Cloth Diapers & Panties

It's morning, of course I'm wet, and....

A typical early morning in a wet and now messy pink MegaMax diaper.

Wow, that's an eclectic mix of sub-optimal things right there!  Hopefully you're due for some better news.  Will they be able to do the heart valve trans-catheter?  From what I've heard that makes that job a LOT simpler and easier for you.  Open heart surgery sucks.

67. My Reassurance “She figured out the nursery,” I mumbled, when the well of conversation looked like it might run dry. That was the thing that was really worrying me. Tess was thinking too much; and she had the power to cause so many problems for me if she put together any more clues before she was too little to consider it. I needed her not to realise what had happened, but there was no chance of that happening if she was in touch with whoever had investigated my browsing habits at work. “Not quite,” Ffrances comforted me. “She knows how much adult baby diapers cost, and she knows there’s no way a former homeowner would have left something so expensive behind. So she figured that the room hadn’t been like that for years.” “Right on the money, then. Kids shouldn’t be so analytical, she might already be thinking too much. Like she won’t be able to properly let go of adult thoughts.” “Not really. She found the clues, but that makes me wonder. It sounded to me like the thing that tipped her off was the diapers. She saw them when you were regressed, said she hadn’t looked before then. But she knew they were made for adult babies, and she knows how much they cost. That’s what tipped her off that you weren’t being entirely honest. But she can’t challenge you on that without admitting that she’s familiar with some of the brands and designs, which I think is why she didn’t mention it right away.” “So she’s into diapers. But we already knew that, right?” I felt like I had to dismiss the observation. I’d told Ffrances that Tess was making herself wet the bed because she wanted to be diapered and babied. In that case, it would be only logical that she would have checked the availability of diapers. She would have had a wish list, ones she wanted to try. It would be something she’d thought about a lot before even suggesting that I could help her, or experimenting with ways to cause wetting. I was surprised by that revelation only because I didn’t think it was something Tess wanted. So I had to act like it was normal, even as my mind was racing miles a minute trying to work out how this fitted into my plans, and how I could use it to my advantage. “Well, it’s good to know she’s aware of the cost,” she said, slowly and thoughtfully. “But I was starting to doubt that she was interested in the baby stuff as much as you think. I know how you can be, picking on the parts you want and not really noticing what else someone says. Or completely missing the context.” “What do you mean? You know what she was doing with those–” “She was making herself pee, yes. But by now I’m sure you’re more interested in being a little than she is in being one. She–” This time the interruption wasn’t from me, but her phone. I was surprised when she took the time to read the message in the middle of such a serious conversation, but she quickly explained. “That was Tess. I’ve set up a new messenger, the one all the kids are using. So for now it sounds different from all my other messages, and I know it’s her. She says that while you agreed to her terms, she’s going to try on some of the cute outfits that were in the closet when she moved in.” “See?” I beamed. “She just needed the opportunity to admit what she wants. Remind her that she needs a diaper too.” “I don’t think so,” she said as she typed a response, with her phone held sideways so she could type with both thumbs. “She says she’s doing this to please you, and I think I believe her to some degree. She might enjoy the experience, but because of years of bullying it’s something that takes a lot out of her. It’s hard work for her to be the little you want, so she needs to know that her own desires are being met.” “It’s obvious that’s just an excuse. You need to–” “You’re really good at seeing what you want to see. I think she means it. At least in that case. She seems to… she’s drawing a thick line between having accidents, and being treated like a baby. It’s possible that regression isn’t actually her interest. There are people who get pleasure from peeing, in much the same way ultraviolence masochists might love the feeling of a sucker punch. I don’t get it, but it’s very much a thing. Perhaps that’s what Tess is feeling, and she’s found that regression communities online are the only place she can express this desire without being called a freak. So ageplay doesn’t actually interest her, and it’s linked to memories of bullying, but it’s something she’s willing to go along with if it helps her get what she wants.” “She said that?” This time, there was no need to disguise my confusion. I just couldn’t understand that at all. “Not in as many words. But she said there’s a difference between feeling like a child and losing control. She wants to keep those as separate suggestions. And you need to understand that if you want her as a little. I think the fun she’s had in that role is encouraging her to try it more, but right now it’s something she is doing for your benefit. Before she fully accepts it, you’ll need to make sure she enjoys it. And if she does it when she wants to make you happy, give her all the reason in the world to please you.” “Okay, I think I understand that. But I got so many questions now. Starting with what she’s saying now,” I glanced back at Ffrances’s phone, which had made that same sound again. “She says she’s not that little. Not going all the way with the ageplay thing, maybe she’s upset that you spent so long arguing against her caution. I think you’ll have to show her that you really respect her judgement before she’ll consider wearing them around you. It’s like the next step, isn’t it? But she does want to be triggered tonight.” “I guess your assessment is spot on again,” I said with a sigh. “You’ve got some kind of talent for picking out exactly what someone wants; a bit more practice and you’ll get better than me at spotting the subs and doms we meet.” “Maybe,” she smiled. “But… oh yes, I was going to tell you. She spotted that the nursery was weird. You told her it was left over from the previous owner because they had kids, and she didn’t quite believe it. You were hoping it would be a good excuse, and she’d be less embarrassed if it wasn’t her choice. Then she realised everything’s in adult sizes, and she wondered if the previous family who lived here were adult babies. And the she worked out that couldn’t be true either. That’s some decent deduction.” “Yeah. So now she knows, and if she tells her parents–” “She doesn’t know how quickly you put it all together. She spotted the clues, but came to a different conclusion. She thinks… that you had a little before. Something that didn’t work out for whatever reason. Like your little changed her mind about the lifestyle, or moved away, or it just didn’t click. She’s swinging back and forth now between imagining you with some previous little who didn’t stay, and seeing you as the poor lonely Mommy who built the perfect nursery just in case she ever met the perfect little, so you could give them a perfect regression experience right from day one. Perhaps that’s a reason for her to try to fulfil the fantasies; she feels like your life is incomplete without a little, and she likes you too much to accept that.” “So if she trusts me, she’ll give it a try. And in time, maybe she’ll acknowledge that the dividing line she needs is between the headspace and the bullying, rather than dividing her little side in two.” “She might be happy with them separate.” She shrugged. “But even so, it’s likely she’ll be able to enjoy two of her interests at once, once she gets used to it. That’s why you need to make sure she’s happy, and she wants to help you.” “I understand,” I nodded, and I thought I did. Tess wanted to be a little more than I had ever realised. I needed to focus more on leading her into that happy place in her mind, rather than pushing her to try it. I promised myself I would play by her rules now, and do everything I could to show that I respected her choices. If it came to it, I would even let her spend time with the obnoxious man who was trying to force her to grow up, if it gave me the opportunity to show her how much she would enjoy being a real little girl instead. Of course, I couldn’t let them go too far. Every time they went anywhere, I would remind her to have an accident at the slightest hint of kissing or groping. But she couldn’t hold that against me, because she still didn’t know I was the one saying the triggers. If she was really enjoying her accidents, she might assume that she’d asked Ffrances or me to trigger her, and then forgotten about it. I didn’t have the time to say any more then, because I heard footsteps on the stairs. And when Tess arrived, she looked cuter than I had ever seen her before. She had pink and white socks on, and a pastel pink romper that made her look almost like a real baby. The effect was even more striking because she didn’t have a well-developed figure, and now she was fidgeting constantly to show her excitement. 68. My Little One Tess’s movement and posture, even more than an outfit that wouldn’t have looked out of place on any toddler, reminded me that she was a child on the inside. She was sucking on her pacifier as well; the one that I had given her a few days before. That was reassuring; I’d half wondered if she might have gotten embarrassed and thrown it in the trash if someone saw her with it outside the house. Taking care of it reaffirmed my belief that this was something she wanted deep down, and I was just giving her the confidence to admit it. She bounced over to the recliner and threw herself back into it with a little giggle. Her hair was tied up in an approximate bun, but still wet and I was sure it would be hard to untangle if it dried like that. Still, her confidence in presenting herself to us like this was a huge step forward. I could worry less now. “Hi,” I greeted her with a wave. “Enjoying yourself?” She nodded and smiled. Her mouth moved too, the pacifier bobbing up and down. I thought she might be speaking, an embarrassed whisper that would barely carry in any case, but there was no way I could understand it with that thing in her mouth. “Had a good day?” Another nod. “Are you all tired and ready for a nap now?” “Uh-uh.” Tess shook her head this time. And spoke a little louder, although it still took some extra effort to make out what she was saying. “I did good, I think. I asked for embarrassing stuff, and worked out how I can do everything. Now we can all be happy. Do you like this?” “You look adorable,” I said, and Ffrances agreed. “Does that help you feel littler too? I hope you’re as happy as you look, without a care in the world.” “A bit,” she said. “Do you want to watch things?” She sounded almost normal, as far as her tone was concerned. But there was a part of her that was less embarrassed now, and could let those worries drift to the back of her mind. She didn’t have the brash confidence she usually tried to project, because she didn’t have anything to rebel against. But she also didn’t have anything to worry about, no reason to hide anything. I thought I’d noticed her picking simpler words, a good sign of her headspace, but she wasn’t saying enough for me to work out how far gone she was. I reminded myself that she was trying to impress me, playing to my fantasies. So I had to do everything I could to make sure she enjoyed the experience. That was how she would get more enthusiastic, and start regressing often enough for it to become a habit. “While you’ve been a good girl,” I said, “I thought we might let you choose what to watch. Do you want cartoons?” “I’m not a baby,” she giggled, and then paused to think for a second before adding: “Not now. What do you want?” “We’ve got Shaaark!,” I suggested. “Or we could watch Palmerston if you want more of a laugh. There’s lots of stuff too. If you’re feeling little, it might be fun trying shows for different ages, to see if you can relax and let yourself enjoy them.” “Will you be bored?” “Don’t worry about us,” Ffrances said with a laugh. “I’m intrigued how you’ll respond to this. Call it professional curiosity; I want to know if you could enjoy watching something like Totbox, or if you still need intellectual stimulation.” “A lot of shows are made so grown-ups can enjoy them too,” I added. “Like jokes that you won’t notice because you’re too little, so we’ve got something to laugh at too.” “I’ll notice!” she said proudly, “I’m a big girl! I can prove it.” I almost laughed then, and I could tell Ffrances’s hand was at her mouth just to hide a chuckle. Normally it would have been impossible to manipulate Tess with such a simple trick. But like this she accepted my words at face value, and did her best to argue like a bratty child. Or perhaps she saw what I was doing and decided to play along. Either way, I could tell that she was having fun. I put Shaaark! on for her, and in minutes she was completely engrossed. She emerged to talk when the commercials came on after the episode, and with both of us treating her like a real child it didn’t take long for her headspace to grow a little more pronounced. She didn’t argue at all when I cued up an episode of Sparkling Thunder: Knight Raid next. It was aimed at an age group slightly younger than Shaaark! by my reckoning, and didn’t have a familiar character to give her an excuse to watch. But she didn’t argue at all, and a few minutes later she was doing her best to sing along with a fictional pop group. The show was interesting, which is a polite way of saying it’s weird. It was a reboot of a massive media franchise that had first been popular when Tess was surely too young to remember it. The original had caught my attention in college when a friend told me about the adult themes that went completely over the heads of the intended audience, possibly added to ensure that parents could watch with their children and not get bored. The kids the show was made for would never realise that a main character’s parents were swingers, but all the clues were there if you went back and watched it again. This reboot didn’t have any of that. It was okay; it had a by-the-numbers recreation of a dramatic battle between good and evil, the hazards of having a secret identity while being a world famous rock star, and a regular schedule for self-aware nods to the show they were remaking, but all in all it seemed bland to me. I watched Tess for most of the episode, and she showed no sign of boredom. Her eyes didn’t leave the screen, and her hands didn’t move except to reach for her drink or absent-mindedly playing with a tangled lock of hair. And when the episode ended, she was again trying to sing along with the music, making enthusiastic guesses about what the lyrics were going to be. To me, that attitude was more entertaining than any cartoon in the world. “Did you like that?” I asked her. “Yeah! There’s like… dinosaurs! And witches!” She sounded genuinely excited. “Did you get your hair cut? It looks different.” “No! I just tied it up. I wanted to try different.” I noticed that her grammar was slipping; she really was getting deeply into her headspace now, and I hoped that it would be instinctive for her to go this far in future. Would it be easier now she had consciously chosen to accept it? I said she looked cute, and I wanted to see more. So I had her stand up and do a twirl, so we could see her new style from every side. Then I asked her to turn around and show me the back, and then another twirl. Then a twirl in the other direction. Ffrances joined in and suggested she try standing on one leg, and I wanted to see how it looked when she posed like a little teapot. At that point she paused a little, perhaps realising that we were being silly, but laughed and continued. “Would you like to try some other styles?” I asked. “I can think of some that would look good on you.” She just nodded, but I could see a wide grin behind the pacifier, and I knew that she was really getting into the spirit of this game. So I picked up the remote briefly to treat her to an episode of Bibi Babi Miko – a once-popular cartoon with a pretty heavy-handed message of tolerance for other cultures, mixed in with geography lessons that a kid starting high school should already be bored with – and she settled in to watch it without complaint. I moved around behind the recliner and started to release her hair from her hasty styling efforts. I gently massaged her scalp, hoping that would help her to calm down while I slowly teased out any tangles with my fingers. She was happy, I could tell that, and I could see no reason not to continue. She laughed at the jokes on the television screen no matter how simple, and answered when the characters asked the audience to cheer with them, or to yell a warning when an evil squirrel appeared on the screen. She seemed to be completely absorbed, and I was glad to see her accepting the role. There could be no doubt now that she really loved being little. When the show ended, I decided not to put another one on. Tess’s hair was still wet, and I thought she would only get uncomfortable if all that moisture was soaking her pillow overnight. So I fetched my hairdryer, and slowly worked on her styling some more. The whine of the motor was too loud to watch cartoons, or to talk. But she seemed so happy, so carefree, that I didn’t think she would mind. “I think she’s a little too much like a little kid,” Ffrances whispered, walking over to me when I finally switched the hairdryer off. I was in the middle of putting Tess’s hair up in bunches, and raised an eyebrow in response while I thought about the words. “Why?” I asked, hoping that I pitched my voice low enough for the little not to hear me. “Did she wet herself without noticing?” “No,” Ffrances laughed. “She’s fallen asleep. Not usual for teens, although I hear it’s a common symptom of being a middle-aged man too.” “We forgot to say the trigger,” I commented. “She said she wanted us to, right? I doubt it’ll work when she’s already asleep. But that would have guarded against any fear of her hitting the wrong imaginary age.” “She’ll have to wake up soon,” she said, dismissing my attempt at humour with a wave of her hand. “If we put her to bed now, she’ll be awake at five in the morning or something. However little she feels, she still doesn’t have the metabolism of a toddler.” “I hadn’t thought about that. Yeah, but let me finish her hair. We can wake her up when it’s ready, and see if she likes looking even more like a child. Oh, that’s a thought. Can you fetch some hair clips? Bottom left drawer on the changing table, I left a bunch of accessories in case she wants to try them. There should be some iridescent pink butterfly things, and a pack of rainbow-twist scrunchies that would go with this outfit so well.” Ffrances darted away, and returned a few minutes later. I paused the cartoon, and kept working on my little’s hair. I tried my best, because I was aware this was the first time I had really done something for her benefit while she was in littlespace. And the result was stunning; it was hard to believe that she wasn’t really three years old when I watched her sleeping with that new style. I pressed play again, and then gently shook her shoulders until she woke. She was overjoyed to see herself like that, and did a few more twirls so she could look at different angles before she went back to watching her cartoon. This time we made sure she stayed awake by asking her to explain what was going on, and she seemed genuinely excited to convey to us – as the characters on the screen had learned three minutes before – that Hawai'i had been ruled by a king until very recently. I praised her for knowing so much, and she beamed like she was really proud of that. I didn’t need to tell her that she was going to have an accident overnight. Given how cute she was acting now, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it happened without any prompting from me. But Ffrances remembered the request Tess had made, and she said the words without any hesitation before Tess went to bed. “Want me to carry you up the stairs, baby girl?” I offered. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough, but if you’re tired I can try.” “I’m okay,” she said with a childish giggle, but accepted my help anyway. I pantomimed the discovery that the child weighed a ton, and she was roaring with laughter at such a simple thing. I knew beyond any doubt now that I was doing the right thing for her. Before she went back into her room, I dashed downstairs and fetched the flask of tea that she had forgotten to drink tonight. That was proof that she was in a very different state of mind; but I didn’t want to interrupt a habit that she’d been cultivating for health reasons. And another drink before bed would help her to stay hydrated through the night. “I brought you this,” I said. “In case you’re thirsty before bed. Have you had enough to drink tonight? You’re going to have an accident after you wake up in the morning too.” “Thanks!” she said, and did another twirl entirely unprompted to show how happy she was in that moment. I was giving her exactly what she wanted. “Good night!”

They Stoped right before the gates. The normal routine was having her diaper pulled off and being allowed to use a potty bucket before it was replaced with another a diaper.  No, today was the only day of the year when she had to actually use the damn things.  They waited as Sarah squated face screwed up as she willed her body to release its hold on her bowels. She was rewarded with a soft hissing sound and a disgusting feeling of a warm wet diaper.  Tears fell down her face as she stomped her feet in disgust.  "Eww Eww Eww"  Amy immediately pulled her into hug. Sarah's head resting against her breasts.  "Its okay. Its okay." Amy repeated as she lightly petted Sarah's hair.  Sarah wished she could just remove the sickly pink disposable diaper herself. She couldn't. Or be changed out of it right there. She couldn't.  The caretakers at the birthday room expected a wet and messy diaper to change and they would spank her if there wasn't one.  After she calmed down Tasha nodded to the guards. Soon the door was pulled up and there group quickly moved out. The door shutting behind them with a thump.  They moved through the "Jungle." Really just plastic trees with animtronic monkies, leopards, and stuffed animals. There was a constant sound track of a jungle played on the speakers none of them could see.  They greeted the occasional patrol armed with their clubs and pillow shields. The pillow shields were just that. Pillows with stuffed animals stuffed inside to add more protection then fastened with ropes along the patrols arms.  Eventually fake jungle made way for  a fake Forrest. The plastic trees painted different colors all bright and pastel. The "sky" was clearly just the roof painted blue with fake clouds, a fake sun the size of a building, and multiple holographic rainbows which gave the Forrest its name sake.  They all focused. Looking at each tree like a lesbian could jump out of them at any time. Despite the cheery image of the place it was still thick trees that could easily hide an ambush.  They walked slowly and carefully. Keeping a close watch on their surroundings. Looking for any sign of an ambush.  It hadn't done them any good.  Just as Tasha moved past one of the trees a figure lept out. Grabbed her and placed a broken mirror fragment which had been made into a makeshift knife against her throat.  The figure was a well endowed girl wearing nothing but pink panties with hearts on them and a pink training bra both of which were designed for an adult body.  Figures dressed similarly moved out from behind the colorful trees.  The lesbians had ambushed them.