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@NorthShoreAdam here is a suggestion for your think tank.    

Why did you do that 

lol it happens from time to time. one thing is for certain one day I will get my wish and be diapered 24/7 and I have an excuse I need them.

Oops! lol

BEFORE YOU READ Author’s Note:  Hey all! I know I’m working on my other story, ‘Madeline’ right now but I figured since I’ve already got that story complete and will be updating periodically, I’d post this one! For the first time in a long while, this story is not in the Diaper Dimension! It’s based in a dystopian America where men rule and women are diapered. I’ve posted several one-shots recently in this universe and now have decided to turn it into a full story. The links to the other short stories are posted below!  Disclaimer:  This story is completely non-con!! It contains every warning you could possibly think of from domestic abuse, violence against women, normalized misogyny, sexist language, mental health issues. It also is SEXUAL so if this is not your scene then I suggest you SKIP this story!! Additional stories:  Curiosity Killed the Cat:  https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/99582-curiosity-killed-the-cat/#comment-2250023  An Hysterical Diapering:  https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/99547-%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8Ban-hysterical-diapering/#comment-2249593  Questions: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/99532-questions/#comment-2249380  ∞§∞ Synopsis:  For ten years, Hannah has survived, trapped in a fallen society where women have been reduced to no more than diapered objects. However, when new neighbors move in next door, everything she had worked so hard to maintain slowly begins to fall apart. This leaves Hannah questioning everything she has been taught about a woman’s place in this world.   A Woman’s Place Chapter 1:  2026 The soft velvet of praise reached her ears. Low and soothing, her face filled with warmth, relieved to have done something right. Jack could be in such a foul mood, but it must have been a good day, because she might as well have been purring from the way he patted her head.  Knelt in the same position he’d left her this morning, they found themselves in the kitchen. Or more accurately, Hannah at his feet, beside where he sat at the head of the table. They were silent except for the scrape of cutlery upon china. Her nose flared at the wafting scent of the dinner she’d spent the last hour preparing.  It was his favorite: chicken cutlet with a side of mash and veg. It was the first dish she’d learned to make and thought it fair to say that she had nailed to perfection.  Her pride only multiplied when his hand reached down. Dangling in front of her lips was a juicy slice of crusted meat. “Go on,” he encouraged with a deep and hearty chuckle at the widening of her gaze. “You’ve been a good girl today.”  “T-thank you!” Hannah breathed. Leaning forward toward the offered food, she took it with her teeth. Relaxed against her husband’s leg, she sucked the lingering juices from his fingers, tongue swiping his skin in eager movements. As if a dog desperate for a bone, Hannah Nicholas knew what she looked like - desperate and broken. This had been her life for the better half of the last decade. But it wasn’t so much of a brokenness than conditioned response. As a woman, Hannah knew what was expected of her. Men would see whatever they wanted to believe even in the form of plastic smiles and empty eyes.  But that didn’t mean she was numb. In fact, it was quite the opposite.  From where her husband sat, his voice washed over her. “I saw you completed all of your chores. I’m very proud of you. It was a long list.” Her chin tucked into her chest in response, but it wasn’t enough to hide the blossoming blush. She hated the way she reacted. Humiliated and ashamed, yet her body’s sickening desire for his approval made her question how sane she truly was.  Experts would call it Stockholm Syndrome because when you were dependent on the one person that had the power to take everything away, the little treats became everything. And she’d never hated him more for it.  Thanking him profusely, she all but mewled. She nuzzled her cheek into his open palm in a twisted act of affection.  Afterall, obedience was a woman’s best friend.  That was the first thing they learned in Reformation School.  Obedience to the man.  Obedience to the Patriarchy.  What were once meaningless words became a lifeline —- tightening around your neck like a noose. It slowly stole your breath until you turned blue in the face in fit of submission. Maybe it would loosen or maybe… you would die.  In an already fractured society, only the fittest survived, and the weak were a disease nobody wanted to catch.  The number one cause of a weak ruler was the failure to adapt — to admit when one was in over their head and concede when their time had come to an end.  That was why it was no wonder the country fell apart so quickly. After a decade of disillusion, people needed someone to look up to, they needed something to believe in.  But when only one part of humanity has a voice, where does the other half go? For Hannah, that was North Carolina. ∞§∞ She knew he’d done it on purpose. Hannah was no fool. It was the same every time. Whether this was to test her level of obedience or just some sick way to fuck with her mind, she wouldn’t let him get to her. Men like her husband craved power. They needed it to breathe. But even in a world where they already held the upper hand, still, it was never enough. And as a female in this patriarchal hellscape where the price of a woman was that of livestock, Hannah could not afford to fall apart. There were rules for a reason. Rules to uphold the Patriarchy and every person had a place. Whatever it was, she had taken the oath of submission. Vowing to serve and protect the very system that sought to turn her into nothing…  But Hannah would do anything if that’s what it took to survive.  Even now as she scrubbed the toilet mercilessly on her hands and knees. It had taken nearly an hour to unclog and the odor clung to the walls like glue.  Her eyes burned. She’d have to clean the whole bathroom again because Jack was a very particular man. The slightest imperfections sent him up the wall and at the end of the day, she would be the one to face the consequence.  Luckily today though, her list was short enough.  With breakfast and lunch completed and the kitchen cleaned, all that was left was some light dusting, laundry and dinner tonight. Hannah knew the amount of work but it kept her busy. That’s all she could be grateful for. Hannah had never been one to idle, always wanting more. However, according to the Patriarchy, a woman’s place was in the home. That’s why if she couldn’t work, this was the next best thing.  But at the same time, there was an exhaustion that never seemed to fade. Etched into the lines of her face she was too young to have at only twenty-eight, Hannah was tired.  As the young woman bent over the toilet on the cold tiled ground, her arms trembled from the exertion. For a moment, she thought that it wouldn’t hurt to take a break. Just a few seconds. If she closed her eyes and -  “Pet?”  Jerked out of her stupor, she could not react fast enough. Scrambling on all fours, she bowed her head to the ground at his feet.  Jack stood at the door. Leaning against the frame with his hand on his hip, she watched him watch her. Cold and stony faced, her skin ignited in goosebumps. Hannah wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t attractive. He was - in a conventional sort of way. Olive skinned with a head full thick hair, he had a bone structure so sharp it could cut stone. He stood at maybe a foot above her when she was on her feet and had the build of a soccer player - lean and muscular. His sharply upturned eyes were a mousy brown that kindled in intensity. “Jack!” She exclaimed, unable to slow the hammering of her pulse. “I-I, uhm, I was just cleaning the bathroom-”  Hannah struggled to explain over the rushing sound in her ears, angry at herself for how she hadn’t even heard his arrival.  Instead of the reaction she’d expected, he lazily drawled, “Is my little wife tired?”  Hannah knew better than to respond.  A good wife was quiet.  A good wife obeyed.  “I don’t recall giving you a break. The house is far from clean.” “I’m sorry, sir,” Hannah murmured so softly, she barely heard her own voice.  They’d had a late night. She could still feel the slap of his manhood plunging inside her quivering sex as he edged her to the point of delusion. Instinctively her thighs squeezed to together at the memory, knowing there was more where that came from -  “Nuh-uh.” He snapped.  Pulled back to the present, her face went ashen. She’d done it again. It was too easy to get lost in herself. Not only embarrassed at getting caught, it was even more so at lack of humility.  “Such a needy thing… You know playtime is not allowed.”  “Yes, sir.” “Present yourself.” He commanded.  Watching as his wife scurried to comply, she was desperate not to make the situation any worse. So she clambered to her feet and spread her legs. Hannah didn’t even react as his hands slipped between her thighs, testing the leak guard of her thickly diapered bottom.  Hannah was used to this by now - the diaper checks, baby powder, and lack of modesty; never being able to ignore the friction against her itching cunt so far out of reach, and the constant smell of her own bodily waste trailing in her wake.  She stiffened at the swipe to the folds of her womanhood as he announced, “dry.” Sighing then, he said, “this is not your fault. You can’t control your urges. You’re just a simple minded girl, aren't you?” “Yes, sir.” Hannah responded slowly. He was unaware of her internal debacle. “This is just another example as to why you women need a strong man to keep you in line. It’s so you don’t get silly ideas about who owns your body.” “Yes, sir.”  The words were hollow but it’s what he wanted to hear. Above her, he grinned down, patting her crinkling bottom in what could have been mistaken as affection.  Unable to ignore the audible rustle of padding, there was no question where it was from. Of course it was from her.  It was always her.  Her very sight exemplified everything that the United States had become: a totalitarian regime built on the ideals of a patriarchal system where women’s autonomy did not exist, and misogynistic incels wielded the power.  Trapped in a world of humiliation, fear and masculinity… this was the Patriarchy.