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How I became an Executive Toy Part 1 Hi, I’m Charlie - six months ago I left school and got a job as an office junior in a large building firm. It’s not a very demanding job but they told me that the prospects were good if I had any aptitude. The office is relaxed but everyone dresses rather smartly, no jeans or t-shirts, and most of the guys wear a suit so I do too. I’m always clean, neat and tidy (mum sees to that) and I hope to do well in this my first ever job. I’m 18, slim, 5’6”, OK looking, always polite (again mum’s doing) and very easy to get along with and often don’t need things explaining twice before I can do what is asked of me. Academically I was lazy, and although did OK in my exams, the thought of university life and more schooling just wasn’t me. I wanted to get work and perhaps have three or four years on my peers before they eventually found themselves on the jobs market. ~ They appear to like me in the office and I’ve become fairly popular with my work colleagues. Almost immediately one of the company directors, Mr Wojciechowski, was very friendly and encouraging towards my ambitions - taking me out on the occasional site inspection with him; as he thought that would give me more of an overall view of what the business was about. He’s witty and you can share a joke with him, when he’s around the entire office a nicer place to work. Not like the other two bosses who are also Polish but in all honesty, scare the shit out of me… very officious and demanding. When we went out to the sites together, and it was at least once a week that I accompanied him on a trip, it all seemed so exciting. At my age, and in my first job, I loved the attention and the encouragement he gave, making me feel special and that I could really go places with the firm. He said he liked the way I said “Yes Boss” when he first asked me to do something for him – I think it was to retrieve a file on the computer system. Embarrassingly, I couldn’t remember his name so I meant to say “Yes Sir.” but it came out as “Yes Boss”, apparently I blushed a bright red at my faux pas. It made him smile. ~ One evening, about 2 months ago, when we were returning to base, he said he had to call home first as he’d forgotten some papers. His house on the outskirts of town is terrific; in its own grounds, very expensive, well decorated and I was pretty impressed. He asked if I wanted anything to drink and, looking at the selection of booze set out on a cabinet, felt like he was treating me as an adult and not as one of the office juniors. He disappeared into another room, which I assumed was to get the papers he needed and after a couple of minutes called for me to go through. I went to help and was surprised to see him standing surrounded by loads of baby paraphernalia - it was like a really well equipped and maintained nursery. Colourful walls with cartoon characters, a crib, toys and piles of clothes and diapers, it appeared to have everything but I had no idea why. The boss was smiling at this revelation and asked me what I thought. I didn’t know what to think. I was a bit shocked but, as I had no idea how to react I sort of mumbled some sort of approval though I have no idea why. His eyes lit up with what seemed genuine happiness. “Glad you like it,” he shrugged his shoulders a little relieved, “it’s one of my… things, you know, to help me relax when I get a bit… stressed.” I’m sure many high-powered businessmen get stressed with their jobs and I suppose they all need an outlet, although I always assumed it was booze or recreational sex and drugs, but hey, what do I know? What I wasn’t sure about was why he was confiding this ‘secret’ part of his life to me. “Er.… it’s all very… er… nice and all but,” I wasn’t sure if I dare ask, “why are you showing it to me?” “Well my dear Charlie, you are one of the few good-looking youngsters in our firm and, if you haven’t noticed, I like you a lot.” ~ I was stunned yet pleased at the same time and took in the fact that even though he was in his late 40s he had a very young out-look. The detour to his place was just an excuse to get me alone but when he pulled me against his strong body and told me how good-looking he thought I was, in truth, I was anxious… although mainly flattered by his attention. I’m 18 and have known since before I was a teenager I’m gay but had never acted on my feelings. However, just about any guy looking at me, or me looking at them, gives me an instant hard-on so, with his masculine firm hands touching me, that’s just what happened. He’s not the greatest looking guy, although for his age I suppose he’s OK, but he is very manly and quite an imposing figure… and more importantly, he’s my boss. Now I know my reaction should have been to throw a hissy-fit or storm out but I was dumb-struck as he slipped his hand into my waistband. He flicked the button loose on my trousers, unaided the zip peeled away and they fell to the floor. Although I was shocked, the feelings he was generating in my groin were incredible and I loved it so, when he dragged everything off, including my shoes and socks, I was more excited by the fabulous sensations than alarmed. “God, you are such a pretty… boy.” He breathed with such passion it sent a shiver down my spine. I was taken aback by this. In fact, I was pretty sure I was about to be raped and I didn’t know what to do. The problem was my cock was rampant, and although I was extremely uneasy, I was shaking in thrilled anticipation. This was it, this was the moment, this was when I was no longer going to be a virgin. I was scared. ~ “Do you know just how fucking cute you are?” He whispered in my ear. I wasn’t sure if he expected an answer but in truth I just lay there like a petrified rabbit caught in headlights. He licked my earlobe and then his warm tongue gently intruded deeper. I didn’t know my ear was so damn sensitive and I giggled and squirmed under his gentle touch. “Oh my God… look at you… you are a picture. Sweet, innocent…” He raised his eyebrows perhaps wondering just how innocent I was, “fuck me I want you as my little baby, my little chicken, my little… toy.” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at but he looked me deep in the eye and asked if I’d like to be his ‘Executive Toy’. My brain could come up with no thought of what that might entail so I nervously asked him what that meant. He replied that I just had to be around when he needed some executive relief. “You mean… er… to…” I was naked and looking into the eyes of a man who thinks I’m adorable but I needed to make sure I knew exactly what it was he wanted from me, “to be your… er… boyfriend?” He smiled a strange smile that I hadn’t seen before and slightly shook his head. “Mmmm, maybe but,” he rubbed my naked belly, “I need someone to join me in the nursery and you would be ideal.” ~ I think he could see the total lack of understanding in my eyes, although the stroking of my tummy was having some effect, he expanded on what he thought. “You look so sweet and, with a slight change of hairstyle and, well, other little changes, I think you would be a wonderful playmate.” He changed from rubbing my belly to softly manipulating my rock hard dick. “I get my relaxation from looking after… a baby. Changing him, playing with him, teaching him stuff, reading stories… generally doing… what a daddy should do.” My mind wasn’t really listening because I was swallowed up by the sensations flowing from my balls along my throbbing shaft. “You would be my surrogate baby and I’d look after you,” he looked down at me and I closed my eyes as my orgasm approached; his fingers working the nerves in my bell-end so I could no longer control myself. “You would become my pretty infant son at weekends and, well, whenever I need you to be a sweet, defenceless, innocent baby.” He stopped his long slow massage. “What do you think? Is it something you might like to… experience?” ~ At that moment I was on the verge of coming and desperately needed him to continue. In my longing I would have agreed anything if only he’d finish me off. He was waiting for a response and, with my dick in his hand I knew there was only one answer I could have given. My heart was pounding with desire. I knew I was agreeing to something but wasn’t that aware of what it was. However, a shiver of craving and a desperate need to come led my thoughts. “Yes.” I breathed. “Anything.” My desire for that orgasm had consumed every other sensible feeling in my body. I just needed to come and with this man holding my cock I was his puppet as he softly stroked it. He smiled and bent down and kissed the tip of my leaking penis. “You’re such a good boy.” His tongue lapped across my piss slit and I could feel my balls bubbling. I was shaking with pure unadulterated lust. This was my first sexual experience with another person, with another man, and I was caught up in the sheer sexy moment. Every nerve in my body was tingling in anticipation and I desperately wanted to drag this hulk of a man on top of me and explode. I wriggled and panted breathlessly as he took a firm hold of my cock. His hot moist mouth covered it and in a couple of smooth silky motions up and down its shaft I did just that. My naked body arched, a mixture of intense sensations gripped every fibre as I shot stream after stream down his throat, his tongue tickling and enticing the nerves at its end, engraving the moment in my mind forever. ~ After I came, there was no pretending; I was in shock, feeling guilty, possibly ashamed and wondering what had just happened and why? What had I done? What signals had I sent out and… my mind was trying to deal with it all. He was smiling and full of praise for me, telling me what a sweet, clever baby I was. Once he’d finished with the praise I think he noticed my shocked and hurt look but he just told me I could go far in the company… if I kept my mouth shut… and my mind open. I also realised that I was now the guardian of a secret but one I had no power to use. I was an office junior and he was the boss, who on Earth would believe me if I told anyone what had happened? ~ My exposed young body was wreathed in sweat and my post-orgasm thoughts were now of embarrassment and shame. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do next so I lay there and let him make the decisions. Despite being unable to look him in the eye I could tell he was a very happy man. “Well done little fella.” He ruffled my hair. “I think you’ll be an ideal playmate but,” he looked at his watch, “it’s time to get you back.” I tried to raise myself up but he just told me to lie still and he’d see to everything. He went around the room collecting various containers and bits and bobs of other things before returning to my visibly shaking naked body. First he used a very soft towel to wipe away all the sweat, followed by some wet wipes that were cool and smelled of menthol. The icy wipe was quite effective as he paid particular attention to my cock and I began to get hard again. He smiled but just shook his head as if to say that the fun was over for the day. He spread lotion around and sprinkled powder before slipping a soft, plastic disposable under my bottom. I wanted to complain. I wasn’t a baby and I wasn’t up for this type of embarrassment but before these thoughts had formed in my head and able to speak, he already had me secured. He held up a couple of pairs of plastic pants wondering which would suit me best. I was still too stunned to pass a comment as he slipped a thick crinkly white pair up and over the bulky diaper. He helped me to my feet. “There,” he said with some pride, “the beginning of… of a new life for us both.” ~ He stood admiring his work for a few seconds. “That’s how I always want to see you dressed.” He picked up my clothes and gave me my shirt and trousers to put back on - my underwear was nowhere to be seen. The loud crinkle from the plastic pants I found unnerving as I pulled my trousers over the thick padding. I could hardly get the zip or button to fasten as I struggled to get them to fit. In the end I had to give up and leave them open as I pulled on my shirt and jacket, socks and shoes. He drove me home and apart from saying that I was to wear a diaper to work in future nothing much else was said. It felt really strange having such a thing between my legs and I was wriggling around in his car seat trying to get comfortable. He was all smiles when he said that I’d get used to it but my mind was now wondering just what I’d got myself into. Mr Wojciechowski seemed very happy and in truth, despite the diaper, I’d enjoyed what we’d done. It was intense and because my first time had been with someone more experienced, it was brilliant. I was still shaking, that’s how good it was. However, now we’d shared such an event I was sure, once he got to know me better; I could change his mind about the disposable and all that baby stuff. I was beginning to feel quite smug that I had got a boss as a ‘boyfriend’ and that we’d be having an ‘affair’ in the office and nobody would be any the wiser. I began to smile to myself about how fantastic this might be for me… and my career. ~ As I got out of the car he passed me a small canvas bag and said it was my uniform and he expected me to wear it in the office the following day. I had no idea what it was but smiled my thanks and said I’d see him in the morning. He smiled back and said he couldn’t wait. My body trembled in expectation. So, as I waddled into the house, mum was waiting wanting to know why I was late. I honestly told her that I was working on an exciting new project with one of the bosses and that I was sure it would be terrific for my future prospects with the firm. Mum was so pleased she hugged me tightly. I suddenly remembered I had thick padding underneath and quickly pulled away and said I needed to change. She was so full of pride she beamed her love across the kitchen. “You’ve got everything you need to go far Charlie, the looks, the sense and that natural friendly ability… I’m sure you’ll be a huge success sweetheart.” “Thanks mum.” I hope you’re right. I got to my bedroom and shucked off my suit. The plastic pants crinkled louder and I just hoped mum hadn’t noticed the sound as she hugged me, if she did she hadn’t said. I looked in the mirror and the bulge seemed so stupid, I shrugged and thought - if this is what it takes to get on in the world… well… I was sure others had had to do worse. Besides, I was convinced that Mr Wojciechowski, despite his weird little ‘stress reliever’, would soon be only interested in having wild and frequent sex with his ‘sweet little Executive Toy’ and would forget all about his ‘nursery element.’ * tbc

Hi all, This is a sequel to a previously written story, but reading that isn't essential. This new story stands on its own The previous completed part is contained here: If you want the vibe, I suggest reading the interludes “The Great Shittening” and "Ditzies does it Again" https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/77379-weaponised-incontinence-in-a-world-of-late-bloomers-completed/&do=findComment&comment=1888109 Below is a summary on all of the important story beats: Prequel Summary Three generations after the fallout of an endemic, people have been left with long toilet-training times, up to 17 years in most. Nick is a very average teenager, if not below-average, who rode the wave of popularity when he toilet trained himself at fourteen, amongst the youngest in his class. He joined the popular group, made friends exclusively with those who were toilet trained, and lived confidently atop his precarious pedestal. He is however shadowed by his step-sister Laura, the class valedictorian, who is an incredible high achiever and beacon of knowledge. Her only flaw? At eighteen, she is still in nappies, with no sign of a successful training anywhere in the near future. Just how she wants to keep it. Laura is an incredible annoyance to Nick, always acting innocent to play jokes on him and scratch at his ego. Her tricks pique Nick’s intrigue one day when she soils herself in front of his friends to prank them. Nick suspects that she must have control over her movements, but just chooses to lie about it. Through a series of escapades, Nick goes on a number of dates with Laura’s secret nemesis, and the most popular girl in school, Cassie. It turns out that she was using Nick to get back at Laura who knows her secret - that she still pees herself sometimes. The story concludes with Nick finding out Laura’s secret, and her admitting to him that she likes using her nappies, and likes the way that he changes her. Unfortunately, things get strange between them as they open up to each other, and Nick moves across the city when their school year ends, to go to university over there. Laura, of course, will attend the best uni in the city. Chapter 1: Houseparty Blues Nick stood out on the grass under the cool and dark night, the house’s lights flooding the backyard and shining into his eyes and face. His hand formed a visor to cut through the beams, but even still his friends were just silhouettes in the brilliance. A muffled doof-doof crawled from the cracks in the shed door to his right, buzzing across the mud and grass and into Nick’s shoes. God a dance would be good right now. He was at a party, after all. He took a sip of his beer, trying to listen to what his mate was saying, but getting distracted by a bassline that he thought he knew. These really were the best nights, those in late March when summer’s last tendrils fought the Autumn chill. This time of year brought with it a still and frosty cold, one that reminded you how late the night was, and let you snuggle into blankets to fight it, but that dissipated with the still-hot sun. Perfect weather, Nick thought. One hand on his beer, the other around his girlfriend’s waist, perfectly chill night - this was meant to be the life. So why was he on edge? “Yeah, well Nick’s having trouble with that, aren’t you, babe?” Sarah said, and Nick was pulled back from his strange anxiety into the moment. What was the question? “Trouble with what?” “With motivation at uni. You know, there’s that accounting subject you hate,” Sarah said, and Nick nodded absently, hand squeezing her waist. He found that even without thought, his fingers played with the exposed edge of her nappy’s waistband. “Oh, yeah, don’t get me started. I’d rather shit myself than listen to the lecturer.” “Big words from you!” Luke, who stood as a black figure against the light, whistled. “You’ve got a perfect streak - not a nappy since you were 14.” “Yeah, well, I’m not gonna shit myself, am I?” Nick huffed. “So I guess I’m going to keep listening to old-mate explain balancing a book.” Shitting pants, if that wasn’t Nick’s life now. He figured that he’d never see another wrecked nappy after moving away from her family and step-sister Laura, who had been using nappies for pleasure and revenge rather than necessity, but then he’d moved into a sharehouse with a girl who was legitimately incontinent... “So how’d you two meet?” Tony, the other friend in the circle asked. “First I’ve heard of this relationship.” “Oh, Nick moved in with me,” Sarah giggled. “Moving quick,” Luke joked. “It’s a sharehouse,” Nick clarified. “They had an extra bed, so I took it. Moved in about three months ago.” “And that’s how the love story starts?” Tony asked. “Yeah, sorta,” Sarah blushed. “I guess it’s a little cliche, but Nick offered to help me clean up one of my nappy blowouts, and we caught feelings from there.” “Textbook movie stuff of the modern era,” Nick joked along, although cringed behind his facade. Somewhere in the past few years Nick’s wires had crossed, and the act of cleaning a nappy and caring for somebody had become sexy, and tied itself to his off-brand masculinity. Coincidentally, Sarah must have had a thing for guys with good hands rearranging her pants, and she’d been clinging to those hands ever since. Now, though? Nick dreaded every off-smell he caught from her direction. It’d only been three months and he’d already uncrossed those misplaced wires well and truly. This girl could blow-out a nappy like a chocolate grenade, and he’d somehow been caught with the medic’s duties. She shifted in his grip, her sides tensing, and Nick’s heart dropped in dread. Not now! he whined. But she relaxed too quickly, nodding to the conversation that carried on, and no smell came. Nick wheezed his relief. “How’s the rest of uni, then?” Luke asked. “And work? I heard from Shano that you’re a bit of a salesman.” Wasn’t this the question. “Well, uni’s otherwise alright, I guess,” Nick said, deflating to think about it. What even got him excited these days? It wasn’t uni, and it really wasn’t Sarah’s dirty nappies. “I just…I dunno. I guess I thought that by nineteen I’d understand myself better, but that birthday is just a few months away and I still don’t know if I like what I’ve gotten into.” “It’s only been a few weeks, though!” Luke said. “Can’t know whetheryou like it this quick.” “Yeah, but we’ll be twenty before we know it, you know,” Nick continued his moping. “And it just seems like I’m not ready for that - to know where I want to be, and what I want to do..” “I hear you,” Luke nodded. “In any case, I can just hope that Greg was right, and that Commerce really is the degree to get. But then what, join the corporate wank-fest?” “Who’s Greg?” Tony asked, and Nick was reminded that he’d only been hanging out with this crowd for a short while. All to get away from Laura and her drama. “My step dad,” Nick answered. “You might the office world once you get there,” Luke said, then pondered. “Although I can’t imagine you just sitting at a desk for hours on end.” “Me neither,” Nick agreed. “My work now is fun, but I can’t work at a Bunnings forever.” “You could.” “Well I wouldn’t want to, either.” Nick noted, realising that he hadn’t left himself with any options. “It would be nice if I could just keep the current status quo forever. Easy work at a hardware store, get the money, pay the rent, drink on fridays, Bob’s your uncle.” “That’s what my cousin does,” Tony spoke up, and Nick almost forgot the boy was there. “He has fun with it.” “Stasis life,” Nick repeated. “It’d be great.” Just then Sarah drifted away from Nick’s grip, spreading her legs as she shifted onto her far foot. Nick’s hand rode her short skirt from her waist down to her bum, where his hand rested, cupping her nappy. () He was startled when he felt the plastic press outwards against him Without even a grunt or a wink from the girl, a load dropped into the seat of her nappy, right against his hand. The plastic ballooned against him, hot and damp, as the mess creamed into the space. He then heard the wet squelch as more poured out, exploding into the seat of her pants. The nappy’s waistband puffed out with the bubbling farts, and he was sure this would be a blowout. He was not going to deal with this right now. “Sorry to bring the mood down,” he apologised, and retracted his hand. “But I’ve got to see a toilet about a piss. I’ll be back.” And he rushed off in a puff of smoke, almost spilling his beer as he jogged across the muddy yard. Really, Nick didn’t have to piss, he just had to get away, and he fumbled hastily through the house to the lone toilet at its far end, upon which he sat and locked the door behind him. Oh well, when in Rome, and he whipped his dick out anyway, just to see if he needed to go. Meanwhile, his other hand lifted his phone, and its fingers absently gravitated their way over to instagram, onto the profile at the top of his search history. Cassie’s profile. His high-school crush, and the girl who get away. Man… Nick bit his lip, looking at her most recent photo. This girl was hot - and she’d been into him for a bit, hooking up, almost fucking. Well...it was for the purposes of social espionage on her part, but that didn’t take away the fact that it had happened. He grumbled, scrolling on, admiring her. Was there a way that, if he could go back in time, he could have kept her interest in him? She was essentially nappy-free, which on its own was a ten-outta-ten feature. Sure, she wet a pull-up or two, lots of people did, but that was relative heaven compared to the scraping up of mudcakes which he did for Sarah. Could he rekindle something here? Was it worth sending a DM? His finger hovered dangerously close to the button. This action would drive a fork in the road - on one prong, a perfect life with a perfectly hot chick and no nappies to be seen, on the other prong, the ruthless humiliation of crawling back to a crush who rejected you. Or a third prong, the one where things go alright, she leads him on, and then breaks things off again, crushing him further. Nick was almost convinced to just smash his finger down on that paper plane icon, but he used his restraint. Having not pissed, he stood and flushed the toilet so that anybody waiting wouldn’t question him as he left, and bustled back through the houseparty to the backyard. There, the glaring spotlight from the house shone harshly upon Sarah’s face,which was sour and desperate. Luke and Tony turned to greet him, their faces structured in harsh shadows. “Babe,” Sarah whined and Nick neared closer. He knew what was coming. “Yes babe,” he said, pretending not to see the distress plastered to her facade. “Babe, I made a boom boom,” she said, and sniffled for effect. “Can you clean me?” Nick sighed. “Yes, come on,” and he gestured her up the hill and towards the house. Having gotten what she wanted, she skipped merrily along and up ahead, beating him to the steps for the back door. With her ahead and in the light, he could see the extent of the job ahead. From under her short skirt the nappy bulged into sight, waistbands stained brown. In the small of her back, just above the waistband - and luckily clear of her cropped shirt - sat a pool of sticky, melted shit. A fucking blow-out, Nick sighed.

EPISODE 1: First Days Are The Worst. Part 1 Rachel. Rachel lay fast asleep in her disney bed covered in frozen bedding as she slept she hugged tight her Olaf build-a-bear. Rachel as of just two weeks ago was now aged 10 for her age she was only just under the average height at 4 foot 3 inches. She has long red hair that right now looks like it has been through a hedge backwards. A creaking sound emerges from the door as a dark female figure enters the room and sits carefully on the edge of the bed. She sits there for a moment or two for what seems like eternity just watching Rachel sleep peacefully without daring to stir the child awake. Instead she just smiles for as long as she can before finally she must begin to wake Rachel up. She rubs Rachel’s shoulders gently trying to rouse the girl from her sleep. Rachel’s eyes half open as she lets out a small moan in complaint for what is going on. “Rise and shine my sweet, we have a long day ahead of us.” Rachel let’s go of her plushy rolls over and begins to sit up in her bed. “Did you really need to come in here to wake me up mum?” Rachel questions her mother. “Considering how lazy you have been over the summer young madam and how early we have to leave today I was not gonna leave it to chance.” Tired Rachel only gives her mother a sideways glance that says “ I have no idea what you mean.” in a typical pre-teen fashion. Rachel’s Mother looks over her daughter in her now uncovered flower printed PJ’s looking for any obvious signs of an issue over night but not seeing any she asks her about it. “Rachel, do we need to run you a wash today?” Rachel blushes a little at the direct question despite having to deal with her body now for 10 years and dealing with her issues of not staying dry for the last 4 months again after it seemed to stop for nearly 2 years when she was 8 she still was not used to the direct questions about it. “Yes I am gonna need a wash, I would have wanted to have one anyway for today.” “Okay sweet, put your PJ’s outside the door when I call you so I can get them washed before we have to leave and you know where to put your drynite.” “Okay, and yes yes I know a little more tact would be nice mum I am ten now not six I can be afforded a little bit more maturity with these things.” “Yes sweet you’re right I just forget, you are starting to become a big girl now and soon in a few short years a young woman that’s hard to adjust to for a parent.” Rachel’s mother gets up to leave the room to run the bath for her daughter. Once she is gone Rachel gets up herself and goes to her wardrobe to pull out her outfit for the day. She pulls out a pleated skirt that is simple and black, pairing it with a tee-shirt that has DC characters printed on it. She debates for a moment what to wear underneath her outfit. Over the summer they have been trying to see if she can manage wearing normal underwear during the day without issues but not feeling she wants to take the chance on her first day at a new school she pulls out the package of drynites and takes out a three she puts one on her outfit and the others in a small bag to carry with her. After having her wash and taking care of her teeth and all that Rachel gets dressed into what she picked out for the day and makes her way downstairs for breakfast. Rachel sits down on the sofa in front of the TV in the living room and her dog jumps up onto the sofa and sits next to her she turns to her dog to give him pets. “I am gonna miss you after today Rex you’ll be a good boy for mum though right.” Rachel's mum walks in with Rachel’s breakfast and places it on the coffee table. “That’s a cute outfit, sweet.” Rachel looks all nervous before speaking up. “ So um today I kinda don’t want an issue cause you know first day kinda so um wearing drynites today instead.” “That’s okay, did you take out changes?” “Yes two shouldn’t need more right?” “Not really but just remember to keep trying to not rely on them after today.” “Yeah I will just want a clean start, you know be able to make friends.” Rachel’s mum leaves the room and Rachel to eat after the last remark as she heads out to get Rachels suitcases in the car and everything sorted for the drive. After getting the car ready to go Rachel’s mum checks the time seeing it’s now 8AM she walks back into the living room to collect Rachel. “Alright TV off it’s time to leave now to be there on schedule for the day.” Rachel says one final goodbye to Rex and heads out to the car and straps in for the drive to her new school and new home till she graduates. The Phoenix Saints All Girls Preparatory Academy for ages 10-18. As nervous as she is sitting there waiting to pull away and start this new journey her optimism senses a new exciting adventure just on the horizon a short drive away.

Weaponised Incontinence in a World of Late Bloomers By Felix_Lewis Hi all, This is my first attempt at an ABDL story. It is written in Australian English, so be prepared for the term ‘nappies’ for diapers, and perhaps some Australian-local contexts and concepts. Any strange or common concepts will be explained in parenthesis. To figure out if you’re interested, I have here a short synopsis of what will be involved: This story takes place in an alternate present reality, where a mishandled global catastrophe created an embarrassing epigenetic condition for future peoples, causing most young adults to need nappies until they’re about 16-18. It follows the perspective of a nappy-free Nick, and his angst for his nappied and seemingly antagonistic step-sister, Laura (and all of her accidents). They’re in their last year of school, just trying to get through the popularity contest, mess, and expectations that come with it. This story features frequent messing and wetting, mainly from female characters. The plot, characters, and world are the main focus of the story, but if you’re doing the old “ctrl+f ‘poop’, ‘mess’, ‘wet’”, you’re also in the right place. There will be lots of messing and wetting scenes. If you do a ctrl+f search for “()” (back-to-back brackets), you will find the start of each wetting and messing scene. No missing them due to my verbosity, and no need for plot if that’s not your thing! Lastly, I apologise for any formatting oddities. This was written in a google doc and transferred over. If you point out something strange, I'll try to fix it! There are 6 “Parts” to the story, and I’ll be releasing it in these parts. I hope you enjoy! Prologue The rude chill brushed Barry’s brow, skimming by on a breath of wind which rode down the wide and dead street. The road in front of the hospital, which at this time would usually host a mess of cars and sirens, lay a barren in the cold, July fog. Leaves stirred in a lonely eddy. Barry had been standing in the silent line for near on an hour now, kept company in his now-permanent spot by the slow rustling of clothes and occasional cough - fits of spluttering which tore the line into a further frightened silence. Eyes would stare. His cloth mask kept him warm, although nurses - with only eyes visible through the all-encompassing scrubs - had come to hand out hot water bottles earlier. Barry had refused. He was young, and about as fat as eight years between his favourite pubs had let him become. He would be fine in a bit of cold. Those with the disease, though… Over two years since its inception, the fluttering illness had hitch-hiked eternal sneezes all across the wide globe. It wasn’t deadly, however. Barry had sat on the couch with it in the first few months, enjoying time off work between bags of chips and litres of cold water. Sure, it knocked you out for a week, tops, but barely a percent of a percent of people got anywhere close to death. It was a blow-over, everybody believed so. Then they found the side effects. It was almost funny when they first appeared. Funny, at the time, to lock people away in fear of a sickness just because a few pollies shat their pants. Barry chuckled against the fog, remembering the first Murdoch rag which blasted the MP who pissed himself on the open floor of Parliament. His hot breath steamed from his mask, and a voice behind him asked; “What’s funny?” Barry turned. A young woman stood behind him, her long hair tied into her scarf which wrapped around her mask, her hands held stiff in a long coat. He hoped that she was legitimately asking the question, rather than chiding him, because he was going to tell the story whether she thought him mad or not. “Who thought,” he said, already chuckling, “that a politician pissing themselves in Parliament would lead to this…” and he gestured about at the great nothingness that the morning peak had become. “A guy missed the pisser in Canberra, and it stops the whole world.” “It is a little crazy, isn’t it,” the woman nodded along, and craned to see the line stretching long behind her. “Masks, to lockdowns, to empty streets, vaccines...really got to figure out who was crazy, you know.” “I really figured out that I can’t stand my Dad,” Barry laughed, nodding along. “Every second thing from his mouth was some cry that the country had turned into a dictatorship. You’d think they were rolling tanks through town. I had to move out. Finally turned me into an adult.” “I found out that my Auntie was an anti-vaxxer,” the woman replied. “Never gave my cousins any jabs at all, it turns out. I should have known, from all of those Balinese statues she kept around the house. If she knew I was standing in this line...I tell you, she’s got the ingredients of this jab on speed-search.” “Ah, I know,” Barry smiled, but his positivity faded. Not a lot of people seemed to comprehend the risk of a life of uncontrollable bowels and bladders. The disease had evolved to make that a reality, somehow - although he hadn’t caught that mutated strain. They thought that it might even do worse, but the anti-vaxxer types would call anything of the sort fear-mongering. “Ah well,” he repeated, then, “ah fuck.” “I know,” the woman said, her eyes meeting Barry’s again. “I hope it works.” “Yeah, same…” he chuffed, and movement caught his eye. Ahead, people shuffled. The hospital doors had flown open in the long distance, and Barry could just make out the sign on the door. VACCINE CLINIC Those at the front of the line waddled in, orderly to the cold day. “I guess it’s time,” he turned, tipping his head to the lady. “You know,” she said, shuffling forward with him, “you’re probably the first stranger I’ve met in a year.” “I reckon I’m about the same,” he smiled, although not with his eyes, so the woman couldn’t see it. “Barry’s my name.” “Ingrid,” she nodded. Part 1 40 years later Chapter 1 Nick, feeling his knees crack, squatted to sit on the concrete steps under the near-spring sun, joining his mates with a sandwich in hand. They always sat here during lunch times, on the embankment steps which overlooked the school’s front oval. A too-aggressive game of footy bashed its way across the field, taking boys to the ground with feverish abandon. Lachie, his KFC chips slopping out of his mouth like a spent durry (cigarette), spluttered on his story. “...I mean, she was all over me at Michael’s last weekend.” “Mate, she was not,” Tom cut in. “I don’t know what planet you were on, space cadet.” “My rocket-ands crash landed on her hips mate, that was the planet,” Lachie insisted, then turned to Nick. “You saw, right?” “Saw what?” “Me and Christy!” Nick chuffed. He hadn’t actually seen anything happen. What he had seen, was Christy trying politely to make Lachie fuck off. “Yeah, nah, not sure about that one, champ.” Nick said, biting into his sandwich. “Maybe Johno knows something. Why don’t we ask him when she gets over here.” And he pointed towards the boy approaching, footy in hand. Being noticed by none other than Nick Petrios, Johno’s face raised a massive grin, and he waddled faster on over. “Nah, no way,” Tom said, standing to his full and unimpressive height. He yelled at the poor approaching boy through his curly, red hair. “Turn that crinkle butt around, piss pants. We’re not playing footy with waddlers.” Johno’s whole face fell, pulling his shoulders down with it. He pivoted meekly, taking his nappy-laden ass with him and back out to the oval. “Gee, Nick, you can’t just point at the babies! Then they think they can join.” Tom said. “Didn’t think he’d keep waddling-on over,” Nick shrugged. “The gaul to even look at us,” Lachie said, and gestured to his body. From his smoothly-cut, wiry-haired chin, to his barrel-like gut, his stone fists, and his notably napply-less shorts. Lachie was quite the statue, if the Romans were in the fashion of carving brick-shithouses. “Surprised he didn’t shit himself,” Tom added. “Or, maybe he did. Not our fault.” Nick laughed, although he thought Tom’s words were a bit too mean. It wasn’t their fault that the rest of their cohort hadn’t figured out when they needed to go to the toilet. That was, strangely, the norm for most until they got to 17, or even older. Nick had figured it out at the ripe age of fourteen, well before many of his peers, and driven by his sheer determination to be attractive to girls. Nobody who shat their pants was cool or hot - that fact just stood to reason. One of the infallible constants of the universe. Now, four years on and in Year 12, his flawless pants streak had gifted him a handy and tight friendship circle, something that was sacred and never to be breached. Hadn’t really given him the luck with the ladies like he thought it would, though. “Hi boys,” a voice came from behind. Nick turned, to see Cassie glide down the stairs, Luke and Emily in tow. Her long, dark hair shimmered to the sunlight as it flicked around her head. Her body moved to a wide-hipped gait, trapping Nick’s eyes in a pendulum. Beneath her skirt would be no nappy - not that Nick thought the boys would kick her out of the group even if she did wear one. Cassandra was too beautiful to be excluded from any cool clique. “Hey, Cass, maybe you can solve this one.” Lachie said, standing to greet her. “Oh, bloody hell, Lachie,” Tom palmed his face. “So, me and Chrissy at Michael’s party…” “The answer is no, Lachlan,” Cassie chided, strutting her long legs by him to sit on the lowest step. “She was not interested.” “Ah, poop,” he deflated. “Hey, speaking of poop…” Tom laughed, and pointed across the steps. Moving towards the group with purpose was Laura, Nick’s step-sister. Her school skirt puffed and bobbed atop the thick nappy underneath, giving the impression of wider hips than was humanly possible. Her strawberry hair, pulled into a messy bun, bounced with the waddle of her step. “She’s got a bloody towel between her legs,” Tom mocked. “Yeah, but she’s still hot,” Lachie nodded, thoughtful. “Oh, shut up with that,” Nick demanded - he wouldn’t hear it. “What happened to Christy-lust?” But in his head, he sighed, wondering just what was so important that Laura had to tell him now. Why did she always make a point of showing up when he was with his friends? “You might have a nappy to change, by the looks of it,” Tom nudged Nick. “You shut up, too,” Nick growled. Lachie heckled as Laura came within talking distance. “Resident changer is out for lunch. He’ll be on duty later.” And he laughed, nudging Tom. Laura, stern-faced as ever, planted her foot to the step and met it with a smirk. “You’re one to talk, Lachlan Fuller,” she beamed, “Still pissing the bed - not a mighty-high horse to yell down from.” Lachie’s whole body flushed red, and his brow furrowed. “I’d rather piss the bed than piss my pants in the bed,” he retorted. “Anything is better than getting dressed like a baby.” “Sure, fine, tell yourself that,” Laura rolled her eyes, landing them on Nick. “Dad says he’s picking us up from school tonight. Meet by the round-about at four.” That was so important? Nick grumbled to himself. We have the next class together, she could have just said it then…”I’ve got band anyway,” he said to her. “I don’t need a ride from your Dad.” “Alright, I’ll pass it on,” she said, turning immediately on her heel to leave. As she did so, the bell rang. --- Nick went to the toilet on his way to class, books carried precariously above the trough as he pissed into it. In the back of the bathroom sat a changing table, and a stand-up change place, which were both occupied by two boys in his year level, cleaning themselves up. Nick remembered those days - he’d hated it, lining up for ten minutes to get the royal service of pulling smushed shit out of your own ass-hairs. His determination was the one thing Nick was able to take real pride in, and the memory made him beam. His smile shone all the way to biology class, where he found Laura sitting front and centre before the teacher. His grin then faded. He shuffled into the almost-full room, taking his usual desk near the back left of the class. Here, next to the HVAC unit, the climate-controlled air blew away from him and into the class. This was the prime real-estate of each classroom, where the smells of dirty nappies and clouds of baby powder were magically blown away, never to bother him. Satisfied to be once more in his king’s throne, Neil pulled out his books, and followed the teacher’s notes. The class had been studying genetic theory in the past few weeks. Nick understood the concept of genes - that somebody had traits, which could be replicated, and made things in the body. But the mechanism of it? He stared at the whiteboard in despair, watching as diagrams slowly morphed into obscure satanic markings, devouring the wall in blackness. Each new word building on some concept which had already flown over his head minutes ago. Given time, Nick could figure this out, but in time with a class like this?... “And so, what do we call this kind of mutation?” Mr Caldwell asked, and Laura’s hand was the first raised. “Epigenetic,” she said. Epigenetic? Nick coughed. Where the fuck did the ‘epi’ come from? “Caused by an outside influence changing a gene expression,” she continued. Gene expressions can change? But, what’s the got to do with the...aw, shit. “Can anybody think of a good example?” Mr Caldwell asked, and before he could even acknowledge Laura’s hand, her mouth opened. “The Novello-Virus plague,” she said. “It famously created an immune response which altered the nerves in our lower abdomen.” “Yes...exactly,” Mr Caldwell grumbled, annoyed at the speed of her response. “Novo-2 is the reason why we all take so long to be able to control our movements. Now, have a go at the questions on page 238. They’re exam style questions, so they’re useful. Try and help each other if you don’t understand.” Ha, if you don’t understand... Nick shook his head, and flicked to the correct page. On these sheets, the devil was incarnate once more, his powerful ritual sketches zagging across the page’s margins, making evil the knowledge held within. Nick tried to comprehend the diagram, but nothing of it could click. Not even the words on the page made sense - each italicised term was connected to every other, forming a chain of incomprehension which bound the book to an endless, circular glossary. Frustrated, Nick turned to Georgie, who sat next to him. ()Unfortunately, she was also staring blankly at the page, but Nick thought that she couldn’t be as lost as him. “Hey, G,” he said, and the girl shifted, her butt crinkling beneath her tartan school skirt. “Do you get this Epigenetics stuff?” Nick had thought that she’d shifted to face him, but she instead looked absently ahead. He then heard the distinctive hiss from under her skirt, as she let her mind run, wetting herself. Nick could see the nappy sag as it poked from between her legs, expanding out of her skirt. Half of the class turned to the sound, silent giggles passing between friends as they privately mocked the girl. Just over half of the cohort were free of nappies now, and they were surely keen to mock those who weren’t. “I see…” Nick hummed, unable to capture Georgia’s attention. A plastic crinkling approached, and Nick turned to it, to find Laura making her way to his desk. “Did you go, too?” He asked. “No, I can help you,” she huffed, and leaned over and onto his desk. Nick sneered - it wasn’t enough to try and hang out with him, or answer all of the questions in class, she’d now try to tutor him? “Sure, go ahead,” he grumbled, with no other options. “Epigenetics is when an external factor changes gene expression, right?” “Sure, I guess,” Nick chuffed. “Okay, well it is.” “How?” Nick asked. “How does it matter? You’re already built, so what does changing genes matter?” “Because your cells are constantly dividing and replacing themselves,” Laura explained, “so any changes to your genes will eventually be seen in all of your cells.” “Yeah, okay...but how does it happen in the first place?” “Because the thing you come into contact with either reacts with your DNA, or it changes chemistry in your body which reacts with your DNA.” “I…” Nick wanted to ask more, but he understood the concept now. Why was it such gibberish a minute ago? How was it that Laura knew the better way to explain this than the teacher? How did this great lesson come from somebody who couldn’t even manage to stop shitting their pants? “Thanks,” Nick said, although with no sugar to his smile. “You’re welcome,” Laura nodded, sharing Nick’s grit. She pulled herself up, and waddled back to her seat. Chapter 2 Magical smells wafted from the kitchen, dancing throughout the house and up the stairs. These called Nick, dragging him from his top-storey room down into the living area for his favourite meal of the day - dinner. Oh, how his Mother was a good cook. Nay - a chef. That was her true calling, of course. The one career which she refused to entertain. It felt like she flopped between bosses, into and out-of life-altering decisions, a resident to all sorts of offices across the city over the years. For the past two, she’d managed to hold herself down to managing a family-run fashion shop. Who knew what came next. Neil helped bring the plates to the table, then took his favourite seat - the one with the prime view of the TV over his mother’s shoulder. Tonight, a beautiful pot of stuffed zucchinis cooled atop a wooden block on the dinner table. Nick spooned the four bowls full, one for each guest of the table, then took his eager seat to wait. Hauling himself from the couch, his Step-Dad, Greg, rose. His long and lanky limbs paraded themselves across the hardwood, reaching halfway across the house in no more than three steps. He took his seat opposite Nick with a smile on his angular face. Nick had lived with Greg and Laura for about seven years now. And still, the situation never felt like a fair family. It was obvious, no matter how much respect Greg tried to pay towards Nick, that he favoured his daughter and was more lenient on her. She who could never let him down. Nick swallowed resentment, because to act happy and respect Greg made his mother happy, so he would do it. Nick heard the loud crinkle before he saw Laura. He craned his head, watching her bounce towards the table from the stairs. Laura was a lazy dresser around the house - certainly, Nick would never get away with what she did, even in his nappy-days. She wore her thick white nappy exposed, white powder drifting from her arse with each heavy step. Her hair was long and worn down, atop an oversized red hoodie. A cloud of powder puffed up from her exposed waistband as she plonked her butt on the chair next to Nick. Laura smiled at him. “Don’t wait for me,” Nick’s mum, Julia, called as she bustled about near the sink. “Get started.” With the signal given, Nick launched his shovel of a spoon at the dinner, enjoying it immensely. Soon, his Mum joined the table, and the rush of cutlery slowed to allow for conversation. “What happened today at school?” She asked. “You know, nothing much.” Nick said, intent on eating. “I helped Nick in biology today,” Laura beamed, glancing a smirk to him as she spooned up zucchini. “We were studying Epigenetics.” “Ah, like Novo-2,” Greg chimed in. “Yeah, exactly, Dad,” she smiled, “Nick didn’t get it at first, but I helped to explain it to him.” Greg beamed, and his attention turned to Nick. The young man went red, falling into his seat. Yes, they already know you’re smarter than me… he grumbled to himself. You’ve always got to remind them, don’t you. “She did,” he said flatly. “You’d think with the money we pay for that school, it’d be the teachers who taught the classes, not their brighter students,” Mum chimed in, annoyed. Nick sighed to the saving grace; the deflection from his embarrassment. “Did you ask the teacher to explain it again?” “Eh, I don’t like asking too many times,” Nick said honestly, “you know, after they’d already spent so long explaining it once.” His mum frowned, then dug back into her food. A lull fell to the table with it, where everybody seemed too consumed by eating to talk. ()Then Laura grunted, and Nick heard a plastic rustle. She’s shifted her weight onto her furthest ass-cheek, aiming her nappy towards him. Staring off towards the TV, her face was caught in an absent concentration, gritting as she grunted again. Her hands now gripped at the edge of the table, hands strained. The seat of her nappy, pointed at Nick, shifted, something inside wriggling and poking out as she pushed. “Oh you’re bloody kidding me…” Nick coughed. He turned to his parents in disbelief, who didn’t seem to have even noticed. They only paid attention to their dinner, Laura’s grimace and grunting falling on deaf ears. He watched in disbelief as she strained further. Finally a hard mass shifted into the seat, her nappy bulging out to smush against her chair. She sighed, smiling, and pushed again. The nappy billowed out once more, a second lump crackling louding as it came, swelling under her ass . Laura sighed again, happy as anything, and sat squarely back down on the mess. Nick couldn’t believe it - pointing her ass towards him and shitting in his general direction. How could somebody so clearly bright, so intelligent in any other setting, so annoyingly favoured, get away with shitting themselves at the dinner table? Nick’s stare begged with his parents, who hadn’t even looked up or to each other yet. Finally, the smell of fresh shit and talcum powder caught his nose. “That’s yours to change,” Julia said to Greg, and the man grunted a nod. “Never change a nappy just as it’s messed - there’s always more,” Greg offered his wisdom, still focussed solely on his dinner. How was the lumbering man so utilitarian as to ignore the smell of his daughter’s mess as he ate his food? Nick tried to hone his focus with such intent, wafting the scents of the pot to his nose with the zucchini. The effort of self-deception was dizzying, and he had to settle with just not enjoying the food as he shovelled it in. ()Laura crinkled again, and Nick’s eagle gaze locked to her, brow furrowed. This time she squatted just off the seat, gripping hard to the table, but turned her head to hold Nick’s gaze as she pushed, smirking. Her whole body tensed, then a gurgle and squelch blew from her ass. The nappy bubbled from behind, squirming as a wad of liquid mess rushed to fill it. The odour was immediate, and deadly. Nick almost gagged - he wanted to cry, that he had half of his dinner left. He looked at the last zucchini in dismay. There was a second squelch - he wasn’t even expecting it - followed by a loud sigh as Laura finished off her bubbling, liquid mess. The legholes of her puffy and bulging nappy now showed brown. She took a slow seat, lowering herself onto the shifting mess, then raised her spoon back to her mouth as if nothing had happened. “I’m going to eat on the couch,” Nick said, lifting his plate. “Smart idea,” Greg agreed, but didn’t dare shift to move with him. Nick moved, totally stunned. He just didn’t get it - how could a girl so smart not have figured out the toilet yet, or basic etiquette? He mused that one day it would just come to her, like everything else seemed to do with Laura - learned and adopted effortlessly to the highest degree. Sitting on the couch, he craned his head back around to her. To Nick, it felt like her entire existence was designed to piss him off. Chapter 3 “Mate, I would end you at Mario-kart,” Tom grinned, ruffling Lachie’s hair as the boys walked the long path from the train station to school. Nick was glad for his morning free of Laura - on her own accord, she took the earlier train, to get to school way before classes started. It suited him - one less nappy to stink up the carriage. “Mate, this is old ground,” Lachie insisted, pushing the boy off. “I’ve already smashed you on every track, multiple times.” “That was years ago!” “You’ve been practicing?” “Of course I have. You can’t be a champion with no practice,” Tom grinned. Truthfully, a few years ago the lad had gotten into speedrunning, and failed miserably to run the game in anything resembling ‘speed’. He hadn’t picked up an N64 controller since. “You are challenging Rainbow_Road_69 here, Lachie,” Nick chimed. “Fastest thumbs on the N69.” “You know it,” Tom smiled. “He’s years out of practice,” Lachie rebutted. “And the years between now and my last speedrun is about the same as between the speedrun and you last beating me,” Tom added. “You can’t hold superiority four years after a fact.” “Okay, bet,” Lachie said. “But let’s make this juicer.” “I like juicer,” Tom agreed. “Even ground - we won’t play the N64 version. Let’s do Mario-kart Wii.” Nick’s stomach dropped. He immediately knew where this was going, and he dreaded the next sentence which he knew was coming his way. “Nick’s got it at his place. Why don’t you invite us around tonight for the showdown,” Lachie suggested, and Tom lit up, nodding along. Nick fell inside himself, growing nervous. Guests to the house, especially in the hours that parents would be arriving home from work, were in the domain of Grumpy Greg to approve. Whilst Nick’s Step-Dad was nice enough, there was one time when he demanded peace and cleanliness, and that was when he walked into his house after a long day at work. Strangely, for everything Nick didn’t appreciate about the man, he respected this rule. Nick and his Mum were living in Greg’s house, after all. Coming home to a clean and peaceful home was nice. Nick knew to uphold this sanctity. Beyond that, Nick knew that Greg didn’t like his friends. He thought that boys like Tom and Lachie were bullish and crude. Of course, Greg was right, but Nick liked his friends for their rough character, and for the shock of the more serene moments which came from them. His friends were men of surprising extremes. They certainly weren’t to Greg’s taste. It would be a lot of effort to convince Greg to let the boys come over just after school - he’d likely suggest a weekend, or barre the activity all together. Nick went to say as much, when Cassie arrived. “Hi, my favourite boys,” she joked, skipping up to the circle. Nick immediately lost his train of thought, and was now stuck at the station waiting for it to steam back to him. Unfortunately, the next train to arrive thought that he’d better check Cassie out, and he found himself sitting in its first class pullman carriage. Far out, she’s got a nice ass. And hips to match, it seemed. They puffed out almost cartoonishly, holding her dress alight. “Hey, wanna watch me smash Tom and Mario-kart?” Lachie asked her, his energy still high. “We’re going to Nick’s house after school to play it,” Tom added. Nick cringed. “Yeah, that sounds great,” Cassie beamed. “As long as you’re okay with me beating the lot of you.” Cassie was in? Suddenly, Nick had much fewer reservations about prodding Greg for permission. “I’ve just got to ask Greg if I can have people over,” he butted in. “We should be fine, though.” “Oh, Greg loves me, it’ll be fine.” Lachie waved a hand, “3:30 train, all.” --- At recess Nick fumbled with his phone. He pulled himself around behind the art buildings - apparently the old smoker’s paradise, before the school cracked on to it - and dialled Greg’s number. He was nervous. He desperately wanted Cas - his friends - to come over, but wasn’t sure how to approach this conversation. He held little reservation in admitting that Laura would know the right strings to pull, but he wasn’t going to stoop to asking her. He was a big boy who didn’t mess himself, he could call up his step-dad. Nick dialed the final number, and the phone rang. And rang. And rang. Nick almost became relieved, he could see the excuse forming ‘oh, hi Greg’, as the man walked into his door, ‘I tried to get onto you, but you didn’t answer. I’m sorry, we tried to keep things tidy’, yes, that would work. It… “Hello, Nick?” Greg’s voice crackled. Damn it. “Hi Greg,” Nick splattered nervously, “I was wondering if I could have three friends around after school, to play video games.” His voice fumbled the words. A silence was drawn. “I’ll make sure that everything is clean before you get home. You won’t even hear us - we’ll be in my room.” Greg hummed, then nothing. Were Nick wearing a nappy, he’d have peed himself. “Three friends, hey?” Greg mused. “Would they be Lachie, Tom, and Luke?” “Lachie, Tom, and Cassie,” Nick corrected, and Greg chuffed, as if he was amused to hear a girl’s name. “Right, usual suspects,” Greg said, then, “you’re just playing video games?” “Tom wants to verse lachie at Mario kart.” “No drinking?” “None of the sort,” Nick bit his tongue. Of course, Nick had assumed this, but Greg was right to suspect it. Tom, Lachie, and Luke could be rowdy when they wanted to be. It had happened before. “This is year 12 after all, we shouldn’t be drinking on school nights.” “Yes, you’re screwed on…” Greg said, implying that the others weren’t. Nick understood. “Yes, that’s all fine, Nick. Your friends are welcome around,” Greg said finally, and rather quickly, “Just get them to go home before dinner - I don’t want other parents thinking that I neglect to feed guests.” Nick was stunned. How had this been so easy? Maybe he’d turned on some unknown charm, or he’d done some unknown deed to land in Greg’s nice-books. Maybe the man just pitied that Nick had to eat dinner next to his soiled daughter. “Thank you, Greg!” Nick beamed. “I really appreciate it.” “All is good,” Greg agreed, “just keep the place clean for when I get home.” “And keep out of your hair,” Nick finished the sentiment. “You’ve got it.” --- Nick whistled on the way to his next class, elation in his veins after he confirmed the good news with the boys - and Cassie. Most importantly Cassie. Nick was surprised that she wanted to come around to his - even though she was effectively ‘one of the boys’. It’s not like they weren’t mates - they’d hang out at lunch sometimes, they’d talk at parties, but never one-on-one. No, Nick didn’t have the confidence for that. She’d certainly never been to his house. It seemed to push at some barrier of their friendship that she so jovially accepted the offer. Nick just hoped to high heaven that his room was clean enough for a girl. He thought about what damning articles might be on that unmade bed of his. Eh, if only he could distract them all downstairs for five minutes whilst he tidied up… ()His thought was interrupted as a girl from the younger year level, walking towards him, stopped in her tracks. Her eyes bulged wide, her knees buckled inwards, and her hand darted to her butt. A rude squelch and slop accompanied from under her school skirt, and the girl was held in stunned silence. Wet farts continued to blurt from the girl’s nappy. Nick disdainfully caught a waft of the toxic mass as he walked by. He gagged at the terrible stench, and was thrown into a strange thought. Why does Laura grunt so much when she goes? He’d never thought it strange that Laura put so much deliberate effort into her filling her nappy, but she always did. Most teens - even himself back in the days when it applied - couldn’t stop themselves. You’d be particularly self aware to even catch yourself off guard when relieving yourself. It just sorta happened - that’s why you weren’t toilet trained. The girl he just passed - now waddling off towards a change room - must have been training right now to have known what was coming. Eh, maybe Laura’s just constipated a lot. He shrugged, although something further nagged at him. The way she smirked at dinner - was she fucking with him? Saving a poo just to mess with him? How could she even do that?… “Hey, Nick,” he heard from behind, and turned. There stood Laura, her hair tall in its bun, her shirt tucked into her skirt over the obvious bulk of her nappy’s waistband. “Ah, the brainiac,” he greeted, “what do you want?” “I heard your friends are coming over tonight,” she said, and Nick could swear that mischief rose with her voice. He gritted his lips. “Yes, they are,” he wormed out. “Who told you?” “Lachie, of course.” Yes, Lachie, the weak link. Was he just teasing that he thought Laura was cute, or was he serious? Nick couldn’t imagine anybody being serious about such a thing. “I did a pretty good job convincing your dad,” Nick grinned, remembering to be boastful. “You know how he hates Lachie and Tom. Got him right on board. I wonder what him warming up to me means for you...” “I think you’re just lucky that he’s only got positive things to say about Cassie,” Laura teased. Nick’s brow furrowed. “He’s never even heard of her,” he puzzled. How did Cass change his mind? “Well, she didn’t, until I put in the good word this morning,” Laura smirked, twirling her skirt. “I told him that she’s toilet-trained, and he thought that it must have made her a good influence to have hanging around me. I also mentioned that all of your friends are toilet trained - it’s like, your thing. He seemed impressed - I don’t think he knew that you all valued it so much.” Nick grimaced, his confidence waning. He’d really believed that he’d spoken through to Greg, but this achievement wasn’t his. Just like everything else seemed to do in the eyes of his family, this success found its roots with Laura. He grumbled, eye twitching, but had nothing else to say but “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” Laura smiled, and skipped off, away to her next class. Nick hummed, his mind racing. Laura was up to something, but what would she do? Chapter 4 Nick slammed on cupboard doors, folding clothes at lightspeed to cram them into appropriate spaces. Used tissues were relegated to the tissue box for later rubbish sorting. The covers were thrown over the bed - laid smoothly rather than evenly, just for the effect of cleanliness. He’d told his friends downstairs that he needed to use the loo quickly, and had distracted them with ice-cold water. He hoped that they suspected nothing. Finally, the room clean, he strolled downstairs to fetch them, and pile them all into his abode. The first event of the evening would be Lachie versus Tom, on each championship cup, it was decided. Nick fired up the Wii, and handed the remotes to his mates, who licked their lips and twitched their thumbs in eager anticipation. They sat on the beanbags at the foot of the bed, right in front of the small TV, whilst Nick took his place on the edge of his bed. He’d presented Cassie with his office chair, the bees knees of modern ergonomic comfort, and she seemed to pause at her options. Finally, as the first track started, she lay down next to where Nick sat, taking the centre of the bed, close to him. Nick was petrified. The skin of her arm was within a hair’s distance of his leg. He swore that his leg hair even touched her - like some strange forcefield of sensors bolted to his thighs. He sweated, unable to squirm away as he was already squashed on the edge. Cassie must have sensed his aroused discomfort, for she grunted, pulled herself up, then sat down on the bed instead, placing the bowl of popcorn and chips between her and Nick. Nick was certainly a lot calmer in this position, and grabbed a mighty handful of snacks, deferring any talking. Cassie seemed unfazed- maybe Nick was just imagining her reactions - and the two of them relaxed to watch the war ahead. It was clear that, somehow, Lachie had an advantage in this game. Tom’s speed and reflexes on his old N64 - lovingly painted over, into the ‘N69’ - did not transfer to the Wii. Perhaps he relied too heavily on his experience and reflexes, because Lachie’s thumbs outpaced him in each moment requiring agility and wit. Lachie played the game expertly, hanging back in the mob to get the best weapons, then holding onto them until the perfect moment to ruin Tom’s lead. In the end, his strategy prevailed, and he won three of the four cups, causing Tom to slump in defeat. “Alright, who’s facing the champion next?” Lachie asked, beaming from behind the controller. The room paused, all glancing between each other. Nobody wanted to get their ass handed to them. So Nick had a better idea. “I think you’ve destroyed enough egos today, mate,” Nick said, “I reckon me versus Cassie next,” and he turned to her. “Your choice of map.” Cassie nodded along, her face cool. “I wouldn’t underestimate me, Nick,” she teased. “I didn’t. Maybe I thought you’d be a better challenge than Lachie,” he teased, and she chuckled along. “Alright, then,” Cassie said, shifting forward on the bed. She held her hand out to Lachie. “Hand over the remote, tiger. Let me show you how it’s done.” He reluctantly handed her his controller. Nick tried the same trick on Tom, but the boy was nowhere near as jovial in playing along. His twitching hand reached straight for the chips, which he used to pacify himself. He then shifted residence to the office chair, to watch from a distance. Cassie chose rainbow road. Which, of course she did. When you want to prove your worth, it’s the one track to choose. Nick could see right through the facade - or so he thought. He wondered, briefly as the lights counted to green, which approach would be a better flirting tactic; would he let her win, to boost her ego, or would he crush her, just to show her how good he was? When the light went green, Nick found that he didn’t have a choice. Cassie was good - good enough that beating her was a challenge. She and Nick seemed to pull the same tricks, as if they’d both been practising the same moves, waiting for the next party to show off. The fun had been called off, real competition in its place, which Nick could see from a glance had consumed Cassie’s face. It was a hot race of equals, right up until the third lap. Nick had been drifting a corner, out ahead, when a surprise from behind blew him off the track. A blue-shell, not even from Cassie, had knocked him out of contention. He ceded his defeat, bowing to his opponent. “I don’t think I really earned that,” Cassie said, awkwardly accepting the bow. “Well, you dodged the blue shell and I didn’t. That earns some recognition.” “Maybe,” she hummed. There was a knock at the door. Nick’s head turned, and before he could greet the person on the other side, they had already entered. Laura strode into the room, and much to Nick’s surprise and relief, she was wearing pants around the house! At least that’s not whatever she’s got in store, he thought, remembering that his friends’ permission to hang here today was her doing. She wore a loose, cropped top, and a baggy pair of trackies (tracksuit pants, joggers, etc.) which didn’t quite disguise the thick nappy hidden underneath. In the free space between the hem of the short top, and the waist of her pants, poked out her ruffled nappy waistband. It crinkled to her every step. “What do you need?” Nick asked before she could speak. “Oh, I just wanted to see what all of the fun was about. Maybe challenge the champion to a race.” Nick knew that there must’ve been some trojan horse hidden within the request - it couldn’t have been Laura’s plan to just waltz in here and smack his friends at Mario kart. “Nah,” Lachie piped up, rummaging through the bean bag. “I don’t really want to beat a baby. Seems unfair.” “How can you control a Kart if you can’t control your piss?” Tom added. Nick knew for a fact that it was much more than her piss that Laura couldn’t control, and knew from experience never to underestimate her. He turned to Cassie, who’d gone red in the face, grimacing away from the boys. Nick read the second-hand embarrassment, and thought maybe he should give Laura a go. That seemed to be what Cassie thought, anyway. Against his best caution, Nick handed her his controller. “You versus Lachie,” he said. “If he beats you - ” “When I beat you,” Lachie clarified. “ - you...I don’t know...leave us alone until everybody goes.” “And if I win?” Laura asked. “You get...my dessert after dinner?” Nick mused, unsure of what seemed like a good prize. He had no idea what Laura might want. “I was more thinking something gross, like you all have to do a shot of Dad’s ouzo or something,” Laura shrugged, then strolled to take Tom’s vacated bean bag. “Sound fair?” “Eh…” Nick wanted to object. If his friends shotted Greg’s grog, Laura could easily twist that as stealing the old man’s drinks, and Nick knew that would go down worse than the ouzo. His friends would never be allowed over again. Plus, Greg had been specifically concerned about drinking. “Yeah, that’s a deal,” Lachie smirked, and Nick cursed under his breath. Lachie took Cassie’s controller, and chose his level. In the TV’s reflection, Nick could see Laura’s intense focus. Her fingers were still as bolts, welded to her palm, tense and ready. Nick already knew that a mistake had been made. The race blew into action. Lachie took a fast lead, rampaging his way through the pack of racers. Meanwhile, Laura drove backwards, and lined herself up at an obstacle. Then, she sat her character still. “You’re desperate to leave us the fuck alone, aren’t ya, piss girl?” Lachie teased, but Laura smirked, silent. He lapped her then, with the full ensemble of characters bumbling in his tail. Laura chose that moment to boost. Her kart bounced off the obstacle, then flew high, over a boundary of the map, clipping through the terrain. Then, when her character was picked up, she was set down behind the finish line, and drove over to complete a lap. Then she reversed again. Lachie was sweating, just halfway through his second lap when Laura clipped the stage once more, finishing her second lap in an instant. On his split screen, the end of his second lap was just in sight, and Lachie drifted towards it, water running down his forehead. Laura clipped the terrain again, as if it was nothing, and crossed the lap for the third time. The race came to a close, the bouncy music rumbling the room as the TV replayed her calm roll over the line. Lachie lost a hold of the controller, letting it bounce to the floor. He was gobsmacked. “Yep,” Laura smiled, placing her remote down. “Nice win, Lachie.” “That’s insane!” he pointed his palm to the screen. “How’d you do that?” “Practice.” She shrugged. “Look up the ‘lap-skips’ next time you’re bored.” And with that she stood, hands to her hips, quite pleased with herself. “God, I hate ouzo,” Tom shuddered, watching her rise. “Why’d you have to lose, Lachie?” “I won us a free drink. Try that for perspective.” Laura nodded, said “I’ll be back, and then I’ll leave you alone,” and skipped off, out the door and down the stairs. God damnit, Greg won’t be happy, Nick gritted his teeth. “Did you know she could do that?” Tom asked. “I had zero idea,” Nick said. “Aw, man. I hate ouzo. I hate it more than Greg loves it...” “I’ve never had it,” Cassie said, “Dad doesn’t like me drinking much.” “Yeah but we all know that means nothing between you and parties, Cassie,” Tom chimed. “You’d marry a cider. Fuck it, you’d marry the whole ten-pack.” “Maybe I would,” she chuffed. “But do you reckon I’d marry an ouzo?” “Shotgun wedding, maybe.” Just then, the door creaked open, Laura sauntering back in. She carried a tray in two hands, four shots already poured into glasses sitting atop. Even accounting for the nappy, her step looked strange to Nick as she tracked into the room. Maybe it was just her concentration in holding the platter still, but Nick could swear that her gait was wider than before - her hips swinging around in her pronounced nappy waddle. She swayed her legs on over, plastic ruffling all the way. And then it made sense. ()Nick caught the earthy, musty aroma before Tom declared it. The whiff of fresh poo radiating from Laura’s padded behind as she waddled past sweetly with drinks. Still, she was without a hint of a grin. There’s the trojan horse...Nick sighed. “Christ, you stink!” Tom coughed, holding back none of his disdain. He recoiled in the office chair, elbow shooting up to cover his nose. Nick thought that Tom was overreacting - this was a very mild mess, did he not know how bad it could get? “I do?” Laura quizzed, her face dropping to confusion. She took a hand from the plate, patting her tummy to feel for its fullness. “I don’t feel like I have to go, but maybe…” and replacing her hand to the tray, she popped her knees and stuck out her butt. Her body and face tensed as she grunted. “What are you doing!” Nick finally caught his senses. “I don’t feel like I have to go,” Laura shrugged, standing straight again. “No, love, it’s already in your pants, believe us!” Lachie said. “Come on, put the drinks down and get your stinky ass out of my room!” Nick demanded, standing off the bed. Laura turned, handing the tray to Tom, and forcing his hand to catch it instead of covering his nose. “I just don’t think I messed…” Laura said in a voice sweet and innocent, and craned herself around to peer at her backside. She threw her leading hand to her nappy’s back waistband, and before Nick could object, pulled it open, peeking down her ass crack. Everybody’s eyes watered. A cloud of pungent fumes puffed from her frilly waistband, blanketing the room in deadly gas. Tom’s eyes watered, his hands stuck on the ouzo tray and unable to defend himself. Lachie fell from his bean bag, using limp limbs to throw himself towards the far wall. Cassandra launched herself up the bed, banging her funny bone into the headboard. “Oh, looks like I did mess, huh,” Laura declared, her grin devious. “Oh, you think so?” Nick growled. “Come on, get out.” And he grabbed her arm to pull her to the door. But she stood firm, planted to the carpet of his room. “Looks like you need to change me,” she said. “Me?!” Nick fumed, then tugged. “Do it yourself.” “Well, you’re the one who promised Greg he’d come home to a clean house. I don’t think this…” her eyes rolled to her pants, “...is clean.” Nick’s own eyes drifted to Laura’s nappy, poking out above the trackies’ waistband. Nick had indeed promised Greg a peaceful return home to a clean house. He knew that the man would chuck a hissy fit at the mildest inconvenience to his immediate enjoyment of his abode. Nick had foolishly taken responsibility to deliver these conditions. But surely Laura, after making this mess of his afternoon, could just do this herself. “You can’t do it?” he asked. “I know you won’t just sit around like this.” “I don’t do a good job,” Laura shrugged, “Dad’ll smell me as soon as he gets home. He won’t be happy with you.” He won’t be happy with me? Nick grumbled, his mind construing into the tangled thought process of a Greg. WWGD? Certainly, Greg would come home and smell a poopy nappy. He would find the poopy nappy, and undoubtedly instead of blaming Laura for messing herself and not cleaning it up, he would blame Nick for not taking care of it, given his promise of cleanliness. In fact, Laura would be praised by Greg for attempting to clean herself, and Nick would be sledged harder for allowing her to do it, knowing it would make Greg upset. Laura couldn’t possibly be the star child if her problems were her own fault, and hers to solve. But maybe Nick was prepared to take that bullet today. He did have the ouzo to blame on her. “I’ll clean you.” Lachie offered, with all too keen of a grin. “Yeah, nah,” Nick held a palm to stop the lad. “You absolutely will fucking not. Bloody hell, let’s get this over with, Laura.” “I don’t think I can wait up here,” Tom gagged, almost crying. “It’s painful to breathe.” “Yeah, wait downstairs. Help yourself to the TV,” Nick grumbled, his afternoon over in an instant. “I’ll be down soon.” And with that, he pulled Laura out of the room, across the hall, and to the changing table of the upstairs bathroom. An innocent smile plastered across her face, she happily jumped onto the high, cushioned bench, wrestling with her pants. Nick dug through the nappy cupboard, looking for an appropriate replacement. Pink and frilly, with big letters saying ‘I absolutely suck as a human being’ would do the trick… “You suck, you know that?” Nick said, pulling out a fresh nappy and slamming it on the bench. He now found Laura lying down on the table, her legs spread and bent, so that her feet sat soles-down near her ass. “Your friends are stuck up,” she said, her face red. Nick thought that he saw embarrassment across those cheeks - but he couldn’t have. Laura was just moments before smiling and giddy, her plan well executed. He didn’t buy the bait of her phony humiliation, instead remaining silent. He reached for the tapes, pulling them from the plastic and lifting back the nappy’s front. He was prepared for a mighty mess, given the smell, but saw only a small, clay-like mound stuck between her ass cheeks. It looked like a pain to clean, and he frowned. ()Laura’s hand snatched at his. Her eyes were wide and ablaze. “Put it back.” She demanded in a whisper. “What?” “Put it back on!” She yelled, her leg twitching. Nick seemed dumb to the urgency, sceptically pulling the top band back to the girl’s stomach. His finger fiddled at the tapes. The nappy jerked at his fingertips, caught only by the tape. Laura’s legs squirmed as a hot mess splattered into the nappy, the recoil almost tugging its waistband from Nick’s grip. Slimy shit gurgled beneath the padding, bursting to the splutter of the girl’s ass, forcing the padding further outwards. Nick, mortified, let his gaze drift slowly to the scene. The nappy bulged at Laura’s waist, saggy and oozing at the leg holes.A spurt of liquid mess painted the table to either side of the nappy’s seat, projected from the crevice of her legs. “Oh, my, god,” Nick and Laura uttered in unison - although for different reasons. Then she said, “wait, keep holding,” and grunted, her legs hunching up into the air. Straining, she pushed out a final spurt of mess, which bubbled rudely against the seat of the nappy. Then, silence. Finally, Laura wrenched her chest up, peering past her stomach to see the mess. Her face immediately dropped, stunned. “You clean me, I clean the table,” she suggested. Nick was numb. He didn’t consider this to be much of a deal, but he nodded to it anyway, waiting for her to lie back down. Then, watching for any change in Laura’s expression, Nick carefully pried open the front of the nappy. Oh, how he now wished for the mess which he’d seen before. What greeted him was about 100 times more pungent and stomach turning. An ocean of milky-brown cream sloshed in the valley between the leg-bands, mushy, putrid chunks spread within. Luckily, due to the nappy being bloody-well off at the time, it hadn’t caked all of her skin, making this job a little easier. Still, the muck seemed to flow down into the space of her ass crack, and Nick wondered how far back it went. He didn’t quite know where to start, but made an effort anyway. First, he taped the nappy back closed. Then, finding the dire-situations rag, he laid it under Laura’s bum and back, with her full cooperation. Liquid mess had leaked to the small of her back, almost pooling to her crop top, but luckily it was saved. Then, he untapped the beast. Deft hands had the brown river styx held within, which quickly made its way into a biohazard worthy plastic bag, and then the bin. This job seemed like a needless waste of wipes, but there was too much shit to stink up the shower, so wipes it was. One would expect wet-wiping your step-sister’s soiled ass and vagina to be pretty up there with the weirdest, most uncomfortable tasks imaginable, but Nick and Laura had long ago grown past the awkwardness. This was a job which he resented only because of how frequently he did it, not because it gave either of them the icks. Then, baby powder applied, Nick slipped the new nappy under her and taped it up tight. Not even waiting for her approval, he turned the exhaust fan onto max speed and washed his hands, ten years wiped off his life. “Rag and table are yours to clean,” he said through the mirror’s reflection, watching for her nod. “Better check your top, too.” Well, he’d have sworn that she’d deliberately fucked with him back in his room, the way she paraded about with a perfectly timed and smelly nappy. He’d have sworn that her need to push, and her ritual, impeccably convenient timing, meant that Laura had some level of control over herself. But after that shit-show? That display looked a lot more like a regular teen - alerted at the last minute, no ability to stop it. Still, with his afternoon in shambles, Nick had to believe that Laura had some control over her bowels, and that she was using it to fuck with him. He just had to find better evidence to prove it. Part 2 and Onwards to come!

Hi Everyone! My first attempt at a story on this forum and in this genre. Let me know what you think. Parts one through 3 posted below. Broken Cradle Part 1 He turned up the volume on the earbuds. It was the news he had been waiting for. The Premier Group was making the big announcement they had been teasing all month. Full Dive Technology was in the hands of the masses. “We’ve all had fun with Virtual Reality. Since the late 80’s, we have toyed around and experimented with connection to the digital world. Each year, we get closer and closer but have fallen short of the Grail: The Complete Immersive Experience.” Rion sat down on a bench as his mind ventured off listening to Clint Bryant, Premier’s CEO, introducing their new tech. “imagine, taking a trip to Hawaii on your lunch break. 30 minutes in the sun, feeling the surf, and then, you come back and finish the workday. Instant vacations. Doctors, what if you could dive into an MRI and look at it from all angles. Families, keeping in touch just got easier.” What Bryant was saying was the stuff of science fiction. How could it even be possible? Aall of this and more can be possible with this..” Rion heard the audience gasp and “Ooooo” and he couldn’t help but do it as well though he had no idea what they were looking at. “The Dot is a revolutionary device, one that requires no surgery, no permanent changes. Attach it when you want to, detach it when you are finished, and it charges inside the case.” Rion could not believe how they put all of this intense tech into such a small package. “All you need to do is attach it to your temple like so, and give it a tap.” Rion heard a thump, and the audience gasp. He jumped up, and ran inside to the nearest public building. It was a coffee shop with tiny table tents that read, “Looking for Wi-Fi? Ask me about it.” Rion plugged in his barely alive phone and searched the available networks, racing against the clock. He couldn’t find the name of the shop anywhere. He signaled a passing barista. “Umm, sorry to bother you, but can you help me log in to the Wi-Fi?” “Sure, she said. It’s right there on the Table tent in front of you.” “I saw that. That’s why I asked you.” “No silly, pull up the networks.” Rion thumbed open the available list, and scrolled to where her finger had pointed. Right there were the words, a network named “Looking for Wi-Fi?” Rion groaned. She said, “I think you know what the password is.” She smiled and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder before going back to her work. Rion tapped “Ask me about it.” Into the blinking box on his phone and clicked on the Breaking News section of his Home Screen. They were streaming the press conference live. Rion saw Bryant on the stage talking about specs and information transfer, but nothing about what had happened in the time it took Rion to pull it up. He opened a new tab to one of his favorite tech blogs where they were analyzing the information and showing highlights. There was a bright blue link that read, “Click here for the Body-Dropping Demo”. Rion clicked the link, and his phone enlarged the video. He saw Bryant show the Dot on the giant screen. It looked like a cufflink or a doorbell buzzer, a chrome ring around a pearl colored disc. Bryant attached it to his temple and tapped it. Bryant was in mid sentence when his body suddenly dropped to the stage. It was a jump scare that took Rion completely off guard. Suddenly, Bryant appeared larger than life on the big screen. “seamless transition between the Material world and the virtual world.” The image of Bryant moved to walk on the screen. “Some of you may be thinking that this has been pre-recorded. Allow me to prove otherwise. Now, understand that my consciousness is directly inside this server. My brain cannot receive any input from my body what soever. Now, I would like the young woman sitting in A2 to stand and walk to the microphone in front of the stage.” All eyes turned to a seat up front as a young woman rose up presumably from seat A2. “Now, many of you will not believe me, but what I am about to share comes from my own observations during my time on the stage. Young lady, I couldn’t quite catch your name tag from up here, but you do use a very creative J. Could you please tell me your name, and speak into the microphone?” “J-j-janine.” Came the nervous girls response. “Janine. Beautiful name.” Bryant began to write the letters, J- A-N… He was spelling her name in the empty space and Rion could see the letters form as though from a marker. With a gesture, he flipped the name around for our comprehension. Rion and the crowd marveled at the display. Bryant explained how the Dot had connected him to the venue’s network. He could see through and access all devices connected to the network. “How did I spell your name right, Janine? Well, let me just recognize this as a teachable moment regarding unsecure wireless access points.” Bryant said with a smile. He then made another gesture and touched some invisible point in front of him, and then disappeared. The screen went black and Bryant’s body, prone and still on the stage the whole time, began to pick himself up. He brushed off his designer slacks and rubbed the areas that made first contact with the floor. “My recommendation: Never use the Dot out of range of a soft surface.” He started to laugh. “You may not feel it on the trip there, but you will once you get back.” Rion clicked off the video. He sat in stunned amazement. It was real. Total Immersion and Connectivity, the ability to manipulate your environment, to access information, and feel sensations. While the rest of the country began to realize the implications, this would have for devices like Prosthesis and Digital Interaction, Rion had only one desire for this tech. It just had to be created first. Part 2 Gosling: Attention All Bigs, mids, and Kids. I need some help. Fractured_Prune: What’s up, Goz? Gosling: Anyone seen Cat_Noir? She’s not responding to my DM’s. AnarchyTabloid: I think she’s doing some server maintenance. Gosling: Awesome! What about Clint? I don’t see his username. Fractured_Prune: Bro, he’s a work. You know that. It’s midday. Not all of us can live a carefree slacker style like you. Gosling: Prune, shut up. Your giving me the shits. Fractured_Prune:……well done, my friend. Gosling: Well, you do bring it out of me. Fractured_Prune:..okay PhreekAmerica: Feeling like #2 suddenly, Prune Fractured_Prune: are you done? Gosling: I’ll take things asked outside of Prune’s bathroom for 100, Alex. <Fractured_Prune has logged out> Rion put his phone in his pocket and laughed. He would have to wait till he got home to share his ideas. Rion booted up his laptop, and logged into Cat’s Cradle. It was a forum created by Cat_Noir and was populated by many likeminded others like Prune, Phreek, and a global cast of characters. They were all united together by a common interest. They all had a unique way of coping with struggle. Rion sent a message in general chat that asked for all members to join at their earliest convenience. Slowly, the members logged in and acknowledged their presence some way. Some were general (“here”), and some were explicit (“Asshat”), but soon everyone was online. “Let’s move this to voice chat,” typed Rion. He got right to the point. “Everyone, I want us to adapt the server for Full Dive.” “What!?” said Prune. “I think we should upgrade the server and give ourselves a way to actually be Here in Cat’s Cradle.” “Impossible.” “Not anymore,” responded Rion, “Premier Group made their big announcement. The Dot is available for mass market consumption.” PhreekAmerica shouted “Yes, First Person Shooters for real.” Rion said, “yes Phreek, it’s going to change gaming. But it can also change us.” “What do you mean?” “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it before? All the conversations we have? Playtime? Cuddles? What instead of imagining it, we experienced it.” Everyone was silent. There were no more words to be said. Each of them knew in that moment that this was something they had all wished for, dreamed about, since they found each other. “So, where do we start, Rion?” Part 3 It took many nights and weeks. It was a labor of love, and became an obsession for the group. Each of them in their own way needed this to happen. Each of them worked in whatever roles needed to be done. Some learned new hobbies like coding. Others committed their drawings and creativity to the endeavor. But after long days and sleepless nights, the day arrived. Each of them had their Dots in hand. They followed the email directions, and when the hour struck on the appointed day, each of them attached their Dots and tapped. Rion opened his eyes and took in the soft glow of the room. It was a dome shape with soft glowing white walls and a light in the center that shone like a full moon on a winter’s night. Rion felt the soft cushions beneath him, and looked at the circle of similar chairs around the room. There were no hard edges, just softness and comfort everywhere you looked. He looked at the other bodies that began to slowly arise from the reclined seats. For the first time, they looked at each other, saw each other, after a year of speaking sight unseen. It was Cat who finally broke the silence, “Hello all of you beautiful people. Welcome to The Cradle.” They went through some technical items first. Cat told them how to operate their displays. Each of them had to swipe down with an index finger and a menu with options popped into their field of vision. They walked through the different roles of the group, and how to change them. Each member excitedly starting looking up options, clicking madly, but nothing was happening. Cat explained, “This is just our landing pad. We will always look here as we are, based on our own cognitive perception of ourselves. The settings will activate on the other side of this door.” Everyone’s eyes darted to a pale white sliding door, like elevator doors, that seemed to appear on one side of the room. Cat explained a few more rules, and had everyone go to their menus and look at the same rules and welcome and documents that they had transferred from their original forum. Each one signed their name with a digital imprint. “This contract, while possibly unnecessary, binds all of us to the terms. If anyone breaks any part of this contract, your digital self will be banished from the server.” Everyone sat stone faced. “Understand this,” Cat continued, “We are about to embark on something we have never done before. We are placing ourselves in a position of high vulnerability. While we may have shared things before, it was always through the proxy of our computers and phones. Through those doors, we will be feeling and interacting in ways could not have before imagined. This contract is protecting all of us. We each came here because our coping mechanisms made us vulnerable and untrusting of others. I will protect each and every one of you here, even from within. Is that clear?” Cat’s eyes shone with an intensity as she spoke. It made them all shiver slightly as if a cold wind had just blown through, or each of them were an antelope that had just witnessed a lion stare them down and walk past. It spoke to each one of them a feeling of, “Your life is mine for the taking.” But, in truth, it made each of them feel safe, protected, as if nothing could happen to them in here because of Cat. “Now, one more thing we need to do, kiddos. Let’s start this by finally introducing ourselves. I’ll go first: Hi everyone, I’m Kathleen, but you can call me Cat.” “so we’ve been calling you by your actual name this whole time?!” said a girl from across the room. “Yeah, it made this a lot easier on me than it will be on you. How about you, princess?” “Okay,” said the girl, “Hi everyone, I used to log in as Paci-Fi, but here you can call me Eve.” In turn, each of them introduced themselves to these others that they had spoken with daily but realized that there was still so much they didn’t know about each other. “Hi, you all know me as Gosling, but my name is Rion.” There was a pause, and Rion heard someone say, “Wait a minute, Rion Gosling?!? That’s amazing! Why didn’t you share that earlier? It’s a great pun.” Rion blushed and mumbled a thank you, and Cat clapped her hands, “Well kiddos, what are we waiting on? Let’s go.” The friends rushed to the door, and listened to the gentle whoosh of compressed air. The doors slid open to a large open room, one that they all marveled at at the same time. In the center of the room was a recessed square with the bottom two steps down from the main level. There were wooden cribs stained light brown, and changing tables with changing pads in every color of the rainbow. There was a small library with puffy pillows and bean bags for reading and tents for sitting in, and there was a art area with easels and smocks on hooks. One entire wall was nothing but stuffies and toys, and there was a kitchen area with high chairs and a bean shaped table with seats set in it around the outside. There was a single chair that allowed one person to feed each kid at the table. It was perfect, down to the last detail. Each one of them ran into the room, and then had to stop to adapt to the changes. For some of them, the room seemed to grow larger. Others found it harder to move. Rion found himself on his hands and knees. He was wearing a onesie over a cloth diaper. He looked at his hands. They looked the same as before. He looked aaround. Even the others looked like they did before, just their sizes changed. Others also gained animal features. Over each head, Rion could see their roles and pronoun preferences. There were Bigs, Littles, Mids, Furries, Sissies, and then there was Cat. Above Cat’s head was written, “Rocking the Cradle of Love.” It was a perfect title. Smiles slowly crept across each face as they felt every detail of the experience. The bigs ran their fingers over the furniture and looked in drawers to find each one fully stocked with care supplies. The kids and mids began sifting through the toy chests, and the infants flopped happily on their backs and grabbed their toes laughing. Nothing else happened. There was no conversation. Each one was content in this form, reveling in the sensations afforded to them. Rion was the first to discover a new sensation. He felt a spot of warmth spread across the front of his diaper. More and more issued forth until Rion felt himself in a warm puddle of his own creation. His eyes were half closed, his face a smile, and even without the flashing label, the other Caregivers knew what had happened. “Rion, do you have a wet diaper?” Shannon asked. Rion blushed and squirmed in his spot. “Nooooo…” “Are you telling me a fib, baby?” “Noooooo, Shannon.” “Well, little one, you don’t know this, but all of you littles have a special addition to your labels.” She bent down, and looked him in the eyes. “It tells us if your wet, hungry, and everything else.” Steven spoke up from the kitchen area, “I wonder if it can tell us anything else,” and she smiled at Shannon as if hiding a devious secret. She smiled back, “I guess we’ll find out.” Shannon picked Rion up under the arms and carried him over to a purple changing pad. She bucked the waist strap and booped him on the nose. “Don’t want you to take a tumble, do we?” Rion giggled. The feeling was indescribable. Shannon unsnapped the crotch of his onesie and undid the snaps of his cloth diaper. When it reached the cold air, Shannon noticed a sudden stiffening. She looked at Rion again and then turned to call to Steven, “Hey Steve, you were right! It can tell us that, too” Rion blushed. “Don’t worry, baby. We won’t take care of that publicly, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to do that now. Let’s just get you changed, and we can all explore this place together.”

"You can't be serious, I can't work with him!" I yelled at my teacher. "Look, Eric, I know it sucks but what do you want from me?" the teacher asked. "You both were absent yesterday when the class picked partners." "But I was sick!" I yelled at him "that dumbass probably just skipped school again. Why should my grade be hurt because of that!" "Mr.Ward, I would appreciate it if you didn't use that type of language around me." my teacher told me. "And I'm sorry, but I can't make any exceptions. Now you can either discuss what you have to do with Mr.Allen or your grade will suffer." I'm just beyond pissed as I leave the school. Why did this fucking have to happen to me! My name is Eric Ward. I'm 16 and currently about to be sent to military school. Why? Well like a dumbass I decided to fuck around my last few years of school and barely passing any of my classes. Because of that, my dad thought it might be best to send me to military school. But my dad wanted to be fair with me. I could either get my grade up and pass this year with all B's to make up for my previous bad grades, or go to military school. And wouldn't you fucking guess, my teacher decides to have a class project worth 1/4th of our grade and we have to do it with a partner. My partner, as funny as it may sound, if a fucking wannabe punk! The stereotypical bad boy punk. The type of guy you find hanging around other dumbass's with nothing going on in their lives who spend most of their time hanging out and smoking or getting drunk. With nothing left to do, I figured it I might as well go find him and tell him what's going on. I know for a fact that he's somewhere at the school because I saw him around lunch however he still didn't go to any of his classes. As typical as it might sound I found him behind the school's gym smoking with his friends. "Hey, Steve!" I yell to my partner a few feet away from him and his friends. They all turn to look at me. I could see Steve in the middle of them. His hair was all messed up, and his clothes looked like they were worn for at least the last 3 days. But instead of Steve coming over to talk to me, two of his friends did. "What do you want?" one of them asked me. "I just want to talk to Steve. It's about our class project." I told them. The two of them just laughed. "Just beat it, he doesn't want to deal with any of that stupid shit." the same guy told me. "Ya, when has school ever actually helped someone." the other guy said as they started to turn around and head back to there group. "Hey wait I need…" I tried to say until one of the guys punched me in the chest hard! "We said beat it or well kick your fucking ass." the guy told me. My chest hurt and I had no doubt that all together I would definitely get my ass kicked. I take one last look at Steve before I walk away. I tried to rub the pain away from my chest as I heard the thugs just laughing at me. But I wasn't going to give up that easily. No, if I wanted to avoid military school then I needed to talk to Steve alone. So I for the rest of the day I followed Steve and his friends everywhere. The first thing they did was go to the closest gas station and somehow got themselves a pack of cigarettes. Next they went around all over town meeting with random strangers, getting certain things, and finally stopped at someone's house. I had to keep myself well hidden for nearly 2 hours before I finally saw Steve stumble out of the house carrying 2 cans beer. "See you guys tomorrow!" he yelled to his friends as he stumbled his way down the sketchy street. I slowly followed him, trying to stay a little ways back. I jump and hide as I see Steve turn around, but when I look back I saw him leaning on a wall and sticking his hand into his mouth. Why? I then saw Steve begin to puke all over the ground! It was so disgusting I nearly puked. Once he was done he stood back up and started to walk like normal down the street. As I followed him I watched as Steve stopped one more time to hand over the 2 cans of beer he had to some homeless guy before walking away. Why the heck would he do that? I wondered. Finally, we reach the edge of the sketchy part of town and Steve walked over to a door. He pulled out a key and unlocked the door before he went inside. This must be his house. I took a good look at it and saw that it was a crappy small house. Probably only 2 rooms, if that. That's when I see a girl leave the house and Steve handing her some money. "Thanks again, see you tomorrow," she told him before she left and Steve closed the door. For a moment I was nervous as hell about walking up to the door to talk. But just the thought of military school calmed me down enough to finally knock. I waited for a little while and knocked again. Finally, the door opened a crack and Steve looked out. "Hu? What are you doing here?" Steve answered as he opened the door a little wider. At least he remembers me. "My name is Eric, we take English together." I told him. "Ok and?" Steve said. "What do you want?" "Our teacher gave us an assignment yesterday, but because I was sick and didn't come to school our teacher paired us up together," I told him. "I don't give a shit," Steve said as he shut the door in my face. That piece of shit. I knocked on the door again. And again. And finally slamming my fist on the door before Steve answered again. "WHAT!" he yelled at me. "Look, you might not care about that class but I do. This assignment is worth ¼ of our grade and I need to pass it." I told him. "I just said I don't give a shit," Steve told me as he tried to shut the door again but I blocked it with my foot. "Move your foot!" "Look, if I don't pass this class then I'm going to be sent to military school. So I don't care how long it takes I will keep coming back and annoying the hell out of you until you help." I told him. Steve just glared at me. It was at this moment I realized what I just did, I just threatened a thug how could possibly stab me at any moment. Steve finally opened the door and grabbed me by my shirt before he threw me inside his house. "Wow wow wow!" I yelled as I turned around and watched as Steve shut and locked his door before walking over to me and grabbing my shirt. "I'm going to make this clear, I don't want you coming here," he said as he pinned my body against his wall. "I don't give a shit if you have to go to military school or not. But if I see you hanging around here again I will personally…" "Steve?" a small voice asked. Both of our heads turned and I saw a little 4-year-old in pull ups rubbing her eyes as she looked at us. "Wat you doing?" the little girl asked. "N-nothing Daisy. We're just playing a little." Steve said as he let go of me and went over to the little girl. "It's bedtime now, we promise to keep it down." "O ta," Daisy said as she walked away. She was about to enter her room when she looked back at Steve. "Steve?" "Yes?" He asked. "When is mommy coming home?" the little girl asked. "Soon sweety, now go to bed while the big boys talk," Steve told the little girl who smiled at him and went into her room. "Little sister?" I asked. Suddenly Sive grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me in close. "Don't you fucking say a word!" Sive said in a harsh whisper.