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Rainbow Diapers
A space where our Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Trans members can discuss related issues.
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By Grumpy Devon · Posted
Okay everyone, just a quick little update. I've been doing quite a bit of writing, but unfortunately very little of it has been on chapter 2. I'm just not super happy with how since character interactions are happening yet. So eta on that is looking like end of the month. But, not posting anything for most of a month send like a great way to kill interest in the story, so I thought I'd post a little teaser of chapter 2. It is still a work in progress, so subject to change when I finally post the full thing. (And I'll fix the formatting then too, doing this from my phone sucks) But for now, meet our next main character, Frank the Guard! ... Wait, no, not Frank. Rebecca. Chapter 2 teaser Rebecca checked the time. 9:25pm. 5 minutes to curfew for Bracelet Girls. She continued to casually stroll around the campus quad, very clearly not heading towards a bus stop or dorm. “Excuse me, young lady,” a man's voice called out from behind her, politely. “I'm going to need to see your Bracelet. It is nearly curfew.” “Not for me,” Rebecca muttered under her breath with a grim smile, turning to face the man in his pale blue uniform. Still, she held out her wrist. Some rules you didn't break. “Thank you,” the officer said, looking down at her, pulling out her phone to scan the QR code as it appeared. “Rebecca Carter, 23 years old, Emancipated,” Rebecca told him. “Emancipated? Haven't heard that before,” he replied, his voice carefully devoid of skepticism. Rebecca was actually somewhat impressed. “I'll just confirm that and won't take up too much of your time.” Even as he spoke, however, she could tell this wasn't going to be quick. Even if he was genuinely doing his best, and Isabel was always telling her to stop being so quick to assume the worst in people, the scan had already taken longer than it should have. Too long. “Hmm,” the officer, Frank, according to his name tag, said after another few seconds. “I'm getting an error message. Let me scan it again.” This time a hint of suspicion crept into his voice, and Rebecca saw him carefully eye her again. Slowly taking in her spiked choker, the chain connecting her wallet to her cargo pants. The heavy boots. Clearly an outfit trying to make her look rebellious despite her small stature. He was seeing if he needed to start thinking of her as a potential problem rather than just a girl at risk of missing curfew -
By astrodiaper · Posted
I actually claim no dependents. I think the reason I got more out of it was the tax break on overtime. I actually wasn't expecting to get that. -
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By Lilboydiaper · Posted
Chapter 11 : Chris’s nerves buzzed as he walked up the driveway, each step carrying the weight of anticipation and uncertainty. The warm glow spilling from the windows of Bill’s home seemed to reach out to him, steadying him just slightly, though his heart still raced. Bill saw him approaching and smiled, opening the door promptly. “Hey! Right on time,” he said, his voice warm and effortless, instantly putting Chris a little more at ease. Chris stepped inside, and for a moment, he just stood, mouth slightly agape. The house was… enormous. A breathtaking mix of elegance and comfort. Marble countertops gleamed under recessed lighting. Hardwood floors stretched seamlessly across the open floor plan. Multiple bedrooms, high ceilings, and expansive windows that let in golden evening light. Every detail hinted at careful thought, wealth, and taste—but it didn’t feel cold. It felt inviting. I’ve never… been in a place like this, Chris thought, awe tightening his chest. This is… unreal. Bill chuckled softly, noticing Chris’s wide-eyed look. “Wow, take it all in if you need to,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “I’ll give you a quick tour—save the best rooms for after dinner.” Chris followed, letting himself be guided. They moved through the airy living space, past a sunlit dining area, into a cozy sitting room with soft couches and an artful arrangement of personal touches. Each room seemed to tell a story of someone who lived intentionally, who cared about comfort and beauty alike. Chris couldn’t help but take it all in, small flashes of admiration and longing flickering across his mind. “So… how was the trip over here?” Bill asked casually, leaning against the kitchen counter as they paused. Chris hesitated, his fingers brushing against the strap of his bag. He wanted to answer honestly, but part of him recoiled at the thought of exposing too much—his nerves, his padding, the little moments of vulnerability that had marked his journey here. “It… it was fine,” he said finally, voice quiet but steady. “Buses and walking. Not too bad.” Bill nodded, accepting the answer with ease. “Sounds like a bit of a trek.” Chris offered a small smile, grateful for the nonjudgmental tone. They drifted into light conversation—small talk, shared observations about the neighborhood, and a few casual laughs. Chris found himself relaxing bit by bit, the weight in his chest loosening with Bill’s easy presence. Eventually, Bill led him into the library. Chris’s eyes widened again, this time for a different reason. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, stacked with books of every imaginable genre—mystery, history, fiction, science. A rolling ladder was tucked to one side, a cozy reading nook nestled in the corner with a deep armchair and a small lamp casting a warm glow. The scent of old paper and polished wood filled the room. Chris felt a quiet thrill. This… this is incredible. I could spend hours here. Bill smiled at his expression, noticing the fascination. “Dinner will be ready soon,” he said. “But I thought we could hang here for a bit—just relax, maybe find a book if you feel like it.” Chris sank into the armchair, letting himself breathe fully for the first time in hours. The tension in his shoulders eased as he allowed himself to be present—surrounded by warmth, beauty, and the subtle, steady reassurance of Bill’s calm presence. Maybe… maybe this is going to be okay, Chris thought, a small, hopeful flutter settling in his chest as the soft tick of a nearby clock echoed through the room. Chapter 12 : Dinner was announced softly, almost like an invitation into something special. Chris followed Bill into the dining room, and the moment he stepped in, he stopped in his tracks. The table was… incredible. Several dishes of lasagna were spread out before them, each one slightly different—some layered thick with rich meat sauce, others lighter with vegetables and creamy cheeses. The aroma alone was enough to make Chris’s stomach flutter, warm and comforting, filling the room with a sense of home he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. He made all of this… for me? Chris felt something tighten in his chest, something emotional, almost overwhelming. They sat, and as they began to eat, Chris quickly realized each dish had its own personality—different textures, different flavors, each one clearly crafted with care. It wasn’t just food. It was effort. Thought. Care. Bill poured himself a glass of wine, relaxed and content, while Chris stuck with water, his hands still a little unsteady but his heart slowly settling. “This is… amazing,” Chris said quietly, almost in disbelief. Bill smiled, clearly pleased. “I like to cook.” Chris nodded, taking another bite, trying to hold onto the moment. This feels… normal. Good. But underneath that comfort, there was another awareness building. Subtle at first. Then harder to ignore. Chris shifted slightly in his chair, his body reminding him of something he’d been trying not to focus on. …okay. Yeah. That’s… that’s a lot. His face warmed faintly, though he kept his expression composed. I didn’t bring anything… what was I thinking? A flicker of anxiety crept in. What if I need to— He stopped himself. Don’t panic. Just… get through dinner. And he did. Somehow. — After they finished, Bill stood and gestured gently. “Come on. There’s something I want to show you.” Chris followed, curiosity mixing with nerves as they moved deeper into the house, toward a quieter, more private area. Bill opened a door near the back. Chris stepped inside— —and everything stopped. The room was… unreal. A full nursery. But not for a child. For someone like him. Chris’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes moved slowly across the space. Everything was perfectly arranged—soft lighting, carefully chosen furniture, shelves stocked with supplies, textures and colors that felt warm and safe. It wasn’t thrown together. It was intentional. Every detail. This… this can’t be real. His heart pounded, not from fear—but from something deeper. Someone actually built this… thought about this… For a moment, Chris couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Bill watched him quietly, giving him space to take it all in before stepping a little closer, his presence calm and grounding. “It’s okay,” he said softly. Chris swallowed, nodding faintly, still overwhelmed. I’ve imagined something like this… but never like this. Then Bill gently guided him toward the changing table. Chris’s breath hitched slightly. Wait… There was a moment of hesitation—but it passed. Because something about the space, about Bill, about everything leading up to this moment… made it feel safe. Bill helped him up carefully, his movements steady and respectful. As he began to unbutton Chris’s pants, Chris’s face flushed, a mix of vulnerability and trust washing over him. When the soaked padding was revealed, Chris instinctively tensed— —but Bill didn’t react with surprise or judgment. Just calm understanding. He knew… That realization softened something inside Chris. Bill moved with care, gathering what he needed, helping Chris lie back comfortably. Then—unexpectedly—he placed a soft teddy bear into Chris’s arms, followed by a pacifier with a small paw print. A quiet gesture. A gentle one. Chris’s fingers tightened around the bear as he accepted it, his heart swelling. When the pacifier touched his lips, he didn’t resist. He didn’t think. He just… accepted. And something inside him melted. I don’t have to hide right now… As Bill worked, taking his time, being gentle and attentive, Chris felt the tension leave his body in waves. The anxiety, the overthinking, the constant vigilance—it all faded into the background. All that remained was the moment. The care. The quiet. Chris lay there, holding the bear, softly suckling, his eyes half-lidded with a kind of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. I wish this could last… He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want it to end. When it was over, Bill helped him sit up, then stand, steadying him. And then— A hug. Warm. Strong. Real. Chris melted into it without hesitation, holding on just as tightly. “Th-thank you…” he mumbled softly, his voice smaller now, softer, the words slightly muffled but full of meaning. “F’ everything…” Some of it came out in soft, unclear sounds—but the emotion was unmistakable. Bill understood. He didn’t need perfect words. — Then Bill guided him to another part of the room—a large walk-in closet. Chris stepped inside and felt his breath catch again. Clothes. So many clothes. Neatly arranged, organized by style, color, theme. Some simple and plain. Others playful—patterns of puppies, spaceships, soft pastels, bolder tones. Some leaned more traditionally masculine, others softer, more expressive. It wasn’t random. It was curated. He really thought about all of this… Chris ran his fingers lightly along a sleeve, almost afraid to touch anything too firmly. This is more than I ever imagined… His eyes drifted around the room—taking in not just the clothes, but everything else. The crib. The playpen. A large baby gym built to support someone his size. Even a rocking horse. It was overwhelming in the best way. This place… it’s like… He couldn’t even finish the thought. Bill gently chose a plain white onesie and helped Chris into it, his movements still patient, still kind. Chris didn’t resist. Didn’t question. He just let it happen, his mind quiet for once. When Bill took his hand afterward, Chris looked up at him, a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Trust. And something else. Hope. Bill led him toward the next room. And Chris followed—heart full, mind quiet, stepping into whatever came next without fear for the first time in a long while. -
Reptar (stoma) pooping in the parking lot heading into work....for the win. Lol
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