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Rainbow Diapers
A space where our Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Trans members can discuss related issues.
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Posts
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By Little Sherri · Posted
It's an interesting debate, @Slomo, and I'm not saying that I'm necessarily on the right side of it. I live in Toronto, so I enjoy the fact that there is still sun in the sky until well after 9 PM, in the summer, with DST, and still some light even after 10 PM, which I consider to be usable hours of light, because on standard time, the sun would be coming up at 5:15 in the morning, which is not that useful for a lot of us, who will sleep until 6 or 7. On the other hand, if you are waking up early, and you need to go to bed early, I guess having the sun up until 10 PM isn't as useful. On DST, the sun comes up at about 6:15, which is not impractically late, either. And, there is no argument that having the sun up later spurs greater economic activity - people go out and do stuff. Energy consumption for lighting is also reduced, although this is less of a concern than it was in WWII. Most lights are going to end up being LED's, so the draw is a lot lower than with sodium vapour lamps. The tradeoff is that, in the winter, sunrise is a lot later, around 8:30 AM, so the argument about safety, and particularly around school children, gets raised. But there is a counterargument regarding the safety of having the sun go down at 4:30 PM, at the peak of winter - a lot of people still have to get home from work, kids have to get to activities, etc, in the dark. Pedestrian/vehicle collisions do tick up in the winter months, at these latitudes. I would also argue, having kids myself (now close to adults), and, having lived down the street from two elementary schools for a number of years, that most of these kids are not walking to school anymore, in any case, whether it is dark outside, or not. Most of them are being driven, or taking school buses, so the idea of youngsters walking for miles in the pitch black doesn't really pertain, in today's world. On the other hand, most sleep research suggests that getting up with the sun, IE a winter sunrise of around 7:30, as you would get with standard time, is a better match to our natural circadian rhythms, and kids would have the sun coming up, as they walk to school, for those that do walk, although that's not most of them, in my experience. Most of us are not farmers anymore - the fields are being tended more and more by GPS-guided tractors, so the idea of kids needing to milk Bessy and pick radishes, before they head off to school, is largely a thing of the past, for most of us. For me, as a person living at a Norther latitude, I'd rather have more sun in the evening, when I can do something with it, than to have it in the morning, when I'm getting ready for work. But, opinions differ on this. -
By little_madd · Posted
Stephanie knew that reaction was very common in children when they saw older sisters—it came as no surprise—so she said, "To grow up strong, you need to eat." She pointed to Maddison and added, "She ate, got strong, and grew up, and you’ll be able to use the potty just like her, too." Maddison laughed along with Emilly when she saw the growing belly, and Emilly asked, "Do you want to come to my house this weekend for an activity and a sleepover?" Maddison was left speechless. -
**There hasn't been an update in over a week and this is teh second update of the day, scroll up folks!** Second chapter of September 15 --- thanks to WBdaddy, I fixed a major error then banged out a short "chapter" for the fappers. I smoke a lot of weed, thanks for being patient with me! Lets see if I didn't mess up this one... Chapter 19 The stairs were a production. Jacob took them one at a time, both feet landing on each step before he committed to the next, because the padding between his legs refused to let his thighs pass each other. *Krrnch. Krrnch.* Every step announced him. The diaper was so thick fresh that it felt padded solid, pushing his knees apart and jutting out in front, and the shorts — the adult, collared, *normal* shorts — only draped over the bulk, tented like a tarp over stacked luggage. His hand trailed the banister. His other hand, without his permission, hovered near his crotch, an instinct to cover, to press down, to flatten. "Ah-ah." Lana's voice floated down from behind him, amused, unhurried. "Hands off your diapee, baby. You’ll just have to get used to it." He yanked his hand away like the fabric was hot. His ears went red. *Lana thought: he walks down the stairs so feebly now. Flat-footed, holding the rail. I didn't even have to teach him that. The diapers taught him.* The front door was the next threshold, and Jacob stopped in front of it like it was a border crossing. September light came through the sidelights in long yellow bars. Outside, the driveway. The world. Neighbors. Cars. The mailman, potentially. Him, in a tucked-in polo with a pillow between his legs. Lana breezed past him and pulled the closet by the door open, and he watched her rummage — actually rummage, elbow-deep — before she came up with an old canvas tote, wide-strapped, faded navy, the kind of bag that had once carried library books and farmer's market zucchini and now, apparently, was being repurposed. She shook it out. It was empty. She glanced at him over the top of it with a small, private smile, and then she was gone toward the stairs, the bag swinging from her hand. "Put on your sandals, sweetie. The brown ones by the mat. Wait here for Mommy — right here, don't move." And she was up the stairs, taking them two at a time, leaving him alone in the entryway with the front door and his reflection in the hall mirror and the brown sandals. The sandals were slide-on, wide-strapped, comfortable — the least offensive footwear available, which was obviously why she'd picked them. He stepped into them and immediately understood his error. Without the confinement of sneakers, without even the structure of socks-because-shoes, his feet spread naturally on the flat soles, and his gait, already the diaper's hostage, went fully toddler: toes turned out, weight rocking side to side, the padded bulk swinging his hips into a slow metronome. He took three experimental steps across the entryway tile to confirm it. *Krrnch-krrnch-krrnch.* Not only could he feel the waddle, he could *hear* it so clearly. The fresh diaper was loud — louder than the nighttime ones had any right to be, the plastic shell crisp and dry and announcing itself with every single stride like a handshake he couldn't refuse. He stood very still in the hallway and let the silence settle and tried to breathe through the humiliation of it. Anyone in earshot would hear him coming before they saw him, and then they'd see him, and the sound would explain the bulge, and the bulge would confirm the sound, and — and — *Lana thought — upstairs, kneeling by the nursery stash in his bedroom: Fivve should do it. No — seven. Wipes, powder, the cream. Oh, and his bottle. He'll pout about the bottle in the tote but he'll pout about everything today, so.* The diapers came down with her in a stack — a fat stack — and Jacob watched from the entryway as she packed the tote at the console table. Wipes. The powder bottle, which she tucked in along the side so it wouldn't shift. The cream. And then the diapers, folded in half, lions grinning on the top one, and she had to work the last two in so the padding compressed and bulged the canvas out drum-tight, and it still wasn't enough — a fluffy pastel ear of the top diaper stood up out of the bag's mouth like a flag, cartoon lion face peeking over the rim at him. Jacob made a face at it. The lion made the same face back, sort of. "I see you looking at your diapees, baby," Lana said, not looking up. She gave the tote a final squeeze and settled the straps over her shoulder. "And before you make that fussy face any harder — Mommy just needs to use this bag for today. Just temporary." Her eyes came up to his, and there was something in them, something layered and bright and very much not explaining itself. "You'll understand later." *Cryptic. She's being cryptic. Cryptic is worse.* "Okay. Out we go, handsome." She opened the front door, and the September morning came in — cut grass, warm asphalt, a neighbor's sprinkler ticking somewhere down the block — and Jacob stepped over the threshold into it, out onto the porch, into the *world*, and he had gone exactly four steps toward the SUV before his tongue registered the shape in his mouth. The pacifier. The large teat seated behind his teeth, resting on his tongue, the shield pressing against his lips. He'd been sucking it. Sucking it — working it softly, rhythmically, his cheeks pulling — since the hallway, since the stairs, all the way out here in the open air, and he hadn't noticed. His hand flew up to pull it out— "Don't you dare," Lana said pleasantly, from behind him, keys already jingling toward the SUV. "That stays in until we're parked. Mommy said." His fingers stopped an inch from the shield. Hovered. His jaw worked around the silicone, and his eyes darted — the street, Mrs. Ketterman's house, the hedge, no one, *probably* no one — and he lowered his hand and waddled on, pacifier bobbing, cheeks flushing crimson under the morning sun, sandals slapping, diaper crinkling like a bag of chips with every labored step. The full sensory symphony of himself. He reached the SUV and moved for the driver's side back door out of pure habit — independence, normalcy, the passenger seat where a grown man sits — and the rear passenger door was already open. Lana was already there, holding it, one hand braced on the frame, waiting. She patted the seat's edge. "Um," Jacob said, around the pacifier, which turned it into *"Uh-mm."* "Babies ride in the back, sweetie," Lana said, her voice sunshine itself. "In you go." He stood there a second, and she waited with the patience of a woman who has all day and a tote bag of diapers, and finally he climbed in, sulking, pacifier and all, awkwardly hauling his padded bulk up onto the seat, thighs spreading instantly around the diaper's mass. Lana leaned in after him, reached across, drew the seatbelt out and clicked it home at his hip — snug over the bulge, the lap strap resting right across the thick front panel — and then, casually, maternally, she patted his crotch twice. *Pat, pat.* Over the belt. Over the diaper. Her palm resting there a beat longer than it needed to, feeling the padding, checking what she already knew. "Dry," she announced, straightening up, delighted with him, beaming down at his scowling, pacifier-muffled face. "What a good boy. And tell Mommy, baby — honestly, now, no lying to Mommy." She let the question hang, cocked her head, and her smile went slow and coy, her voice dropping into the teasing purr as she gripped the door. "Do you think you can *stay* dry all the way to Amanda's? Or is my wittle guy going to soak his diaper before we even get there?" She closed the door on his muffled, furious *mmph* of protest, the latch clicking home, and swung around the hood toward the driver's seat, tossing the diaper bag onto the passenger side like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the engine turned over. Jacob sat strapped in the back seat, pacifier working in his mouth despite himself, sulking, crinkling faintly every time the seatbelt shifted, watching his own neighborhood slide past the window. Lana pulled out of the driveway, checked her mirror, and smiled at what she saw. Jacob sat there in silent distress. He didn’t even register an emotion when Lana teased him about keeping his diaper dry. He just wanted to breath and relax, but as the car roared and Lana backed out of the driveway, that brief moment of his body relaxing and sinking into the seat and let out a deep sigh, he succumbed to a new horror — his tummy grumbled. -
By cute little kokiri girl · Posted
Ada watched Stephanie as she conversed with Alice but she also kept an eye on her, but when she saw Emily and Maddison both feeding each other their pudding that Ada couldn't help awww a bit before taking out her phone and took a snapshot. Then Stephanie held Alice's hand and asked what she wanted and Alice just said, "I want to be a big girl, go to froggy class and be with Madison, me no babwe." Alice said before trying to correct herself. Stephanie just smiled and held up a spoonful pudding which Alice ate before talking to her more. -
By little_madd · Posted
Stephanie looked at the time-out chair, deep in thought—she looked like a small child throwing a tantrum. Maddison saw this from a distance and wanted to step in and help, but Emilly wouldn't let her; instead, she took a spoonful of her chocolate pudding and gave it to Maddison, saying, "Let's take turns with the spoonfuls so we both get to eat a lot more." Maddison was unsure about what to do, but she knew she would have a long talk with Alice later that night—and that the time-out chair would likely come into play. Maddison took a spoonful of her own vanilla pudding and gave it to Emilly.
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