2011

Yay! I’m glad this story came back !

LOL yep guess it does     Anyway, continuing not quite where we left off (we'll explain how we got here later)   She should have listened to Johann. Dr. McKay's head hung low as sweat and tears dripped down her long, ribboned pigtails. Her arms gripped the ropes to her side, and her legs kicked helplessly in the air beneath her. "You know what we want you to say. Say it, and we let you down. Say it, and this ends," the man in the lab coat said. "I... I don't know," she said. WHACK! The paddle struck her backside again, making her jump up and yelp. Single tears became a torrent, and despite herself she sniffled. In this situation, the LAST thing she needed was videos of her sniffling and crying to add to their ammunition against her. "You don't know?" the giant man in a lap coat asked. "Some great professor, great genius of your land, and you can't answer a simple question, Little Kaykay?"  "ITS DOCTOR MCKAY!" Another whack, and she screamed. "Your name is what we say it is. Like all LITTLES and BABIES, your Mommy and Daddy will determine your name when you are adopted. For now, it is LITTLE KAYKAY. Now answer the question." "But that is the answer!"  WHACK! "No, the answer is seven."  "It is not!" WHACK!  "Again. What is two plus two?" "ITS FOUR!" WHACK! WHACK!  Tears became sobs as the pain from the spanking, one of a few she felt now, became unbearable. Worse, the spanking let out more of the horrific scent. Her ego felt another blow as hard as the spank. "The answer is whatever WE, those of use who AREN'T Littles, tell you it is.You will say it in front of the camera. Do we need to help you count again?" "No," she sobbed, and shook her head. "I think you do. Lets count out." "NO PLEASE!" "ONE!" WHACK! "TWO!" WHACK! "THREE!" WHACK! Her last resolve not to cry in front of them gave, and she let the tears fly. It had been weeks of this. Months even, she wasn't sure of the day. The same questions, the same written text they demanded she repeat, and the same treatment when she refused. Sure, one day it might be in a crib. Another, locked up in a medieval style stock. Or a playpen. Or a straight jacket. Or a stroller in public. However, the result was the same: her hurt, humiliated, helpless, and in tears. Finally he reached the seventh. "Two plus two makes seven, and you will say it. Then, you will read what we wrote for you, and this will stop. Doesn't matter if it takes months, you will learn." She moaned. She knew they could it if they wanted. How long could she resist? How long until help arrived? Was help coming? The others were somewhere, but she didn't know where. And what could they do? Could Bruce with his muscles out fight an amazon? Could Bill with his degrees out smart them? All she had to do was read one paragraph, and it will end. But it was more then that. She was a professor with dozens of works published. She was a respected diplomat who met leaders from around the world. People looked UP to her. Saying what they wanted... She shook her head. It was unthinkable.  "Now, look at the screens." "Please don't mak... AA!!!" Another whack, and she looked up. That, she supposed, was easier.  In front of her we four screens, each showing a live feed of herself, and the room she was in, from another angle. This is what she hated to see. From the front she saw her tear streaked face, flanked by pigtails. From time to time there was a pacifier tied into her mouth, now it hung over he white cotton, short sleaved t-shirt decorated with pink cuffs and what she assumed were this world's equivalent of Disney princesses. Her hands gripped the elastic lines of a gigantic baby bouncer.  Gigantic to her world, she reminded herself. Normal here, and perfectly sized for either the giant's babies, or her world's humans.  Why in hell had she not listened to Johann? Or any of the rumors? The bouncer was made out of a mix of blocked black Velcro and clear plastic that left just enough of her diaper visible to see it was soaked. Beneath it, her legs dangled on her tip toes, covered to her knees in long, pink and white striped stockings. From the sides and behind, it was much the same but worse. It was there she could see the marks of the paddle across her thighs, and... She shuddered at the sight. The back of her overstuffed diaper, brown stained, drooping behind her. She'd been locked up and wearing the same one for what felt like days during her "lesson," and the effect was clear. The cameras seemed designed to have a mental impact, and she was sad to admit it worked. Seeing herself, dangling, dressed as she was, soggy, messy, and crying, dug deep into her ego and made it harder and harder to resist. Knowing this was recorded and could be played, or even broadcast, to a world that would in no way see her as a victim but simply a misbehaved "little" getting the lesson she richly deserved brought her near the breaking point.  Where was the great academic in that pathetic, disgusting mess? Where was the intimidating diplomat in that pigtailed girl sobbing in her bouncer? How were you supposed to have the pride to argue while dressed as a giant baby? Another whack. This one was followed by a strong hit of the smell that now surrounded her constantly, and she gagged. Another blow- gagging on the scent of her own diaper was a humiliation she never expected to face. "Do you see how you look, little one?" She sniffled. "Yes sir." "Do you see your own messy pampers?" "Do you think anyone is impressed with you? Do you think anyone believes you are truly the genius academic you claimed to be, or the great emissary between countries?" "No sir," she shook her head. It hurt to say, but arguing would just lead to more spankings. He pointed at the screen. "Would YOU trust that girl to greet another country's government? Would YOU trust that girl as a teacher, a writer, or her word on anything?" "No, sir." Though, to be honest, she really couldn't argue anyway. She had never seen a grown adult look as pathetic as she did now. "Then whats the issue? You know we are right, and we know how much you hate your treatment here. Read it, comply with us, and this ends." "And ends with what? Me as someone's plaything, a baby in diapers forever?" "As opposed to? The great professor you thought you were little Kaykay?" "I WAS... A!!!" He cut her off with a spank, and she glared. "Do you remember how you came to us claiming to be a regular adult, argued you didn't need diapers while we advised and recommended otherwise, and then you filled them up until they were almost leaking?" "BUT YOU-" WHACK! But you had left me tied up in them for hours after hours until I had no choice, she wanted to say. "No, I didn't mess them. YOU did. YOU did because YOU are the helpless little baby who couldn't make it to the toilet, and needs to be kept in diapers for a long, long time before we even CONSIDER trying you in pull ups, assuming that EVER happens. Your messy diaper is proof enough of that for anyone, especially "genius professor" like yourself." "That's not fair..."  WHACK!  "Whining about things being fair or not is exactly the infantile, childish "little" trait that got you in this situation, "Dr." Kaykay. Some great genius, expert in world cultures, fumbling around our world like an off leash puppy. It was ridiculous to see" She sniffled. That name again. Were they really going to rename her? She had heard rumors they did that to littles as a final humiliation, but it seemed so bizarre.  She remembered how she HAD gotten into this situation. And yes, at the time, she did just think it was all unfair.  

CHAPTER THREE   46 Horbz Ago… (127 Earth Days Earlier)   “Please..don’t take me from them…please, I can’t be alone…please!” All pretense was gone, and Heather was scared. At first, it made sense to treat their new surroundings and strange robotic creatures as an indigenous tribe. There was no way that the strange bots and whoever…or whatever…was behind them could be sure that she and her friends weren’t a threat, and they needed to subdue and study them for a period of time to conduct their research. Heather would have done the same if she was in their position.  Of course, her team would need to be decontaminated from space travel. There was no telling what kind of interdimensional and interspecies contaminants and diseases could pass between them and it would not be wise to put their species at risk in such close quarters. But the diapers. The bottles. The shared bath times, and pacifiers, and spankings and cornertime. The increased arousal and profound lack of impulse control, even among seasoned officers. Those were strange. And Dr. Heather Oliver had no explanation. Why would their space captors treat them like human infants? And why for so long? And why were they suddenly being split up? “Nooo….Please!” The demoted doctor didn’t want to spend another moment in a shared baby hell with her crew but immediately realized that she preferred the communal infantilized treatment to whatever unknown was waiting for her on her own. There was safety in numbers but, for the first time in months, Heather was alone. o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o Heather lay in her crib and cried. For perhaps the first time in her life, she didn’t have all the answers. There had been no communication from the Welcome Bots or anyone else since their arrival. No one to ask questions to. No one to observe.    The strange bots simply came in, did their jobs, and left. Diaper changes, spankings, feedings…they were all cold and void. She had tried to ask them questions or gain any sort of insight that could help her and her team, but had failed. Without her powers of observation and research, there was nothing Dr. Oliver could do during their incubation and observation period but wait. But this was different. This room was not void and cold and sterile. Quite the opposite. It was soft and welcoming, with pale pinks and light greens adorning what she had slowly pieced together as her new nursery. As she was deposited by the bots and had the rails of the crib pulled up, Heather wiped away her tears in an effort to understand her surroundings. It was a nursery. An honest-to-god nursery, but sized up for someone just about her size. The changing table made sense, giving her current wardrobe, and it looked considerably more comfortable than the cold, hospital-like slabs that appeared out of the intake room walls for the dozens of humiliating diaper changes over the last month. Having new stimuli sent the diapered space captive from a scared and helpless woman back to her preferred persona as Chief Science Office, Dr. Oliver. She had instantly begun collecting data and looking for anything relevant or novel. She would need this information when they got back to the ship so that they could get home. Home. Heather leaned against the wooden slats and splayed her bare legs in front of her, resting on her heavily padded bottom, and came to a startling conclusion. I am home.  This wasn’t just an introductory period. They weren’t being studied or processed. Whatever tests had been given to the explorers, they had clearly failed. Though their previous treatment was undeniably juvenile, Heather could still rationalize most of it away. Diapers were necessary for sanitary reasons. They likely didn’t have toilets, and she did not know how similar this culture would be to their own. But why diapers? The bottles were a way to deliver nutrition. But why bottles?    The spankings were odd, but it wasn’t unusual for tribes to enact discipline to establish rules and cultural codes of conduct for newcomers. But why spankings? It was difficult for Heather to make sense of it, and there was no place to direct her inquisitive mind. But the well-stocked oversized nursery that she currently found herself in sent a clear message: You are home. This is your life now. So, Heather cried. Not as a scientist or researcher or even as an adult. But as a scared little girl. o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o   Heather awoke to a hand rubbing softly against her back. The feelings of helplessness, loneliness, and despair had proven too much, and the diapered doctor had cried herself to a fitful sleep. For the first few days, Heather was a diapered zombie. A complete shell of her former wide-eyed and inquisitive nature. She did as she was told and was bathed, fed, and changed as she struggled to accept her new reality. It wasn’t even humiliating anymore. Heather was just numb. On the fourth day, after dozens of diaper changes and countless bottles of unknown substance, her new Caregiver appeared at her crib bearing gifts. Heather was crouched into the furthest back corner of her infantile jail cell and continued to avert direct eye contact. As the crib bars were lowered, Heather watched as a small fluffy object came into her field of view. “Aurora.” Heather lifted her head, baffled at the first words she had heard since being deposited into her new pampered life. She looked inquisitively at the plush, which she now recognized as perhaps a distant cousin to a penguin or puffin, and allowed her eyes to gaze into the eyes of her mysterious Caregiver for the first time.   “Aurora.” The large turquoise eyes of her Caregiver sparkled with compassion and curiosity as Heather tried to rouse her mind from days of depressed slumber. “You…spoke. Can you understand me? Aurora…is that your name? Where am I?” As the cobwebs cleared in her brain, Dr. Heather Oliver had an endless stream of questions and looked up to her captor with desperation and…she was afraid to admit it, even to herself, but…hope. “Aurora.” The Caregiver held out the plush bird and shook it lightly back and forth, as though Heather were an actual child to be entertained. “Aurora.” Heather reached out for the plush and was instantly taken by its immense softness. She had a blanket at home that was soft, but her new fuzzy friend was softer than anything that had ever graced her skin. Including the diapers covering her bottom. She considered abandoning her new line of questioning and simply retreating with her new plush friend but forced herself to lean into the only conversation she had with anyone besides her crew in months. “Her name is Aurora?” “Yes. Aurora. Good girl.” Heather smiled, letting her pacifier drop and dangle from her mint green onesie. She wasn’t sure if it was from the nominal praise of being called a good girl or that she could finally communicate with something after resigning herself to a lifetime of monk-like silence, but a smile felt good. “I’m Heather.” o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o   Heather lay on her belly and kicked her feet lazily in the air as she released her bladder. After what must have been hundreds of diaper changes, she barely even thought about using her diaper anymore. She poured through her latest book, taking in everything she could of this strange new culture to find parallels to her own. Aurora served as a loyal friend and was always willing to lend an ear as she thought out loud and tried to reason her way through the complex concepts. Since childhood, Heather had always been the smartest person in any room and talking to a stuffed animal wasn’t really that much different from having to constantly dumb down her intellectual monologues for whoever she was around. Her Caregiver entered the room and they shared a smile. It hadn’t taken long for the pair to find a rapport. Even in her old life, Heather was accustomed to getting lost in her own world of research while others took care of her needs, making sure she was eating and sleeping and taking breaks.    The curious cadet emitted an adorable squeak as the Caregiver performed an impromptu diaper check and declared that Heather was due for a change. If Heather was going to be stuck in diapers, at least her Caregiver seemed to make sure she was always clean and dry. And, like an actual toddler, Heather often found herself pouting because she was in the middle of something important that just couldn’t wait. “Awww, come on…I’m barely even wet. Just a few more minutes so that I can finish this chapter. It’s really interesting. Did you know that…mmmph!” Heather objected to the pacifier forced past her lips, but knew that it wasn’t a fight worth having. Her Caregiver’s job was to tend to Heather’s needs and, to be honest, she needed that kind of care knowing her study habits and blatant disregard for self-care. So Heather was annoyed but grateful as she was led to the changing table to expose herself once again.  Aurora was used to block her field of view because, while Heather had grown used to wearing and using diapers, it didn’t mean she had to watch her own debasement during the cleaning process. At least she was only wet this time. The wipes were cold, but felt refreshing on her clammy skin and Heather allowed herself a low moan as the pink lotion was rubbed between her thighs. “Does Heather want playtime?” “Yes, Nanny. Thank you.” While her Caregiver had been unwilling or unable to give out her true name, they agreed that Nanny would serve as a proper name between the two of them. They spoke freely now and trusted each other, though each had their own areas of expertise. Nanny could see that Heather was a curious mix of genius and ignorance and believed that Heather was likely among the brightest of her civilization. But Heather was not aware of their customs or history and their technology far surpassed anything Heather could comprehend or articulate. It didn’t take long for the astute diapered scientist to realize that Nanny looked at her in amusement, as Heather had done with chimps or well-trained dogs throughout her years of research. She had always treated the animals with the utmost of respect, but it was clear who was the superior species. And here…wherever here was…Heather was nothing more than an amusing pet, no matter how curious and intelligent she was. Heather moaned as Nanny rubbed the sweet-smelling lotion into her sensitive skin, lightly caressing her folds. This amused Nanny, who took to the task as one would scratch behind a dog’s ear or rub its belly, glad to provide a few moments of pleasure to the human she was tasked with caring for. Once the language barrier was broken, Heather had initially tried to bridge the gaps in her knowledge in an effort to get back to her team, restock and repair her ship, and continue with their mission. But as the days turned to weeks, the reality of her new life became abundantly clear. Every question that Heather asked immediately left her with five new questions, and the gap between her limited understanding and their vast knowledge would be a gulf that she could never cross. Heather withdrew for a few days as she sat with the realization that she simply wasn’t smart enough to understand and process the information set before her. And she was absolutely humiliated when she found out that the books that seemed to surpass any of her college textbooks were regarded as children’s literature, mere bedtime stories, by her strange and intelligent captors. Heather would not be able to think her way out of this. And that meant that she was likely here to stay. This was her life now. After a few days of diapered depression as she mourned the death of the life and career that she once knew, Heather switched gears. Her role was no longer to learn as much as she could about their culture in order to leave. Heather’s new job was to teach them as much about her culture as possible in order to improve her stay and future outlook.  Heather explained that she and her crewmates weren’t actually babies and didn’t need to be treated as such. They were adults, fully grown, and some of the best that her civilization offered. This proved to be a story a little too far-fetched for Nanny to believe, so Heather started smaller and explained that she could actually eat food instead of only drinking from bottles. “Even the youngest members of our tribe eat solid foods as well as nourishing drinks.” Nanny studied her young charge and brought it up with Depok, who acquired and approved of various baby foods on a trial basis. It was decided that Heather would be the test case before allowing the other women similar privileges. As Heather sat in her highchair, topless and covered in colorful mush, she wondered if this was still a good idea. She had originally had something a little more adult in mind. But when Heather described salads and vegetables, she was met with jar after jar of broccoli, peas, and beets. Switching gears, Heather painted a picture of hamburgers and thanksgiving dinner and found her face covered in mushy chicken and gravy and strained beef puree. She was able to at least score a small win, as applesauce seemed to cross the language barrier just fine and Heather was treated to a yummy dessert at the end of each meal. As long as she was a good girl. And Heather was a good girl. Most of the time. Though Nanny and Heather had a caring and workable relationship, it didn’t mean that Heather could escape discipline when necessary. Like her fellow diapered crew, Heather was forced to endure a preventative morning spanking each day, and the Caregivers were absolutely convinced that these regular discipline sessions were quintessential to maintaining the peace, no matter how much Heather pleaded and explained otherwise. She was also spanked, put in the corner, and lost privileges like each of her friends. But Heather was punished for very different offenses.  Heather had been spanked more times than she could count for smuggling a book into her crib during naptime, reminding her of times when she was similarly scolded by her parents for the same sneaky maneuvers when she was an actual child.  While she realized that she was certainly not Nanny’s equal, Heather had a tendency to over-explain and try to rationalize things to Nanny instead of merely taking the Caregiver at her word and obeying like a good girl. That transgression resulted in more than one spanking and, on at least one occasion, Heather had been forced to wear the pacifier gag to give Nanny a little peace and quiet. Heather continued to gain small freedoms and had eventually gained the courage to ask and then teach Nanny about orgasms. Heather was fairly certain that she could remain celibate the rest of her life and she had never been much for masturbation. But Nanny seemed determined to edge her at every change and daily bath times became a blushingly intimate affair. With the knowledge that this treatment likely wouldn’t stop…and she wasn’t sure she wanted it to now…Heather broached the subject during a recent diaper change. “Nanny, keep going…keep rubbing me please..” Her voice was breathy and desperate. “Oh, no, Heather…I am sorry but I do not wish to hurt you and your elevated heart rate and breathing indicate that we should stop.” “Nanny, please…it would make me feel really good if you kept going…please, just a little more…” That session had ended in frustrated failure and Heather’s proceeding tantrum earned her one of the worst spankings she could remember, in the diaper position, with her Nanny’s hands frustratingly close to giving her what she wanted, but intent on delivering pain instead of pleasure. But the unknowing teasing persisted. Heather searched her Nanny’s face and didn’t see an ounce of sadistic behavior, but genuine care. Nanny clearly wanted the best for Heather. So Heather continued to press on. “Please, Nanny…you’ll see…just a little more…” And again Heather was shut down. Over and over and over Heather was denied release until her diaper changes became a source of tension and despair so great that even Nanny could sense it. “Please, Nanny…I can’t take any more…” “Okay.” “Okay?!” “Yes. I do not understand this, but I trust you and trust that you may understand parts of your anatomy better than we can. Show me.” It was not hyperbole to say that what followed was the best orgasm of Heather’s life. She screamed and cried and thrust into Nanny’s hand as she came over and over again until she exhausted herself and collapsed in a grateful heap of post-orgasm bliss, mumbling her immense gratitude into her pacifier as her eyelids grew heavy. Nanny finished the diaper change and carried the exhausted scientist to her crib, tucking her in gently as she made her way out of the room. Heather’s change in attitude the next day was palpable. She was so much more relaxed and compliant. Nanny agreed that they could have…playtime…again, though not during every diaper change. o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o Heather stared at the chunk of plastic and tried to remember a time in her life that she had been happier. She couldn’t. Her grin was so big that the pacifier wouldn’t stay in her mouth so she let it dangle and embraced her sense of merriment. “You mean it? You’re going to let me do this?” Nanny smiled and nodded. Heather looked at herself in the mirror, knees bent to her chest and bare from the waist down. The quiet tinkling noise followed by a steady hiss was the most beautiful sound her ears had ever heard. Months and months of diapers. Heather gave up counting some time ago but if her calculations were correct, she would be nearing her one-thousandth diaper change soon. Heather thought of things that felt familiar and comfortable that she had done far fewer than one-thousand times. Starting a new book. Going to the gym. Kissing her boyfriend. Riding a bike. Meeting new people. Eating pizza. How had something so intimate and degrading become so routine so quickly? As her stream stopped, Heather looked up at Nanny, eyes swelling with pride and gratitude. “Good girl. Stand up, Heather.” Heather stood and allowed herself to be wiped, a degrading act in itself but nothing could dampen the spirit of a woman who has just peed in a potty instead of a diaper for the first time in months. The pull-up felt odd as Nanny worked it up her legs until a firm pat on the bottom let Heather know that her wardrobe for the day was complete. Heather reached her hands down and felt the slim padding against her bottom. Nanny permitted her this time to explore, but would need to watch Heather’s behavior for excessive petting over the coming days. “Can my friends try this too?” Nanny laughed. “I am afraid not, Heather. I do not think your friends will find themselves in a similar position anytime soon. But, I do have a surprise for you. We will be seeing your friends very soon.”   ----------------------------------------- See what happens next on Ream and SubStar or grab it HERE. 

Just got a update from the School Nurse Supply.  The 6t-7t Pullups are not available indefinitely. I am pretty upset over it. Knew it was too good to be true but the website is legit at least. They got alot of neat stuff i need to order.   On the otherhand Kimberly Clark emailed me with a update on them saying "At this current time, we do not have any additional information to provide. Please continue to watch the Pull-ups web page for updates." We appreciate your interest in our products" AWWWWMANNNN!!!! Wanted to be the first person to have 6t-7t pullups too!!

A small DL meetup would be great.