Cloth Diapers & Panties

That's the thing. Simply wearing a diaper and peeing in it whenever the urge hits, that IS actively reverse potty training. A LOT of people don't even realize it, but not actively holding your pee all the time IS actively training yourself to become diaper dependent.  Knowingly intentional or not, you're approaching a cross roads or tipping point of sorts. You need to seriously consider whether or not you want to continue reverse potty training simply by letting things happen. Which of course also means if wearing a diaper 24/7 is truly for you or not.

I don't know where the time goes. I blink my eyes and three weeks pass and suddenly I'm waking up in a cold sweat while realizing that I haven't shared any updates here. So here's a bunch more chapters, with more to come. Thanks for your patience! Fifty-Six: Love Thyself Alfie #6–the eighth visitor to this world that we know of, counting Alfie Prime and Audry–has a smattering of tattoos all over his body and a questionable moustache not unlike one that I had tried to rock once upon a time. Needless to say, it didn’t go over very well. Nobody actually sees him materialize–everyone is too distracted with their own issues and conversations. One minute, he’s not there–the next, there’s another naked Alfie walking around, confidently strutting his nude form. “What’s up?” he says, laughing to himself. “There some sort of Alfie-party going on here?” We, of course, have to have ‘the conversation’ with him too. His arrival confirms something though–something that I hadn’t thought a lot about, but still had a mild curiosity towards: what body were we getting when we jumped from world to world? I always assumed I was just in my body, since it always felt and looked right to me. But seeing Alfie #6, with his tattoos and moustache, does suggest that we’re getting the version of ourselves from our ‘home world.’  I’d never thought to check for such a thing until now, but I pull up my pants and glance at the back of my left ankle, finding the scar that I earned from climbing over a fence at my grandmother’s house when Sam and I were playing a pretty intense game of hide-and-seek back in the day. “We’re out of diapers, and we’re out of clothes,” Maxine says loud enough for everyone to hear. “So…if you’re naked now, you’re probably going to stay that way.” Some of the Alfies–#2 and #4 in particular are getting antsy. I can tell that they want to get out of here, though I can guess why they haven’t jerked themselves off into oblivion yet: They’re still curious enough about the anomaly we’re all experiencing on this world that they’re not ready to leave it behind yet. Though I think even that interest is now dwindling.  There’s something else at play here too, contributing to the fatigue that we’re all feeling–our own feeling of uniqueness. Here, we’re just another Alfie–a crisis of identity that we, nor anyone else, has ever had to contend with before. It’s getting harder to remember who is who, no matter how hard we try to assign names and notable characteristics to each other. Even Alfie #6, the most ‘obvious’ of any of us, seems overwhelmed by being one of many. “Where did #4 go?” someone says–which Alfie it is, I couldn’t tell. “Is he the whiny one?” someone else asks. “No, I think that’s him with the big t-shirt.” Alfie #3 pouts. “Wh-whiny? Me?” “#4 was wearing the rain poncho,” I say. “That shouldn’t be too hard to find. Just look for a blob of yellow.” “Well…” Audry points into the woods. “That’s the poncho you’re looking for, isn’t it?” There, a few yards out from the clearing that we’re all clustered in, we spot the abandoned rain poncho lying between some trees and fallen branches.  “Think he made a run for it?” Alfie #2–at least I think it’s him–asks. “Or…” I don’t have to finish that thought, as everyone nods–likely thinking the same thing: He might have snuck off to a quieter area and grabbed his ‘Little Alfie’ and punched his ticket for the next world. There’s a hollow feeling in my gut, maybe one that the others can relate to as well–a sense of loss. Alfie #4 isn’t dead, but he’s gone. His future adventures will forever be a mystery to me. I barely knew him, and yet I feel like I know him all too well. Weird shit, man. “Right, well,” Alfie #2 says. “Maybe we all ought to think about what we’re going to do next.” The skunked-and-earthy smell of another soiled diaper–strangely complimentary to our forest surroundings–wafted past my nose. Someone else was now in need of a change, and wouldn’t be getting one. I had this thought about how, if we stuck around here long enough, we’d all be running around shitting in the woods like animals. “I don’t think I’m done here,” Alfie #3 says. “There’s something weird about this world, and I feel like I want to know what it is.” “You think you’ll find that answer?” I ask. He shrugs. “Even if I don’t…this world sounds kinda, you know, normal, right? It’s not in some wasteland. I’m not being kept in a cage here. If I leave here…who knows what’s next.” Alfie #6 says what I’m thinking, but was being polite by keeping it to myself: “You’re being a coward. Your world, the one where Mother’s got you in some sort of milk-coma and doing god-knows-what with The Cradle, is still out there and you still need to find a way back.” #3’s response was quieter, meeker: “I don’t know what good I’d be anyways if I was there. I’d probably just fuck something up.” He’s the personification of my deepest fears and insecurities. “What about Nikki?” I ask, remembering my discovery in Pisstopia. “What about Nikki?” Alfie #2 asks. “Well, look, who knows what similarities other worlds share with the ones we’ve come from. But I’ve seen evidence that Nikki comes looking for me in The Cradle after I vanish for a while. She’s in danger too. That, for me, is worth finding a way back.” When I look back at Alfie #3’s face, I see that his eyes are wet and his lip is trembling. “Nikki? M-my friend from when I was in elementary school? She moved away. I never saw her again. Lost touch with her.” The rest of us look at each other, probably thinking the same thing: This is the result of living in a world without a Nikki to anchor us.  I wish she was here right now. I want to hug her, even though I know she’d hate that. She’d probably even push me away if I tried. But, god, I want to feel her push me.  When’s the last time I told Nikki that I love her? Have I ever told her that? “Do you have a ‘Nikki’ in your life?” I ask Audry. She shrugs. “A Nick, yeah. Best friend for life? Ride or die, whatever that means?” “Yeah,” I say, chuckling a little. “Sounds like you’ve got one too.” === Alfie #7 sudden, and again unnoticed arrival, causes Audry to say: “I really am the only goddamned ‘Audry’ aren’t I?” None of us have any examples of another to offer, so for now, we accept this as the truth.  Alfie #2 has taken up the role of meeter and greeter of new Alfies, with #3–the one to blame for the smell of dirty diapers–and #5 joining him sporadically. Alfie #6, now donning the poncho, seems to be badgering Maxine a little, following her around and being not-so-subtle about hitting on her. I wonder what his relationship is like with the Maxine of the world he’s from–does she tolerate him acting like that? Or was she just as annoyed with him as this Maxine seems to be? Me, I’m mulling over what Maxine told me a little while ago–about how ‘Alfie Prime’s’ big secret to guided-interdimensional-travel was simply…having sex. How was that kind of orgasm any different? Couldn’t one argue that masturbating was still sex, in that you’re fucking your hand? Was oral sex different from intercourse? What about, like, lesbians?  Of course, it’s not like I could ask Maxine these questions, because she probably didn’t know either. What I could surmise, though, was that sex had somehow worked for Alfie Prime–reliably enough that he wanted Maxine to pass along the message to me. Inevitably, any of us Alfies could–or will–figure it out, as unlikely as that seems. We seem to have a hard enough time finding clothes, getting diapers, and not getting ourselves captured, let alone convincing some local to have sex with us. I’d love to know the story of how Alfie Prime first managed to convince someone to do a little horizontal tango with him. Was it someone we knew from our own world–like a Maxine or a Nikki? Someone who might’ve mistaken him for the real Alfie? Was it a stranger? Did the diapers stay on, or did they come off? Too, I have to consider what Maxine’s thinking when she relays this message to me. Surely she knows that it’s what I’m going to be thinking about now. She knows that I’ll be considering what options I have as far as sexual partners go to give this plan a whirl. Is she anticipating me asking her for that opportunity? If I was to ask her…how would she respond? “Hey,” says a voice from behind me as I stare off into the dense forest, just thinking to myself. It’s not one of me, and it’s not Maxine, as I see her out of the corner of my eye–trying, and failing, to shake herself free of Alfie #6. “Audry,” I say. I slowly turn around to face her. I’m realizing, for the first time, that I’ve been unconsciously trying to avoid looking at her too much. It’s the uncanny valley. It’s looking into the void and having the void look back. She looks a lot like me, and yet not like me at all. She looks…cute, with her messy, wavy hair and the pink in her cheeks. Maxine’s red shirt and those short blue shorts. But it might feel a little gross to think like that. I’m not sure. “Look,” she says. “Whatever’s going on here, I don’t think it helps me any to linger here too much longer.” “Oh,” I say. “Are you…leaving?” Rubbing your clit into the figurative sunset? “I dunno,” she shrugs. “What’s the alternative? Wait around here until I need a new diaper? Wait until I’m hungry and find out that we don’t have any food either? I can do that well enough on my own–I don’t need to do that with a bunch of…Alfies.” “Yeah, that’s fair. But, uh…wait a second…” “Hmm?” My mouth hangs open, but I’m not actually sure what I want to say to her. Do I want to tell her about Alfie Prime? About…sex? Maybe I kind of want to get away from all this too. Too many Alfies fuck with my head. I’ll deal with giant women again, or post-apocalyptic cheerleaders. I could probably do without Not-Celia again, but anything else seems a little better than this. Still, I think I’d like to spend a little more time with Audry before we go our separate ways. After all, this might be my only chance to experience this. “Before you go anywhere,” I say, “maybe you and I take a walk together?” To my relief, she nods her head. “Sure.” === Either nobody notices us slipping away, or nobody cares because they all have their own things they’re dealing with–nudeness, dirty diapers, and acclimating to yet another world. We walk on the side of the gravelly road, in the grass. The sounds of Alfies and Maxines chatting and bickering slowly quiets until it’s altogether absent, leaving us surrounded by the pristine beauty of nature at its simplest: wind through three branches, and birds chirping. Neither of us says anything to each other for a while, and it’s kind of nice to just walk in silence like this. I’m thinking that I probably won’t go back to the clearing. After Audry and I are done waking and/or talking, I’m going to get out of this world and move on deeper into the onion. I’ll roll the dice on what comes next. “I used to daydream what it would be like to be a boy,” she finally says. “Yeah? Did you think you’d look anything like me?” She laughs. “No…but only because I don’t think I had the ability to imagine what I’d look like at all.” “Is it disappointing, then, to see me? To know that this is what you might have looked like?” She rolls her eyes. “Oh, stop. You’re not a bridge troll. You’ve got a handsome boyishness about you. If you didn’t look so much like me, I might even think you were…” She trails off, but I can only imagine that she was about to use the same c-word I used earlier to describe her. “What about you, huh? Happy with the female version of Alfie?” I shrug and nod my head, being careful not to look too excited to answer. “Uh, yeah. Everything looks like it’s in the right place and all that.” “I have three boobs, you know?” There’s a split second where I want to ask her if she’s being serious or not, only to detect the same sarcastic sense of humor I often employ. “That’s kind of hot.” “You don’t mean that…do you?” “Well, no. But I’m sure there’s someone out there who is dying for some tri-titted pornography.” She laughs and shakes her head. “What about you? The biggest dick in the world? Or the smallest?” “There was a while,” I say, with blushing cheeks, “where I was really into SPH.” “What…is that?” “Small penis humiliation? Like porn where women talk down to you or belittle you for having too small of a dick.” She laughs hard, throwing her head back. “Really? Is yours, like…that small?” “No, no, I don’t think so. I mean, it seems pretty average, as best as I can tell. Nobody’s ever complained about it to my face, at least. But I guess I just liked the fantasy of that–being mocked for something outside of your control. I think I got over it, though. I haven’t looked at any of that stuff in a long time.” “What are you into now?” she asks. “Uh…” I feel my face getting hot again. It’s a little weird, having these conversations with a stranger. But it doesn’t feel like I’m talking to a stranger, it feels like I’m talking to myself. Maybe I am, in a way. It helps that she’s female, I think–I’ve always had an easier time talking to women than other men. Maybe she feels just the opposite, and has an easier time talking to men than other women. We’re a grotesquely perfect match. “If I’m being honest, I’m really into this whole diaper thing. Probably because I’ve been brainwashed into thinking that.” She laughs and nods her head. “Honestly? Same.” “You like a, uh, diaper boy, do you?” “I don’t know about other babies, but I know that I like being the baby. I like a strong Mommy or Daddy taking care of me.” I let out an embarrassingly primal grunting noise. “Er…yeah.” “Would you…show me yours if I showed you mine?” she asks. I laugh. “Is that a joke?” “I mean…no? Come on, do you think you’ll ever again have the chance to see what it would look like if you had a pussy?” “No, probably not…” “And I want to see what my dick would look like.” “I mean, uh, if you really want to. But we’re wearing diapers and…if we take the diapers off, who’s to say we’ll be able to get them back on again?” “Fuck the diapers,” she says. “We show each other our privates and then…I dunno…have a circle jerk, or whatever, and get the hell out of here.” My heart pounds in my chest as I process the words ‘circle jerk.’ I think, somewhere in the back of my mind, I was considering something similar. Though, this reminds me, again, of what Maxine had mentioned earlier.  I let out another laugh, my face feeling good and warm again, as I half-jokingly mull over the idea of fucking the female version of myself.  “What?” she says. “Was my idea that bad?”  “No, no, no…” I sigh, debating if I even want to poke at this bagged cat or not.  “What is it?” Maybe it’s a good idea. Maybe it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had.  “So…Maxine back there,” I point down behind us down the road, in the direction of the clearing, “she told me this little story earlier, before all the other Alfies, and you, started showing up…” “Okay? So are you going to tell it to me, or what?” I sigh. “I…I will. Just… Keep in mind that I’m relaying a story, okay? And it’s note even my story. It’s a facsimile of a facsimile.” “Right, right, got it.” “And…I’m not using this story to propose anything, okay? I’m just sharing a story.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks. “You’ll know exactly what I mean when I get there.” === I retell the story of Alfie Prime’s arrival on this world a few weeks earlier as best as I can recall it. I probably miss a few details, while exaggerating others, but I think I got the general jist of it. I explain, as best as I can, the concept of ‘the onion’ and the necessary pilgrimage towards the center of it. I make mention of how Alfie Prime wants my help someday, assuming we both make it to that figurative–perhaps literal–center. Finally, I bring up the last bit of information Maxine gave me–about how sex, and not masturbation, was somehow needed if one wanted control over what worlds they’d venture to next. It’s not until I’m done talking that I realize that we’re still walking down the road together. I have no idea how far away the clearing is now. By now, someone has to have noticed we’re gone. Do they think we can be found, or are they already assuming that we’ve left this world? And, if we keep walking in this direction, how far would we have to go to get somewhere?  Audry blinks a few times, nervously chuckling to herself. “That’s…something.” “You’re telling me.” “So…” She looks away from me, and I can see her cheeks reddening a little. “...earlier, when I was talking about us showing each other our junk, and you started laughing like a mad man… Were you thinking about us, like, doing it?” I shrug. “Alright, well. I guess I’m thinking of it now too.” “You don’t actually think we should, do you?” “Uh, no,” she says, in a tone that I can’t completely believe. “No, no, no… That’s crazy. Right?” “R-right.” “But,” she says, shrugging. “I mean…it’s certainly an idea though, isn’t it? Like, would we ever have an easier time arranging for that to happen on another world? Because I can’t remember a time, in all the places I’ve been so far, where I had the opportunity to ask someone for a quickie.” “So…” I say, “you are proposing that we…?” “I-I’m not saying anything definitive,” she says. “I’m just spitballing here, that’s all.” “Okay, sure, we could easily, uh, take off our diapers and…do stuff. But we’re still, like, the same person. Or close enough. Isn’t that like…siblings? Cousins? Like…incest and mutated babies and… Well, I don’t even have a condom.” She laughs. “Oh, that’s what’s holding you back right now? Like, if you had a condom right now, you’d be bending me over that log over there?” I shrug. “Maybe? But what if condom-sex isn’t the right kind of orgasm? What if that somehow qualifies as the same kind of orgasm as masturbating?” “Okay, sure,” she says. “And what if this ‘Alfie Prime’ just made up this fucked up story because he wanted to help you get laid during our existential odyssey?” “Well that’s a pretty weird thing to make up.” I think about it for another moment and add: “Just like everything else he told Maxine.” “The way I see it,” Audry says, there’s only one way to know for sure if he was telling the truth. “So you’re proposing that we actually do it?” She holds out her open hands in front of her. “I’m not proposing anything just yet. I’m just saying. But…” “But?” She shrugs. “We don’t really have time on our sides. Sooner than later, one of us is going to be stuck in a messy diaper that we can’t clean up. And that would probably kill the mood, right?” I glance at her face at the same moment she glances at mine. She’s as red as I feel that I am. I’m willing to bet she feels the same buzzing energy that I do too.  We know each other, because we are each other. Our deepest, dirtiest fantasies and unspeakable scenarios. I know that while I'm thinking about the two of us, rolling around on the ground together in our dirty diapers–doing absolutely disgusting things with each other–she’s thinking of the same things. We walk for a few more yards without saying anything to each other. I’m hard as a rock in my diaper. I wonder how wet she is in hers. “Nobody would ever know,” she finally says. “It would just be a secret between you and me. And, you know, it might be for the greater good if sex gives us a leg up on where our journeys go from here.” “So, then…” “Yes,” she says, nodding. “Call me crazy, but… I think I want to do it.” “And let’s just be perfectly clear here,” I say. “Let’s not leave anything on the table. When you say ‘do it,’ you mean…” “I want you to fuck me, Alfie.” I search my consciousness for a reason–any reason–why I don’t think we can go through with this. Do morals apply here? Biology? Hell, does shame even apply here? I think: I barely know her. It’s like walking into a bar, hitting it off with a girl you’ve never met before, and then proceeding to fuck her in the bathroom thirty minutes later–knowing barely anything about her. Sure, there are people who could do that, but I’m certainly not one of those people. But, well, I do know her. Audry is me. We think similarly. And, I’m willing to bet, we’ve had similar lives that have run on different, but parallel, paths. Without even having to ask, I know that’s been to The Cradle. She’s tasted the milk. She’s encountered Mother, having been made to suckle from her tit long enough that she’s been forced out of her home world. Maybe she’s been in the white place and has met Harriet. She’s jumped from world to world in search of answers.  I’m tempted to say that we’re both so desperate for those answers that we’re willing to do something as insane as have sex with each other now, except I don’t think that’s entirely true. We want to copulate. For science. For pleasure. Because, at the end of the day–when someone’s given the chance to do the strangest thing they could ever think of without fear of being seen–we’ll take advantage of that opportunity. “Back there,” I say, pointing off the road, beyond a few trees to a small clearing of dried leaves near a fallen tree. It seems spacious enough for us to do what we need, while also giving us some semblance of privacy from the road, should someone else drive or walk down it. She nods her head. “C’mon. Let’s go.” === We slowly strip our clothes off at the same time, down to our diapers. We sneak little glances at each other as we undress, smirking and giggling like children. The sight of her bare tits makes me giddy, while she bites her bottom lip a little when I lower my pants. My padding is soggy and sagging, and I’m not surprised to learn that hers is too.  “Are you a good kisser, Alfie?” she asks. I shrug. “Maybe.” “I always like to think I’m pretty good,” she says. “But…you’ll tell me, right? You’ll be honest?” I feel my lip tremble as I nod my head. I guess we’re kissing too? I hadn’t thought about that, and it scares me even more than the idea of having sex, for some reason. It’s a whole other level of intimacy that I’m unprepared for.  Clad in only her diaper, goosebumps on her skin–she leans towards me as I fumble with stepping out of my pants, catching me off guard. Her hands reach out and land on my shoulder, not just steadying me, but binding us together. I feel goosebumps on my skin now too. Finally kicking my leg free of my pants, I give her my full attention and let my hands reach out and carefully hold her on either side.  There’s something inherently easy about this–making it so much more effortless than it should be. It’s as if we’re each pulling from deep-set and mostly forgotten fantasies we’ve had about what we’d do if we were in this exact moment. Maybe we just know what we, ourselves, would like.  Her face is close to mine, and while I briefly worry about the taste of greasy diner food on my mouth, her eagerness quickly clears that concern away. Either she doesn’t detect it, or she doesn’t care. In a moment, her lips are on mine. We kiss, our lips wet and smacking together. This feels wrong, in that it's something that nobody should ever be able to do. But could it actually be defined as wrong, considering that nobody has ever done this before–as best as I know? I drive her back against a thick tree trunk, the bulge in my sopping wet diaper pressing against the front of her equally wet padding. She moans into my mouth, her hands sliding down my back and over my ass, giving the thick, crinkly padding there a playful squeeze. Our hands frantically grab at each other’s bodies. I hold one of her breasts in each of my hands as one of hers cups the bulge where my cock is in my diaper. I kiss her neck, in one of the places that I like to be kissed most. Given the way that she moans and kicks her feet, I’m guessing she likes it just as much as I do. I thrust my diaper against hers again. We both moan simultaneously. “These could’ve been your tits,” she says as I lightly twist her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.  “And you could’ve had this cock,” I say, feeling as her grip on my diapered manhood grows tighter. “Dirty little boy.” “Dirty little girl.” “We coulda had an orgy,” she says. “Me and all you Alfies.” “Not all of them would’ve been fun,” I say. “But Maxine, she could’ve joined us.” “Mm,” she moans, nodding her head. I open my mouth, thinking I want to tell her to take off her diaper now. Instead, I grab one of the tapes on her garment for myself, giving it a quick pull backwards, freeing it from the plastic backing it was adhered to with a loud tearing sound. She lets out a playful gasp and does the same thing to me. Rip! Rip! I tear another of hers away. Rip! She tears another of mine away.  Rip! I tear another of hers away, leaving her with one tape hanging on for dear life.  Rip! When she pulls the second-to-last tape on my own diaper, the heavy padding immediately slides down my legs–that last adhered tape doing nothing to keep this thing in place. It flops on the dirty ground below us, exposing my erection. “Go ahead,” she says,daring me as her hand wraps around my cock. “Finish what you started.” WIth a final loud ripping noise, I pull away the last of her diaper’s tabs, and watch as her own padding falls away, leaving her cleanly shaved pussy exposed to the nature around us. My cock still gripped in her hand, she guides it between her legs, only to hesitate as I start to feel her wet warmth on the very tip of it. We both breathe heavily, taking turns looking at each other and looking away. We laugh nervously. She doesn’t actually have to say anything, because I think I know exactly what she’s thinking: That this is crazy, and maybe even stupid. What are we even doing? I consider telling her that we don’t have to do this, but before I even have the chance to open my mouth, she finishes what she started–feeding my cock into her, enveloping me with her tight, wet, warmth. There’s no turning back now. This is happening. We’re doing this. “Fuck me,” she moans. And I am.  “Dirty little girl,” I mutter again. “Dirty little boy,” she says back, in between gasping breaths. She pushes me out from her before quickly spinning around, throwing herself over the fallen tree nearby, leaving her ass sticking up in the air for me to take from behind. She glistens in the small beams of sunlight that poke through the forest canopy. Somewhere, off in the distance, I hear the faint rumble of tires on gravel. Maxine, and god knows who else, is in the car and they’re probably either looking for us or they’re looking to at least find the clothes and diapers we’ve left behind. I don’t want them to see us like this. But I’m also not going to stop. So that leaves only one option, really: Hurry up and fuck her good. I slide inside of her again, and she lets out a pleasurable yelp.  With every thrust, we seem to lose a little more of ourselves. What start as pleas to “fuck harder” and “more” turn into monosyllabic grunts and pleasured moans rather quickly. Soon enough, we’re communicating with each other in an entirely new language born of sexual thrill. I’m about to cum. She’s about to cum. The sound of the vehicle on the road is getting louder. Closer. I want to stop for a moment and say something. I don’t know what I’d say–maybe just something nice and appreciative. “Hey, it was really great that we got to meet like this, huh? I’m gonna miss you, kid.” But there’s no stopping this train now, and at any second, we’re going to be cumming very hard and then dealing with the ramifications of that. I try to eke out a goodbye at the very last second, but I can’t even manage that much. Our little chorus of moans and grunts has reached a fever pitch, culminating in… White.  Fifty-Seven: The Onion It’s a white place, not totally dissimilar from where I had met Harriet. But it’s not the same place. Or, if it is, I’m in a very different part of it.  I’m nude, of course. This is alarming for a moment, but maybe I’m just starting to get used to waking up in new places completely naked, because the terror quickly subsides and I feel mostly comfortable walking around with everything hanging out. I wonder what happened to Audry. Is she in a place like this? White as far as the eye can see, in endless horizons in all directions. There is, I guess, a slight distinction between the floor and…everything else that isn’t the floor–there aren’t exactly walls and ceilings in a place like this. I wouldn’t even say the floor is a different color, it just looks different. A different sheen or something. There’s light, but where that light is coming from, I don’t know. But, unlike the white space I had been in with Harriet, I am not alone here. There are things present, all around me. Doors. In front of me. Behind me. All around. For a moment, they seem randomly placed and situated, but the longer I stare at them, the more I realize that they do seem to follow a pattern. They’re in rows. No, enormous rings. Beyond the ring of doors in front of me, there’s a ring behind me, and a ring beyond that, and a ring beyond that. Ditto for in front of me, where rings seem to stretch into the horizon. The further away the doors are from me, the more they seem to blend into the white expanse of nothing. The comparison to an onion kind of makes sense to me now. I’m between ‘layers,’ or rings, of the onion now. The ring in front of me, and the rings beyond that, do seem, perhaps…smaller? I can’t say for sure, but it would make sense that each ring gets smaller as you make your way to the center. Given the way the rings of doors subtly curve to the left, from where I look now, I can more or less see which doors are the “next” layer in this onion.  Also, I get what Alfie Prime meant by having options now. These doors–I’m guessing I have the ability to choose which I go through. And if movies and video games have taught me anything, each door likely corresponds to a different world.  All of the doors are currently closed. Makes sense. These doors, they’re simple white panels with a simple metallic handle bent into a ‘u’-shape adhered to each side of it–on the left side of the doors in front of me, and the right side on the doors behind me. Sure, like looking at a door from either side. I test one, gently pushing on the handle, and finding that the door begins to open inward. I quickly pull it shut again. Then, I pull on the handle, finding that the door begins to open towards me. Easy enough. Except… There’s a door behind me that is unlike the others in that it’s already open. Through the simple white frame–a thin rectangle in space–all I see is a dark void in the place of where the door should be. Dark voids are rarely known for being good things, but I’m curious enough that I cautiously step towards it anyway. The closer I get to it, the less black it seems. I start to see…things. An image, a little fuzzy, like I’m looking at it through an old TV screen. I see…the clearing, the one I was just in with Maxine, Audry, and the other Alfies. There are still Alfies milling about. Many of them are naked. New arrivals? There’s one in a yellow rain poncho, trying their best to corral them.  I have a thought, and I pull the door closed.  “I wonder…” Could the world of too many Alfies have just been a mistake on someone else’s part? On Alfie Prime’s part? Had he simply left the door open, allowing other Alfies traversing the multiverse to spill through it? I suppose there’s no way to test that theory, though I feel in my gut that I’m right about this. I’m hoping that this fixes the issue for that world. That Maxine deserves a break from all those Alfies. Now then, where to next? There’s space in between the doors, enough so that I think I can walk past them and into the next ring. But when I try to do so, I find that there’s something stopping me. An invisible barrier? I don’t feel anything stopping me, and yet there’s a point that I’m just not able to walk beyond. There’s rules, I guess. One ring at a time, and I can’t skip one. Who created this place? Who enforces these rules?  Of course, if the questions are enough to give me a headache, I can only assume that the answers would make my cranium explode like someone in Scanners.  God, I wish I was home watching that movie right now. I choose a door at random–I just point at a door and decide that;s the one–and pull on the handle, freeing the door from the frame. I expect to be hit by something like an icy burst of air, but I feel no fluctuation in the temperature at all. Looking in the open cavity created by the opening of the door, I see just darkness at first. The longer I stare at it, the more it comes into focus.  I see, a building. It looks familiar to me. It’s…the old farmhouse from The Cradle. But is The Cradle I’m looking at? Does that exist in the world I’m looking in on? I can’t tell. The house is just a house. I can’t see enough of it to tell if it’s been renovated like the one I know or not.  So, should I step through this doorway, is that where I’m delivered? That’s where I wake up? I suspect that it is. And so I close the door and take a few steps and arrive at the next one. I open this one, wait for my eyes to focus, and peer into another new world.  Water. Just…water. A lake, a pond, I don’t know.  What would happen if I stepped through this doorway? Would I just splash into the water? Would I be awake and swimming, god-knows-how-far until I reach land? Would I just…drown? Yeah, I think I’m just going to close that door. It’s probably better if I don’t find out either way. Still, I’m left with a few questions–some new, and some I’ve had before. What happens if I die in one of these worlds? What determines the destination I arrive at when I go through one of these doors? Is it the corresponding location of where my body is currently located in the world I originally came from?  That’s my current theory, though I have nothing definitive to back that up. If this were true, though, that would mean that my body is…next to the old farmhouse? I imagine my body just sitting lying there in the grass, insects crawling over me. That seems…unlikely. Maybe I’m not entirely right about my theory. I walk towards the next door when I hear something. I have no context for how far away the sound is, or where it came from–but any sound at all in a place like this alarms me. I’ve assumed that I’m the only person here–the only thing capable of making a sound. But that noise–whatever it was–didn’t come from me. “Hello?” To my astonishment, there’s a response: “H-hello?” “Who else is here?” I ask. “I could ask you the same thing?” the voice says.  Oh wait. That voice seems pretty familiar. As in–one I’ve encountered very recently. “Uh…Audry?” === She seems to appear out of thin air, but I know that’s not what it is. Rather, it’s her walking into my view from around the subtle curve of the ring of doors. She’s nude, just as I am, though neither of us make any attempt to hide ourselves. Why should we? I am she, and she is I.  Not to mention the context in which we saw each other last. “Hey,” she says, a goofy grin on her face. I should know the expression–it’s probably the same one I’m making right now–but it’s still a little mysterious to me. Coy. Smug. Playful. Sarcastic, maybe. “Hey.” “And so we meet again,” she says, shrugging. “Aye.” But that feels like an insufficient response, so I add: “How about that?” She laughs under her breath, striding closer to me. She seems confident, but I know better than to assume that she’s a confident woman. There’s an inherent familiarity here–like twins who have developed a secret language with each other.  “It would seem the stories you were told were accurate,” she says. “We had sex and…voila.” “Voila,” I repeat. “I don’t think either of us predicted that we’d end up in the same place again,” she says. I shake my head. “It’s good, isn’t it?” she asks. “I mean…we can keep doing this.” “What do you mean?” She points to a door, a random one in between us. “We go through a door. Explore a world. Seen enough of it? Great, we just…boink and be on our way.” “Boink,” I repeat, laughing. “You know what I mean.” “Yes, of course I do. You… You really want to, uh, boink again?” “Irrelevent,” she says with a shrug. “You could argue it’s a necessity. We pick the best door, right? We explore together–two are better than one. And then, when we’ve seen enough, we…” “Right,” I say, nodding my head. Thinking aloud: “So every time we orgasm, we’re taken a level deeper in the, uh, onion. You think that sounds right?” She nods her head. “That’s what I was thinking.” “We could go backwards by taking one of the doors behind us.” She says: “But why would we do that?” “I’m just saying. We could. That’s an option.” I think she’s got the right idea, here. We have an advantage now. All we have to do is have sex and be taken back here together, ready to move forward into the next ring of the onion. “But… Why bother exploring any world at all?” she asks, sounding like she’s thinking out loud. “Hm?” “Well,” she says, shrugging. “I’m just saying–if our end goal is to get to the center, then what does it matter what’s on each layer of the onion? We’d be wasting our time by exploring every place we went to.” “So you’re suggesting we…what, fuck our way through the multi-verse? Just keep going until we’re in the middle of whatever this place is? The onion?” She shrugs again. “Why not?” “I…” But she makes a good point. What have my experiences on the other worlds gotten me so far? Still: “We don’t know that Alfie Prime was right about that. What if there isn’t a ‘middle.’ What if there is a middle, but there aren’t any answers there like we’re hoping there are?” “What if, Alfie? You could apply the same logic towards jumping from world to world, exploring for answers that you don’t know are there or not. This lead, true or not, is all we have.” Her thoughts mirror my own. “And, uh, can I just be honest here for a second?” she asks. “Go for it.” But I already know what she’s going to say. “The sex was pretty good, wasn’t it?” I let out a long sigh as I slowly nod my head. “It probably shouldn’t be, but…” Her eyes get large and she reaches towards me, tugging a little at my arm with both hands. “What do you think would happen if we had sex here?” I laugh “God, who even knows? We’d get teleported into some even weirder infinite room of doors? Our luck, we’d get teleported right into Mother’s asshole.” Now Audry is laughing, so hard that tears are forming in her eyes. I don’t know if what I said was that funny, but her laughter is kind of contagious, and I find myself laughing too. It gets harder and harder, each of us seeming to fuel the other one. Soon enough, we’re lost in a momentary haze of crying eyes and literal knee-slapping as we let ourselves be overtaken with giggles. It feels good, just having a laugh at the absurdity of everything. I needed this, as I’m sure Audry has too. The truth–and we both know it–is that there isn’t a knowable ‘right’ answer. Anything that we do could be just as wrong as it could be right.  “Tell me what you want to do,” I say, finally catching my breath. “And I’ll do it.” She says: “Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to you.” We open four or five doors, examining what’s beyond each of them. We haven’t really discussed what we’re looking for, and there’s a good chance that we don’t actually know. At the moment, our mantra seems to be: I’ll know it when I see it. “This one?” she asks, her thumb pointing into the space created by the open door. It’s a grassy clearing similar to the last world that we were in–no farmhouse or Cradle, and surrounded by trees. No other Alfies or Audry’s. No Maxine waiting for us. No giant women. “It’s as good as any,” I say. “After you,” she says. “Ladies first.” “No, no, I insist,” she says. I roll my eyes. We could probably do this all day–if days even exist here. “Fine, fine. Here we go. See you on the other side.” We begin to step forward simultaneously, and remembering the error that Alfie Prime might have made earlier, I reach behind me and grab the doorhandle, pulling it shut behind me as we walk forward. === For reasons I–perhaps because of my status as an insignificant speck in the greater scheme of existence at large–cannot comprehend, this is different. Before, when I reached orgasm and found myself blasting off to a new world, it was a sleepy sort of process. I’d wake slowly in a new environment, groggy and momentarily uncertain of what was happening to me.  But here, I find myself stepping onto the soft grass. I’m wide awake. Audry is stepping into the grass next to me.  I’m baffled to the point of irritation. Why is it that an orgasm derived from intercourse has given us such a different experience? And why do I feel that I’ll never get a satisfactory answer to that question, because of my rank in all things across the cosmos? Audry looks at me and laughs. “What?” “You have such a serious look on your face.” “I…” I sigh and shrug. “Doesn’t all of this frustrate the hell out of you? What are we even doing? What does all of this even mean? Why is it–” “I know,” she says, graciously cutting me off before I keep ranting. “But what if…” I finish her thought, assuming we’re on the same page: “...we just don’t think about it right now? We just…keep on keeping on?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes. Exactly.” “Yeah…” Despite us just seeing each other naked in the place with all the doors, I still manage to feel a little more vulnerable here. Perhaps it’s because this feels more like a ‘real’ place. Trees. Sunlight. Clouds in the sky. Birdsong. If I haven’t been in this exact place before, I’ve been in places like it before. And in that place–on that world–I wasn’t expected to be naked. If someone was to see me now, I’d have some explaining to do. “What do you want to do then?” I ask. “Just…get right to it?” She snorts–a sound that makes me nostalgic for Nikki’s trademark laugh. “I am curious, I guess. About, like, what makes this world different from our own.” “Well…there’s your first clue,” I say, pointing through the woods to a structure I can see through the leaves and branches. The farmhouse, I think, or something similar to it. “Should we…check it out?” she asks. “Naked?” She shrugs. “We’ll go take a peek. If someone’s there, we just come back here and, y’know, roll around.” I let out a little chortle. “That’s what we call it now, huh? Rolling around?” “Come on,” she says, swirling her arm in the air to beckon for me to follow her. It’s quite the sight, two naked people creeping through the grass together. We could be twins, maybe–that probably makes it creepier somehow, I think. We pause for a moment, surveying the land ahead of us, where a boulder, a fence, and old sticks and fallen branches all pose obstacles that we’d need to traverse around in bare feet.  Audry lets out a little gasp. My head quickly swivels in her direction, my mouth open and ready to ask her what’s wrong. But I see that her eyes are pointed down at her legs, and so I lower my gaze to see what she’s looking at. She’s peeing.  She seems paralyzed while it happens. Her thighs are pressed together, and I watch as the rivulets of urine run in and out from her closed legs as they worm down past her knees and skate down her ankles. She moans, a moan I think I know all too well myself–one of relief, mingled with a bit of forbidden pleasure. Is it bad that I want to…touch it? Maybe that’s the wrong question, and it should be: Would she allow me to touch it? I look up at her face, and see that she’s looking down at me, smiling. She says, softly but quickly: “You…want to feel?” “Yes?” “Do it.” Yes, of course she would want me to feel it. If she were watching me wet myself, she’d be wondering the same thing, because this is how we think. Quickly, before she’s done, I squat a little and slide my hand between her thighs. She draws in a sharp breath as my fingers craze her skin. She makes no effort to distance herself from me, or to shimmy her legs free of my hand–it’s clear that my hand is a welcome presence. I catch the last of her stream, feeling the warm liquid flow over my fingers as they find new trails to take down her legs and to the ground. Even when the stream is through, my fingers remain in place a little longer, feeling at the trapped moisture between her warm thighs. “It’s good?” she asks. “Mm.” I’m daydreaming about it being my face between her legs, and thought of  this makes me say to myself: What the fuck is wrong with me? I slowly withdraw my hand from her thighs, though I don’t stand up straight just yet. I think it’s that she feels like an extension of myself. She’s me, as I am her, and we have this free reign to experiment in ways that we never could before. But, this is a tricky space. For as much as we may be in sync, we actually are separate people. She is an autonomous human, like myself. She is Audry, not Alfie. I can’t let myself forget about that. “I can tell you liked that,” she says, looking down at the erection dangling between my legs as I remain squatting. “I’d be worried if I wasn’t erect… And you? Did you like…uh, my fingers between your…” “Yes,” she says. “I’m obviously wet because I just peed right now. But…I think I’m a different kind of wet too.” We both laugh again, our faces bright red as I finally stand up. Her with her damp legs, and me with my hard cock–we’re quite the sight right now, and certainly not in a position to go exploring anything. “Maybe we just, uh, hang back a moment before we go any further,” I say. “Fair.” === I was almost positive that our journey on this world would be complete a few minutes ago, right after I touched her pee-soaked thighs. Had there been a stiffer wind, or if one of us had just asked the other for a little more, we’d have collapsed in the grass and done the deed that probably would’ve sent us back to the onion. Somehow we persevere, though, and we are once more trudging forward–carefully blazing a trail through all the more difficult areas for bare feet. Past a grove of trees, we enter the property surrounding the farmhouse. It’s absolutely similar in design to the house I know from my own Cradle, though the land around it is different. Instead of a field around it–like the one I stood in during the Rebirth Festival–it’s more of a small yard. There is a shed. A detached garage. An overgrown driveway that feeds through the area that looks like it hasn’t been used in a while.  “Think anyone’s home?” she asks. I shake my head, looking at the tall weeds growing out from the gravel that used to make up the driveway. “I’m guessing not.” “Want to take a look inside?” she asks, pointing to the house. “I do, but…” “But you think it’s a bad idea,” she says, finishing my thought for me. “I know, I feel the same way.” “But we’re probably going to do it anyway, yeah?” She’s already stepping up onto the front porch–well worn wood that looks like it might have been a pretty blue color once upon a time–carefully trotting past a window and making her way to the door. I follow close behind and I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want her to be alone or if it’s because I don’t want to be alone. The screen door is old and falling off its hinges. The white paint on the wooden door behind it is flaking away and aged by time. She opens the screen door and has to brush away cobwebs left in its wake. She raises her hand to knock on the front door, interrupted from actually doing so by the fact that I’m laughing.  “What?” she asks. “Just in case someone’s here, right? “Okay, but what if someone actually answered?” “Good call. Do we want to make a cover story or…” “I’m less concerned with the reason we’re here and more with the fact that we’re still buck-naked.” She blushes and laughs again. “Oh yeah…” “If you want to nose around, let’s be a little more subtle about it,” I say. I wander back towards the window that the two of us walked past a moment ago. Crouching, so that there’s less of my body awkwardly standing in front of the glass in case someone is inside, I cup my hands over either side of my face and get close enough to peer through.  No lights are on, though it looks like it must be wired for electricity, given the ceiling-mounted lamps and the sconces. There’s a TV in the corner–an old 13” CRT thing in an, by the looks of it. The sort of thing I’d seen in pictures my parents showed me from their childhoods–a boxy unit that either had wooden panels on its sides, or it was plastic made to look like wood. It sat atop a short wire rack, with a black VCR unit sitting on a shelf below it. Elsewhere in this room, I see a faded green couch, and a coffee table with a few things on it–newspapers and magazines. It’s hard to tell from here, but everything looks to have a decent layer of dust on it. “I don’t think anyone’s been here for a while,” I say. “But it also doesn’t look particularly interesting either. Probably just some old folks who eventually moved out or died and nobody bothered to do anything about their stuff.” “Grim,” she says, walking over to the window. “Let me look.” I step aside, giving her the window. As she presses her face up to it, I look around the property, just scanning about for any sign of recent life. Everywhere I look, though, I just see more of the same–overgrowth and neglect. Vines work their way up the farmhouse. Part of the garage’s roof seems to have collapsed in on itself. A little garden looks to be the home of just some unkempt shrubbery now.  Even if it’s not my world, and ultimately unimportant to my journey, I am pretty curious about this place. Who used to live here? What were they like? Why did they leave? It’s evident that someone used to take good care of this area, and I doubt that they’d like to see what it’s become if they were here now. “Alfie,” Audry says, again beckoning for me to come back to the window. “Come here.” “What? You see something?” “Come,” she repeats. Like an obedient dog, I quickly walk over to the window again, pressing my face against the glass near where hers is. “What do you see?” “There’s a little table next to the couch, you see it? Look next to the lamp there.” I do so, spotting the little object in question. I might have seen it earlier too, but my eyes just whipped past it, assuming it was either something unidentifiable from this distance, or something uninteresting. I let my eyes focus on it for a moment. Suddenly: “Woah.” It’s a pacifier. “Weird, right?” “Maybe,” I say. “Or maybe…the previous owners–the current owners, for all we know–just had a baby. In fact, I’d say that’s the most obvious answer.” “Maybe,” she says, sounding unconvinced. And, honestly, I get where she’s coming from. Given the things we’ve seen so far, seeing a random pacifier really does make me curious. “I don’t see anything else in there that looks like it would belong to a baby,” she says. “No playpen. No baby toys. No changing pad. No–” “But there could be a nursery,” I say. I’m playing devil’s advocate here. One of us needs to. “I want to go inside,” she says. I do too, but it still seems like a bad idea. “Maybe, first we…scope the place out more?” She seems to agree with this, given the way she scurries off the porch, following the wall until she finds another window to peer through. I want to follow her, but first I take a look through the window here again, looking at the pacifier and the stillness of everything. The dust. The obvious case being made for nobody having been here for a long time.  I walk back to the front door, where the screen door is still opened and hanging on by one frail hinge. I reach out towards the door knob, biting my lip a little as I consider whether or not I want to do this.  Fuck it. Worst case scenario, we run and…get off this world. My hand wraps around the knob and I twist it, expecting it to not budge on account of being locked. To my surprise, the handle turns, and I hear the door unlatch.  “Uh, Audry?” “Yeah?” she says from around the corner of the house. “If you want to go inside…I, uh, opened the door.” She comes running back to my side so quickly that I swear she just magically materialized there.  My hand is still on the door knob, and while the door is free to be opened, I haven’t actually gone through with it yet. Audry takes it upon herself to do that part for me, nudging me to the side so that she can push through the door. Without any hesitation, she steps into the house. “You coming?” she asks. “I guess.” === The soft maroon carpet beneath our feet is a welcome change from the uneven turf, gravel, sticks, and the worn boards of the front porch that we’ve been walking on. It feels about ten degrees cooler in the house than it does outside. While it’s felt comfortable enough for a naked body like mine while I was outdoors, it’s on the verge of being too cold here.  We’re in the living room that we had observed through the window earlier. Audry makes a beeline to the pacifier, but only bends over to examine it closer instead of picking it up. Bending over, of course, sticks her ass up in the air, causing me to stare at it. “Covered in dust,” she says. “Hasn’t been used by anyone in a long time.” “Uh, y-yeah,” I say, quickly looking away from her ass. “Makes sense.” Doing my best to avoid looking in her direction, I browse around the room again. There’s the TV I observed earlier. The couch. The coffee table. There’s a book shelf here too, a few rows of what look like encyclopedias, and then a few shelves of what look to be one of those big plastic VHS cases. A little before my time, but I’ve seen them around. I’m kind of curious what I’d see on those videotapes if I slid one into the VCR under the TV–assuming we had power, which we don’t appear to. I walk over to the coffee table and take a look at the periodicals lying on it. The newspaper lying on the top of the pile, The Harper Independent, is dated Monday, August 1, 2005. That’s a very long time ago. Has this house been in complete neglect for that long? It seems hard to believe that the building would even still be standing at this point. But, then again, what the hell do I know about architecture or engineering? When I look up, Audry is gone. “Uh…Audry?” “Just looking around,” she says from another room. Looking down again, something else, beneath the newspapers, catches my eye and I reach to grab it. It seems to be a blueprint of some sort. A schematic? Some kind of technical drawing, but I can’t make any sense of it. Boxes and arrows. Numbers and abbreviated words without context. Wires and capacitors or something like that–stuff that’s far outside my wheelhouse. I get lost in the drawing for a few minutes, as I study it over and over again in the hopes that some previously unnoticed detail jumps out at me, but to no avail. Something else on the paper catches my eye: In the corner of the document is a box with what looks to be some identifying information on it. Catalog or reference numbers I assume. And there’s also the name for this project–whatever it is: CRAD13. I stare at the word for a moment, uncertain about how this makes me feel. I don’t know what it means, but it makes me feel a little queasy. “Alfie?” I look up again, and Audry is in the doorway at the far end of the room. She’s holding something in her hand. “What’s that?” But the moment the words leave my mouth, I realize exactly what it is. It’s a disposable diaper. A big disposable diaper. A big and thick disposable diaper, like the kind intended for adults to wear. Folded, still. Unused. It crinkled in her hand. Before she can answer, I ask a new question: “Where did you get that?” She says: “Would you believe me if I told you that there’s a fucking nursery in this place?” I look down at the schematic in my hand again. CRAD13, whatever that is. “I think,” I say, “I’d believe just about anything right now.” Fifty-Eight: CRAD13 I follow Audry’s nude form through the doorway at the other end of the living room–the one where, just a moment ago, she revealed to me the thick, still folded, adult diaper she had found. I was in the kitchen now, a surprisingly narrow space that looked like a corridor lined with counters. I wanted to get a better look, but that would have to wait–all I really wanted to see right now was the supposed ‘nursery’ where she had found the diaper. Through another doorway, there’s a short hallway, with an opening that leads to a dining room, two closed doors, and stairs leading to the floor above us. If I had previously seen a similarity between this building and the farmhouse back at The Cradle where I’ve come from, those stop here. The layout of this house is nothing like that one. “It’s upstairs,” she says. “What’s through these doors?” I ask. She shrugs. “Didn’t check those yet.” I open the first, revealing a closet. There’s a rod with hangers hanging from it–a good place for jackets and whatnot, though there aren’t any here. There’s a pair of old boots on the floor, caked in ancient dirt. A broom and a mop. A bucket. Nothing else especially notable. I check the next door, finding that it’s a bathroom. Out of instinct, I flip the light switch on and off, but it doesn’t cause the lights to turn on.  “You done exploring?” Audry asks, impatiently. “Come on.” She’s antsy–she really wants to show me this. And, honestly, I really want to see it.  I’m about ready to close the bathroom door and follow Audry up the stairs when something catches my eye–something on the ground, stuffed behind the pipes connecting to the toilet. I take a few cautious steps into the darkness, reach around the old throne, and grab at it. It’s a notebook. I step back into the hallway where there’s more light to get a better look at it. It’s just a spiral bound notebook of line paper–the sort of thing my mom would buy for me in bulk at the beginning of a school year. Scrawled across the green cover was ‘THOMAS.’ Tommy Pritchard from The Cradle comes to mind, but I doubt it's the same person.  Still, I do wonder how Tommy–my Tommy is right now, in the world I had come from originally. What’s he up to? I flip open to the first page, finding handwritten paragraphs covering the page. In between the entries are dates. This must be a journal. I flip ahead further in the notebook, seeing that Thomas has recorded quite a bit. I doubt I’ll read all of this, but I’m too curious not to at least read some of it to see what this might all be about. “Alfie, what the hell are you doing down there?” Audry says. “Uh, just one moment…” === Monday, June 6, 2005 I’m not one to keep a diary. Oh, sorry, a ‘journal,’ I guess. But seeing as how this is part of the job, here we go… Not much to say just yet, as I just moved my stuff into the house today. I expected there to be an orientation or for someone to walk me around the place, but I guess I’m left to my own devices. I took a little self-guided tour. Place seems pretty nice. A little lonely-feeling, being out here in the middle of nowhere, but I suppose the company has reasons for that.  There’s some rooms that I don’t really get. Like the nursery? Is that for people with kids or something? The company made a big deal about me coming here alone, so I guess it’s just kind of weird that there’s a nursery if you aren’t supposed to come here with your family, you know? === “Alfie,” Audry says again. The impatience in her voice reminds me of, well, myself. It’s rare that I’m the one being impatient with someone and not the other way around, but when it happens, I certainly sound like she does now. “Seriously, did you get lost? Fall in a hole? Did you poop on the floor?” “I…I didn’t poop on the floor,” I huff. Though that does remind me that such a thing is possible. Audry’s discovery of adult diapers here is weird–and the journal entry provides me with more questions than answers–but maybe that’s the best possible thing she could’ve found. We both should probably be in diapers before one of us actually does poop on the floor. “Then what the hell are you doing?” she asks. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” I hike up the stairs with the notebook clutched in my hands. At the top of the steps, I see her shadow in a room to the left, and so I pivot into it.  It’s exactly what she said it was. A nursery. But the thing that I notice immediately–and what the ‘Tommy’ of the journal I’m holding seemed to miss at first glance–is the scale of the furniture here. The crib, the changing table, and even the rocking horse–they’re all big. They’re not for infants, they’re for adults. “This is weird,” I say, taking a little stroll through the room to further assess everything. She laughs. “Duh.” “I mean… Like, what are the odds, right? We can’t find The Cradle as we might know it, but we find a house with an adult baby nursery?” And then I remember the schematics I found in the living room. CRAD13. How did I miss that detail earlier? Isn’t that, essentially…’Cradle?’ “Well I pissed myself once,” Audry says. “Maybe it’d be best if I didn’t let it happen again. I’m gonna put one of these diapers on. You should probably wear one too.” “Wait,” I say. I don’t have any idea about what’s going on here, but I’m getting some very bad vibes. She rolls her eyes. “You think it’s a poison diaper or something?” “N-no. I just…” “What’s that?” she asks, pointing to the notebook tucked under my arm. “I found it downstairs. It’s like a journal or something.” “What does it say? Anything helpful?” I laugh. “You think I read the whole thing already? I read, like, a single page. And that didn’t tell me anything. Just that some guy was hired to live here or something.” She shrugs. “Well, why don’t you, like, look it over or something. I’m going to put this diaper on.” There’s a sudden, and loud, BEEP, that echoes through the house, though it’s hard to say where it originated. Audry and I glance at each other, both of us sharing the same concerned look.  “There’s no way that was a good noise, right?” she asks. I shrug. “I’m betting on…no.” “What do we do?” I hold out a finger to her, hoping to momentarily silence her as I listen. I think I hear something? Clicks. Thumps.  And then we both hear what sounds like a door opening, its hinges making a slight creaking noise. “Shit,” I mutter softly. “We’re…not alone?” “Impossible,” she says. “This place was abandoned. The dust. The overgrown driveway. No power. N-nobody’s here.” But there’s certainly something moving around here. We can hear it further down the hallway. Footsteps. They’re coming towards us.  “Hide,” I say to her, but she’s already diving underneath the crib, trying to submerge herself in the dark of the corner. There’s only a, maybe, foot and a half gap between the floor and the bottom of the crib, but it’s just enough for her to worm herself into. That was probably the best hiding spot in the room, so I’m left scrambling for a plan B as the footsteps get closer. Light. There’s suddenly light in the hallway. Is the power back on? I run to the nursery’s door, hiding behind it. I’ll be exposed immediately if whoever is here steps into the room and closes the door, but I can’t think of any better options at the moment.  Step. Step. Step. There’s a creek in the floorboards under the person’s foot. And there’s another noise too–one that I can’t quite make sense of, a sort-of whirring sound. Kind of mechanical in nature. The new light from the hallway illuminates more of the nursery, but not much of it. Audry still remains hidden in the corner, beneath the crib. I can’t see her, but I wonder if she can see me. I try to motion with my hand for her to remain still and quiet. Maybe she sees that, maybe she doesn’t–though I’m sure she doesn’t need a reminder from me to do just that. The footsteps get closer until they’ve reached the doorway. They cast a humanoid-shaped shadow in the room in the center of the beam of light from the hallway. I swallow, wondering if they suspect that there are intruders in the house–or that those intruders are in this room. And then, a voice–feminine but strangely detached and robotic: “Do not be alarmed, little one. I am here to assist you with your diapers.” The tone reminds me of one of those text-to-speech apps, where a computerized voice reads back whatever you typed in. My friends had a lot of fun with those sorts of things when we were kids, making them say stupid things about farts and boobies. Now, hearing the voice echo into this room while we hide, it’s strangely terrifying. They turn and walk into the room, the whirring sound more pronounced as their body gets closer to me.  “I see,” the robotic voice says. “Are we playing the game of ‘hide and seek?’ I regret to inform you, little one, that I am very good at this game. In fact–yes–I detect your heat signature underneath the crib. The game is over now. Please come out so that we can proceed with your diaper change.” An audible gasp is heard from under the crib. Audry’s been spotted, and I have no doubt she’s scared. Hell, I’m scared for her, just as I’m scared that this thing will easily find me next. I try to think a step or two ahead. What do I do if I’m spotted? Run, I think. I’m just going to run. I’ll bowl whoever this is over on my way out of the room if I have to. “Please, little one,” the voice says. “It is time for you to come out now.” “D-don’t hurt me,” Audry says.  “There is no reason for you to be scared, little one. All you need to do is come out from your hiding place, and I will take good care of you.” “I…I’m not coming out,” Audry says. I swallow again, nervous about how this will escalate the situation. “Little one, I do have the means of forcibly extracting you from your location, if the need arises. It is in your best interest to just come out on your own accord.” There we go. I imagine this thing looking like The Terminator–some sort of metal-skeleton with an apron on. I prepare to flee, assuring myself that I’m not leaving Audry behind, but that I’d just be leaving the room in search of another option. Maybe, now that the power seems to be on, I can find a working phone that I can use to call for help. Hell, maybe I’ll go back downstairs, into that closet I opened earlier, and take out the mop I saw in there and swing it around like a weapon. I imagine myself knocking the robotic head off whatever’s in the room with us now. That’d be pretty badass. The figure moves forward again, getting closer to the crib. I can see it now, and it’s not quite what I expected it to be.  It (she?) looks like a woman. She’s got skin and blonde curly hair. She wears a blue dress, with a little white apron tied around the front of it (I was right about that part, I guess). I can’t see her face yet. But…is it–is she–human? Because there’s something stiff and uncanny about her movements. Too precise. Too mechanical.  If I had encountered this a few months ago–before I had ever come to The Cradle, where I started to see and experience the strangest things imaginable–I would be assuring myself that I was just imagining things. This, I’d say, was a real person and I was just misreading the situation. But I know better. I know to expect the unexpected now. I trust my instincts, no matter how strange they are. This is a robot.  Has Audry come to the same conclusion? I hear some shuffling coming from under the crib. “I’m coming out,” she says. “Just, uh, give me a second here…” Slowly but surely, Audry wriggles herself out from under the crib. I don’t remember it being so hard for her to get under there in the first place, but I guess she was being powered by adrenaline when she dove for cover. She glances in my direction briefly, but thankfully her eyes don’t linger there too long. I have no doubt that this ‘mommy-boy’ would spot me in a moment if she just turned her head–especially with her apparent use of thermal vision–but she doesn’t seem aware of my presence just yet, only Audry’s. I think I can use this to my advantage.  Any second now, I’m going to bolt and find a way to help Audry. Any moment… But, I’m also just a little too curious to see what’s going to happen. The woman bends over a little–another sequence of clicking and whirring noises emanating from its body–as it extends a hand to Aubry to help her to her feet. She hesitantly accepts it, her face bright pink as she stands up and the light hits her face. “Dear,” the woman says, “you are not just without a diaper–but you are completely naked. This is unacceptable.” Aubry runs a hand through her hair. “Well, uh…” “Never you worry,” the woman says, her voice still mechanically cold. “I am designed to assist in a situation exactly like this.” Aubry says: “I…I don’t need assistance, really. I just…well…maybe some privacy? And I could use some clothes, I guess…if you have some you could lend me?” “I will take care of all of your needs, child. Come now.” From my vantage point, I see that Audry is willingly following the strange woman to the changing table. No wait, that’s not what’s happening–the strange robo-woman is pulling Audry towards the table, her hand is locked around Audry’s wrist. “N-no, stop!” Audry protests. “What are you doing?” I feel myself shuddering a little–my body on edge as I debate about when, how, or if I want to take action here.  “I can assure you that this will go much more smoothly if you just cooperate with me, little girl.” “I…I’m not a…” It’s hard to say what happens next. One moment, I see Audry trying to pull away from the robo-woman, but in the next, Audry seems to be pulled even closer. A moment later, and it looks like Audry is climbing atop the table. Or… Or is it that the robo-woman is literally hoisting Audry up onto the table herself? It’s a little worrying to see how strong the woman is–how little effort she seems to put into manhandling Audry. Even once Audry is atop the table, the woman uses her hands to push her body into a flat prone position on her back. “There,” the woman says. “Now this will only take a few moments. It would be more ideal if we did not have to secure you to the table, but alas, you seem to be a squirmy little child.” “Wh-what are you talking about?” Audry says, helplessly attempting to kick her legs and shake her arms free from the woman’s grip.  But the response comes from a series of clanking noises coming, not from the woman herself this time, from the changing table. Metallic bands have suddenly sprung from the table’s surface, wrapping around Audry’s ankles and wrists, pinning her to the padded surface. I can see by the wiggling in her toes and the spasms in her fingers that she’s still trying to resist and escape, but that she’s unable to break free. “Silly child,” the robo-woman says. “I did tell you that this would be easier if you cooperate with me, yes?” “Let me go!” Audry cries, though her request seems to go mostly ignored. The overhead light in the nursery is on now, and the new illumination reveals a plethora of details I hadn’t noticed in the darkness. Namely, the strange panels that seem to be on almost every wall. Some large, some small–just square and rectangular metal panels that contrast with the cutesy pastel colors of the wallpaper. Some have buttons. Some are just sheets of metal. Some have little screens on them, and I see some of them are booting up now, displaying little threads of letters and numbers that I can’t read from where I am. The changing table, too, had additional features or components that I either didn’t see earlier, or are only now revealing themselves. Compartments opening, and shelves automatically extending. Little robotic hands drawing baby wipes from packages and unfurling a thick diaper. Little hands mounted on a series of mechanical, many-jointed, arms, slowly reveal themselves from within not only the changing table, but the walls too–from some of the metal panels that open like doors. And the robo-woman, she just stands there, doing very little herself as the hands do the entirety of the work of gliding the wipes across Audry’s skin–being sure to thoroughly clean her pissy legs before moving to her vaginal area. Audry’s noises are getting confusing and hard to read–panicked and alarmed, but also, just maybe, with a hint of pleasure? Especially as one of the hands presses a wipe into her labia, it’s not clear to me if Audry hates or loves this moment. I remember that I’m still hiding, watching all of this unfold instead of doing anything. I debate with myself for a moment how likely it is I can make it out of this room undetected. “Don’t you worry, little boy,” the robo-woman says as she watches mechanical hands sliding the diaper. “I am aware that you also require a diaper, and I will be getting to you next.” Well then. That makes the decision to get out of this room a little easier. Even more so when I begin to see panels in the wall around where I’m standing opening and new mechanical arms and hands appear in an effort to–I presume–try and snatch me. “I’ll be back for you, Audry,” I say, leaping out from behind the door.  The robo-woman turns her head, looking over her shoulder at me–her head turning a little more than a human head should be able to. I am seeing her face for the first time. Pretty, I suppose, in a ‘mid-20th Century housewife’ sort of way, but with an unignorable artificiality to it. She looks more like a mannequin than she does a real human, and when combined with her mechanical movements and the whirring sounds she makes, the grand sum is something beyond disturbing. “W-wait,” Audry cries out to me. “You’re leaving me? Where are you going?” “I’ll be back, I swear! I just gotta…” Who am I kidding? I’m not about to announce my plan out loud. I barely even know what my plan is.  The last thing I see before I turn to book it is a new robotic hand hovering above Audry’s face, holding a pacifier. It extends itself towards her mouth, plugging it with the paci. I sure do hope that thing’s been disinfected somewhat recently… I pivot on my heel and I’m running out the door. Back down the stairs.  There’s lights on down here too. The whole house suddenly seems to be alive now, with lights and appliances clicking, beeping, and going about whatever normal business they have now. The house, once far too quiet, now seems far too alive. In the kitchen, more hands emerge from the walls and from spaces between cabinet doors, going through the motions of taking out plates and bowls, food and ingredients, and beginning to construct meals from them. There’s no way that food is good anymore, right?  I jog into the living room, seeing that the power is on here too. My first instinct is to try the front door. I’m not even sure what I’d do once I leave. I’m not going to run away and leave Audry behind, despite what she might think. But at least there’s a shortage of mechanical hands outside.  …Right? But when I try the door, I find that it’s locked. Or, not locked–seeing as how I can manually flip the lock back and forth myself. The door is sealed by some other means that I don’t have control over.  I guess I’m stuck in here now whether I like it or not. I begin my search for a telephone, glancing around the living room for one. And while I don’t spot one right away, I do notice that the TV is on. It seems to be showing grainy camera footage of someone sitting on the floor, their back to the camera. It’s a fixed angle, suggesting that someone isn’t standing there while holding a camera, it’s on a tripod and mounted somewhere. And given the angle of the footage, it seems that it’s mounted up high. Like from the ceiling or high on the wall. And… When I get a little closer to the TV, I see that the person sitting there is wearing a diaper. A onesie. They’ve got a bonnet on their head. They’re staring ahead at TV. The TV is showing cartoons. That TV looks familiar… It’s the TV that I’m watching right now. I spin around, looking up at the ceiling behind me, spotting a camera mounted in the corner that I hadn’t noticed earlier. I wonder how many other cameras are here in the house. I’m guessing that’s what’s on the videotapes on the shelf? More footage of someone being treated like a baby? I think of the mechanical hands again, and I look around the room to see if I see them in here, but I don’t. No weird panels or spaces where creepy robot arms can emerge from, as best as I can tell. The locked door is still a little foreboding, but otherwise this room seems to offer a reprieve from the madness elsewhere in this house. I realize I’m still holding the notebook in my hands, my fingers grasping it so tightly that I’ve bent the thing in half. There’s a good chance that this is a bad time to do some reading, but I realize that I’m holding evidence of someone else’s experiences in this strange place. Maybe, in these notes, there’s an answer to how we get out of here or what we should be doing? I quickly flip through the pages but I have no idea what I’m expecting to jump out at me. I pick a page somewhere in the middle and hastily skim through it to see if its of any help. === Tuesday, August 16, 2005 I’m just about at my breaking point here, I think. I don’t know how to get out of this place, and I can’t tell if anyone from the company is even getting my messages anymore, because they’re not responding to me.  I guess I’m just stuck here. Forced to be a baby everyday. I don’t even bother trying to fight with MAMA now, since that’s never been a battle that I’ve been able to win. Everyday, it’s the same routine–she puts me in diapers and dresses me like a baby. I can’t even remember the last time I used a toilet. Even as I write this now, my diaper is sopping wet and drooping between my legs. At any moment now, one of the sensors in this house is going to pick up on that and MAMA is going to come fetch me and drag me back upstairs to the nursery so that she can change me. Rinse and repeat. Ad nauseum.  And for what? The salary on the contract was pretty nice looking when I first signed on for this gig, but I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever be able to get out of this place to enjoy it. I thought I was only supposed to be here for a month, but we’re well past two now.  And you want to know the must fucked up part of this? There are times when I just try to look past all my frustration and roll with the situation, you know, and I find myself…LIKING the way that damn robot lady treats me.  I swear, I’m being brainwashed here. Ah, well, would you look at that…I just heard some of the sensors chiming. And I hear MAMA coming now… === Well, that wasn’t especially helpful, but it was kind of intriguing.  MAMA, huh? Is that the robo-woman’s name, or is that just what he calls her? I flip forward more pages, trying to find an entry near the end of the notebook. I’m hoping that if this ‘Tommy’ ever got out of here, he’ll explain how that happened in one of his last entries. I look around again, making sure that I remain safe in this room. The coast at least seems to be clear. No hands protruding from walls and no robot-women here. There is the camera in the corner, though, and I’m noticing now that a small red light on it is lit up. Does that just mean that it’s recording? Or is there someone, somewhere, who is watching this? On the TV, a second person is in frame now–a woman. I’m pretty sure that’s robo-woman herself. ‘MAMA’ as she was referred to as in the journal, though I don’t know if that’s an official name, or just what Tommy chose to call her.  “Tommy,” MAMA says on the TV set. “I will need you to come with me to the nursery. It is time to change your diaper.” “I…I don’t need to be changed,” the man says. “My sensors indicate otherwise,” MAMA states. “You have had a sizable bowel movement in your diaper, and now require a proper cleaning.” “F-fine…” Tommy finally says. I turn my attention back to the notebook again, glancing at the page I have it opened to. The handwriting is a little sloppier here, a little more haphazard. Were they writing in a rush? C’mon, give me something good… === Wednesday, November 30, 2005 I’m done. I’m getting out of here. No more poopy diapers. No more getting force fed by a robot with a spoon. Thought about taking this notebook with me and showing it to people as proof of what I’ve had to endure, but nobody’s going to believe any of this shit. So instead I’m going to leave it here in the house. Hide it. Hope that, if some other unlucky loser ever enters this place, they find it.  Hey, you. Yes, I’m talking to YOU–the idiot who might be reading this because you found yourself trapped inside of this house like I did. Don’t believe anything the company tells you, okay? This isn’t some easy-peasy housesitting operation. You’re a test subject. And this sure as hell isn’t just some house. This is CRAD13–some sort of autonomous house designed to care for babies without the need of actual adults. Who the hell thought that was a good idea, you know? Guess they either can’t or won’t test it on actual babies, so they’re testing it on adults. But they sure as hell didn’t tell me–or you, maybe–that when they hired us to be here, you know?  You’re only company here, if you haven’t figured it out by now, is MAMA. I don’t remember exactly what it stands for, but I found some documents and I think it was spelled out there. Something like: Maternal Affection Machinated Apparatus. Whatever that means. You can’t trust her (though I hesitate to even gender that thing). If you wanna escape from this place, you’ve got to avoid her. You’re not stronger than her, I’ll tell you that right now. You wanna get out of here? I think I got it figured out. And if there aren’t any entries after this one, then you can bet that I got my ass out of this place. Basement. Behind the water heater. Loose panel. There’s a tunnel there. If my measurements are right, I think it goes to the garage.  I’m making a break for it. You should do the same. The sooner the better, if you want to avoid the shame of shitting yourself all day every day. === ‘The shame’ he says. I laugh at that. Dude, what if I told you of a place where everyone loves the fact that they get to waddle around and mess their diapers all day? I miss the early days of being in The Cradle. No wacky milk heists or transdimensional galavanting. Just good ol’ baby shenanigans.  At this point? I think there’s a part of me that would take that. If the next world we go to has The Cradle, or something similar to it, I might just say: “Yeah, I think I’ll stick around here for a while. This is my home now.” No, I doubt I’d actually do that. I need to get home. My home. But the idea is certainly nice. Okay, okay, okay. So what now?  Well, we got to get out of here. And… I run over to the door and try to open it again. It doesn’t budge, even after I flip the lock back and forth a few times. Guess I gotta go for the basement, as per the notebook.  But I’m not going anywhere without Audry.  Last I saw her, she was buckled down to a changing table against her will and about to be diapered. A similar fate awaits me if I let it.  Clop. Clop. Clop. I can hear heavy footsteps coming downstairs. It’s probably MAMA, finished with Audry and looking for me now. A moment later, my suspicions are confirmed: “Come to me, little boy. It is time for you to be diapered.” Do I hide? Run? Fight? I look around the room for anything that I could use as a weapon. VHS cases, newspapers, and books probably aren’t going to cut it. She’s getting closer. “Little boy? Come here to me. I promise that I will make everything better for you.” Fuck it. I’m running. But as I run through the living room, I feel something wrapping around my ankle, immediately tripping me. I fall forward onto my face. My pride is hurt more than my body, though my body doesn’t feel great either. I look to see what tripped me, and see that there is, in fact, a mechanical hand grasping me. I guess I’m not as safe in here as I thought I was. I hear her footsteps getting closer. Then, she’s so close that I can hear the mechanical whirring of her joints.  “There you are, little boy. Did you fall down and go boom? It is okay. MAMA is here to take very good care of you.”

I sometimes have the feeling that unconsciously , some of us have a psysical problem we do not know about . For example a bladder sfincter that cost too much energy to be contracted, something with a prostate , in comparison with a normal person. Or any kind of damage in that area, even hormonal imbalance . For example I had a complication from a laparoscopic incisiontherefore, bladder retention with multiple catheters along the way in emergency rooms. It is fixed now in my personal case but I don't feel the same , before and after this medical situation.   Based on this theory Therefore the diaper will take away the fatigue and the effort , which is draining energy . Therefore you feel better in a diaper, stronger , confident and in a better mood ?  It's just a thought . I came up with. Based on my own situation. 

KayCey fabric is pretty good, thinner than the LKS, should be awesome in Summer   Wonsie have a winter weight option out, so ive grabbed that, and i'll see how it looks in a week or so

Hi,  I have exactly the same , I feel lost. I cannot completely identify myself that it is a fetish for me , or that I am part of being abdl. However it really gives me a form of comfort and safety, and I feel much better in them . The worst part is I started it in February. My inspiration came after an hospital admission( on a small operation )) on 2025, I had a catheter and followed by a diaper. This inspired me. Now since February I am on and off on diapers. In my free time. A few weeks I totally stopped it. But it was like on and off. Unfortunately I travel a lot with my job so going 24/7 would be hard.  I promised myself just to do it once per month for relieve. But gues what ! Thinking about it all the time, and now I am ON in my weekends, and I feel the desire is getting stronger as well. The release I get out of it, the urine is easier and easier dripping. I almost loose control when the void comes. Lately the void looks slower than before. When I am in a diaper. I feel that it almost flows out. BM I almost don't do any effort, when the BM arrives at the last stop,  just a slight push and the diaper flows full. I was in shock it happens often a few times per day. (In stead of one morning stool, which was my normal non diaper pattern )  I feel I release more in the diaper bowel wise then in a toilet. And I am somehow even proud of it .  I feel I managed to get into a relaxed state whereby my pelvic floor opens op and allows to be relaxed. ( Thanks to the pelvic breathing therapy in the hospital ) ( When I got treated for urinal retention ) I also have off diaper days. And it looks like for now I am in control. But it looks like my body learns to be in diaper mode. Nobody knows about my little secret.  I feel horrible guilty that I am very occupied with this thought..it's like in or out a diaper. That is why I start to wear them more and more. Just to have my peace and satisfactory release. I feel happier in a big diaper, safe and secure. Without them I even had a few times a certain kind of anxiety that I was craving craving for a diaper. The big bulky feeling and to be able to relax my pelvic area it is very comforting. As well that I don't have to clench any longer. I just want everything to naturally flow and drip in my diaper. It really gives me a """ good"" feeling somehow. I don't understand my IC dream. That many seem to have on this forum . However if I could choose I would be 24/7 in a diaper..it's a desire to be allowed to be diapered all the time. Completely dependent and incontinent. Completely exposed and nude. Completely released .. it feels good and right . The problem is my job, diaper supply, and obligations that make the logistics more complicated.