2010

Bump

Hi diaper babies! I hope you don't mind me sharing a section from my newest book release! I thought you might enjoy it, and if so, the rest of the novella is now available to buy via the links at the bottom if you're interested! Thank you!   Falling Diapered Into Her Arms: My Story of Regression, Humiliation, and Messy Diaper Punishment (An ABDL Novella)   PREVIEW EXCERPT: It was on the way to the grocery store that I noticed the first signs I might be having an upset tummy. Sitting in the back of my Mommy’s van, I felt gurgling, twisting and rumbling as we drove, causing me to wince with every bump. It seemed more and more like something in my breakfast wasn’t agreeing with me. I took deep breaths and tried to put the growing discomfort out of my mind, hoping my tummy would settle down on its own, shortly. But in the back of my mind, I had a growing fear that the rumblies I was wrestling with might mean I would need to take a dump sooner rather than later—far earlier than my usual after-dinner BM schedule. The issue was there was no way I was going to be able to go number two while we were out of the house, and I knew we wouldn’t be back home from running my Mommy’s errands for at least several more hours at this point. That’s because there was no way I could bear using a public toilet to poop. This week, especially. In the first place, I’d always been terrified of pooping in a public toilet outside my house, even before I met my Mommy. It was one of my greatest fears. But then, add on to that my Mommy still currently required that she supervise me while I was using the toilet, even in a public bathroom. It was already nearly impossible trying to brave the humiliation of pooping in front of my Mommy while she watched me at home. The idea of having to poop in a public bathroom while she stood in the stall with me, narrating it for anyone else in the restroom to hear, was unimaginable. But finally, there was the fact I was still only three days into my so-called ‘potty-probation’. And that meant I was still wearing a diaper 24/7, including right now. I was forbidden from using my daytime diapers, of course. (Pottying in my diapers was the last thing on earth I wanted to do, anyway.) But the terms of my potty-probation were that every morning, my Mommy changed me out of my soggy bedwetting diaper, and into a fresh daytime diaper—one I was not to use. Then, similar to my previous potty-training rules, whenever I needed to use the potty, I needed to ask my Mommy to take me, so she could bring me into the bathroom and carefully un-tape my diaper. Before she even allowed me to sit on the potty for my supervised toileting, she carefully inspected the bright white interior diaper padding for any signs of, “visible continence failure.” Or, as she translated for me to understand, “Any oopsie peepees or whoopsie poopies in your diadees!” Only when she deemed that my diaper was still, “appropriately unsoiled”—that is, “no yucky doodie or peepee stains”—did she let me sit on the potty to do my business. Then, when I was finished using the toilet, I would then be made to lay on a vinyl baby’s diaper changing pad on the bathroom floor so she could properly diaper me back up, often with a fresh application of baby powder or extra tapes, if necessary. With all the other difficulties involved with using a public toilet to go number two at this point, I just couldn’t imagine also being forced to do it all with an extremely humiliating, noisy, noticeably crinkly diaper that needed to be taken off by my Mommy… let alone put back on while I laid on the floor for all to see! So, even though by time we arrived at the grocery store, my tummy rumbles had already begun to transform into painful urges and cramps in my bowels like I feared… I was still more determined than ever to just hold it till we got back home. After all, it wasn’t like I actually needed the stupid diaper I was being forced to wear under my pants. I wasn’t actually a stupid baby. I’d be able to just hold it like a big boy until we got home, no problem. … right? ***  “Do you need to go potty before we start shopping, hon?” my Mommy loudly asked me as we walked through the front doors of the grocery store. “Does my little guy need to potty?” I blushed and stared down in embarrassment as several nearby patrons glanced in our direction, all of them cringing with pity and / or discomfort at seeing someone my age still needing to be talked to in such an infantile way. “Well? Answer Mommy when she asks you a question,” my Mommy repeated even louder. “Do you need Mommy to take you to the potty before we start shopping, or not? Do you need to go weewee? Because I don’t want to take a potty break once we get started, hon.” I bit my lip, suddenly shyly hesitating. The thing was, the second she asked if I had to pee, I realized, in fact… I did. It was humiliating how well she seemed to know when and how often I needed to go to the potty lately. Seemingly even better than I did. Just like a Mommy potty-training her little boy… But the problem was, my tummy was now in such distress, and I was so focused on holding back my urgent need to go number two, I suddenly felt terrified that if I tried to pee… I might lose control of my bowels. And if she decided to stand me at a urinal to pee (which she often did if we were out and about and she was in a hurry), I might shit my pants. It was too risky. I just needed to wait until my stomach settled a little bit, first, I told myself. I would pee when my tummy cramps finally weren’t so bad. “No, I don’t have to go potty,” I answered, my cheeks turning a bit red, perhaps betraying my fib. “Are you suuuuuure?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. I gave a shy nod. It occurred to me how silly it was that I was once again lying to my Mommy about not needing to potty. But what else was I to do? “Hmmm, I don’t know,” my Mommy said, as if reading my mind. She grabbed me by the wrist. “I think we learned last time that I’d better take you anyway—“ “Excuse me, ma’am?” A stranger suddenly interrupted my Mommy, stopping her in her tracks. “Would you like to sign up for our store’s free savings program? You can save up to 30% off on every visit with just your email address.” To my surprise, my Mommy stopped and suddenly seemed to get swept up in some sort of boring adult conversation with what looked like someone who worked for the store. I slowly drifted behind her while she held my wrist, taking the opportunity to catch my breath and ease the cramping in my bowels. I really, really didn’t want to be taken to the potty at the moment. Especially now that I could tell from the way my guts were rumbling, it was going to be a sloppy, loud, potentially even painful bowel evacuation I was in for, which made me all the more desperate to avoid doing it in a public bathroom. I just needed to focus on holding everything for now… Suddenly, I realized my Mommy was finished with the conversation. But funny enough, by time she was finished, she seemingly had forgotten she was about to drag me to the bathroom to pee against my will. Instead, it seemed she got distracted by a sale at the end of the aisle, and was now quickly pulling me along as she grabbed a cart and started her grocery shopping. I was incredibly relieved. I had no idea what would have happened if she had dragged me to the bathroom. Whether I would have horrifically messed myself while trying to maintain my composure enough to ‘just’ urinate at the urinal… or been forced to confess my real most pressing potty need, where I would then have been dragged to a filthy public stall and forced to suffer the most humiliating and intense BM of my life… But as immensely relieved as I was in the moment… unfortunately, that sense of relief didn’t last long. In fact, it didn’t take long for me to realize that, while I obediently shuffled behind my Mommy as she traversed up and down the endless supermarket aisles, the pressure and cramps in my bowels weren’t getting any better, like I had hoped. In fact, they were only getting much, much worse… ***  I clutched my tummy and wheezed with pain as I felt another seismic cramp reverberate through my bowels. I had been patiently, obediently following my Mommy around the crowded supermarket for quite a while now, aisle after aisle, department after department. She seemed to be doing her shopping even slower than usual, adding to my immense distress. But I knew by now raising any fuss about how long it was taking Mommy to do her errands was a surefire way to suddenly make my situation much worse, with a swift and severe punishment. At first, I had been carried by the hope that my Mommy would be done shopping soon, which meant we might go home soon, which meant I would finally get to relieve my agonizing bowels on our toilet at home soon... But then, it began to feel like not only was my Mommy slowing down… but so was time itself. Every step I took with the thick, humiliating, crinkly padding between my legs felt like days of agony as I tried to suppress the cramps in my tummy. And as my Mommy stopped in the cereal aisle to carry on a long and protracted conversation with a friend from the neighborhood she had recognized, while I gritted my teeth and suppressed the worst groans my tummy had ever made… I finally realized I had made a huge mistake.  As mortified and dead-set against I was at first about using the public toilet to relieve my agonizing bowels, I was now at a breaking point. I realized I truly couldn’t hold on much longer.  And with a chill of terror, the true stakes finally dawned on me of what I was risking if I didn’t summon the strength to subject myself to the humiliation of using the store bathroom with my Mommy… I realized I was now suddenly risking potentially having an accident in my diaper… while on potty-probation. And if that happened… it meant I might never get to use any toilet at all ever again. Sweating bullets and wheezing with intestinal distress, I finally faced the fact that I was out of options. I realized my Mommy wasn’t leaving this store anytime soon. My only choice now was to try to get her attention, before I risked the unthinkable happening… “Ummm… Mommy?” I suddenly squeaked, trying to get her attention while she carried on her conversation with the neighbor she happened to run into. While I had been obediently standing right next to my Mommy the whole time they talked, I hadn’t paid attention to a word of their conversation, and I couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. I was far too distracted by the seismic gurgling and gasp-inducing cramps that had now fully seised my bowels. “Mommy? Mommy?” I whined again, desperate to get her attention without earning myself a scolding, or worse, for rudely interrupting. Finally, my Mommy turned around. “What is it, hon?” she asked, clearly irritated. “I… uh… umm… well… you see… I just… ummm….” I murmured, still struggling to say it, after resisting it for so long.  But now, I was practically doubled over in pain. My face was red and covered with sweat. My bowels were making noises I’d never heard anyone’s stomach make before. I suddenly needed to poop worse than I’d ever needed to poop in my life, and my primal desperation for physical relief finally took over… “I gotta go potty, Mommy!” I finally managed to belt out, clutching my tummy and grimacing in pain. My Mommy gave a brief expression of surprise, then let out a long sigh of disappointment. Then she turned back to her friend. “Alright, I’d better get back to shopping with the little rugrat, here. It was great catching up! Let’s stay in touch about playdates and babysitting, like you said! I’m sure they’d both love that,” my Mommy said to her friend. If I wasn’t in such agony, I might have paid more attention to what she mentioned about playdates and babysitting, but as it stood, I only had one concern. Getting. To. The. Potty. My Mommy finally hugged her friend goodbye, then slowly turned around and started pushing the cart down the aisle again while I shuffled alongside her. I felt a sudden and tremendous wave of relief. It looked like she was taking me to the bathroom! I was so happy I could have cried. Or at least, that’s how it seemed at first… Until a moment later, my Mommy stopped at a shelf and started looking through cans of soup again, to my utter bafflement. “Umm, Mommy!” I squeaked. “I said I really need you to take me to the potty!” “Oh, I know, sweetie,” she replied calmly. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done with my shopping, then we’ll go right there.” I was flummoxed. “But… but… Mommyyy… I really have to go….” I softly whimpered. But she seemed to ignore me as she continued calmly looking through items on the shelf. “Mommyyyy… Mommyyyy… Mommy…” I continued whining, clutching my stomach in pain as I followed her. But she still didn’t respond. Finally, I cried out, “Mommy, I said I really have to go potty, right now!” “Well, too bad!” my Mommy suddenly shouted back, spinning on her heels to stare me down. “You should have thought of that the first time I offered to take you, shouldn’t you have? You know, right when we entered the store?” I instantly wilted, feeling scared. She only scolded me in that tone of voice when I was on the verge of being in big, big trouble. “But… but… I really have to go, really bad…” I whimpered softly. “Can’t you please just take me now?” “No,” my Mommy said sternly. “Absolutely not. When I offered to take you to the potty before, I made it very clear to you it was because I didn’t want to take any potty breaks while I was in the middle of shopping. I even tried to insist you go potty, even if you didn’t feel like it, so this wouldn’t happen. And guess what? You refused. Why did you refuse? Probably because you thought you were too much of a big boy to go potty when your Mommy said you should. “Well, guess what, little buddy? If you want to choose to try to act like a big boy, that’s fine. But that also means actually being treated like a big boy. And in this case, that means you quit whining and you hold it like a big boy until I’m done shopping and can take you to the potty again. Is that clear?” my Mommy scolded. “I… I…” I stammered, the cramps in my tummy too painful for me to think straight. “I said… IS. THAT. CLEAR?” my Mommy repeated, causing the hair to go up on the back of my neck in fear. “Yes, Mommy,” I murmured. “Good,” my Mommy said, finally letting out a small sigh and returning to her task of comparing soup cans. “Now, I’ll only be a little bit longer. And like I said before, I’ll take you to the potty right away when I’m finished.” I nodded and stared at the floor. My face burned red with embarrassment, shame, pain, and frustration as I resumed silently and obediently standing behind my Mommy, like she ordered, my bowels cramping and my tummy grumbling in non-stop, humiliating pain. The worst part of all was knowing, deep down, she was right… This whole situation really was my fault. ***  As I stood beside my Mommy while she leisurely shopped, gritting my teeth and silently wrestling a new wave of excruciating cramps in my stomach and bowels, my attention happened to turn back to what I was wearing beneath my pants… The diaper. The stupid, humiliating, crinkly diaper. It suddenly felt more embarrassing and stifling than ever between my legs and around my waist. It was sweaty, and tight, and puffy, and a reminder I just couldn’t ignore of just what a stupid baby I was. And I really was a pathetic, stupid baby, wasn’t I? My Mommy was right. I should have just gone to the potty when she first offered when we first walked in. Why didn’t I? What reason was there, besides my own pathetic, babyish stubbornness and stupidity… As I twisted my feet and screwed my face in pain from another urgent cramp, and stared at my Mommy’s back while she continued calmly perusing the shelves, I couldn’t help but wonder… What if I just made a run for it? What If I just took off running for the bathroom, right now. And went to the bathroom all by myself, without permission, and just sat on the toilet before it was too late… Every fiber of my physical biology was begging me to do it. To just go get to the potty so I could finally relieve the excruciating pressure and agony in my guts… But my feet wouldn’t dare budge. And I really wasn’t even certain why. Perhaps it was because the idea of so flagrantly disobeying even just one of my Mommy’s direct rules at this point gave me the heebie-jeebies. Let alone several direct rules, such as not leaving her side when in public, not using the potty without permission or supervision, and not removing one’s own diaper… Especially now that I had a pretty good sample of all the flavors of corporal punishment my Mommy had to offer when it came to seriously disciplining me. I could only imagine what punishment such over the top defiance would yield. There would likely be permanent marks on my behind by time she was done with me in the big boy punishment room. Or maybe, the reason I couldn’t bear to move my feet in defiance, was just picturing the moment after I sat down on the toilet, if I did… I would almost certainly hear my Mommy charging into the bathroom hot on my heels, bellowing to the crowded bathroom of strangers about how she was looking for her naughty, naughty boy. Then she would find me in the stall, pull me off the toilet, and no doubt publicly spank and scold me in front of the crowd of adult men, with my diaper dangling around my ankles. Would I ever be able to look another adult stranger in the eyes again after suffering such an unforgettable public humiliation? Or maybe, besides the potential spanking of a lifetime, or humiliation of a lifetime, the real reason why I couldn’t do it, why I couldn’t turn and run to the bathroom in that moment without my Mommy’s permission, was because deep down… I knew she was right. I didn’t deserve it. I knew I didn’t deserve to go to the potty until my Mommy was done shopping. Not at this point, anyway. On some level, I knew the crippling pains in my bowels were the price of acting like a baby, and not going potty when I was told to. Now, they were the price of wanting to be a big boy, and holding it like a big boy should. And even though I knew I had acted like such a baby earlier, I still so badly wanted to be a big boy. A big boy who made his Mommy proud more than anything. And I knew if I took off running without permission like a naughty baby, I would never be a big boy in her eyes again… But even despite my resolve to prove to my Mommy I was a big boy, with every step I continued following her as she meandered down the grocery aisle, the pain in my guts was becoming unbearable, and I sensed my willpower reaching yet another breaking point. “Mommyyyy…” I began softly whimpering again in barely audible pleas, tears coming to my eyes. “Mommyyyy… please hurry…” And even though she didn’t hear most of my pleas, or she chose to ignore them, she would still occasionally turn back to calmly reassure me, “Almost done, hon. Just a few more things. Almost done.” My whole body was trembling. Sweat was pouring down my face. I was rocking back and forth on my feet, squeezing my eyes shut, and focusing everything I had on keeping my bottom from exploding. My exhaustion and agony began to propel me into a near tantric-state. I didn’t know how much more I could take! I felt on the verge of totally collapsing or passing out. Suddenly, something my Mommy had said began to abruptly echo as a thought within my head… You wanted to be a big boy. You wanted to be a big boy. You wanted to be a big boy. I was dumbstruck by a sudden, dazed, agonizing epiphany. I abruptly stumbled forward, wrapped my arms around my Mommy, and broke down into hysterical, heaving sobs. “I’m sorry, Mommy! I was wrong! I can’t do it! I don’t want to be a big boy! I don’t know how to be a big boy, after all!” I wailed, burying my face in her chest and suddenly clinging to her like a lone life raft in an endless freezing sea. And in the blackness of my closed eyes against her chest, I heard her voice whisper so softly, it was just barely detectible… Just let it go, my baby boy. Just let it all go. I pulled my head away from my Mommy’s chest. She looked down at me, her expression confused. I suddenly felt a wave of indescribable calm. My tears totally dried, my physical pain evaporated. As if I was suddenly struck with enlightenment. “Is everything okay, bud?” my Mommy asked, her arms still wrapped around me. A slow, goofy smile grew across my face. And with one last big, deep inhale… FRRRRTT— I erupted with one of the most massive, stinky messes of my life, right into the seat of my diaper. All while my Mommy held me close, seemingly with no idea what was happening right before her eyes.   ___________   Buy now to read the rest of this full-length (130+ pages) Novella!   Buy on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D23XGNKF Buy on Lulu: https://www.lulu.com/shop/nanny-chloe/falling-diapered-into-her-arms-my-story-of-regression-humiliation-and-messy-diaper-punishment-an-abdl-novella/ebook/product-65q7zmr.html Buy on Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=wAsDEQAAQBAJ   Don't forget to also view my full collection of naughty ABDL books at: www.nannychloetales.com and https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nannychloetales Thank you!

"G-girlfriend?!" Dahlia shouted. Hey, look at that, she finally got the word out! Good for her, using her big girl words! And with a level of shock that made it sound like Francine had only just now said it! But shocked was certainly right! Francine hadn't even proposed or anything first! She just threw the word out there multiple times in a row without warning! And every time it was used, Dahlia's cheeks turned one shade of red deeper each time!

Francine smiled when she saw how happy she had eaten. She leaned in and kissed her nose before feeding her another bite. "There's no use keeping up with such things, silly, you don't have to call me your girlfriend if you don't want to. Francine is just fine. Or even Mommy, if you prefer." She teased and winked at her while she readied another big bite.    //no worries!

//sorry, my internet bugged out again! hopefully it should be back in working order now. Dahlia tried to say the word yet again, "G-girl... mm!" But she was cut off as Francine chuckled and shoveled in some of her signature French cooking into Dahlia's mouth. She had no idea what it was or what it was made of, but was delicious! Ever the easy baby to read, an expression of enjoyment was plastered on Dahlia's cute face.