Sophie ♥

Thanks so much!! Knowing this story was inspiring enough to come up again 5 years later is actually really cool. ❤️ I'm so glad you liked it! This is a good point. I'm gonna have to keep it in mind. Maybe I'll write some other diaper-adjacent stories in the future. Thanks so much for reading! Thank you even more for commenting!!

Thank you both ❤️

This is the correct response. XD Thank you so much for your kind words!! ❤️

I'm blown away by your kindness! ❤️ I really love Madison's Code; it's one of the deepest most heartfelt stories I've ever written and it means the world to me that you liked it so much. More importantly, thank you for commenting! Thank you for sharing it with a friend! Thank you for making this story travel across the distances between people so that everyone can feel more understood and less alone. Thank you for your part. I hope to see you on our SubscribeStar in the future! Until then, here's a PDF of the story, a link to the Amazon page where you can buy a kindle version, and the cover art made by JuiceBox with the characters I love so dearly. ❤️ With love, ~Sophie SubscribeStar: www.subscribestar.adult/sophieandpudding Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Madisons-Code-ABDL-Story-Everyone-ebook/dp/B09ZRN424T Madison's Code.pdf

How interesting. I never thought about it like that, but I think you're right. When we read stories, we like to know who the heroes are and who the villains are, but that's not usually how people are in the real world. So we struggle to bridge the gap between "reality" and "story", and that causes us a lot of emotional labor. I'm so glad! That's one of my favorite things I've ever written and one of the few early writings I think holds up very well even today.

Thank you so much!! ❤️ I knew when writing this one that it wouldn't get a lot of attention cuz the lack of ABDL content. But I put a lot of work into making it into a very cliche anime format, so I hope people had fun.

Thanks for the comment! TBH a lot of this story was just wish fulfillment and whatever. It wasn't meant to be taken as seriously as it wound up becoming. As usual, Pudding and I are very good at writing bad people doing good things and good people doing bad things. I don't think we'll ever write something quite like this again. That being said... when we started writing Lillikol it was meant to be a place heavily trapped in 1950s American tropes. (I think of it like an ABDL version of The Handmaid's Tale but like. Way less depressing.) A lot of people eschew this story because of the "abuse", but in the 1950s this kinda stuff would actually be pretty standard. In fact, by those terms, Lillikol is actually pretty progressive. I think the readers of this story harshly judge the characters because they don't live up to their modern standards, the same way we often judge historical figures. But they live in a world where the stuff Maisie is saying is just... not a thing. They don't know "right" and "wrong" in those contexts. And I think that's what makes this story so interesting in retrospect. What would it be like to have a time traveler from 2010 show up in the 1950s (but also diapers I guess???). I think these characters are misguided the way people in the past were misguided and the way we today are probably misguided on other things. And in 50 years people are going to look back at our actions and call us abusive for what we think now is very considerate and thoughtful. But that's the cycle of growth, you know? Accepting that what we were before wasn't perfect and who we are now must not be either. Anyway, my true love for this story comes from the ending. Maisie accepts certain truths about the people on the island because she realizes holding them all to her standards just... it isn't fair. But that doesn't mean she stops being herself or she gives up; she finds ways to live within the system and attack the system on her own terms. She finds a way to both be happy without giving up on her values. I really think 20 years after this story takes place Lillikol is a VERY different place. That being said... forced into diapers = hot. So. It would probably have made for a worse story. XD With love, ~Sophie

Ofc! I won't say that my childhood was anywhere near as bad as Oaklee's (and my parents were pretty okay tbh) but I did have a person my age when I was younger who took advantage of me in ways I realize in retrospect were... not great. And abused my little stuff to do it. As for Pudding, Mac's life doesn't mirror hers much at all. She was put in positions where society and family didn't allow her to be like Mac (able to dress in ways that made her happy or able to fight for her friends when she knew something was wrong). So part of the "healing" this story gave us was just... me confronting that some of the stuff that happened with me was bad and not my fault. And her getting to act and dress the ways that she always wished she could, and even play the hero for someone she cared about! Writing is a very... transcendental experience sometimes. Especially when you aren't writing for anyone but yourself.

As someone who has had some dissociative elements to my personality, but not exactly someone who has lived with DID, I'm really glad this resonates with the people of whom it was written about. It means a lot to me to have accurate representation. ...that being said, I totally forgot this story even existed. Let alone posted it on DD. Thanks for bringing it back to the forefront of my mind! ❤️

Why yes, yes we do! https://us.amazon.com/Butterflies-ABDL-Story-Change-Changes-ebook/dp/B09VD8YDV2 Thank you!! We love writing stories that make people think. About themselves, about others, about the world. We try to make it so nothing is ever purely good or bad, and everything is a mix.

Thank you!! ❤️ I definitely took it as a compliment! Knowing that our stories can make people /FEEL/ so intensely is the biggest compliment you can give us Fun story about this. Pudding and I don't usually plan what the plot will be in advance so when we got to that "choice" moment, Pudding put down her laptop and came up to me and said "What do I do?? Do I have Cora make her stay? Let her go?? I don't know??? What's the right answer??" and I said to her "do whatever you think Cora would do". And my answer was always going to be the opposite. If Cora told her to stay, she would have left. If Cora told her to leave, she would have stayed. Because it was the moment where Natalie got to choose. And she would always choose the opposite just to assert that it was /her/ choice. I like to think that the villains of stories like this learn and grow as much as the protagonists. That Cora works to be a better person after this. But life isn't always so clear cut so who knows? Evil Lolita Club is probably the closest, but it's a lot darker than this one. Another one I would suggest is Academy M, but /technically/ that's the sixth story in a series. Thanks everyone for reading!!! ❤️

Don't feel bad, Sayla is a piece of shit. Pudding's "did nothing wrong" comment was an internet meme at the time. Basically, taking really shitty awful characters and saying "they did nothing wrong" as a troll. She certainly didn't mean it literally, I promise! XD Anyone who stops reading this story is totally valid. When Pudding and I wrote this, it was to overcome a lot of personal family and sexual trauma in our lives growing up and processing through writing. It was never meant to be a thing for other people to read, but we wound up putting a lot of our personal projects online around this time and people fell in love with some of them. In retrospect, this story is VERY much a product of our childhoods, back when the internet was young. We have it set in like 2010 or whenever we wrote it, but anybody who was on the internet in the early 2000s can see its influence. Even though this might have been the most important story we've ever written as writers (personally), it's not something we are super proud of as a product for others. I'm actually surprised people are still reading it! Pudding and I are content to let this one get lost to the ages, even tho Mac & Oaklee are two very important parts of our souls. With love, ~Sophie

Falling Action When Ambrose opened his eyes, the room was still dark. He sat up in the crib and his sleepy mind tried to process a means of escape. A way out. A way back to his old life. But then he noticed that the crib had no bars on it. Then he noticed his clothes. Not his clothes, but not a frilly pink dress. Then he tried to close his legs. No diaper. And the room didn't smell terrible. Ambrose fumbled around in the dark until he found a light switch. The room wasn't a nursery. It was a bedroom. Not his bedroom, but... Z's bedroom? And his clothes... were Z's clothes. Ambrose stepped out of the bedroom and into the dimly lit living room. Z was sitting on his couch, playing that game. The music one, with the weird vibrator. Was it all a dream...? "You're finally awake," Z said, motioning Ambrose over to him. Ambrose nodded and went to sit on the couch. "What's... going on..." Ambrose asked. "How did I get here?" "You came over, upset about something," Z shrugged. "Then you drank two beers, pissed yourself, and threw a tantrum about it." Ambrose's blood ran cold. He what? No. It was a dream! He couldn't have! "So after I put you in time out - sorry about that - I sent you to shower and sleep it off." Sleep it off? Ambrose was piecing the timeline together from his dream. How much happened? How much didn't? Everything played out so unusually, like... like one of those stories. He let out a deep sigh. "Sorry," Ambrose finally said. "You shouldn't have had to do that." "What else are friends for?" Z shrugged. "Probably not this," Ambrose mumbled. "So, uh... you going to tell me what that was all about?" Z asked. "I will... but... I have to go right now. Do you know what time it is?” "Nine something?" Ambrose nodded. It was late, but not that late. He didn't know how he was going explain any of this to his best friend, but he was suddenly very glad to have the opportunity to do so. He was so happy to have his best friend listening to him again. Twenty minutes later, Ambrose knocked on Honey's apartment door. She answered with curiosity, but the expression on her face quickly faded to annoyance. "Ambrose," she said flatly. "Hey, um..." Ambrose looked around the empty hallway and then down at his ex. Down, because she was shorter than him again. ”I just want to say—“ "I don't want to hear it," Honey said sharply. Ambrose paused mid-sentence. He hesitated, then nodded his head. She didn't want to hear it. Then how was he supposed to explain? Maybe he couldn't... "Right... I'm sorry. Nevermind." Part of wanting someone else to listen to him meant that he needed to respect when someone else wanted him to listen first. So Ambrose turned and left. Resolution Ambrose was waiting by the elevator when Honey caught up to him. "Fine," she said, a little out of breath. "What did you want to say?" Ambrose stared at her. She didn't have to listen to him. She was choosing to. Ambrose felt tears in his eyes, but he didn't want to cry. Not because of some manly shit, but because he didn't want Honey to feel guilty. So he held it together. "I'm sorry I never listened to you,” he said. “I kept thinking I could fix everything if you let me, if I could be in control of things. That's the paradigm I've always wanted in a relationship. And I thought part of that paradigm was, like... overruling your partner. That's how it is in stories." "Stories?" Honey asked. "Uhh..." Ambrose didn't want to be fully honest. Not only because he was embarrassed, but because it wasn't a good excuse. He didn't want to drop all his kink shit on Honey, not now. "What I'm trying to say is: I was wrong. Part of a relationship is listening to your partner, even if you think they're wrong, even if you think you can do better. It doesn't matter what kind of relationship it is, nobody should be ignored." "Ambrose..." Honey sighed. "I'm sorry," Ambrose repeated. "I thought that was the kind of guy I wanted to be, but it's not. I want to do what you think is best for you, not what I think. I want to listen to you, all the time, no matter what." "Ambrose..." Honey repeated, and Ambrose suddenly felt very embarrassed. "Or, uh... not just you," Ambrose corrected. "My, uh... next girlfriend. Every girl. Everyone." Honey nodded. She realized in that moment that this wasn't about trying to win her back. This was something else. "I'd like to be friends, if that's okay," Ambrose said, more like a question than a statement. It was the first time Honey had heard him talk like that, or at least the first time she could remember. "Yeah... friends," Honey agreed. The elevator doors opened. Ambrose looked at them, then at Honey, and smiled awkwardly. "That's my ride." Ambrose stepped into the elevator and waved goodbye. "See you," he said. Honey waved back. "See you." [The End]

Climax Ambrosia's eyes filled with tears as she filled her diaper. The seat of her diaper was resting squarely on Daddy's thigh, and she had to lean forward to make room. Meek sobs mixed with her grunts, and she could feel the release her tummy so desperately wanted. The sensation was gross and sticky and mucky, [but so familiar, as if she'd been filling her diapers her entire life.] Suddenly, Daddy bounced his knee and she sat squarely in her mess, squishing it into her skin. It squelched out over her bottom, filling the space around the leg gatherings. [Her bottom was already mucky and the smell began to fill the room, but Ambrosia wasn't done. The ache in her tummy forced her to learn forward again, to push more, to expand out the back of her diaper.] And once more, Daddy bounced her on his knee. The mess in her diaper had doubled, and it crept down between her thighs and up the front of her diaper. Tears spilled down her cheeks. [But Ambrosia wasn't done. Her tummy churned and she felt her body lean forward on instinct. Another grunt, another push, and Ambrose tried to fill what little space was left in the seat of her diaper. She sucked her pacifier for comfort.] Until Daddy's knee bounced her again. Again and again, until her stinky diaper was so full that the white plastic had become a dull brown. [But Ambrosia's tummy was relentless. She curled into her Daddy and leaned onto her side, clinging to his shirt. Wave after wave of desperation crashed into her, and she pushed as hard as she could. Grunting, the seat of her diaper grew and grew.] Daddy held her tight to his chest. He bounced his knee, so the sticky mess clung to her bare skin, then tore away from gravity alone. [On her side, between knee bounces, Ambrosia filled her diaper in bursts. One mess after another, interrupted by the pressure of Daddy's knee and the load in her diaper finding new places to fill.] When it was over, Ambrosia was quivering. She sucked her pacifier for dear life, the only silver lining in her otherwise humiliating performance. It seemed to take hours, but her Mommy and Daddy never even looked at her. They never said a word to her. Until they spoke to her at the same time. It was hard for Ambrosia - messy, stinky, and utterly de-adult-ified as she was - to make out which specific words had been said. She thought Mommy had said: [“Smells like somebody is a good girl. Don’t cry sweetheart. Does our widdle Pwincess need some help getting comfy in her new family position?”] And she thought Daddy had said: ["All done sweetie, or maybe you want some more time bouncing on Daddy's knee before you get changed."] But what she heard, for sure, between those words, were the true meaning of the two of them: ["Can you still say you didn't want this?"] And she felt so utterly, completely, irreparably small... she couldn't even be sure of the answer. Ambrosia was at a loss for words, figuratively and literally. Even if she could talk around the bulb of her pacifier, she didn't want to. She wanted to keep sucking on it for comfort. And even if she wanted to say something, she had nothing to say. No more defenses. No more arguments. No more adulthood left inside her. She hated it. She truly hated everything that was happening to her! But the human mind couldn't cope with that kind of dissonance. Either she had to find a way out of her torture, or she had to believe she liked it. And there was no way out. No escape. No end-of-episode rescue. There were five lights. Ambrosia was just a little girl now. There was too much that had changed, too many thresholds that had been crossed, too much reality that had inexplicably shifted. Ambrosia wasn't sure what was real and what was delusion, and what was truth and what was fiction. Her thoughts were flooded and gummed up, and her diaper was full, and she was with her Mommy and Daddy and that all seemed true, but everything else was so hard to focus on, so hard to absorb. Or so she thought, until she felt something press against her padding. "I think our good little girl deserves a reward," Mommy teased, holding the vibrating wand between Ambrosia's legs. Instinctively, she tried to shut her thighs, but the diaper was so full and thick that it was hopeless. Then the wand turned on and the vibrations reverberated through her diaper, into her body. Her confusion was quickly replaced with arousal. She wanted to shake her head, and if ever recounting this experience she would be sure to add that detail. But to be honest... with her mind so empty and her body so exhausted, her head certainly didn't shake. Her voice, her words stolen as they were, didn't mumbled in protest. Oh no no. Instead, she moaned behind her pacifier. She wasn't sure anything had even felt so good. Her Daddy held her in his arms as Mommy slid the vibrating wand along the plastic of Ambrosia's diaper. Each time Mommy pushed the wand a little too much, it squelched against Ambrosia's messy diaper and reminded her exactly what she was wearing. What she'd done. And how amazing it felt. Many times, Ambrosia tried to close her legs, and every time it failed. Though her mind wasn't ready to give up, her body was. Her knees bowed outward, until her thighs were wide apart. Mommy's toy found new places on the padding and the stink of her diaper filled Ambrosia's nostrils in waves. All the while, Daddy played with her hair and bounced her messy butt on his knee. Ambrosia forgot how to talk, and she wondered if she even could ever remember how. Whe wondered what it felt like to not have her binkie. Did it matter? Should she talk? A baby just babbles. But Mommy and Daddy sure did talk. [“There’s our cute little stinker in all her glory! Don’t worry, your thick diapers can hold it,”] quipped Mommy, and the teasing encouragement and reminder of her status only served to fuel her arousal. Ambrosia was so turned on, so much more turned on than she’d ever been before, and she reveled in the euphoria. Her spine arched and Daddy held her firmly. ["Don't worry, babygirl. This is just another kind of accident,"] Daddy began, smiling happily and proudly, [You go ahead and make cummies in your full full full diaper for Mommy and Daddy. Make us proud, and prove who you are now.”] Ambrosia didn't dare disappoint her Mommy and Daddy. Her body obeyed their every word, skipping through her mind like rocks on a frozen lake. Ambrosia's thoughts were frozen in ice. But her body was fire. Ambrosia quivered and moaned into her pacifier, filling her diaper in a whole new way. Probably her favorite way so far. When she was done, Ambrosia's mind and body were entirely worn out. She barely moved when Daddy lifted her into his arms and sat her messy butt on his hip. He walked her through the house, into the [nursery, where she was set in a very large crib.] "Chhhmmmmph..." Ambrosia tried to beg through her pacifier. She needed a change. She was so stinky, and her diaper was so full. But Daddy and Mommy kissed her once on the forehead and left her alone in the dark. Ambrosia looked up at the mobile, at the little plastic toys dangling from it. One had a big silver sticker on the bottom, and she could see her reflection in it. The reflection of a truly helpless baby girl. In that moment, Ambrosia didn't want a diaper change or her life back. She just wished her Mommy and Daddy would listen to her.

Rising Action “You know,” Z smirked, “if you think this is a dream, then there’s no use making such a fuss, is there? Heck, you could do all the things you’ve always wanted to do… because it’s a dream, right? Just remember not to get arrested or hurt or dead, because if those things happen in a dream they happen in real life.” "I don't want any of this," Ambrose panicked. "I want everything to go back to normal!” “If you’re [going to sulk like a baby, maybe the pull-up isn’t enough for you, princess. Maybe you should be in a diaper. I’m sure you have one in your diaper bag].” Z's words were like a slap across the face. Ambrose stood there, dumbfounded, trying to process everything his friend was saying. A diaper? A diaper bag? The first protest that found its way out of Ambrose's mouth was: "I don't have a diaper bag!" "Oh?" [Z went over to the front door and pulled a bag off the hook. It was light pink and green with teddy bears on it, and it was impossible to mistake as anything but a diaper bag]. "That's not mine!" Ambrose argued. "I'm not sure what game you're playing today," Z said dismissively, "but you know the rules." Rules? Did Ambrose know any rules? Of course not. [But as he thought about it, a few popped into his head. Rules for when Z was babysitting:] [If Baby has an accident, Baby will be in diapers for the next 24 hours. No exceptions and no bathrooms]. [It's up to the Sitter if Baby has to wear diapers or not, no exceptions]. [If Baby is wearing a diaper, then they need to be wearing something to make checking easier]. [If the Sitter puts a paci in Baby’s mouth, it stays in until Sitter takes it out]. [If Baby is too little for underwear, Baby is too little for regular cups. Baby will be given a bottle or a sippy depending on Baby’s behavior]. [Baby does not leave Sitter’s home until picked up by a responsible adult]. How could Ambrose not blush when he recalled those rules? He was sure there were more too, but he dared not dig further. What was happening? “…why do I know all these rules? What is going on, Z?” Z shrugged. “You’re the Baby, I’m just the Sitter.” Z started to unpack the diaper bag. A changing mat. A bottle of baby powder. And a diaper. A pink diaper with bunny rabbits on it. Ambrose began to panic. "I... I'll wear the pull-up,” he said quickly, trying to bargain. “Pull-up?" Z asked. "You [haven’t been in pullups for months].” "No, but you... um..." Ambrose turned in place, looking for the dress and the pull-up that had been placed outside the bathroom door. [But they were gone.] “You’re basically diaper dependent at all this point, Ambrosia.” Ambrose missed the used of his full name at first, because his head was spinning. What did Z mean by diaper dependent? He couldn’t mean that, right? As Z unfolded the pink diaper, Ambrose was trying to process everything that was happening. The bedwetting that morning felt like it had happened so long ago, and everything since was just a cascade of insanity. Finally, Ambrose shook his head and tried to reason with Z. "Something is wrong. I'm not.... you're not my babysitter. And I'm not like this. I'm not... it's just like a story. One of those ageplay stories. Please, you have to realize how crazy all this is!" Z sighed and looked up at Ambrose. But his face was rather earnest. Even if it was a dumb game, Z decided to play along. "What stories are you talking about?" Z asked. Ambrose hesitated. How was he supposed to explain any of this to his best friend? “Honey used to need taking care of,” Ambrose lied, trying to spare himself some embarrassment. “She never seemed to be able to do anything on her own. I realized she needed someone to take care of her. I started doing some reading to see if I could find a way to help her, and I came across some weird stories online. Stories about people being taken care of. Stories about people being regressed.” Although, for the sake of not giving Z any ideas, Ambrose probably wouldn’t add [“stories about asshole guys being turned into well-behaved little girls”, Ambrose said out loud]. Ambrose quickly covered his mouth. He didn’t mean to say that at all! With a welling panic and blushing cheeks, he took a stand. “I’m going home.” "Without any clothes?" Z smirked. "I'll just wear my old clothes," Ambrose sulked. He didn't want to walk home in wet clothes, but he really didn't want to waddle home in a diaper. "I'm not letting you wander around outside in wet tights," Z said firmly. "This game has gone on long enough. Come over here, right now." "No," Ambrose huffed. "I'm not a baby, and I'm not dressing like one." “No, you’re not a baby. You’re a Baby Girl, and I’m your Sitter and we agreed on the rules. We agreed that no matter how much tantruming you do, we still follow the rules. So it sounds to me, like you’re begging for a spanking, little girl.” Ambrose wanted to be angry at Z. He wanted to fight with him about this. He wanted to make Z admit this was all a stupid game. [But Z's words seemed to have a different effect on Ambrose. Something about Z, how he spoke, how his tone felt… it was like calamine on a rash, chamomile on a cold day. Ambrose wanted to stop fighting all this horrible chaos, and listening was such an easy way to do it. Maybe even… enjoyable?] “Please, I don’t want a spanking…” Ambrose said, his tone dropping to quiet and meek and submissive. He was just so exhausted after all this. "Then lie down so I can get you dressed,” Z said. “Then you can go back to playing your big girl game." Girl. Ambrose was a little irritated at that one. He was a little irritated at everything! But conversations with Z felt so... insurmountable. Like Ambrose would never get any traction. Like it was pointless. Like they weren't even speaking the same language. "Can... I just... please wear underwear?" Ambrose asked. Politely, this time. He didn't want to fight, but a diaper? Seriously? He wasn't into that... he was the one in charge. He was the Daddy. “Oh, Ambrosia,” Z grinned with a roll of the eyes, “you’re gonna wear underwear. Diapers are your underwear, and you know you need them now. It’s taken a long time to get you there, but we did it.” [The worst part of all of this, the absolute worst part… was that Ambrose had an erection And his cock looked a lot smaller than it used to]. "Please..." Ambrose tried again, but Z patted the open diaper and urged him forward. Was he really about to let his best friend diaper him? Ambrose shook his head in defiance. So Z [tugged him by the wrist and pulled the nearly naked man over his lap. Ambrose started to kick and fuzz, but Z held him down firmly and unwrapped the towel, exposing his beard butt]. "Wait! Wait!" Ambrose begged. But Z didn't wait. With a full swing, he spanked Ambrose's bare bottom. The sharpness of Z's hand felt like daggers. Ambrose tried to kick and beg, but Z ignored him. [Then Ambrose felt a warm splash on his thighs. A stream splashed against the front of his towel, as if he had no control of his bladder left. For the second time in as many hours, he was having an accident, and this time on his best friend's lap.] “Ambrosia Marie! Bad girl! Bad bad girl!” Z didn’t get up to clean up, and instead delivered twelve sharp slaps on Ambrose’s ass, and that was just the beginning. In as little as five spankings, Ambrose was crying. He couldn't help it. And each spank after that was just another reminder that this was not at all a dream. If it were, he would have woken up, because the bare-bottom spankings really hurt! After it was over, Z wasted no time rolling him naked onto the floor and positioning him on the changing pad. The diaper was already unfolded beneath his butt, and Ambrose felt fresh tears spill down his cheeks. "Please... dun do this..." Ambrose meekly begged, but he and his best friend both knew that Ambrose would not put up more of a fight. “Ambrosia, we both know you want this.” Z powdered his baby girl and paused. The erection was still an issue, and even more so after the spanking. A good few strokes would probably take care of it, but that wasn’t the way baby girls got off. “Wait here, Baby Girl, don’t move,” Z said. “I’m going to get your wand from my bedroom.” Wand? Ambrose thought. Like a wand from a diaper smut story? No, no, no... he couldn't possibly... Ambrose knew that he had to leave. Reasoning with Z wasn't an option, and he couldn't just sit and let this happen to him. So he sat up and blinked through his tears, looking down at the untaped diaper. But more importantly: at his erection. At his cock, which was half the size it used to be. Ambrose fumbled to his feet, but he felt weak and lightheaded. The spanking had sapped every ounce of his energy. The wet towel was gone, so he stumbled naked to the front door. His threshold for embarrassment was much higher than it was only hours before, and someone seeing him naked was the least of his troubles. [But as he got to the door, it opened inwards and Honey stood there with a smile.] Ambrose stood dumbfounded, staring up at his ex-girlfriend. He went to say something, but no words came out. “Save it, Baby Girl,” Honey smiled. “I’m just here to see Z. But it looks like you’re mid-diaper-change, huh?” “She sure is,” Z confirmed, emerging from the bedroom with the signature white and blue implement of delight. “I think she was trying to escape,” Honey smirked. “Oh she wouldn’t do that, would she now?” Z teased. “She wouldn’t earn a hundred more spankings.” Z had an amazing “talk condescending to a child” voice. Ambrose stood between his best friend and his recent ex-girlfriend, completely naked, as they talked about him like he wasn't even there. To add insult to injury, Ambrose's height difference was validated: he was actually slightly shorter than Honey now! "There's a misunderstanding," Ambrose tried to argue, covering himself up with his hands. He didn't want Honey to see what had happened to his manhood. “Absolutely there is,” Honey smiled sweetly. “Z should be getting the buzzy toy for your butt if he wants that lil’ baby toy between your legs to settle down.” “You think so?” Z asked. “She hasn’t had a good M-E-S-S yet today so I didn’t want to get in the way of that.” [Ambrosia tried to make sense of the letters Z had spelled out, but they sounded like gibberish to her.] Honey nodded, and addressed Ambrosia directly now, with clear instruction: [“Ambrosia, you have thirty seconds to lie down on that diaper or else you’re getting locked in the crib with your special tapes playing all night. You choose.”] Ambrose knew what Honey meant, and he didn't want anything to do with any kind of special tapes. Ambrose reminded himself that hypnosis didn't work like that, and then he reminded himself that he was almost a foot shorter and wetting himself uncontrollably. Logic wasn't something he could rely on. Z led Ambrose by the hand back to the pink bunny diaper and laid him back down. Running into Honey had been mortifying, even beyond his wildest fantasies. His dick had become soft and limp, but he never stopped covering it up. "This is a prank, right?" Ambrose asked nervously. Honey had followed them into the room and stood towering above him on the floor. [“Oh my little diaper dork, it’s not a prank,” Honey cooed. “And you’re not being bullied. You wanted this. You read so many stories about this stuff and you wanted it so badly and now you have it. You’re the pretty little diaper princess you’ve always wanted to be.”] While Honey teased Ambrose, Z pulled up the diaper up between his thighs. "I never wanted this," Ambrose argued, [but the thickness between his legs forced them apart and an overwhelming feeling filled him up. Like butterflies.] Things Ambrose knew shouldn't be inside him, but they were. He had to center himself to continue the argument, but his attention was split. "I wanted you in diapers," Ambrose finally admitted to Honey. "I wanted to take care of you.” “And do you really think that you have the ability to do that?” Honey asked sweetly. “You need your diapers. You need your dresses and your dollies and your binkie, and you certainly don’t have ANY room in that pretty lil empty head of yours for taking care of other people, do you?” Z pulled one wing tight, and taped the lower tape, and then repeated the process on the other side. Ambrose shook his head. The wings of the diaper hugged his hips tenderly, comfortably. He knew he wasn't into this. He knew he didn't want to wear diapers. His feelings matched the kind of stuff he read online, not the kind of things he actually felt. "Is this because we broke up?" Ambrose asked sourly. "Are you getting revenge on me or something? It's not funny!" “I broke up with you, [Amber]; what would I want revenge for?” “And now that you’re our Baby Girl,” Z stood up, having finished taping the two top tapes, and stood beside Honey, “we can [teach you how to be a good girl. And a good girl is a happy girl.]" "I'm not happy!" Ambrose shouted up at her. "I'm confused and angry and scared! And I hate this, and I want you to stop it!" Z sharply slapped Ambrose's thigh and Ambrose whimpered. "Watch your tone," Z said. "If you're going to act like a little brat, I'll treat you like one." "We're trying to help you," Honey cooed. "I don't need your help," Ambrose muttered holding back tears. "Well, you sure can't seem to manage it on your own, can you?" Honey asked. "If you'd just listen, you wouldn't have to worry about any of this. We would take care of it." "You aren't hearing me," Ambrose raised his voice. "You're just making decisions that—“ Just then, Z popped a silicone bulb between Ambrose's lips, cutting him off mid-sentence. He held the pacifier in place until Ambrose began to suck on it, and as he sucked [his mind started going blank. He wasn’t sure if it was magic, hypnosis, stress, or something else, but Ambrose found himself unable to think at all as he repeatedly suckled the pacifier.] So enthralled was Ambrosia with the binkie, that he didn’t even notice when Honey slipped away into the bedroom. And he didn’t put up a protest when Z picked him up and sat him down atop his lap. Ambrose bounced on [her Daddy's] knee and sucked his pacifier. The haze in his head was only matched in intensity by the burning blush on his cheeks. He want— [She] wanted to— He wanted to get off his— [She wanted to get off.] Ambrosia shook [her] head in disgust. This whole thing was disgusting! [Then why did it feel so good? Had she always wanted this?] Ambrosia knew she didn't! All these feelings started today. [Did they?] Of course they did! [But things were changing so fast for Ambrosia. Could she be sure of anything?] Of course she could! [Did she even remember when she started using she/her pronouns?] Ambrosia paused. Her fuzzy thoughts were even fuzzier than before. Had she always thought of herself as a girl? Was she a girl? The panic made way for one thought: why is this happening to me? [Just relax, Ambrosia. Let me tell the story.] "How's your tummy?" Daddy asked, snapping Ambrosia out of her... her what? What was she even thinking about? [She didn't remember.] "Whmmph?" Ambrosia asked, forgetting the pacifier between her lips. A fresh embarrassment came over her. "It's already dinner time and you haven't had a single messy diaper," Daddy said with a tickle on Ambrosia's cheek. Ambrosia's eyes went wide. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she remembered stories about this. About what Daddy was talking about. [And just as she did, she felt an ache in her stomach.] "No!" Ambrosia said loudly and reached to take out her pacifier. But as she did, [Mommy secured a panel gag with a slit cut out to accommodate her pacifier around her head.] "I think our babygirl needs some extra help behaving today,” she said. Ambrosia felt her eyes go wide as her legs were spread by the thickness of her diaper, and she shook her head vehemently as she could manage. What were Mommy and Daddy talking about?! ["Sometimes Mommy and Daddy have to do things that baby girls don't understand, but they're important. Especially if our little princess hasn't made poopies all day."] "Mmmmph!!" Ambrosia argued, so unintelligibly that even she didn't know what she was trying to say. Then [Mommy] held up what she had fetched from the bedroom. A dress. [The dress was absolutely emasculating, a boy's worst nightmare. It was aggressively hot pink satin, with lighter pink for the color and ruffled trim. The sleeves ballooned out in great big puffy sleeves, and on the chest was written the words "Little Miss Princess" in cherry colored thread. And the hem... the hem was so short, that there was no chance of covering Ambrosia's diaper.] Ambrosia shook her head in disapproval and tried to fuss with the paci gag, but Mommy threaded her arms through the sleeves and pulled the dress down over his head. Then she pulled two satin mittens in matching pink to cover his hands, and tightened them with the pull of a ribbon. What Ambrosia wanted to say was that this was a huge misunderstanding and that it should have been Honey who was being tressed up and made to poop her diapers, but every thought that Ambrosia had seemed to be tainted, corrupted, altered… she felt like she was rapidly losing her entire sense of self. [Ambrosia's stomach churned again.] "Oooh, listen to that gurgling tummy!" Daddy teased. ”Mmmrph!!" "We're going to have one stinky baby girl soon, aren't we Daddy?" Mommy teased back. “We certainly are." Mommy sat down next to Daddy on the sofa and turned on the TV, like Ambrosia wasn't even there at all. Ambrosia thought she could use the opportunity to slip off Daddy's lap and make her escape, but he held her firmly on his thigh. Then Ambrose noticed the sounds coming from the TV: [she couldn't understand any of them!] It was like they were speaking another language. The rational part of Ambrosia's mind [or what was left of it] figured Mommy just put on a foreign program, but she knew that wasn't the case. It made her squirm even harder, until a sharp slap came down on her bare thigh and she froze perfectly still in panic. "Be good," Daddy said firmly, and Ambrosia nodded. The memory of her spanking was still fresh in her mind. [Ambrosia's stomach churned again and she whimpered behind her paci.] Ambrosia kept waiting for her Mommy and Daddy to tire of the TV, but they didn't. They sat and talked and laughed and time went by slower than Ambrose could ever remember. The ache to use the bathroom was growing, but she could [n't] hold it. Every time that Ambrosia tried to move her hands to her binkie, Daddy would intercept her. Every time she tried to squirm away, Daddy would stop her. It was like he was an adult and she was a baby and she was entirely and utterly powerless to stop him... or rather, to stop him from stopping her. And the worst part about all of this was how [easy it felt to give in, just a little bit at a time. It was addictive. Images of bouncing on Daddy's lap. Kisses from Mommy all over her face. Filling her diaper, getting changed, and never worrying about anything again...] Ambrosia winced as her tummy cramped up. Her head felt fuzzy and her body was a little numb. Like she didn't have control. Or was she just rationalizing it? Creating a world where this wasn't her fault? Was it her fault? It all happened to her... she didn't ask for it. Could she be blamed if... Ambrosia whined behind her pacifier and clung to Daddy's shirt. Her tummy ache was worse than it had ever been, and all her squirming didn't get her any closer to the bathroom. [Why did that matter? She was wearing her bathroom.] Daddy began to rock Ambrosia gently, back and forth, and rubbed her back to boot. How was a Baby Girl to resist such comfort? How was she to deny her [natural impulses? Why deny it at all?] She wanted nothing more than [to be a good girl.] So Ambrosia gave in to what her Daddy and Mommy would praise her for. And she began to push.