2011

I wear fulltime when I am travelling for work. I always note in my booking that I wear and suggest they might want to add protection to the bed. About half reply and always grateful fo4 me letting them know. One hotel chain take  a £100 deposit and return if it there is no damage. I have waste bags for my used diapers and then bag them up.

Made using Grok AI. New parts posted every Monday. Part Four: Morning Mishaps Raven stirred in the crib, her body protesting the unnatural early bedtime with a vengeance. The footie pajamas clung to her like a fuzzy prison, the back zipper out of reach no matter how she twisted. But that wasn't the worst of it—her bowels churned with urgent fury, the high-fiber "meal" from last night demanding release. She'd held it through the night by sheer willpower, tossing and turning under the spinning mobile's hypnotic tune, but now? It was a losing battle. "Come on, just hold it," she muttered, gripping the bars. She fumbled for a latch or button to lower the rails—nothing. The slick wood offered no purchase, and her mittened hands slipped uselessly. "Damn it, how do you work this thing?" A desperate rattle, a kick—still trapped. Panic set in as the pressure built. "No, no, no—" Too late. Her body betrayed her, a warm, humiliating rush filling her panties and the padded diaper around them. The stars on the garment seemed to twinkle mockingly as the mess spread. Tears welled up unbidden, hot and furious. Raven—Molly, in this vulnerable moment—couldn't stop them, sobs wracking her small frame. "This isn't happening... I'm not... I can't..." She cried like she hadn't since she was a kid, the goth facade crumbling in the face of utter helplessness. A soft whir and padding footsteps approached. Into the nursery waddled a plush baby doll—bigger than the guards, with soft fabric skin, button eyes, and a stitched smile, dressed in a nanny apron. It cooed mechanically, arms extending with surprising strength to lift Raven out of the crib as if she weighed nothing. "There, there, fussy one. Let's get you all cleaned up." Raven sniffled, too distraught to fight as the doll spotted the spat-out pacifier on the crib mattress and popped it back into her mouth. The rubber nipple muffled her whimpers. Cradled like an infant, she was carried to a nearby changing table, its surface padded and stocked with wipes, powders, and stacks of fresh diapers. "Shh, don't cry, little Raven," the doll soothed in its sing-song voice, setting her down gently. "We have plenty of diapers here. Accidents happen—that's why we wear them!" It tried to comfort her with a pat on the head, but the tears kept flowing. The doll reached behind to unzip the footie pajamas, peeling them off with efficient tugs, leaving Raven exposed in her soiled state. It untaped the messy diaper, wrinkling its fabric nose at the sight. Confusion flickered in its button eyes as it spotted the black panties underneath, now ruined. Without a word or question, it bundled them up with the diaper and tossed the whole thing into a nearby pail that let out a cheerful ding. Raven's sobs slowed, her breathing evening out as the immediate horror passed. But then it hit her—this thing was about to change her like a real baby. "Wait, no—stop!" She bolted upright, trying to slide off the table, her bare feet kicking. The doll caught her effortlessly, one plush hand pinning her shoulder. "Naughty baby! Stay still." With a click, it fastened a soft strap across her waist, restraining her to the table. "We can't have you falling, can we?" "I'm not a baby!" Raven yelled, spitting out the pacifier and thrashing against the strap. Her threats came out choked: "Let me go, you stuffed freak, or I'll rip your seams out!" But the doll was undeterred, its strength far surpassing her 4'10" fury. It hummed a lullaby as it wiped her clean, powdered her skin with candy-scented dust, and taped on a fresh diaper—thick and white, this one decorated with playful teddy bears that wiggled faintly with magic. "All better now. Good babies get clean diapees." Raven's struggles weakened, exhaustion and embarrassment winning out. The doll scooped her up again, carrying her out of the nursery and down a hallway lined with glowing murals of frolicking infants. They entered a cozy room dominated by a massive playpen—padded floors, soft walls, and toys scattered like landmines. A large TV mounted on the wall blared a baby show: colorful blobs singing about shapes and colors, their voices syrupy sweet. Sensing the next indignity, Raven squirmed in the doll's arms. "Put me down! I'm not going in there!" She kicked and twisted, but the plush grip was ironclad—way stronger than her petite build could counter. "Playtime for you, little one," the doll cooed, lowering her into the playpen with ease. The gate clicked shut, enclosing her in the cushy confines. "Breakfast will be ready soon. Be a good girl!" Left alone with the droning TV and a pile of rattling toys, Raven pounded on the playpen walls, her new diaper crinkling with every frustrated move. This world was breaking her down, one babyish step at a time—but her fire wasn't out yet. She'd find a way to escape, to confront that Queen. She had to.

Chapter 1 The train stopped at a small station in the middle of nowhere. Sara got off the carriage and stood on the empty platform, a fully packed rucksack on her back. The girl looked around sleepily and filled her lungs with the warm air; here, even at the railway station, it smelled of soil and pollen. The station was just an old, brown-painted wooden building, with the village name written on its side in letters so faded you could no longer make them out properly. All that could be seen around were fields and forest, and a small parking lot where only one car was parked. Sara took a deep breath. Here she was. Ahead of her lay three months of summer work on a farm completely unknown to her. She had hardly any experience with field or garden work, let alone animal care. Apparently, her cheerful attitude on the phone had been enough, though: now she was moving to Sydänsalo Farm for the summer. The girl walked through a dusty underpass towards the black estate car, which had a couple of small dents on its side. The driver's door opened before she reached it, and a young, lanky woman got out, her brown hair casually in a ponytail and a warm smile on her face. She wore red sweatpants and a light t-shirt; her skin was quite tanned from outdoor farm work – and this was only the beginning of June. "Hi! Are you Sara?" the young woman asked kindly and stepped closer. "Yeah, I am," Sara replied, trying to smile back. She had always been a bit shy around new people, and the presence of the woman standing before her was so striking that it made her mouth go dry. "I'm Anna. Nice to finally meet you!" Anna held out her hand invitingly, and Sara took it. The handshake was quick, but very firm and sure. "How was the trip?" "Okay," Sara answered briefly. "It was long, but on the other hand, I got to watch the scenery." "Yeah, we've got plenty of scenery here. Here, let me help you with that pack." Anna took the heavy rucksack from Sara's back and lifted it into the trunk with one hand, as if it weighed nothing. Sara watched from the side and felt a little helpless, but at the same time relieved to get the uncomfortable pack off her back so quickly. "Is that everything?" "Yeah. I like to travel light." "Good stuff. Let's get going, then!" Anna gestured towards the car door and then took a long swig from a large water bottle. The young women got into the car, and Anna started the engine. The black estate car swung off the parking lot onto the poor-quality asphalt. During the first kilometer, two cars passed them; after that, not a single one. The road wound its way through the fields; Anna drove fast, clearly familiar with every curve and bump. Sara tucked a strand of her light hair behind her ear. It had gotten a bit flat from her futile attempts to fall asleep on the train. The fresh breeze blew through the crack in the window onto her face, which wore a thoughtful, contemplative expression. She tried to think of sensible questions to ask about the farm, but her mind went completely blank. Sara kept glancing shyly in Anna's direction – while driving, she looked almost like an antique statue; her body combined strength and softness in just the way Sara hadn't known she liked – but clearly, she did. Anna caught her looking. Sara gave a nervous little laugh and quickly turned her head away. "It's beautiful here," Sara finally said, after looking for a while at the flower-filled meadows and the horses standing in a distant pasture. "It really is. I wouldn't trade it away." Anna glanced quickly at Sara. "You're from a slightly bigger town, right?" "Yeah, Tampere. Completely different world." "Well, we'll see if you like it here. It's pretty quiet with us. But maybe that's exactly what you're looking for?" Sara nodded. "Something like that. A bit of a break from everyday life." Anna didn't ask any more questions. That felt good – she didn't have to explain herself; she could just be. *** The house was large and old, painted red and clearly renovated with skillful hands. It stood on top of a hill, and in front of it opened a field that sloped down towards a small lake. In the yard stood an old cowshed, a couple of other buildings, and two dogs who ran excitedly towards the car. "Here we are," Anna said, getting quickly out of the car. "Welcome to our farm." "These are Juice and Remu," Anna chuckled, petting the two dogs who ran across the yard to her, panting eagerly. "Lapdogs, even if they look a bit big." Sara let the dogs sniff her hand and petted them both for a moment. At the same time, the front door of the house opened, and a barefoot woman stepped onto the porch, with warm, experienced eyes. "Are you Sara?" the woman in the apron asked and came to hug her even before she got an answer. "I'm Liisa, Anna's mother. So glad you came!" "Thank you for having me," Sara replied. Liisa's hug was warm and surprisingly comforting. "Come on inside, you must be hungry after the long journey. I made some food." Sara followed the women inside. The house was just as she had imagined inside – old wooden floors, white wallpapered walls, lots of photographs and small mementos, each surely with its own story. The main room smelled of wood; the kitchen smelled of coffee and freshly baked bread. The table was set for three. The farmer, Joppe, was still out doing forestry work; he would meet the farm's new summer helper later in the evening. Liisa guided Sara to sit down and began briskly carrying dishes to the table. "Here's some salmon soup, it should still be warm. And fresh bread, you have to eat it right away. And then there's also pulla [Finnish sweet bread], if you'd like some." Sara hadn't eaten properly in two days. She had been so nervous about the trip and her new summer job that food hadn't appealed to her. Now she ate with a good appetite and listened as Liisa talked about farm matters – the cows that had calved in the spring, the berry bushes that needed thinning soon, the neighbor who had sold his farm and moved south. Sara learned that the farm was much larger than it first appeared; there were plots of field scattered here and there all around the village. So there would be plenty of work, which Sara thought was a good thing. Anna ate more quietly, but followed the conversation closely. Sometimes she would look at Sara for a long time, and the girl couldn't decide if the gaze was curious or something else. When the meal was finished, Liisa got up and began gathering the dishes onto the counter. Sara politely offered to wash up, but Liisa wouldn't hear of it. "Anna, show Sara her room. I'll handle these." Anna nodded and grabbed Sara's rucksack, which had been waiting by the kitchen door during the meal. "Come on, then." Sara followed her up the creaking stairs to the second floor. The house was oddly shaped in this respect; the existence of the entire upper floor came as a surprise to Sara, as the stairs started behind a closed door that looked more like a pantry. No renovation company had extended this house; the alterations had been done based on the farmer's and the village men's instincts. Upstairs was a small hallway with three doors painted in startlingly garish colors – one bright red, another mustard yellow, and a third deep violet. Anna opened the middle one and led Sara inside. The guest room was small but bright. From the window, you could see the lake, and on the bed was a thick, old-fashioned quilt. A small desk, an armchair, a wardrobe. The room was simple, but it immediately felt like her own. "Hope it's okay," Anna said. "It's perfect," Sara replied, a sweet smile on her face, and she truly meant it. "Good. I'm in the room right next door. The third door leads to the attic; better not go in there for no reason, you can't open that door from the inside. The bathroom and sauna are over by the cowshed; we'll go check them out in a bit." Sara nodded approvingly and sat down in the armchair upholstered in golden-yellow fabric. She felt expectant, but also relieved. ****** The first few days passed quickly. Anna showed Sara around Sydänsalo Farm – the cowshed, the dozen or so cows, the garden, the fields, the forest's edge, and the lake. The work was quite simple: weeding, watering, feeding the animals, and cleaning the cowshed. Sara had decided beforehand that she would watch Anna's every move very carefully while she worked. That way, she could also absorb those things that Anna didn't explicitly teach her. Tacit knowledge was always the most valuable. Sara learned her tasks surprisingly quickly, and Anna seemed pleased. "You're good at this," Anna praised one day as they sat on a break by the cowshed wall. "Thanks. It's a bit different from university. But really nice." "What are you studying?" "Psychology," Sara answered quietly; for some reason, talking about studies amidst real work felt awkward. Anna looked at her curiously. "Oh, so you read people's minds?" Sara laughed. "Not exactly. But I try to understand why people do what they do." Anna didn't reply; she looked at Sara for a long time and smiled warmly at her, almost sympathetically. Sara said nothing more; she cast a long gaze over the lake and let her thoughts wander for a while. ****** The girls quickly became friends and spent almost every evening together. The lake water was already pleasantly warm, and they made a habit of going for a swim after dinner and then sitting on the dock together. Anna gradually began to talk about her own life – how she had done athletics when she was younger. Discus throw, where her strong body and long limbs gave her a significant competitive advantage. "It was my event," Anna asserted, showing off her arms. "The discus flew like a cannon shot." Anna chuckled, but there was also wistfulness in her voice. "I was good. Really good. Came second in the junior national championships." "What happened?" Sara asked, interested. This was the first time Anna had told her anything more personal. Anna shrugged, but Sara could see it wasn't a dismissive gesture. "An injury. Shoulder. Nothing dramatic, no ceiling fell on my head. Just a minor injury that wouldn't heal properly. And then another. And then... well, that was it." Anna swallowed audibly, and her gaze dropped to the water's surface, where small fish were drawing tiny circles. "I'm sorry," Sara said quietly. Anna looked at her gently and smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's okay. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe I'm meant to be here." "Yeah," Sara replied softly. "This is a good place." ****** After the first week, Sara began to feel at home. She had learned the rhythm of the house – mornings were busy, days were full of work, evenings were peaceful. Liisa treated her like her own daughter, and even Anna's taciturn father chatted with her in the mornings from behind his newspaper. But most of her time, Sara spent with Anna. Anna was like the big sister she never had. She advised, helped, told stories. And Sara found herself admiring her – her confidence, her strength, the way she took command of the farm. Sara had never looked at women before, but sometimes she found it hard not to look at Anna. ****** On Thursday of the second week, Sara woke up tired. She had slept badly, tossed and turned in her bed for hours. Her head felt heavy, and her throat was scratchy. At breakfast, Anna looked at her more closely than usual and immediately noticed something was off. "You okay?" Anna asked. "You look pretty pale." "Yeah, I'm fine," Sara answered, trying to sound upbeat. "Just a little tired." During the day, however, she felt worse. Her head ached, her muscles felt limp, and by evening she clearly had a fever. After dinner, Liisa brought her a thermometer and checked the result herself after the shrill beeps. "Thirty-eight point five [Celsius / 101.3 F]. Time for rest. Anna, put some extra blankets on Sara's bed so she doesn't get cold." Anna nodded and started to lead Sara upstairs. Sara probably could have managed on her own, but she didn't have the energy to protest. "Rest now," Anna said gently, tucking Sara in carefully. "I'll bring you some tea and medicine later." Sara nodded and closed her eyes. Soon she was dreaming. Someone was holding her in their arms, stroking her hair. It felt warm and safe. The feverish dream faded a few times, but Sara never fully woke up. She fell back onto the meadows of the dream world again and again. When the girl finally became fully conscious, it was night. The room was dark, and she was hot. Sara tried to get up, but she felt too weak. She lay still for a moment, trying to breathe through her stuffy nose. Then she felt it. Cold dampness between her legs. Sara felt the area with her hand and realized with horror that her pajama bottoms were soaking wet. A large puddle of urine had formed on the sheet, and the blanket was badly wet too. Sara froze. No, this wasn't possible. Sara was an adult. This hadn't happened since... Sara closed her eyes and opened them again immediately, but it wasn't a feverish hallucination. She had actually wet the bed at her new host family's home, and she had no idea how they would react to her accident. Sara started to cry. The crying was a quiet wheezing, sobbing that no one would hear. She didn't know what to do? Where would she get dry sheets, where would she take these wet ones? How could she ever look Liisa, Joppe, and Anna in the eye again? The wet pajama bottoms stuck to Sara's thighs; a faint smell of urine reached her nostrils. Everything was ruined. Sara lay alone in her wet bed and cried. She didn't yet know that Anna was already standing outside her door.

I'm solidly male. I don't have much paraphernalia for my little/DL side. But I definitely see that side of me as a boy. My go-to padding is Goodnites, and I usually get the boys' prints. But I do once in a while get the girl's Goodnites as there is a slight sissy feeling for me that I enjoy from it. As for stuffies, I do keep them and even sleep with them, including a stuffed cat I've had since I was an actual baby. I see that as kind of a little thing. Never thought of it as girly.

You're an influencer.  I'm just under the influence