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Story and Art Forum
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A Home in the Hills: A Kalvassa Mythos Story (Formerly the "Classified" AU) [Chapter 12 2/12/26] 1 2 3
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Many people who chose to, or were made to stop wearing nappies will know that experience of total relief when finally getting to the toilet and having a much needed, really big poo and wee.... Some of us know that amazing anticipation of feeling the same urge when in a suitable situation, one where we're wearing a nappy or training briefs, in which were expected to wee or poo, in which it is possible to just relax at the next natural wave of urgency and let a big poo go, we dont need to run to the toilet, the nappy is meant to hold weewee and poopoo so our clothes stay dry and clean until it's convenient to change into ANOTHER nappy! It's so nice, so convenient! This all provides the build-up, and multiple experiences lasting much longer, several times greater, more comforting than using a toilet where other people have to wee and poo! So, back to our nappies or training briefs, That first wave begins to release with no effort, we allow the internal pressure to finish forcing it into our safe nappies or training pants, enjoying the warmth and softness work its way along the route of least resistance in that snug space between our nappies and bottoms, before bearing down to finish that first wave. It slowly caresses areas of sensitive skin, the mass can be felt and it's clear that an outwards bulge has formed and is being pressed more against our bodies by our nappy and PVC pants as the sensation of the next natural internal wave is felt building-up. This one waits for a more intentional release and additional push, I provide some well timed effort to turn that bulky tummy discomfort into even more warm, comforting squishyness in my nappy, where it joins the first poopoo . It feels realy, good, why dont all grown-ups do this? They dont know what theyre missing, it may pong a bit, but it's our own pong which we associate with the relief, warmth, soft, bulky and comfortably squishy poopoo, which our nappies, or full cut briefs are intended to contain! -
By Kitty Angel · Posted
Act IV 99. My Perfect Moment Weeks passed. For a couple of days I was half expecting to hear from Tess that the boy who kept bothering her had stopped paying so much attention; or that he had said something to make her uncomfortable. Either way would have been fine with me, but whatever happened, I didn’t hear about it. The best guess I had was that he was quietly backing off, but she didn’t think that was worth mentioning. But I knew that there was still something going on. It started to get under my skin that there were things going on in my house that I didn’t know about. I could keep on watching Tess and Ffrances whenever they found time to indulge their little sides, and I knew I only had myself to blame for them not wanting to tell me about that. But I knew there was another secret as well. I started to wonder if I’d done something wrong, that Tess didn’t feel she could confide in me. Or was she so stuck in the mindset of trying to be grown-up that she didn’t feel like she could ask for help? That really hurt. I’d told her pretty soon after she moved in that there would be no secrets here. This was a house where we could all trust each other, and the easiest way to do that was if we knew everything that was going on. Even if she hadn’t meant it as a direct insult, I was sure that Tess should be telling me all about her problems, because she was still my little and I knew she would need my help so that she could actually deal with those problems. And I knew that I had to get her to talk to me before I could punish her for lying; but that was going to be hard anyway, because I couldn’t admit how closely I’d been watching her. I decided that she would feel better after another wet night; just to remind her that she was supposed to let the grown-ups deal with everything. She’d been back over a week by that point, and hadn’t had an accident yet, so I could imagine that was the real cause of her worries. But after that, when I went into the nursery to top up the supply of diapers in the changing table drawers, I found something that I really hadn’t been expecting. There were new diapers in there; not the ones I had bought her. I didn’t understand how that could have happened; was I not giving my baby enough? But again, there was no easy way for me to mention it, without having to explain that I had been tidying up her room while she was out. But the part I really didn’t understand was that these diapers weren’t even cute. There was no childish print, no baby trappings at all. They looked more like something that an elderly patient at a retirement home would be resigned to, with the company name printed in a dozen different places and a thick blue line that had to be a wetness indicator. Why would she wear something like that, when she already had soi many designs to choose from? It wouldn’t make her feel cute at all, and that was a problem because it would make it a lot harder for her to automatically drop into her littlespace when she wore one. I couldn’t understand why she would buy something like that, so much less effective, when she already had such a wide selection. It was a lot later in the day that the answer came to me, and then I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t seen it sooner. She was always trying to do things by herself, that was almost a defining characteristic of Tess. So of course she wouldn’t take it for granted that I would keep on replacing her diapers. She didn’t want to ask, so she’d looked for somewhere she could buy some of her own. Maybe she was even hoping to convince me that she had stopped needing them, if she had a new supply that I didn’t know anything about. I didn’t think that was likely at all, but it certainly wasn’t impossible. I wanted to talk to her about this new problem, but I knew that I couldn’t. There wasn’t anything that I could say without sounding like I was spying on her, and that was the last thing that I wanted. Still, she wasn’t talking about moving into the spare room from the nursery; I knew that she was slowly accepting herself as a little, and I didn’t want to risk that in any way. So I just watched,m and made an effort to keep an eye on what they were doing in my absence. And as far as the medical diapers went, I could only try to discourage her from using them. I formed the plan slowly, a bunch of small steps that wouldn’t make anything too obvious. I just paid a little more attention as we were heading to bed in the evenings. Tess still had the first posthypnotic suggestion, from our adventures taking photos in the garden. She would feel and act a little more childish if she was dressed childishly, which meant that if I learned to recognise when she was happy, when she was sad, or when she was nervous, I could see the subtle nuances that told me whether she was wearing a childish pull-up or one of the ugly adult diapers. And if I saw her on the landing after she had gotten changed for bed, that was the perfect opportunity for me to remind her that she was going to wet the bed tonight. It was always a surprise for her; she could trust me to do what was best for her without telling her the details. Sometimes I would tell her to wet without regressing; sometimes she would wet herself in the night like a baby. Sometimes she would wake up dry and then have an accident before she could get to the bathroom in the morning, and those times I made sure not to make her feel any more childish than she already did. I was hoping that she was at least aware of her own needs, and that she would come to realise by herself that she was waking up wet a lot more often since she had started buying her own diapers. If she started to suspect that they were making her problem worse – perhaps because wetting the bed in those things felt more shameful than still being a child – then she might try to indulge a little less, and to take the precautions she really needed. We occasionally played during the day as well. She would wear a romper or playsuit, and we could veg out in front of the TV to watch cartoons, or classic movies that I remembered from my childhood. Or I might make her something more age-appropriate for dinner, like a big bucket of turkey unicorns, and she wouldn’t protest as I treated her like a child. I always praised her, always reassured her that the relaxation she got on those days would help her to cope with the stresses of school. And maybe she believed me, if she noticed that she would almost never wet the bed if she’d been my little one in the evening. It was just one more reason for her to play along, until that headspace was so natural to her that she wouldn’t think of striving for adulthood any longer. I made small changes. And at the same time, I knew that there were other things I needed to be dealing with. Things I had been putting off for too long, but didn’t really know where to start with. But I didn’t say anything. I was happy to see our little family slowly progressing, Tess following a clear path to who she was supposed to be. It was going to be perfect when we were all together and all content in our different roles. All that changed one night when we were sitting in front of the television watching a movie that dated to the late nineties, starring a German guy whose name I would never be able to pronounce correctly, let alone remember. It was clear that he was trying to be the next Hasselhof, perhaps a decade too late, and he had the right figure even if his attempt to mimic the accent left a lot to be desired. Ffrances and Tess were debating the plot of the movie, able to ignore the apparent cardboard scenery and dialogue that sounded like the writing team didn’t have any languages in common. Ffrances was keen to point out that this wasn’t, in fact, based on the works of genius author MK; but was a half-hearted attempt to cash in on the popularity that some of the movies had recently seen in central Europe. Still, it was interesting for them to discuss where in the Millhouse Underground timeline this story could conceivably have been set. I could follow some of the discussion, but I’d been finding lately that for everything I learned about those comic books, there were a dozen more things that I was completely blind to. “There was a series with Nicholas Tesla and the Metrozzi boys, wasn’t there?” Tess mused. “Incandescent Ring? I’ve not seen that one, only the New Ark versions, but it makes sense if the dragons haven’t returned yet.” “You’ve got a point,” Ffrances nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll have to lend you my copy of the three rings sometime. They’re roughly based on a translation of the Ark series, but adapted to retain continuity with the main canon. Binding Ring is the Bronze Ark storyline, while Incandescent is closer to the events of Silver. Of course, you could probably get the new version. There’s revised editions with new titles about six months ago, but they haven’t been the easiest to get your hands on. We’re not really sure…” I was trying to pay attention, I really was. But when the conversation drifted into an old standalone story, and its reimagining into the main Millhouse Underground universe, and a reboot with all new titles, I knew there would be more different titles than I could keep straight in my head. I would still have tried, but a vibration from my phone at that point told me that somebody might have something I needed to know. It turned out to be a message from TheAuthorsLittleSister. I almost skipped away from it again when I saw that it wasn’t about the next chapter of The Baby Button, delayed again because her tyrannical boss had been putting more and more pressure on her. But although this post didn’t give a date for the story, it was something vastly more interesting. Something so amazing that I couldn’t believe it, and had to double check that I wasn’t being pranked somehow. I tapped out a message as fast as I could, and then glanced up guiltily with the realisation that I hadn’t heard anything Ffrances was saying for the last ten minutes. “That sounds incredible,” Tess said. “Think Isaac likes me enough to let me order a copy?” “I don’t know, he’s an odd bird. But seeing you so excited, I think I can help you lay your hands on a copy. Assuming I can find it myself. I mean, Broken Ring is a real work of genius, and if they’re following the same pattern in the remake…” For a moment my train of thought twitched back onto the track it needed to be on. I’d thought I didn’t know anything, but I was more in touch that I’d ever dared to imagine. Broken Ring was a comic that I’d already heard of; and one of very few that had been recommended to me by someone other than Ffrances. I already knew that its remake, Unterminated Ring, was going to be a big surprise for long standing fans, even if I hadn’t heard that many rumours about why. And that was the perfect moment for me. I had realised how a comic book plot might give me the chance to turn our little family around, and to make sure that it grew into exactly what I wanted most. -
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By SkippyYote · Posted
Yeesh!!! I was getting goosebumps, reading the last section, where they split up. Great writing; I could visualize the whole scene.
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