tracker, following some wounded animal. But really, no, she felt nothing like a hunter. She felt more like a roomba, with wheels and an optical lens that could spot filth and hone in on it. Lily see dirt, Lily clean dirt. That’s what Lily is capable of. The guard disappeared into the cell where the woman had gone. Honing in to check that diaper. A different breed of roomba. He came out a few moments later, with the woman walking in front of him. The woman’s face was expressionless as she walked in front of the guard. Her diaper was thick. Its outlines were clear in front, and they puffed out the orange fabric of her jumpsuit. Lily’s was no better, no, Lily’s was worse. Most uniforms shrunk in the caustic detergent of the laundry rooms, though the tightness and revealing embarrassment around the crotch were always the least concerning aspects of the shrinkage. The outlines of the woman’s diaper were visible on her tummy, where the top of it stopped, and across her hips, even though the plastic wings of the diaper there were very thin. The woman looked uncomfortable as she made her way, and her gait had the tinge of a waddle to it. She had probably been like that when she came through Lily’s section of the floor before, but Lily had been too busy peeing to notice. She had noticed the woman’s smell, though, and it was no surprise that she was going where she was going. Not far away, towards the center of the cross-shaped block where Lily lived (and would continue to live) was a changing center. It was one of two in Cellblock A, the other being located symmetrically opposite across the rotund central area of the block. It was nothing more than an area blocked off by a low wall, with chairs oriented around a medical table. The woman walked there and sat down in one of those chairs. From Lily’s position in the middle of the hall, she could count maybe ten or so heads sitting in chairs just like that woman. She knew almost all of them (though this particular woman in the muddy feet was someone she wasn’t familiar with). They all stared blankly at the medical table, which featured another guard as well as a woman, an inmate, stark naked on her back. The best seats in prison. Lily watched as the guard began his return journey down the hall. His boots squeaked as he went. Lily looked at the path that the guard and the woman took. Another trail of muddy footprints crossed the space between 230 and 260. These were less visible, but Lily had little else to direct her attention towards. She made a mental note to mop down in that direction once she was done with the first set of footprints that the inmate had made. She doused the head of the mop once more in her bucket and made her way. One of the things to think about in Stenton, when there is just nothing else to think about, is when you’re going to get your diaper changed. To say that Lily was not resentful of the woman who had tracked dirt not once but twice through her section of the floor was an understatement. She was jealous. Jealous that the woman was now sitting in the changing queue. The best seats in the house. She’d be out of her diaper and she looked like she’d used it well enough to make the trip worth it. Did it suck to be over there, with the other women in the changing queue? Yup, always did. Did it smell bad to be over there? No doubt. It never smelled good when you sat down in a chair next to multiple other grown women in soiled diapers. Was it fun to be stripped while a guard draws wipes through your ass? Nope. Never was and never would be. But at least the full diaper would be gone, and that was something that the woman with the muddy feet could say that Lily couldn’t. Though it wouldn’t be long until a guard took her there either. Hopefully. Although you could always guarantee that at some point, for even the slightest thing, a guard might cell you and write you up, you simultaneously couldn’t guarantee that a guard would actually take you to the changing area. Whether or not a guard took an inmate to one of the changing stations around the block had nothing to do with what was in their diaper. Everyone was on a schedule, more or less. Even a quiet, boring, and ordered place like Stenton prison could experience enough chaos such that any schedule could become wildly unpredictable. When it came to changing, guards had a plan for the day, one they didn’t share, often not even with each other. All of them, though, agreed that the diapers were there for punishment, and that if a little chaos resulted in discomfort for the inmates of Stenton, then chaos was working as intended. There was no legal requirement that the part of Lily’s sentence that enumerated ‘three diaper changes a day’ had to be religiously followed. There was no independent committee that interviewed prisoners to make sure they were getting the appropriate amount of diaper changes a day, according to what their judge had ordered. Nobody cared, for one, and nowhere in Lily’s sentence did it say she had a right to any amount. It only said: In addition; Lily is to be diapered for the entirety of her incarceration. She will be permitted no more than three diaper changes in a calendar-day during the duration of her custody. This aspect of Lily’s punishment will begin with the issuance of this sentence. Indeed, she hadn’t. She’d lost track of the days long ago, but she knew without a doubt that she’d got no more than three diaper changes a day. The average was undoubtedly lower. There were days when she only got two. There had been some sticky, hot, itchy, mushy, smelly, sleepless days where she’d only got one. Three was just the ceiling. There were no four-change days in her memory to match any of the under-three days. The only thing keeping her at three at all was the guards, for following the rules was part of their nature. Lily’s lawyer had prepared her for sentencing, way back when. “They’ll probably give you two. We’re fighting for three.” “Why not four?” Lily said. Technically, five changes was a possible limit, but she knew enough to not hope for that. The lawyer shook her head. Apparently, Lily’s lawyer knew enough to not hope for four either. Lily was already convicted by that time, already in orange, already diapered. There had been a thick diaper waiting for her in the side chamber where they took her after they dismissed the jurors that had decided to convict her. She’d remembered holding it together in court but bursting into tears as soon as that huge white diaper came into view. Her bowels churned and her feet felt like lead in the bright concrete warren beside the courtroom. Her hands had been cuffed in front of her, and two guards on either side were holding her by her biceps. Their guidance was firm as they took her, almost limp, to the table. They took off her cuffs and stripped her… Her last use of the toilet had been so unceremonious. A rushed evacuation before it was time to listen to the prosecution put the cherry on top of Lily’s public evisceration. A few months later, with her jury long gone and presumably eating ice cream and tanning on the fine Shamurian beaches, her lawyer shook her head. “No, four would anger the judge,” she said. “Three is the best we get. We ask for four and we guarantee that the judge will give you two.” Lily understood negotiation well enough to agree with her lawyer’s logic. It was hard to sit there in the sentence proceedings (there were two appearances in court prior to her actual sentencing) and listen to her lawyer argue for three diaper changes a week. Especially since she was already wearing them in jail, between her conviction and her final sentencing. In jail, prior to sentencing, they gave her five changes, and that was already unbearable. Worse, she’d seen the path of many women whose trials had gone before hers. She’d seen them all try to adjust to four from five (most wound up getting four to five changes, but Lily was in for something more serious). All whined and begged and complained. “My client is sorry for what she did, she has expressed sincere guilt. This is her first mistake before the law, and she is going to vow that it never happens again.” It wouldn’t. It literally couldn’t. They’d made sure to take away Lily’s license to practice law as soon as they diapered her. “My client looks forward to her punishment,” her lawyer said. Lily remembered herself sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair for the first time not wearing a dress, but in the same kind of orange jumpsuit she wore today. She had tried to imagine that being true; that she was looking forward to it. Yes, I’m excited for what’s coming next. I woke up this morning in my jail cell in my diaper, and listened to the woman next to me in the van to the courthouse who told me that the smartest thing to do, if I could, was to shit myself as soon as I got off the van so I wouldn’t have to shit my diaper in court because they generally wouldn’t change me again until the whole day’s proceedings were done. I figured she was right, yet she was only half right. Piss and poop was in my diaper for an hour before they changed me to bring me out here. I just got my asswiped by a policewoman who thinks my buttcheeks need to be scrubbed like metal pan, and yes, I am looking forward to years and years more of this. “Lily understands that four changes a day is fairly prompt and she’s aware that her crimes are too serious for that, and she wouldn’t want her upcoming incarceration to be wasted on a punishment that isn’t severe enough.” Her lawyer spoke correctly, if inaccurately. No matter what, once convicted, it was best to prostrate yourself before the mighty righteous will of Shamurian society. Even if you plead ‘not guilty,’ you were supposed to be ecstatic and thankful that the good people of Shamuria had put you where you belonged. You didn’t have to believe it, but you had to say it. The prosecution argued for two changes a day. The prosecuting attorney, the winning attorney, was dressed impeccably and conducted herself with the same bright-eyed enthusiasm she had worn the entire way. She was young and Lily had overheard that her case was her first-ever as the lead attorney. The swagger she brought was contagious, and the jury had awarded her with a conviction. “Got the bitch!” The bitch was Lily. She was got. Lily picked at her hot wet diaper and took a break from mopping, resting the haft once again against her shoulder. She tried to recall the attorney’s name, but couldn’t. She must have been no older than twenty three at the time. Long straight blond hair, always wore a skirt to the knee and leggings. Designer jackets, glasses. More importantly, she had perfect pitch. She sang a lullaby to the jury in a manner Lily could only dream of. Her voice rose and fell as she unveiled fact after fact, damning Lily with every note. Two hours into the first witness hearing, and Lily realized she had worse odds than a lobster hovering above boiling water. She asked questions and left them unanswered, leaving the jury to contemplate Lily’s criminality on their own. She rarely pushed the line and the judge rarely had to scold her, whereas Lily’s lawyer had to fight tooth and nail for every edge. This woman doesn’t need a law degree, the young prosecutor had said during her closing statements. She needs diapers. And you’ve got a chance to put her in them for a long time. It took just two hours of deliberations, which is barely more than the time it takes for a jury to retreat into the decision room, have a snack, and run through the list of things they have to do. Fresh off cold-cut sandwiches and soda, the jury took advantage of their chance, and a diaper had been laid out for her in the processing room. Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! A win for Shamuria and humanity! Months later, when the number three came down from the mouth of the judge, the lawyer tried to be cheerful for Lily. It was as if to say, an average of eight hours in your piss and shit between changes isn’t so bad. Imagine if it was twelve! Yeah, it could have been six. It could have been less than five hours on average. But eight isn’t so bad. You’ll be fine. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Yeah, you’ll have to sit in it for a while longer than you do now, but those two extra changes of five a day don’t amount to that much. It was the only thing that Lily could be cheerful at throughout the whole trial. Lily watched as a tall, slender woman exited a cell in the section she was assigned to clean. Her name was Lindsey, and like Lily and the other woman, she too was dressed in orange with an obvious diaper underneath. She stepped out onto the newly mopped floor and looked both ways, as if addressing a street that she was about to cross. In doing so, she made note of the guard, who had returned to his post on the catwalk. She looked at Lily too, and gave Lily a long, forlorn look until Lily turned away and pretended to be busy. Lily continued mopping and made a deliberate effort to not pay attention to the woman. Lindsey was a newer inmate, here for maybe three months at most, and was a four-changer. It was weird, how quickly you learned to remember how often someone got their diapers changed. But it mattered because it directly affected how pleasant they were to be around. Lily knew a few more things about Lindsey though, as she was one of the more famous residents of cellblock A. A television actress, Lindsey received a two year sentence for bribing an admissions office with cash to help get her daughter into an elite Shamurian university. Rumor was that wouldn’t be the end of it, as some of the other inmates claimed to have seen her get loaded back on the ferry, which either meant you were being freed or you were going back to court. In Lindsey’s case, it couldn’t be the former; she hadn’t been in Stenton long enough and judges never, ever, reduced sentences. Lily hadn’t seen her go, and hadn’t heard any concrete evidence of such happenings. But she did know that no matter what, whether you’re a five-changer or a one-changer, the only toilets in the building are located behind the huge blast doors for the guards. This wasn’t a guess. Inmates who had the misfortune to be taken through the doors reported that on the other side were a pair of men’s and women’s bathrooms, just for guards. Not really a big surprise, Lily saw no need to take her own trip through the doors to find out. One was never in a state of freedom when going through those. Just so, by standing in the middle of the hall, Lindsey had already internalized the dominant code of ethics among inmates at Stenton. You have to shit, so shit responsibly. Shitting at or after lockdown was a recipe for drama, as was doing it at mealtime. You tried to avoid doing it in your cell at all, unless you had a good reason. That rule was more up in the air, as sometimes avoiding a dirty diaper in the cell was a bit much to ask of one-changers. Everyone violated it at one point or another, sometimes simply because a lockdown could happen in the middle of the day. Lily had once been sitting in the changing area, one inmate away from getting her dirty diaper changed, when the alarm bell rang. She had to race back to her cell, her diaper still engorged and disgusting. That lockdown had lasted over two hours and her cellmate had to suffer through it with her. There were lots of reasons that could happen, some more forgivable than others. The rule was that you tried to avoid it. Lily saw out of the corner of her eye that Lindsey was still doing her business. It would seem odd to do it so blatantly, but it made perfect sense. She wanted to do it out of her cell, in a place where nobody would be surprised by her. Now and then that backfired, and a rowdy prisoner might point and laugh at a woman trying to be as obvious as possible so others could avoid her. Nobody wanted to come around a corner just to bump into a grown woman taking a dump in her pants. You learned to appreciate blatant evacuation as a global favor, as humiliating as it was. The most important thing, which Lindsey knew already, was to do it so the guards would notice it. Being obvious was great, yet being heckled drew even more attention, no matter how much it made you want to die. That was another part of it. The surest way to ensure that the guards don’t change a diaper is to ask them to change it. The surest way to sit in poop for the rest of the day was to see yourself to the changing queue on your own. As dirty as Lindsey was making her diaper, she wouldn’t be changed out of it until a guard decided it was time for her to sit in the chairs. Finally, Lindsey finished loading her diaper. She stretched, checked again to see if Lily was watching her, and then looked up once again at the guard. The guard, who had surely seen everything, didn’t react. Lindsey didn’t hide her dismay, and rolled her neck dramatically and sucked on her teeth. There was nothing to do, though. She fixed her uniform, pulling it out where it had gotten too snug around her crotch. She sniffed her hands. Then, pooped diaper and all, Lindsey walked gingerly towards the center of the cellblock, out of Lily’s area to clean. Lily’s chore continued. A rectangle that is fifteen cell blocks long is large, but not large enough to occupy her and her mop for an hour. To use up more time, she offered to mop the cells of inmates in that area. She didn’t go in any that were empty. Most waved her off or pretended not to hear her at her door. Some she avoided because she already knew the answer of the occupant inside. Some were asleep. But a few stepped out of their cells so she could clean the small floor that they nominally called their own. One of those women was Kimmi. Lily came across her, mop and bucket in hand, while she was kneeling on her pillow, which was placed on the floor. She was bent over a deck of cards that she had splayed out on her cot. The international card game of prisons…even diaper prisons: solitaire. “Yeah sure, though it’s the air that’s dirty,” she said. Kimmi laughed and hauled herself up. She pushed past Lily, and she crinkled as she went. Lily’s nose rankled, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. “Don’t worry,” Kimmi said. “The bitch is on the dock.” Lily took this to refer to Kimmi’s cellmate, Rita. She didn’t need any reference to know what Kimmi meant by the dock. “Hope it hurts,” Lily said. Kimmi laughed again and nodded in agreement. Kimmi stood by as Lily mopped. The cells weren’t big enough for it to take too long, but Lily took her time. Why not take her time? Kimmi talked to her as she cleaned, despite the rule forbidding inmate job-conversation going both ways. Despite her soiled diaper, Kimmi had bubbling energy inside her, and she seemed to hum to a rhythm whenever she was silent. “I hear you got a whole hell coming to you,” Kimmi said, bobbing her head. Lily wasn’t surprised the word had already gotten to Kimmi. You’ll be fine. Just fine. A few docks is better than a lot. Four docks in a row is not a lot. Argue and you’ll get five, so shut up. “It won’t be so bad,” she said. “They going to break you up?” Lily hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t know,” she said. “That’d be a bummer. Luckiest thing in this whole place finally coming to an end. You two have been bumping it forever.” Kimmi said. Then she opened her arms to envelope some of the bars that formed the open wall of her cell. “Come to mine,” she said. The notion that Lily had a choice of what cell the guards put her in made them both laugh. The comment had more meaning than a simple joke, but for now Lily preferred to treat Kimmi’s absurdity as simply that. “Come on. I only stink up the room to get back at Rita. You should hear her! It doesn’t stop at lights-out.” “I can imagine.” “She’ll be writing a whole slam book on me, you can be sure of it. She’s going to make a series about her awful cellmate.” Kimmi laughed again. “I can’t wait to read it.” Lily bent low to mop under Rita’s cot. Part of her wanted to rung the sodden head of her mop onto Rita’s bed. To leave a dirty and soapy mess so that Rita had nowhere to rest on her way back from the dock. But she thought better of it. She was in deep enough trouble as it was. “So, what do you think about rooming with me?” Kimmi asked, again. “I’m still rooming with Marji.” “Yeah but not for long.” “We'll still be together.” “Really?” Kimmi said. She narrowed her eyes as the true thrust of the conversation was laid bare. “They’ll be watching you.” Kimmy leaned against the bars and stared at Lily. Lily became hyper aware of her own contours under her orange jumpsuit. She’d never thought she’d be sexy again, though this concern didn’t arise until weeks after actually being put in diapers. In retrospect, it would have been wise to get some action when they still let her wear panties. One of her greatest regrets. There had been more important worries back then, though as a lawyer, she should have foreseen where it would all end up. Now her pussy didn’t know or had forgotten that she was in prison. Her pussy was the one that made her look forward to diaper changes not just so she could get out of the diaper she was wearing, but so that she could see the bodies of the other women without their jumpsuits and their own thick diapers. It could be a gruesome sight, at times, but you could always close your eyes for the beginning and just look when the woman’s bottom was cleaner. Most diapers weren’t like that anyway. It was a weird, discordant feeling, to be aroused in a place like a changing area. But it made a sick, twisted sense; her pussy had adapted to the situation. It’d taken much longer for her to realize that other inmates had accepted the same realities, that they’d learned to ignore the thickness of her ass and crotch, and the garish glare of perpetual orange. Her thighs and ass, covered in a diaper that she had been wearing since the morning and forced to move in and pump in as she sweated in her full length suit, hadn’t gotten used to it, like her pussy had. She wanted a change badly, which, conveniently, was what her pussy wanted too. Somedays, she wished she could be more like Kimmi. Kimmi was one of those rare few in Stenton who seemed to enjoy her time behind bars. Or at least she was able to tolerate it effortlessly. She’d been cheery from the getgo, quick to joke, quick to to laugh, and quick to stop taking pee and poop so seriously. How could she care what was in her pants? She was a one-changer. The answer to what was in her pants was almost never good. She’d openly estimated that she maybe spent less than an hour a day without piss in her diaper. She even didn’t care to admit to the other women that she was wetting the bed ‘involuntarily’ and that she was ‘definitely wetter when she woke up than when she went to bed.’ Even more, she’d turned a whole breakfast table red with embarrassment when she blurted that ‘masturbation felt better when the front was thick with pee because it gave you firm something to rub against.’ Kimmi could be a hoot around the dock, too. If she was on the benches, watching woman after woman get spanked and paddled on the dock, she’d call and cheer. Kimmi never did it maliciously (as some might be for Rita right now), but always in a way that, if it were you getting spanked, it made you feel better. Lily hated, most of all, that the pillories and the dock were in the very center of the block, but Kimmi made it bearable, provided she was there. Oh come on, that one was a little low! Swing batter-batter swing! Come-on tootsie keep that back straight we gotta see that roast beef. Yes girl! Lily likes it doggie doesn’t she? She’s doing a great job! Show us what you’ve been hiding in those diapers hun! Sometimes she would get other inmates singing so that the sounds of the smacking died away, even to the ears of the woman getting hit. Nobody ever minded the raucous atmosphere she could create, save the guards and the occasional women who still thought they could sleep through their sentence. The guards sometimes felt that Kimmi’s irreverence took away from the essentially punitive exercise, and they would cell her for the rest of the day. That only made the average inmate appreciate Kimmi more. Except for the Ritas of the world, of course. The inmate cheers were markedly different when it was Rita’s bottom up on the platform called the dock. The mood was a bit more in line with what the guards intended when Rita got spanked. So it was fine to be around Kimmi, even when Kimmi smelled like shit. She was the type of inmate that could make you forget there was a bag of piss around your waist and that it’d been years since you’d had a private moment of free access to your own vagina. Moreover, she was the type of gay that wasn’t a gayness of reluctance. Kimmi guessed that up to half of the women in the prison, at least, were willing, but very few were voracious about it. Like Lily, they’d sexualized what was available. The straighter girls relished those few moments on changing tables with male guards, doing everything they could to repress their extreme embarrassment and the awareness that the guard who was seeing her excrement couldn’t possibly find her sexy. They’d whisper to each other about the way he wiped. He lingered. He palmed my butt. Nobody ever had the heart to remind the women of what they already knew themselves. Well, Rita did, and gave everyone yet another reason to hate her. It mattered greatly to the straights what fantasy they could roll their eyes back into when the stiff and pissy diaper on their crotch was pressed into their clit by another female inmate. If they could believe that they were back on that table with strapping officer Sipho, if they could believe that the mouth kissing their breasts through their orange jumpsuit featured his stubbly lips, they could cum. Lily never disabused a straight woman of that fantasy. She knew best to melt away, to simply appreciate the time between her legs, even if she wasn’t thinking about Lily and there was nothing down there but diapers and urine to smell. When their half-assed efforts to help Lily cum in return brought them both to boredom, Lily was fine to leave. The memory and imagination of the straight woman’s genitals beneath all those layers and the memory of her convulsing body, were vivid enough for Lily to pleasure herself alone in her cot. But Kimmi meant it. Kimmi reciprocated. Kimmy sought it out and saw her as more than an elaborate vibrator which she could place between her legs while she fantasized about what lay behind the zipper of officer Sipho. Kimmi didn’t become ashamed and refuse to talk to Lily for weeks after one shared moment. She would be eager again and again until the guards hauled them both on the dock. And then some. “I think we’ll still be together,” Lily said. “We haven’t talked about it.” “What’s she doing?” “I don’t know. Probably celled,” she said. Marji had been in an equally bad mood since the guards had caught them on top of eachother yesterday. Knowing Marji, she’d lashed out and was sitting on her cot with a chain around her ankle. “Atta girl,” Kimmi said. “I’m not trying to steal her girl, you know,” Kimmi said. At this point, Lily was only pretending to mop. “No. I couldn’t imagine a lady with a diaper like yours would attempt to flirt with a catch like me,” Lily said. Kimmi laughed again. “Hey. If I waited to be clean to make my moves, my cunt would close up. You gotta know what you’re working with.” With this, Kimmi made a shimmy and showed her bottom to Lily, pressing it against the bars. It was a grotesque thing to do considering what Kimmi’s diaper had inside it, but Kimmi never shied away from the absurd. It was refreshing, even when it made Lily recoil in mock disgust. “Oh stop it,” she said. “Hey, your hour is almost up, by the way,” Kimmie said. She motioned to the clock that was high up on the wall at one end of the block. “You on one or two changes today.” “I’ve not been changed since just after breakfast.” And didn’t she know it. Her diaper was soaked, and she’d been holding number two since then. A guard had felt her ass right after the end-of-breakfast bell, before her meal had got things moving. She’d discretely pushed as he felt her, but all she managed to do was fart into his hand. It wasn’t atypical timing for a first change, and as a three changer she could expect to get changed in the two or so hours after breakfast. She preferred on the later end of that range, so she could get her movement going and so her first change of the day could be a dirty one. It didn’t always work out that way. “When they let you out, let’s get changed together,” Kimmi said. She didn’t mention let’s try to get changed together. Sometimes, it was nice to pretend that you had agency. Surprisingly, she was dead right. Lily’s diaperchange was all but assured after her chore was done. It was more than an hour after lunch now, and the guards went looking for the threes before and after lunch. Lily was probably one of the last threes to still be wearing her post-breakfast diaper, excluding those who’d been downgraded to twos for discipline. It sure felt like it. The ideal day, for Lily, was a late post-breakfast change, a late post-lunch change, and then a post-dinner change, so that she was fresh for lockdown. She rarely got all three in a day, but much of her excess effort was spent trying to orchestrate it. What else was there to do? She’d hide from guards before meals and find them after, when she was fuller. The goal was always to spend as little time as possible in full and dirty diapers. She doesn’t need a law degree, she needs diapers. She wondered if her jury thought of that when they considered her guilt. Yes, this woman needs her priorities narrowed down to nothing but a toddler’s mindset. Where to pee and poop most effectively. That’s where this grown woman, who once argued cases before a court, who survived three years of law school, who was about to make partner at just twenty-eight, belonged. That’s what her mind was really good for. Good mopping and good fecal logistics. “You just want to see me naked.” Kimmi craned her head. “It’s officer Billie at the table,” she said. “At least at the close one.” Lily stepped out of the cell with her bucket and mop and looked down the hall. She still knew most of the women sitting in the chairs there. Lindsey was there. The woman who’d tracked mud through her section was there too. She was the one on the table, but from their angle they could only see her large tits bouncing about as the officer Billie raised and lowered her legs. Way beyond, she could see the blast doors to the guard quarters. One of the doors creaked open, and a guard came through it and into the cellblock. The door shut lazily behind them, but the hollow slam reverberated all the way down to Kimmi’s cell. “Damn,” Lily said, looking at officer Billie. Kimmi allowed herself to be distracted by the scene for a few moments. For once, Lily knew Kimmi wasn’t looking at the bare-chested woman. She turned back to Lily. “Well get it done and stick together. You got five minutes so nows your time,” she said. She was very likely right. Five minutes left in her hour (which was almost all the time she needed to actually complete the job allotted for an hour), meant she should get to business. She was only relieved when a guard ordered her to bring her bucket and mop to the closet. Generally, a diapercheck would come after that. Lily had planned all along to poop right at the end of her hour. Her early change notwithstanding, and the squicky itchiness she felt right now (which was par for the course after the prosecution nailed her many years ago), today was fixing to be an efficient, reasonable day. The punishments for playing with Marji would not come until tomorrow. “Alright,” Lily said, and she headed out of the cell toward the center of the block, where Lindsey had pooped earlier. It also occurred to her that she had spent conspicuously long in Kimmi’s cell, and she was definitely pushing discipline if the guard on the catwalk was paying attention. Kimmi put a hand on her shoulder, though. Lily stopped, and watched where Kimmi pointed. “Do it on Rita’s bed,” she said. Lily turned. “Noo,” she said. “That’s a little much.” “Come on. She won’t notice it over everything else,” Kimmi said, waiving to herself. “Just give her a nice extra flavor to her pillow. You know she deserves it.” Kimmi’s suggestion was extreme. It represented a side to Kimmi that Lily had rarely seen. A ferocity and vengefulness that did not coincide with her general cheerfulness. But it still made sense to Lily. Loyalty and camaraderie were the root of Kimmi’s character. It was her and her girls against the bullshit. Rita wasn’t one of them. Rita with her horn-rimmed glasses, who paid the commissary extra to get her hair products, who threatened everyone with a salacious expose, who bragged that when she was out, the world would welcome her eagerly. Many of inmates, despite their lofty origins, knew that nothing waited for them but diapered slavery and middle-class employment. And even the best outcomes were still many, many years down the road. She’d even written about Lily. Before Rita had found trouble with the law, Rita made headlines finding out everything she could about other wealthy men and women who’d fallen out of favor with Shamurian society. Case Closed! Corrupt lawyer weeps and begs like a helpless lamb as she realizes the law is no longer on her side. “She really squirmed when we got her out of court. They’re all very emotional so we understand. But they have to learn quickly that if they fight us, we’ll change them less. We’ll keep that diaper on ice until the morning and she’ll understand what she’s in for.” It’d all been true. Rita had gotten to one of those guards and got the quote. Even the story about sitting in that first diaper until the following morning was true. At first, Rita’s own fall from grace was celebrated in Stenton. Then they met her, and realized nothing could be worse than having to hear her talk. Rita was the bullshit. All of this is to say that yes, Lily leaned her mop against the bars, kicked off her slippers, and squatted right on Rita’s pillow. Here’s what happens when you’re not on our side but you’re inside, you cunt. It was relaxing and delightful, truly. One of the best bowel movements she’d ever had in her entire time at Stenton. A massive relief. Her stomach shrunk an inch in circumference. Officer Billie at the table waiting to deal with it. The rest of the day to relax and play cards and only have to worry about how fast she was pissing herself. Her poop was huge and firm and as disgusting as ever, but she wouldn’t have to be in it long. “What the fuck!” came a voice. Lily hadn’t realized she’d opened her eyes. “Fuck you,” Kimmi said. Her voice wavered though, and Kimmi seemed to shrink away from the new person standing in the door between the bars of her cell. Lily gasped and stumbled off of Rita’s bed. “I said the fuck are you doing?” Rita asked, stepping into the room. She was blonde and freckly, and she kept her hair wavy with the product she bought. “Nothing,” Lily said. “Nothing?” Rita was shouting. Lily was anxious to leave. A guard who arrived had a lot of pretext in the scene that was unfolding. “You were shitting on my pillow.” “No she wasn’t,” Kimmi said. Rita spun and pointed a finger at Kimmi. Rita’s cheeks were flush, and her eyes were still watery from the spanking she’d taken on the dock. She didn’t deserve any sympathy, but it was hard to imagine her being anything but angry at what she’d returned to. “It was your idea,” she said. “It wasn’t my idea because nothing happened!” Kimmi shouted. Lily was trying to step between the two, to get her bucket and leave. Kimmi could handle herself. If a guard came now to see this, she was sure to be disciplined. Getting into a fight in a cell when she was supposed to be mopping was way out of line. Rita’s bone to pick was clearly with Kimmi, despite the fact that it had been Lily’s action that had enraged her. Lily pushed past them, grabbed her bucket and mop, and exited the cell. Her diaper was incredibly full of piss and poop, and it squished into her as she walked. She was sweating all over now too, and she could feel the oil of her hair on the back of her neck, the moisture down the sides of her hot jumpsuit, and of course, all of the heat generated by the mess she’d made in her diaper. She wanted out of there, to continue making wet circles on the ground until some guard took her to be changed by officer Billie. “Stop! Hands on the bars!” Lily’s heart sank. She propped her mop in the bucket and did as she was told. She was outside the cell, and she knew the position. Palms open, hands up above the head, feet spread, chest against the bars. She didn’t even see the guard who had ordered her against the bars, but she could hear his boots and that his voice was male. She could also hear that he wasn’t messing around. “You two, against the wall, now!” Kimmi and Rita immediately stopped talking and assumed the same position, but against the wall at the back of their cell. Lily was anxious for what came next. She heard the guard walking, his boots creaking and the chains and metal hanging from his belt loops were jingling like he was Santa Claus. “What happened?” came another guard’s voice. This one was female. “Fight.” “Physical?” “No.” “About what?” Rita, like an idiot, decided to speak. “They shit on my pillow!” “Quiet!” The guards barked at the same time. “Head against the wall,” the female guard said. Lily could see that Rita’s head was against the wall, but the guard continued. “Do you hear me?” “Yes ma’am!” Rita said. “You talk again, I’ll bring you right back to the dock, you hear me?” “Yes ma’am!” “You want that to happen?” “No ma’am!” Lily could hear the smugness in the voice of the female guard. They enjoyed doing that to inmates. It could go on for minutes. Rita surely hated it, Rita would be scratching a hole through the concrete in rage right about now. Lily couldn’t enjoy the schadenfreude, though. Her’s was coming. The guards then talked to themselves. They were so quiet that Lily couldn’t even hear them. Finally, the male guard addressed her. “You, out here,” he said. “Yes sir.” “What happened just now?” Lily gulped. “I was offering to clean cells because I had mopped the main floor, sir,” she said. “I was cleaning this one,” she said. “You were cleaning this one?” “Yes sir.” “Whose cell is this?” “This is their cell, sir,” she said. She realized that this was vague, so she motioned with her head inwards, towards the two women. “Have you defecated in your diaper?” this time the female guard asked. “Yes ma’am.” “When did you defecate in your diaper?” “A while ago ma’am, while I was doing my job, ma’am.” “When’s your job up?” the female guard said. Lily knew this answer could damn her. “Not sure. It might be soon, I might have had another hour. I’m not sure if I’ve been given two hours or not, Ma’am.” The male guard spoke to the female one. “She’s up on her chore now, I was about to come get her.” They were quiet for a moment. Lily wondered if they were still talking. The guards knew the schedules and goals of their inmates as well as the inmates. The guards knew that inmates would try to time their messing for when they were most likely to be changed. This meant that Lily’s claim to have messed herself a while ago was doubtful to them, and if Lily was lying about that, then Lily was in all likelihood the guilty party. Rita was then asked to give them a play-by-play. Contrary to her signature journalistic flourish, Rita was not unlike the blonde prosecutor that had sent Lily here in the first place. Another blonde bitch getting the better of me. Rita knew to tell her story politely, soberly, and with plenty of sir’s and ma’ams so as to be as deferential as possible. She told everything she could. She said I think I saw and I think that to make herself seem more impartial. She might have been screaming at Lily and Kimmi just moments before, but now she ‘wasn’t quite sure what she saw.’ When Rita was done, the pair of guards returned their attention to Lily. “What do you have to say?” “I don’t know sir.” “Is she right?” “I don’t know sir, I’m not sure what she said, sir.” “She said she saw you on her bed, squatting on her pillow.” “No sir.” “No sir what?” “I didn’t do that, ma’am.” “Then what were you doing in that cell?” “Mopping ma’am.” “For ten minutes?” They were probably already going to side with Rita for everything, so there were was no use lying further. Lily felt her legs tremble. She tried to maintain her composure. Despite all of the wetness in her jumpsuit, and the piss in her diaper, Lily’s throat was dry.“Yes ma’am.” “Were you talking with another inmate while on your job?” Answering truthfully also got Kimmi in trouble, but she knew that Kimmi knew that ship had sailed. “Yes ma’am.” Lily bit her lip and rested her head against the bars. The day had been going so well… This woman doesn’t need a law degree. She needs diapers. Send her where she belongs. They’d probably cell her in her dirty diaper until dinner. She was probably looking at a two-change day. They might add an extra visit to the dock next week too. Kimmi would get something similar. “Did you lie to us earlier? Did you defecate yourself on that inmates pillow? Be honest now, don’t make us have to ask this stupid question a million times.” And then, for reasons Lily didn’t quite understand, she started crying. The tears came out of nowhere, as if they were as incontinent as Kimmi was when she was asleep. She convulsed and her stomach sucked in like she was experiencing the mother of all hiccups. She could see the jury, the prosecutor with the long blonde hair, the lawyer trying to be as nice as possible when she was really tying to say: “You’re fucked beyond belief.” She could feel the dock, which was coming for her ass tomorrow. She could feel the good day she had slipping away. Another good day lost in a sea of lost days, spent mopping and plotting out when she peed and pooped like it was life or death. “Yes,” she finally said, not knowing why she said it, and wishing she hadn’t. “Yes ma’am?” the guard asked. Her voice was a lot closer. Lily was trained well enough to not move her head. “Yes ma’am,” she said. Snot choked her voice. She thought about being in this same position, against a wall, side by side with Marji. Just yesterday. Different officers, different violations, different cells. Same awful outcome. “You defecated on her pillow?” “Yes ma’am!” she said. Tears were getting into her mouth and sticking her hair to her cheeks. Was she one of the bad ladies now, one of the idiots who couldn’t avoid the dock? “You lied to us, why?” “Because I didn’t want to get in trouble,” Lily said. She felt like such a child saying that. That was the guard’s whole point. “Ma’am.” She wanted to wipe her eyes, but she knew she had to keep her hands on the bars. “You happy you’re in trouble now though?” Always, always, guards asked questions like that. Just like in court. Lily is eager to get this next phase of her life underway, so that she can learn from her mistakes. Yes, I’m looking forward to my docking. I love my diapers. I love them so much because they remind me of who I am. “Yes ma’am.” “Say it!” “I’m happy I’m in trouble, ma’am,” she said. She broke down again, and coughed. She could hear the guard stand up. She expected one of them to grab her arm and pull her, and her full diaper, back to her cell for the rest of the day. But that isn’t what happened. Not exactly. Instead, the two guards talked quietly for the final time. “Take her through the doors,” the female guard said.

Just curious what peoples preference is on thick diapers.

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