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DIAPERED TALES FROM THE WASTELAND EPISODE 1 LEAVING THE LITTLE VAULT War. War never changes. In the year 2077, bombs were dropped across most of North America, wiping it away in less than two hours. But locked underground, protected from the blasts, some managed to escape into the safety of the Vaults. Deep in the heart of Virginia, lies Vault 86. The people of Vault 86 have lived peaceful lives for over ninety years. Most do not know what it’s like in the outside world–that outside the vault, they don’t sleep in cribs, that they aren’t able to play all day long without worry, and that they don’t even wear diapers. Armed with fresh padding, a dino pacifier, and the collected knowledge of his vault, Joe Palmer has been chosen to lead the first expedition outside in nearly one hundred years. But what will he find? *** “You’ve got your paci?” Mom asked, I pulled out my pacifier, tied on a lanyard around my neck. She nodded. “And you’ve packed spare diapers?” She checked my bag again, going through its contents one by one. “You don’t know if there’ll be any on the outside.” “I know mom!” I said, “And yes, I’ve packed spares.” I shrugged her off me–everyone was watching from behind. “Okay. I only ask because I love you, kiddo.” she smiled sweetly. “Already going out… ah. You’ve grown up so fast. Only twenty years ago you were this high!” she said, gesturing just below her knee. “Now look at you!” she leapt on me with a tight hug. “Moooom, you’re embarrassing me!” Even though she was squeezing me so hard I thought I would pass out, I accepted the hug, not knowing if I would see her again. Just before she broke away, I felt her tense up. She grunted a little, then sighed and went limp. The smell of her dirty diaper hit my nose almost immediately. As gross as it was, it didn’t bother me so much. It was the smell of home after all, a home I was about to leave for the first time. “We’re all so proud!” she gave one last, wan smile, then made her way back to the gathered group, waddling around in her freshly-filled padding. Overseer Carmichael nodded. “You’re doing a fine thing, son.” he said, and he gave me a brisk pat on the shoulder. “You get an idea of your surroundings, then come straight back here. Be gone no more than three days, understand?” “I do Overseer.” I gave a determined nod. “Good lad. We’ll have a good ol’ play party waiting for you when you get back.” he winked, and I gave him a smile. “You ready?” I looked around the room one last time. Two dozen or so people had gathered here, out of the three-hundred people who inhabited the vault. All these people had come to see me leave, I nodded to each of them. I was so nervous, my hands were sweaty and I swear I was already beginning to leak a little into my diaper. At least I would have that comfort, that reminder of the vault. “I’m ready.” I nodded to Overseer Carmicheal. The Overseer nodded slowly back, and moved up to the console, ready to open the inner doors. Everyone took a step back, I heard them draw in breath. I touched all of my equipment again, to make sure it was there–my supply bag (with food, spare diapers, and Mister Fancypants the teddy bear, of course), my holstered gun, and my pip-boy. “Joseph Olsen Palmer, we wish you good luck, and safe travels.” The Overseer pressed a button on the console, and an arm swung around to grasp at the inner door. It slid open smoothly, and spun out of the way. I took in a deep breath, refusing to look back at what I was leaving behind, and made for the outer door. The inner door locked behind me with a loud clang, and I was alone. I knew that the people of vault 86, the people I most cared about, were just behind the door, but that didn’t stop my nerves. This was it, the last chance I had to turn back, I almost went for it, went to knock on the door and call it in already. But then I saw everyone’s faces again, and the hope they had for me. So I remained alone in the darkness. Despite it all, I felt the bulk of my diaper keeping me safe under my onesie. Resolutely, I took my green dinosaur pacifier, and stuck it in my mouth. Feeling much better about my chances now that I had Tommy the T-Rex on my side, I stepped up to the outer door. It was angled slightly, tilted towards the floor like a massive hatch. I knew that when it opened, the first thing I would see would be the endless sky, just like the one painted above my crib. But so much more real. The outer door opened with much less grace than the inner one had. The machinery squealed and groaned, as if the vault itself was in pain. How long had it been shut? Nearly a hundred years? Three generations of people had never seen the outside world. My own grandpa had told me stories of when he was little, before the bombs. He’d said that people ‘potty-trained’ back then, and only wore diapers when they were little. He told me how angry he had been when they told him he’d had to start using diapers again, but after everyone began using them, he came around to the idea. Eighty years later, and diapers were the norm. It was terrifying, how quickly things could change. Vault 86 was a place to relax, and let all your worries–potty training included–disappear. Soon I would have to change my own diapers, sleep outside of a crib, and find my own food. My nerves rose suddenly, and I tried not to panic. Why was I leaving it all behind? Why did things have to change? The door inched open, and I recoiled. A golden ray of light shone through the small gap, brighter and warmer than I had ever experienced before. The sun. My panic transformed into excitement. This is why I was going out–to finally see what was outside, after all this time. The door opened completely, leaving a light cloud of dust in its wake. With a broad smile, and a mostly clean diaper, I stepped into the outside world. *** The massive door, with Vault 86 written big on the front, slowly rolled back into place, and I checked my Pip-boy–the slow clicking counter meant radiation levels matched our initial scan. So that was good. I looked around. Ahead of me was a wide, open concrete plain, dotted with the broken ruins of old buildings, and beyond that, the hills. Apparently this place was an airport, once used by soldiers, though I didn’t see any airplanes like the toy ones we had in the vault. My Pip-boy had been loaded with old maps of a town called Blackstone, in what used to be Virginia. My job was simple–match the maps to the world outside. “Oh! This is going to be so fun!” I wiggled about, unable to keep my excitement hidden away. I decided my first job was to update the area right outside the vault, so I waddle-marched all around it, and got some measurements, and made sure that the maps were up-to-date. After about an hour, just as I was coming to the end of my first survey, I realized that without thinking, I was weeing. My diaper had done a good job of soaking the accident (thank goodness) but I stopped as soon as I realized I was going. I didn’t have many diapers out here, and they would need to be rationed, so that meant holding it in as long as possible. I sighed, left with no choice but to endure the uncomfortable feeling of needing to pee pee. At least my diaper was nice and squishy now. I gave the front a poke, and giggled at the way it moved about. “Right then,” I said, taking out my checklist, “Item number twosies! Check for human activity.” The airbase was big, so big that I could barely see Vault 86 in the distance by the time I reached the edge. It was so quiet out here, I was sure that if other humans were around I would have heard some by now. Suddenly feeling very lonely, I decided it would be best if Mister Fancypants joined me out of my bag, and took him to cuddle while I continued doing a lap around the airbase. His legs dangled beneath him, whenever I got nervous I squeezed his fuzzy fur. Mister Fancypants had been with me nearly my entire life, and had insisted on bringing him with me. It wasn’t long before I came across a small group of houses on the edge of the airbase. The need to pee grew with every minute I was walking, but I knew if I could just hold on a little longer, I could save diapers for the rest of the trip. Plus, I wasn’t looking forward to changing myself all the way out here. I’d practiced a lot but I still wasn’t very good. I didn’t manage to hold it very long. Before I had completed another, wider circle around the airbase, I had to stop in a little forested area. I wriggled my legs, and squeezed them together as tightly as I could, but I struggled to push them all the way. My puffy diaper prevented me from pressing them together, and stopped me from holding myself to stop the wee, though I gave it my best shot at pushing into the padding. Before long, I was jumping from foot-to-foot doing a little potty dance. It was very rare that we had to hold our bladders in the vault, normally we just went whenever nature called, and got changed later, after all that’s what diapers were for. Unfortunately, that meant I struggled desperately with the weight of pee in my tummy, and felt a little leak into my diaper without warning. I hugged Mister Fancypants tighter, and tried my best to hold it in, but my best wasn’t enough. “N-nooooo!” Suddenly, the dam burst open, and immediately my diaper grew warm. It spread up the front of my padding, and across my bottom at the back, and made everything soft and squishy. “Aahhhh!” I gave an almighty sigh, and felt myself sag, my legs no longer tense with holding back my accident. The padding around my waist swelled and spread my legs apart even wider, until eventually my stream stopped. “Nnnnn. That felt goooood.” I said with a silly smile across my face. The now pleasantly warm diaper squished when I poked at it, now almost completely saturated. “Wow. I really had to go, didn’t I, Mister Fancypants?” I looked down at my teddy, but he gave me a blank stare back. “No need to be so mean Mister Fancypants, I really couldn’t hold it anymore!” Mister Fancypants didn’t respond. Deciding to continue my survey, I let my soaking diaper sag beneath me as I walked. There was no point in changing yet, after all I still had work to do. Besides the fact that I may as well use my diaper as much as I could before a change, I kind of wanted to find somewhere a little more private, and safe. Despite my earlier confidence being out here in the wild was beginning to give me the willies. My survey ended with a small, surprisingly neat, house on the edge of the forest. I guessed that this was the way into Blackstone, based on my maps. It was beginning to get late, and after wetting my diaper another few times, I decided it might be best to make a little camp in the building. I also quickly realized I should also probably change myself before I got a rash, or worse, leaked. I didn’t want to ruin my onesie. The house looked like a standard pre-war house, the sort I had seen in pictures in the vault. The garden, once cared for, had been left to grow messy and patchy. The wooden fence had nearly rotted away completely, but there were very few weeds, and hardly any rubble, unlike the ones I had seen earlier. I had expected the place to be in worse condition inside, but apart from a small layer of dust and a few webs here and there, it looked almost completely untouched. I stood still for a moment, and sucked thoughtfully on Tommy the T-Rex. “Yes. Dis will do niwcely.” I said from behind my paci. I uncoiled my bed-roll to act as a changing mat. It wasn’t like the ones back home, but it would do. “I can do dis. I can do dis.” I repeated to myself. With a squish that sent the yellowed padding outward, I sat down on my diaper. Getting the old diaper off was the easy bit. I ripped open the tapes, and pulled it open, revealing the very yellow padding beneath. It was all swollen and heavy. I folded it into a weighty little package, and then into a plastic bag–it was important to dispose of the diaper ethically after all, and not just leave it on the ground, even if the world had been nuked to oblivion. Right. I steeled myself. Now that the easy bit was done, things got a little trickier. After wiping myself down with a damp washcloth, I carefully retrieved the clean padding and placed it beneath me. I’d seen the Mister Handy caretakers back in the vault do this a million times, how hard could it be? I powdered over my diapered area, then lifted the front up against my belly, and leant back a little so it would stay there. Then I went to fold the back up. But by the time I turned back around, the front had fallen down again. “Mmmfff! Why is this so hard?” I tried again, but this time, focused on one side at a time. This worked much better, and I was able to stick the left side together with a single, loose tape. However, before I could continue, I heard a loud clang. My heart leaped in my chest, my hairs stood on end. I looked around the empty room, but there was no one there. Just the silence. Quickly, I went to tape up the rest of my fresh diaper. But before I could finish, I heard a familiar voice. “Get out of here, you burglar scum!” The voice called from another room. I shot up, my diaper still half-undone. “Sorry, I didn’t know this place was … well I thought everyone was dead.” “Are you trying to tell me you killed everyone? Good lord!” The voice said, growing closer. It mingled in with a gentle whirring, almost as if… “No I–” I went to protest, but just as the voice rounded the corner, I realized why it was so familiar. “A Mister Handy unit!” It must have been the one keeping the house clean. But something was wrong. The Mister Handy came through the door, from the darkness on the other-side. It’s voice was more crackly than the ones from 86, and one of its eyes was… well it wasn’t there at all. I backed up slowly. “Sowwy! I can leave ifu want?” I said, but the Mister Handy did not reply. It stopped for a moment, and moved its eye up and down, as if it was scanning me. “I-I-I-Intruders will not be t-t-tolerated!” It said, crackling. Suddenly, one of its arms arose with an attachment I’d never seen before–a buzzsaw. It whirred into motion, spinning sharp and deadly, and rushed toward me. “No!” I shouted, my paci fell out of my mouth, and not knowing what else to do I grabbed my gun. But I was too slow, before I could completely draw it, the Mister Handy’s buzzsaw launched at me. I moved out the way just in time, and the saw buried itself in the wall behind me. My gun fell to the floor. I reached for it, but the buzzsaw swooped in and I fell backwards with a crash. The Mister handy rotated, its eye focusing on me like the aperture of a camera. But when the robot tried to rush at me again, it found itself stuck for a moment, before lurching free. That gave me an idea. Quickly, carefully, I aligned myself with a light switch to my back. “Come on!” I shouted, which seemed to enrage the robot. “Intruders will not be tolerated!” Despite the strange nonchalance of its voice, it rushed at me again. I dove out the way, onto the carpet, and the Mister Handy shot straight into the wall. Its metal buzzsaw made contact with the light switch, and the wires inside. Electricity ran through it, arching and sputtering. The lights flickered on for the first time in decades, then sparked off again. I took the distraction to crawl madly for my gun. But I didn’t need it. The Mister Handy recoiled, its head spun wildly. “I-I-I-Intru-d-d-d-W-welcome home s-s-s-sir! I have ma-a-a-ade-t-traditional-carpet cleaner--s-shopping–the b-b-baby is asleep now–” and with a final garbled mess of words, its glowing eyes flickered off, and it went limp. I released a breath I forgot I was holding, and the silence returned again. *** Over the next hour, I dove into the Mister Handy’s wiring. Back in the vault, we hadn’t the resources to spare to send one with me, but if I could bring this one back, or even get it to help me out here… Thankfully, the robots were so important to our way of life in Vault 86, most people learn to take them apart and put them back together again before they turn eighteen. I was never the best at it, but I knew my way around them well enough. I decided to remove the buzzsaw attachment out of caution, and replaced it with a Rob-Co certified posable hand I found in the garage. Whilst I was at it, I renamed the unit Basil, after a pre-war TV-show they showed in the vaults. It was getting dark by the time I found the program settings, the sun was red in the sky, and golden in the treetops. The neon-green light of my pip-boy was all that lit me in the dark room. “Gardener, no. Shopkeeper, no. Driver, not that. Mmmmm, ahha–Babysitter.” I let the program run, and Basil suddenly burst into life again. Immediately, I backed up and held my gun at his eye. The robot rose quickly, and spun about itself. “Re-re-rebooting…” It stuttered, and went quiet. I worried that I had messed up the program for a moment, and quickly put my paci in my mouth for reassurance. Then, “Can I be of service, master?” The robot hovered, clearly waiting for instruction. I frowned. “What mode is cuwwently activated?” I asked through my pacifier. “Babysitter mode is activated, master. Where is said baby in need of sitting?” “Oh, I … right here.” I gestured to all of me. “Oh dear! Well we can’t have you in that state, can we master?” The Mister Handy moved towards me, and I flinched despite myself. “No…? What are you doing?” I asked nervously. “Why, changing your diaper of course, look at the state it’s in! I do say… wheoever put it on you needs a right bloody scolding” At Basil’s words, I looked down. With everything that had happened, I had forgotten to put the diaper on properly, and it still hung lopsided off me. I realized, too, that it had been a while since I last changed it, and I felt a familiar sensation below… “Hang on …” the robot paused, “What do good boys say?” “Pweese? Pweese would you change my diapee? And, could you pweese hurry? I fink I need to pee again.” “Of course!” The robot said, “And what a good little boy you are for remembering your manners!” Basil’s hand patted me on the head and I giggled. It was almost like being back in the vault. With some proper repairs, this unit could be good-as-new. I laid back down and clutched Mister Fancypants in my arms as the robot inspected my bare butt. Basil was much better at changing my diaper than I had been. For the most part, I just lay there and stared at the ceiling, sucking on my T-Rex paci as Basil cleaned me up. It felt good to be properly padded again, with the familiar bulk pushing my legs apart. Basil was a fast changer too, which was good, because I was growing desperate. Almost as soon as he had finished fastening the tapes, I let out a sigh, and felt my diaper expand as I wet it again. “My, my. Wet already! Do you need me to change you again, Master?” “No, I should be fine until the morning. Fankoo!” I slept surprisingly well that night. In fact, I slept almost like a baby. Maybe it was because I was so exhausted from the day, or maybe it was because I knew I had Basil and Mister Fancypants watching over me. Either way, I woke up early the next morning, ready to take on the day’s challenge–going further afield. Basil changed me out of a thoroughly soaked diaper, and together we made our way out. With a fresh diaper, Mister Fancypants, and Basil by my side, things were looking up. Perhaps, finally, I would be able to see what remained of the world, after all this time… END OF CHAPTER 1

Chapter 1: The Show That Changed Everything Terry had always humored Genevieve’s curiosity. So when she found a flyer for an adults-only hypnosis show and asked if they could go, he agreed with a shrug. “Sure, babe. Could be fun.” He didn’t expect what followed to flip their entire world. The theatre was dim, cozy, filled with couples and clusters of friends sipping wine. There was a buzz in the air—like everyone knew they were about to see something forbidden. The stage was set simply: one couch, one chair, and a single overhead spotlight. When the hypnotist walked out, a tall, silver-haired man with eyes like polished stone, the crowd hushed. “Tonight,” he said, his voice rich and slow, “we play with the mind. But more than that—we play with who you think you are.” Volunteers were called. At first, it was silly—people clucking, dancing, barking. But then it shifted. Terry and Genevieve watched as the hypnotist selected a tall, shy man near the back. He looked out of place—gangly, nervous, like he hadn’t meant to volunteer but got pressured by friends. The hypnotist guided him gently on stage and spoke in low tones. The man’s eyes fluttered. “Drop for me,” the hypnotist said. “That’s it. Let go.” Within moments, the tall man was kneeling. “You feel small now,” the hypnotist whispered into the mic, “so small you can’t think unless Daddy tells you what to think. You want to feel useful to Daddy. Don’t you?” The crowd murmured, caught between shock and arousal. The man nodded. “Good boy. Now crawl to your waiting Daddy. Show the room how eager you are.” From the edge of the stage, another man stepped out of the shadows—broad-shouldered, in a tailored vest, waiting patiently with a smirk. He radiated confidence, his eyes fixed on the hypnotized boy with hunger and control. As the submissive crawled to him, Daddy’s expression deepened into something almost reverent—he was watching someone surrender utterly for him, and he relished every second. “Present your mouth,” the hypnotist commanded. The boy moved between Daddy’s legs, hands settling gently on his thighs, eyes wide and adoring. He leaned forward, lips parting, and began to suck with slow, reverent eagerness. It wasn’t clumsy—it was worshipful. Daddy’s arousal was obvious—not just physical, but psychological. He exhaled slowly, his chest rising as he leaned back slightly, letting his hand rest possessively in the boy’s hair. His smile was content, yet hungry. Each motion of the boy’s lips and tongue coaxed out more than just sensation—it fed his dominance. He watched the boy with half-lidded eyes, taking in the sight: the flushed cheeks, the glistening lips, the soft gagging sounds that only made it sweeter. The pleasure wasn’t just from the act—it was from the power. The absolute control. The boy’s eagerness was intoxicating. “You see him?” the hypnotist purred to the audience. “That’s devotion. That’s a good little cocksucker giving Daddy everything he has.” The submissive moaned around him, trembling, hips subtly grinding against the floor. He was in deep—obedience and humiliation turning into raw pleasure. He never once broke contact. Daddy stroked his cheek with pride. “Look how much he needs this,” the hypnotist continued. “And look how much Daddy enjoys being worshipped.” Daddy’s other hand gripped the armrest, knuckles white, pleasure mounting as the boy increased his pace—sloppier now, more desperate. His legs tensed, hips lifting subtly into the boy’s face. His breathing deepened, each moan a confirmation of just how close he was. Then came the moment: a slow intake of breath, a growl of satisfaction, and the boy burying deep, holding himself still as if offering himself completely. Daddy’s eyes fluttered shut. He held the boy close for a moment, savoring the aftermath, fingers gently stroking through his hair. It wasn’t just release—it was fulfillment. Power and pleasure, perfectly intertwined. The boy’s body shook with his own climax, silent and overwhelmed, his cheeks still wet. He didn’t stop until Daddy exhaled and leaned back with a whisper of approval. When the hypnotist clapped his hands, the trance lifted. The boy blinked up, dazed, resting against Daddy’s leg like he’d just woken from the most vivid dream. The room erupted in applause. Terry blinked. “Holy shit,” he whispered. Genevieve didn’t answer. Her hand had drifted to Terry’s thigh, fingers squeezing slightly. That night, as they walked home, she was quiet. But her eyes sparkled. “Did that turn you on?” she finally asked. Terry hesitated. “I mean... it was intense. Hot, yeah. But more weird than anything.” Genevieve grinned. “I think I’d like to try learning it.” He laughed. “To get me to bark like a dog?” “No,” she said softly, voice husky. “To make you beg like him.” Terry didn’t sleep much that night. Neither did Genevieve. But for very different reasons. That was the night everything began. Let me know if you want more!?!?!?

Sunday morning, wet and ready to start day. Need to change.

Dear Readers of E. Leet Weekly, I'm having some issues with my new husband, and I was hoping some of you may have had similar experiences and could share solutions. Overall, my husband and I have had two issues. One concerns his performance in our household, the other his lack there of in our bed. Both, together, point to a larger issue: my calm, logical, rational thinking vs his spoiled, immature, bratty emotional "thinking." About six months ago, I got married. It was a sort of marriage many of you are probably familiar with- one arranged based on wealth and status, rather then affection, or even having met before. He was the youngest child and only son of a new money family, and I am from a family with a dozen generations of titles and history, recently widowed from another arranged marriage to a husband with even more. For them, the marriage gave their family titles and social status they would never get otherwise. For me, it meant I had some company in my old age, and they had plenty of assets I had experience in growing. Together, it left us one of the richest and most powerful families around. That left just one, less relevant issue, to figure out- the husband itself. All I knew was his name, Toby, and that he was the youngest of his family. That should have been warning enough- what kind of name is "Toby?" Imagine my disappointment when I saw him on the wedding day. A 'man", if you could call him that, barely in his twenties. I could tell right away the sort. Immature, weak, with a soft, whimpering chin, likely dominated his entire life by the powerful older women around him, and still reliant on his parents unable to make his own decisions. I guessed, rightfully as I later confirmed, that he was still being spanked for misbehavior to that day, and in fact it took a good spanking to encourage him along the way. Still, I could make due. He couldn't make decisions on his own, but he didn't need to with me there, and if that meant he would go straight from over his mother's lap to my own, then at least he'd be used to the sensation. The problem, as is often the case, concerns the difference between expectation and reality. Apparently, this whimpering, silly little boy expected to be treated as the man of the house. I quickly showed him he wasn't even the "man" of our relationship. I still remember his face in his first lesson. It was a sight to behold... almost as much a sight as his red bottom! Once I took over all his accounts and wealth, I set about investing and purchasing as I saw fit. This did not sit well with Toby. Apparently, he thought this would be HIS job, despite my FAR greater experience and ability. After he realized I was making decisions without his input, he came in to discuss it with me. "Discuss" we did, if you could call his throwing a temper tantrum as I calmly explained that his input wasn't needed, his part was complete when he gave me his wealth and his sisters and mother got a name they could attend parties with, and he should obey me. I told him he could sign his name next to mine, even take credit in public, but it would be my choices. He continued whining as I rational explained this, until i decided that if rationality wasn't getting through his thick, adorable little head, I could try it through another path. I nodded along to his whining, then with one swift motion, grabbed his wrist, undid his pants, and pulled him over my lap. He was too shocked to respond at first, perhaps guessing it was some kind of sex game (more on THAT topic later), but when the first spank fell on his upturned bottom, the reality of the situation hit as hard as the spanking he was about to receive. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Many readers here will recognize the good, sure effect of a spanking for their misbehaved husbands. I really wonder what worked better for my husband's mentality. The pain, or the embarrassment of my having to punish him as if he was a child, with members of our staff watching on top of it! He probably thought he was above them, so having them see him get spanked, knowing if anything THEY were all respected workers above such treatment and merely laughed at his naked bottom, did wonders for his mentality. Oh, sure, he struggled. He whined, cried, called for the staff to help him, kicked, punched... all for naught. He may have thought that as a "man" he could overpower me, but a lifetime of privilege had left the narrow shouldered, thin armed boy with little muscle or knowledge of how to fight, while I had spent years exercising and practiced judo with the other women for self defence. A brief pause, an arm twisted behind his back, and I continued the spanking with new vigor. Soon, he was in tears and just begging me to stop. Once I decided he had enough, I waited for his apology, then sat him on my lap, pants still around his ankles. It was a fine sight for a "man," cuddling in my lap, knees practically in a fetal position, and huffing and sniveling into a handkerchief like a baby. (More on THAT later too) I then calmly explained the reality of his situation. He was a silly little boy with no valuable skills or experience, who was lucky to come from a rich family. The only benefit he could provide was what was now exposed between his legs, and the opportunity it provided to his parents to marry him off. They wanted social status, and had traded him, along with a hefty dowry, to me for that. Now, his part was done, and he could enjoy his rich, luxurious life as the real adults made decisions for him. All he had to do was be a good boy and let us make the decisions, and I'd let him continue his life while buying him all the toys and pretty clothes he wanted. If he fought too much, I had no issue "losing" him somewhere on the street, and everyone BUT him would still get what they wanted. Oh, sure, there was more whining, but it was hard for him to argue while squirming on his recently spanked bottom. This was the first time he challenged his situation, and ended quickly, but it would be far from the last. Though I couldn't yet ensure he always behaved, however, we now established a good way to correct his misbehavior. To me, it was more important to teach him that I could spank him when I saw fit, and would do so when needed, then to simply stop the one outburst. So, from then on, his spankings came regularly. Any fighting or backtalk, any sign of his bratty attitude, or just any time my rational explanations didn't land in his confused brain (which was often), I'd fix the issue by pulling him over my lap, pants down, for a long, hard, spanking. At first, he struggled and fought, which probably humiliated him even more he realized how easily I could overpower him. Then he moved to whining and begging, which really just made the situation all the more adorable for me. He tried ordering, then asking, the staff for help, which lead to them snickering and reinforced he had no power over them despite officially being the "man" of the house. (At this point they were already calling him "boy of the house" as a joke) He at one point threatened to out my behaviour to his family, and I invited him to do just that, go to his family and tell them his new wife could over power him and spank him at will. His blushing face said it all as he realized their reaction would probably be laughing and congratulating me for finding the right way to deal with their bratty younger brother. And really, what choice did he have? I explained each possible outcome. He could ask for help from others, and be laughed at. He could divorce, but then his submissiveness would be made public in court, and not only would he lose all his fortune to me, but his pride. Then what? He could run to his family, but would they take the sad little loser who had lost most of their money? They never respected him to begin with, and they got what they wanted from him-connection to old wealth. Or, he could exercise and try to fight back, but the staff were on my side, and unlike him my complaining about him would lead to people supporting me rather then laughing and an even more one-sided divorce. I had him by the balls, or whatever he had where they should have been. So, the spankings continued. I added some other punishments. For anyone wondering, "corner time"- having them stand facing the corner and unmoving for an hour or so- will work wonders on your husband when they throw particularly emotional tantrums. Embarrassing clothes (MUCH more on this later) help, as did early bedtimes. However, the spankings still reigned supreme as the authority in my husband's new life. The staff learned to recognize the signs, and would snicker at him as he sat squirming on his aching bottom, or laugh outright when they waled in on him, nose in the corner, with his pants around his ankle and bright red bottom on display for all to see. He, of course, threatened to tell people. I'm sure in his spoiled little brain that made sense in a way, and he envisioned some force coming to help him. I simply laughed, and told him to do it- tell everyone that he was upset because despite his being a grown man, his wife was spanking him daily for misbehaving like a naughty child. His face dropped, and I sent him to the corner. It only took a few weeks and perhaps a one or two dozen spankings for him to accept them and start crawling over my lap on command. If he argued, all i had to do was raise an eyebrow and point to my lap, and he sighed, then bend over obediently. What a good boy he was, for a short while. That is when I started pushing further. I think, in his mind, while he was clearly beneath me, he still saw himself as above the staff. This idea was soon squashed. The first time I sent a maid to collect him, he shouted and argued as bad as the first disagreement. I had noticed an error in the paperwork I had him fill out, and sent her to tell him to come to me for his spanking. I fixed this problem by going down myself. When he saw me with my arms folded, he stuttered and claimed he didn't believe the maid. I assured him she wouldn't lie, told him he had doubled his spanking and corner time by arguing, and ordered him over my lap. From then on, I almost exclusively used maids to order him in, reinforcing his new status. (This one is already written and the next parts should be up soon. I just need to edit to fit the rules of this page)

Hey all! I'm back with a brand new story! This one comes to us in part thanks to the help of @princessdiapergirl who helped me bring this kinky tale to life. Enjoy! /////////////////////////// Heather walked up the neat garden path, leading to her friend's house. It was surprisingly well kept, with pots of flowers of all different kinds flourishing in the sun. Why was she here? Well, to prove that her friend was wrong and that there's no such thing as magic or witches! Honestly, it was just silly that a grown woman should go around declaring herself to be a witch! But Skye just kept on insisting that she could prove it. Heather thought it to be a stupid piece of make-believe, but only mildly entertained it, or brushed it off, because apart from that, Skye was a nice woman, and a good friend--perhaps someday more than just a good friend... But she couldn't let herself entertain such ideas. Heather didn't want to risk ruining her friendship over feelings that might not be reciprocated. The door opened to reveal a tall, blonde woman who looked exactly like you'd expect a witch to dress. A silky black blouse fell to a flowing skirt to match. Silver earrings in the shapes of spiders dangled on either side of her head, and her wrists were both adorned with a variety of beads and charms. "Heather! Come in, come in!" Heather's own aesthetic was altogether the opposite of Skye's. There was lots of pink, mostly everything she wore was some shade of it. Right now, she wore a pink crop top, somewhat gaudily emblazoned with a designer logo across the front, accompanied by a similarly pink skirt, though one far shorter than Skye's. An unfortunate gust of wind would certainly be the last thing she wanted, given its length. She smiled, entering Skye's home and almost tripping over a potted plant along the way on account of her high heels, which she wore despite her inability to walk in them very well. "So," Skye began, leading Heather through her home, "Are you ready to be freed from your skepticism today? I've got quite the *enchanting* day planned for us." "I'll believe it when I see it." She snorted, her haughty nature shining through for a moment. "What sorts of things are you gonna do then? Take a rabbit out of a hat or something?" Skye chuckled warmly, "Nothing so mundane. When I'm done with you today, you will never doubt the existence of magic again. If I fail, I promise you'll never hear another witchy word from me about the supernatural. Deal?" "Deal." She smirked, extending her hand to shake. Each finger was tipped with a ghastly-looking pink nail, far too long to be practical. Just her strange aesthetics. Skye led Heather into a bedroom that had been converted into... Something else. The center of the dimly-lit room was an open space with only a yoga mat covering the hard wood floor. The few pieces of furniture in the room--a bookshelf, a small table, and a mirror that was covered up by a sheet--were against opposite walls. The table was also covered in candles, jars, and just a lot of weird nonsense that Heather didn't understand. "Here we are!" Skye said, "This is, quite literally, where the magic happens." "The magic of your hippy yoga?" She smirked, gazing around the room. "Yoga can be a powerful tool for unlocking the potential of both the body and mind... But no." Skye responded, "The first thing we need to do is open your spirit to the magical forces of the universe." Heather raised an eyebrow "Right, and how do we do such a thing?" "It's quite simple, actually." Skye said before reaching out and taking both of Heather's hands in hers. Heather despised how her face heated up just a little at the contact. "R-right-.." She tried to sound skeptical, but also hated how her voice wavered slightly. Skye looked deep into Heather's eyes, "I am asking you, Heather, to open your spirit to my magic. Will you invite me in? A simple 'yes' is all that I need." Heather wanted to look away, but at the same time she didn't--she wanted to be drawn even deeper into those perfect, green eyes. "... Fine. U-uh- I mean.. yes." The supposed witch released Heather's hand, a wide smile beaming across her face, "Perfect! Now lay down on the yoga mat." she said, turning to her table and fiddling with the various implements there. She huffed, walking to the mat in the middle of the room. "You sure you're not tricking me?" "No trickery whatsoever." Skye said, not turning from her business at the table, "I'm going to cast a spell on you that will forever change your perspective." Skye turned and came over to her friend on the floor with a stick of some kind in one hand and a jar in the other. "Now this might tickle a little. I need to draw my magical sigils on your feet, hands, and forehead." "There- there's no way I'd let you do that!" She squeaked, giving Skye her signature glare. "Relax, I'm not using a permanent marker or anything. It's just a powder mixture. Well, to *you* it's just powder. To me these are powerful magical reagents. But you don't *believe* in magic, right?" Skye taunted with a wink. "As long as it doesn't leave a mark.." She grumbled, conceding and allowing Skye to use the powder. "I promise it will not." Skye said, dabbing the stick into the jar of powder before rubbing it on the tops of Heather's feet in nigh-imperceptible patterns. The witch's friend writhed a little, trying not to move too much. Skye moved on to Heather's hands, which were not nearly as ticklish as the feet. When it came time for Heather's forehead to receive the same treatment, she was able to get a whiff of whatever concoction Skye was putting on her body. It didn't smell bad, in fact it smelled kinda sweet. Kinda like... Baby powder? Heather wasn't exactly sure, as she hadn't smelt that since she was a baby, for obvious reasons. She couldn't help but think that was what it was, but then again what did she know about magic? "And there we... Go!" Skye said, abruptly standing up. "By silver moon and golden sun, let now my will on earth be done!" At first, Heather felt nothing. "See, I told you it didn't-" But before she could finish, she felt a sort of tingle in her limbs, spreading throughout her body. She felt like she was shrinking? What? Looking down, she saw just that, her body shrinking and almost seeming to close in on itself. It felt ticklish more than anything, but upon trying to laugh she found she couldn't, in fact she couldn't speak at all. With a poof of what surely must've been baby powder, she fell to the floor. ..it didn't hurt as she'd though it would, though. In fact, something seemed to cushion her fall. The way she fell to the ground left her lying face down, and since she couldn't seem to move at all, that meant she was incapable of seeing whatever it was. /////////////////////////// Did you know that I'm available for Story Commissions? If you'd like to see your story idea brought to life, you can find my Commission details here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sKl8NUcpBs609wHqywGSDg-kJRxo219SKblZA5r1GEk/edit?usp=drivesdk

The day that chang everything Chapter 1 Ever since Alex was young, he felt a solid connection to diapers. This fascination has been with him for many years, from early childhood when he was jealous to see other children with diapers when he was in kindergarten. Alex never dared to purchase until he turned twelve years old, and that first purchase was a trip to the store to buy Pampers, and what a rush of humiliation and excitement it gave him. That feeling made an indescribable feeling, something he had never felt before. As Alex grew older, he went on his first visit to the pharmacy and purchased his first pack of honest adult diapers; the same rush came once again. The biggest rush and humiliation he experienced was when he returned to the pharmacy, and the pharmacist woman asked directly, “Did it fit?” He is 38 years old and has a steady job and a family but no nappy play. His wife knew about this fetish but was never interested in playing with it, but then everything turned around. This is his story. ———————— It was a typical day in the office, and after working for more than 12 years in the same company, he had perfected his job. His primary responsibilities involved overseeing and assigning tasks to two incredibly talented colleagues, Bea and Tim. However, a minor issue arose with Bea, as she consistently tended to have things go her way. Although this was generally acceptable due to her exceptional job performance, her approach seemed to indicate a possible attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) or a similar condition, as she worked at an impressively fast pace. Additionally, Bea was quite assertive and rarely admitted to being wrong. Despite several discussions aimed at resolving these issues, he didn't allow it to affect their working relationship significantly. One day, his longing for the nappy became overwhelming, consuming his thoughts with intensity. Sometimes, he felt the nappy between his legs, bringing out humiliating feelings. He got so caught up in the sense of what he was wearing that the danger of making mistakes became closer. It's easy to become careless in such moments, and that is what happened. Throughout the entire week, Alex consistently wore a good, neatly pressed nappy to work. He changed it twice a day, ensuring it did not remain noticeable. While engrossed in his routine tasks, he felt a sudden tap on the outside of his jeans, followed by a small pat. Startled, he widened his eyes and slowly turned around to see who it was. It was an utterly surprising moment when he saw Bea approaching. Her smile was wide, reaching from ear to ear, and her gaze felt like it could see right through Alex. She whispered, leaning close to his ear, sending shivers down his spine. With a broad smile, she beckoned, "Hello, my little friend. Join me in your office. We need to talk." They walked into the office with his body trembling. He couldn't help but wonder what he had done. She knew it, and he was at a loss for words. Should he explain that he needed to use them because of a handicap? As he entered, his anxiety grew, and he couldn't shake the feeling that the noise from his diaper was drowning out everything else. As he walked over to his desk to sit, she suddenly closed his office door, catching him off guard. Just as Alex was about to sit down, he heard the sharp snap of her fingers, sending a new shiver down his spine. Alex felt fear wash over him, not knowing what would happen next. He looked up at her, who was gently waving her index finger. As she approached, she stood so close that Alex could feel her gentle touch on his pants. Her striking, bright blue eyes locked with his inches away, creating an intense and intimate moment. Her long red hair and beautiful slim body didn't improve the situation; they made such a magical sense. He failed to assert himself by saying stop. After all, he held a position of authority over her. “Listen, Bea, what you think you've witnessed is a condition I am dealing with...” She abruptly interrupted him and placed a finger before Alex's lips. Her piercing, bright blue eyes seemed to see right through him. "Open those jeans of yours, and let me see," she said, her piercing eyes looking straight at him. Her words echoed with increasing intensity, her tone growing noticeably more taut with each repetition. Despite his innocence, her piercing gaze and tightly locked jaw filled me with an overwhelming dread. "Listen, you need to unzip those jeans for me. If you don't do it by the time I count to three, I'll start describing in vivid detail what you're wearing to everyone," Bea said in a suggestive tone. Alex slowly unbuttoned his pants and revealed what was underneath his jeans. It was easy to attribute wearing an average diaper to a medical condition, but standing there with a bright pink plastic panty was a different story altogether. Her smile continued to grow as she scrutinized him intently. She glanced downward and listened to the rustling sound of the plastic. It became clear as she saw my gaze. She knew she had him, and he couldn't do anything about it. "I have always enjoyed spending time with boys, playfully interacting with them and teasing them during my school days, especially sissy boys. I have been feeling quite unenthusiastic for a long time, and something sparked when I noticed your little diaper butt this week; it's incredibly satisfying to embrace my playful and mischievous nature once again," she expressed with a glint of excitement in her eyes. Alex was feeling incredibly nervous. What could she possibly want from him? Did she expect him to give her more work with higher pay? If word got out at work about his little secret, it would be devastating, and he might even have to resign. And what about his wife? "Bea, what is it you want?” “Don’t stress. I'm not asking for too much; I hope to inject more enjoyment into our workday. It could benefit both of us, but ultimately, you're the one who will be experiencing it. So, let's start with the most important task: wet your diaper for me, now.” she said, determined. Her expression was incredulous—could she be serious? The thought of complying was out of the question. But her look was so intense it sent trembles down Alex's backbone. He averted his gaze and focused on the task, trying to let it flow. It began small to get wet, then gradually came more loose before it came like a waterfall. His face grew even redder in humiliation. Gently, she placed her hand under his chin, lifting his head to meet her gaze. A wide smile adorned Alex’s face as our eyes met. "Good sissy, now we both know you don't use this in medical terms. You like this, don't you?" Bea said with a seductive smile. Now, keep that diaper on; don't change it. When you need a change, you will ask. See you later, diaper, sissy. Here he stood, nervous, terrified, and wet in his diaper. The more it swelled and thickened, he couldn't put aside the fact that he also was aroused.