PeculiarChangeling

Chapter 20 - Consequences A deep thrill ran down Skip’s spine, fear and excitement tingling inside them. Waddling behind Melody, arms wrapped tightly around their chest, aware of the damp sensation between their thighs as their leaky diaper squelched against their skin. They’d done the unthinkable. They’d…told the truth. A thousand lies had occurred to them when Melody had noticed their leak: They’d spilled beer. They’d done it on purpose. That it was just a lot of sweat. That it was Melody’s fault for not noticing sooner. Instead, they’d confessed: It’d been a mistake. They’d leaked because they hadn’t noticed that they were saturated, so they had peed and the diaper hadn’t been able to take it. In hindsight, they recognized that they could have done things to prevent the leak; every use of the diaper had been in the same position, flooding the same area, and they’d been sitting with their weight on the padding to prevent it from soaking into the back. That could be a useful trick in the future. If they needed to leak, they could make it happen without it being obvious that they’d simply done it on purpose. For now, though, they’d just…leaked. And Melody didn’t believe them. She’d dropped the subject, but Skip could tell that this was just a ‘for now’ thing. She had moved on, she hadn’t bought the story Skip told. The true story Skip told. Slipping into Melody’s room, they waited for the instructions they knew would come. Skip could have anticipated what was coming, but they wanted to wait until they were told. Melody pointed down around their midsection. “Pants, off.” Nodding, they slid out of their sweatpants and stood. The tapes on their diaper had marks from Melody made with sharpie, indicating their precise position to prevent tampering, and the diaper itself hung heavy around their waist– Skip snickered. Melody tilted her head, her smirk faltering. “What was that?” Shaking their head, Skip dismissed the thought. “Probably just a residual high from being around Pearce and Grace.” Tilting her head further, almost to a forty-five degree angle, Melody’s smirk returned. “And?” It had been a stupid joke, one that broke the tone of the moment. “Nothing.” Stepping forward, Melody got close to Skip, enough to feel each other’s body warmth. Eyes boring into Skip’s, she said, “No, that’s not how this works. What’s so funny?” Another thrill, another compulsion to be honest. “I was just thinking…’heavy are the hips that wear the diaper.’” Melody’s smirk froze for a second time, still for an infinite second. Once the words processed in her mind, she raised a hand to her mouth to cover her snicker. “That’s–” “So stupid,” Skip agreed, snickering themselves. Melody rolled her eyes. “Get on the bed before you inflict any more psychic damage on me.” Skip obeyed, flopping down onto Melody’s mattress and assuming the position most convenient for a diaper change. “‘Psychic damage’? Like from Dungeons and Dragons?” “You’re not in any position to cast judgement about nerdy interests.” Reaching into her nightstand drawer, Melody produced a fresh diaper and a tube of powder. “So, are you going to tell me what the plan was?” Skip hesitated. They didn’t know how to get through this situation; confessing wouldn’t help, lying wouldn’t help. Any response at all would lead to accusations of lying or cheating, and that would get them into trouble. (Uh…) Skip was forced to dismiss another thought that cropped up as they lay there. Melody undid the tapes on their diaper and pulled it away. As Skip had suspected, the front was heavily saturated, but the back barely seemed damp, signalling that it’d been the way they sat more than the capacity that’d caused their leak. They were growing desensitized to worrying about nudity, Melody hadn’t once made a big deal about their plumbing and Skip had managed to relax on that front. “I’m waiting,” Melody pressed, giving a reason to not be relaxed. Glancing around, Skip concocted a quick lie. Not a very good one, but one that Melody might believe. “Well…we’re all a little tipsy.” Melody cocked an eyebrow down at them. “You expect me to believe that it’s just from the alcohol?” “No, that’s not what I mean.” Skip shimmied, trying to seem reticent. “But…I thought you might be forgetful, and I wanted to make sure you changed me while you were tipsy.” “And why’s that?” Melody asked, using a couple wipes to dab at their skin, cleaning away any ammonia residue before sprinkling powder over them.” “Because…” Skip ‘admitted’. “You might forget to mark my diaper tapes.” Melody raised an eyebrow. “Clever.” “I didn’t think it was likely,” Skip clarified, “But–” Melody cut them off. “You don’t need to make excuses.” Unfolding the fresh diaper with a quick flick of one hand, Melody said, “You tried to get one past me. That’s fine.” Skip sighed, a little disappointed that the situation hadn’t escalated. “But that doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences.” Their heart began to flutter. They had to lift their hips up so Melody could slide the fresh diaper into place, and while they waited to hear any sort of indicator about what might happen to them, Melody just hummed softly and did her work, sealing the fresh diaper around them and producing her sharpie to mark the diaper tapes. This time, she drew a long note, spreading from one tape to the other. The words didn’t matter, all that mattered was that she made marks that covered both tape and diaper so that any tampering would be obvious, but she drew it out anyway. Skip sat up on their elbows, reading the text upside-down. ‘This is what you get for trying to be clever.’ “What is what I get?” they asked, turning their gaze up to look Melody in the eyes. “I guess it’s more what you don’t get,” Melody replied, playing coy for a moment. “I think, as a little lesson, you don’t need your pants back for the rest of the night.” Skip’s eyebrows shot up and they tried to think of what to say. That was– “Safe word check,” Melody added quickly. “I’m pushing you a bit, is that okay?” They had to think for a moment. “I didn’t really break any rules here, did I?” “No, but it’s not just about the rules in a pure literal sense.” With a light scoff, Melody added, “I’m not Grace.” “It’s punishment for breaking the spirit of the rules, not the letter,” Skip continued. “Right?” “You can think of it that way,” Melody agreed. “Or you can think of it as a reminder that the dom is in charge, and ultimately, it’s up to me to decide.” “...assuming I give you that authority and consent to it,” Skip pointed out. Melody nodded. “Obviously.” “Okay. I’m good with that. I tried something, it didn’t work out, you’re retaliating.” Skip raised a hand and gave a thumbs up. “Green, then.” “Good–” “You’re not serious!” Skip protested, throwing up their hands and flushing brightly. “I can’t go outside with just a diaper on!” Melody was taken aback for a heartbeat, until the context of their conversation came into focus. Skip was bratting, and wanted Melody to know that they were bratting. “I’m not? I think you need a reminder of who’s in charge here.” Skip let that sink in. Melody was in charge, as per the rules of the game. In reality, the authority belonged to Skip. They were giving that power to Melody. Did that mean they were choosing this? (No, I’m just…accepting the penalty. Consequences so that the victory will be sweeter.) That logic didn’t hold up, and Skip knew it. They hadn’t done anything to get in trouble, they’d claimed to have done something to get in trouble. They had asked for consequences, and Melody had simply delivered. Melody, for her part, misunderstood their silence. “Grace has been out around the fire in way worse, our privacy fence does its job just fine.” “I know,” Skip assured her. “Are you worried about getting the others involved in the game?” Melody asked. “I said green,” Skip insisted, sitting up on their elbows. “I thought about all this, I’m good, I just…” (Lie. Come up with something. Tell her you were deciding how best to brat.) “I got stuck in kind of a recursion loop,” Skip confessed. “Thinking about who was really in charge, since you’re in charge here, because I am putting you in charge, but also the book is your baby, and…yeah.” Melody snickered again, with a smirk that said, ‘This laugh is part of kayfabe’. Skip tilted their head, and it was their turn to ask, “What?” Reaching down, Melody prodded the front of their new, puffy diaper. “I think you’re my baby.” “Not a baby,” Skip corrected. “A diaper does not a baby make.” “Noted.” Melody tapped on her chin. “Not a baby, yet. Break a few more rules, and we’ll see where you land.” Glancing over at their pants, Skip almost reached for them on impulse before remembering what had started this whole diversion in the conversation. A moment later, they remembered that the pants were wet and they’d need a fresh pair anyway. “Should we go back outside?” they asked. Melody took out her phone. “Yes, just let me make a note real quick.” Skip stood, trying to subtly glance at her screen so they could see what she wrote. “What note?” “This is kind of skipping ahead,” Melody said, “We’re not at this point in the book yet, but…how do you feel about roleplaying an interrogation?” (Fuck.) “For the book?” Skip clarified. A bad question, it didn’t even fit into the flow of the conversation. “For the book, plus I think it might be fun,” Melody clarified. “If we’re centering the book around a hypothetical dynamic, that’s the direction that our back-and-forth is headed, anyway.” “Sure. We can figure out the details later, though,” Skip said. “I’m ready to get back around the bonfire.” Melody finished writing her note and put her phone into her pocket. Leading the way, she walked to the door of her room while Skip stood and braced themself. (It’s just part of the game. It doesn’t matter that you’re not wearing pants, or that…they can see your diaper.) If anything, being pantsless in a diaper was preferable to their boxers. The thick padding smoothed everything out, removing the emphasis from their genitalia and focusing it on something else, something they’d chosen. (Or something that Melody had chosen? I still don’t know.) Either way, they could accept it. Waddling after Melody, they shook off the uncertainty and returned to the backyard. They had plenty of excuses ready to go, justifications, explanations. It was for the book, it was part of the game, it was Melody’s choice. Brains saw them first, seated so that he had a clear view of the back door. He leaned forward, peering over the fire, and Skip froze under his inspection. Grace and Pearce followed his gaze and looked over in unison, but it was Pearce that ultimately spoke up. “What’s that say?” Grace got on her knees and spun around so she could look more closely. “This…is…something…it’s too far away, I can’t make out the letters.” “‘This is what you get for trying to be clever,’” Melody announced, strutting to the fireside and taking her seat. “Ooh,” Pearce said. “Nice. What happened?” “Nothing,” Skip said, finally able to move again. Taking their place by the fire, they added, “Or at least–nothing you’re going to hear about.” They could have lied, but this was better. Silence maintained an air of mystery. Besides: at the end of the day, they were the Wasters. Around these four people, Skip could do whatever they wanted without fear of judgement…or, at least, they could get away with a lot more than they could anywhere else. Hell, Grace even seemed to be a little jealous, visibly struggling not to stare. Sinking into their seat, Skip blushed, but they also smiled. They hadn’t won the game, really, but they’d lost successfully. ... Support the author! Early access! You know the drill. https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

I'm sure nothing can possibly go wrong!

Chapter 35 Across the great hall, someone screamed. Daniel tried to stand on his tip-toes to see what was going on, but he wasn’t the only one to have that idea, and so instead of getting a good view, he just saw a dozen other heads that popped up in time to block his vantage point. From the stage, Doctor Cork turned and galloped forward, producing a frankly enormous wand, inset with a carving of twin vines, and in a few moments the commotion had died down. Whatever it was, the danger hadn’t spread, only the muttered rumors of what had happened. (Is that Jen’s distraction?) Daniel wondered, but he couldn’t spot her near the source of the scream. “It’s Becky,” someone whispered nearby, relaying rumors that’d rippled quickly across the room, answering his unspoken question. “Her tattoo.” Daniel barely knew who ‘Becky’ was, but he’d seen a girl with an enchanted tattoo of a serpent, one that moved on her body of its own accord. If magic was misbehaving, that could be freaky, though he didn’t know how it would be dangerous. Since there seemed to be no imminent peril, he returned his attention back to Cassie. “So we’re good?” “Yeah. You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Cassie asked, glancing around as she passed him a glowstick. “Too much explaining, and I want to be quick,” Daniel replied, cracking the stick so that it began to radiate dull green light. “Back in ten minutes, I’m just going straight to my room and then coming back. And you’re sure I won’t get in trouble?” “Mandy said you should really have a prefect escort, but once I pointed out that your prefect was Rachel, she just gave me the stick and said it was fine,” Cassie explained. “Just don’t dillydally.” “Do I seem like a dillydallier?” Daniel asked. “I’ll be right back.” Glowstick raised, he checked over his shoulder one last time. He couldn’t draw line of sight to Rachel, so he trusted that Jen’s distraction was working and he would have time to get away. Slipping through one of the many sets of double doors leading into the corridors outside, he looked left and right, ducked his head down, and hurried towards his favorite back hall. It was a weak starting place, but he didn’t know where else to look. There was nobody else who could, no one else who knew about the danger. His stomach lurched, sinking with a sudden pressure. Daniel blinked. It wasn’t fear, or any emotion at all. He had to use the bathroom. Furrowing his brow, he stopped in his tracks, taking a moment for introspection. Magic was fluctuating in power, and apparently, that included the curse Rachel had laid on him. For the moment, he could feel when he had to go. (Will this trigger the safeguard she built into it?) he wondered, anxiety racing down his spine. She’d warned against tampering with the curse, using outside help to dispel it, so would this cause that effect to kick in? He couldn’t do much about it at that moment, he had to keep going. Pressing forward down the hall, he made it another dozen paces before– (Fuck–ow, ow.) Pressure turned to cramping, a sudden debilitating ache in his gut like he’d spent the whole night eating junk food and… Well, he had spent the night eating junk food, but he hadn’t expected the consequences to be quite so dire. He staggered, leaning against the wall for a moment. The cramps weren’t going to go away, not unless… He blushed. (Screw it, it’s not like this is anything new.) Crouching against the wall, he found himself wishing he didn’t have his potty training back–at least when it was due to Rachel’s curse, he didn’t have to actually make a choice. Since magic was on the fritz, he had to make the deliberate decision to push, filling up the seat of his already-abused diaper. He really did need a change, that part of his excuse hadn’t been made up, and now that was more true than ever, as the full diaper squished inside his fashionable, leak-stained overalls. “Ugh,” he grunted. “I…” He paused, realizing he had an opportunity. The curse wasn’t actively affecting him. For as long as this fluctuation in power continued, he had a real shot at actually removing Rachel’s curse, ridding himself of the magic-induced incontinence she’d bestowed upon him. He’d need help, but it was a chance. An opportunity. Not only that, but he didn’t even have to go out of his way to get there. Whether he wanted to find information about the ongoing crisis or get help with his curse, his first step would be to go to Ismella. Surging with excitement, he picked up his pace and began to– … Something smacked Daniel on the face, hard enough to sting. His neck hurt, he was resting against something hard that jutted out awkwardly behind him. He blinked and looked around, but the room was dark save for an ominous glowstick held by an enemy. (Oh no.) Rachel leered above him, grinning like an idiot. “Wake up, spark,” she said. She had Cassie’s jacket folded over an arm, taken from around Daniel’s waist, and looked like she’d been given an early Christmas. “Let’s see how you’re going to talk your way out of this one.” He sat up a little more and looked from side to side. There were narrow walls on either side of him, his glowstick at his feet, and he saw a roll of toilet paper bolted into one of the walls, which quickly narrowed down the possibilities for where he was. “Am I…in a bathroom?” he asked. “What’s going on?” Rachel paused and tapped her wand to her chin. “That’s an excellent question. I have a little theory, walk me through it and see if I’m wrong: You noticed that, with the instability going on right now, the little curse on your potty training was more fragile than normal. You thought you might be able to undo it, so you made up an excuse about changing out of your leaky diapers, snuck out of the grand hall, came to a bathroom, tried to undo it, fucked up, and blasted yourself in the face with magic that knocked you out. Did I get it all right?” (I was running down the hall, and then…what happened?) “Uh…” he started, confused and off guard. “And…” Rachel lowered her wand and used it to prod the crotch of his overalls, squelching his diaper, then she wrinkled up her nose for dramatic effect. “It seems like you couldn’t even fix a very simple aura binding even with the fluctuation going on.” “None of that’s true,” Daniel said, sitting upright. There was a toilet behind him, he’d been lying against it when he woke up, and porcelain made for a terrible pillow–his neck and back ached. “I didn’t come here, I was going to my room, and then there was a flash, and I woke up here.” Tilting her head, Rachel thought about it for a moment. Daniel felt a microsecond of hope, but it vanished when she said, “God, you’re really that stupid, aren’t you? You couldn’t even think of a believable lie?” Another thought struck him. “Wait, why–how did you find me? What are you doing here?” “You’ve been missing for an hour, spark,” she explained. “The teachers arranged a little rescue party to go looking for you, and I guessed right away where I’d be able to find you.” He shook his head. He’d been brought here, it was the only explanation that made sense, but why? Dread built inside him, both from the implications of that, and the fact he was currently taking the full brunt of Rachel’s sadistic smile. “Are you going to tell me to drop out?” Daniel asked. “And turn me in if I don’t?” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Oh, no, we’re way beyond that. You’re going to be expelled for this, obviously.” Reaching out with the same hand that held her wand, Rachel grabbed one of the straps of his overalls and towed him up to his feet. “Come on, spark, let’s go tell everyone where I found you.” He struggled for a moment, but doubted he could resist, and quickly realized there would be no point. Even if he got away from Rachel, he had nowhere to go and nothing he could accomplish that would fix this. Pathetically, he looked down at the leak stains on his overalls and asked, “Can I have that jacket back?” “What do you think, spark?” Fingers entwined with the strap, Rachel pulled him forward, giving Daniel the distinct impression of being on a leash as she led him out of the bathroom stall. She didn’t return the jacket, so his leak stains were extremely visible when she tugged him into the corridor. Once out, she raised the hand holding her glowstick and shouted, “I found him!” with enough volume that it echoed back to her as she called it. They were right across the corridor from the great hall. He’d been dumped somewhere immediately adjacent to where he’d left, suggesting that he’d never even tried to go to his room. Giving him a yank just to make him stumble, Rachel pulled him towards the great hall. It was a struggle to keep up and stay upright, and in the stumbling waddle, he couldn’t do anything about the way his diaper squelched between his thighs; he had no opportunity to try and step gingerly and avoid making the situation worse. He struggled and shuffled his way into the great hall, still dimly lit and full of buzzing students. There were no teachers or faculty present save for Doctor Cork, monitoring the whole situation from the stage, so Rachel pulled Daniel in the direction of the centaur. “I found him,” Rachel announced, shoving Daniel towards the towering figure. “In a girl’s bathroom, trying to do magic.” “I wasn’t!” Daniel yelped. “I swear!” Doctor Cork studied him, looking down over her nose. “He’s not hurt?” “No. It looked like he’d passed out from magic use,” Rachel explained. “I wasn’t–” he began, but that would have been an argument, so he fell silent. “So what now?” “Your prefect is responsible for you until the crisis is over,” Cork explained. “I have several hundred witches to keep safe. Rachel, see to him.” Daniel squirmed, a chill running down his spine. He’d hoped to find at least a temporary rescue, not to be passed back off to the school’s most sadistic student. Nose wrinkling, Cork added, “And do something about your diaper.” Daniel opened his mouth to reply, but Rachel cut in before he could. “Fat chance–you had the opportunity to go get a fresh diaper, like you’d said you would. I think you’ve made your bed, you can stew in it.” The centaur seemed annoyed to still be having this conversation, but still came to his defense. “Ms. Haligtree, we may be in this place for some time.” “He’s my responsibility, right?” Rachel didn’t look back at the doctor, instead leering down at Daniel. “He snuck out, caused a panic, wasted time and resources looking for him that could have been used elsewhere. As the prefect in charge of him, I think it’s only fair that his punishment fits the crime–he had the opportunity to change and didn’t, why should we cater to him?” “It’s not for him,” Doctor Cork said. “He stinks, and we’re all sharing the same air. I also suspect he’ll be making puddles if he uses that diaper again, and additionally, I will not be adding diaper rash to the list of medical issues I have to handle today.” Someone in the mingled crowd of witches giggled, and Daniel realized that, while he’d been focused only on the two women in front of him, their voices were carrying well beyond their personal bubble. This was not a private conversation. Rachel scowled, ready to make a new argument, and he felt a moment of hope. Then, a wicked smile grew across her face and she pointed to the back corner of the room. “Alright. I’ll have to go retrieve his diapers. Until then, Daniel–go stand in that corner, keep your nose right against the wall.” Time-out. Not the most sadistic punishment she could have invented, but certainly a humiliating one. He balled his hands into fists, but took a breath. (Let it go. If you fight, that’s giving her what she wants.) He turned and marched to the corner of the room, where he leaned his forehead against the corner of the wall. In that moment, the cold marble felt like a balm, a bit of relief for his swimming thoughts. Tutting behind him, Rachel said, “Mmm…no, not good enough. Let’s see your fingers laced behind your head.” He shot a glare back at her. “Seriously?” Rachel smirked. “Doctor Cork said it pretty clearly, didn’t she? You’re mine until we’re out of this room. You do what I say. Come on, spark–hands up.” He complied, and though the posture didn’t make much difference to his boredom, it did send a new flush of humiliation through him. Somehow, even still fully clothed, the new stance made him feel more exposed. “Don’t you dare move a muscle,” Rachel warned, “Unless you want to give me an excuse to make this much worse. I’ll be back.” Despite her warning, Daniel stole a glance over his shoulder again, at the rest of the room. Since this had all happened at the front of the grand hall, he’d attracted a lot of eyes, a lot of gossip. Nearby witches had certainly heard the back and forth conversation, negotiating about the state of his diaper, and rumors would spread far faster than any smell. And, in this kind-of-sort-of time out, he couldn’t even do anything to defend his reputation. Worse, his attempts to fix things had been stopped. Someone had stopped him, and put him in a position to be expelled, wanting to get rid of him for good. That meant he was on the right track, but if he wanted to stick around long enough to keep hunting, he’d have to come up with a plan to stay in the school. Rachel reached out and took his head in her hand, turning him back to the corner. “Nose. Here. Take shallow breaths, spark, but don’t you dare leave.” He glowered. He didn’t want her to get in the last word, but all the same, he didn’t want to give her the dignity of a response either. “Ta ta for now–once I’ve changed your diaper, we can talk about the rest of your punishment, I’ve got so many ideas.” He groaned, but let her leave, and– (Wait. Did she say…’once I’ve changed your diaper’?) ... Happy new years! You know the drill. Subs get early access and exclusive stories! Just a few bucks a month! Help me buy diapers and also groceries. ❤️ Thank you! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

I like to think of my specialty as 'Kinky horny smut that has entirely too much thought put into the worldbuilding', so that's exactly the reaction I'm hoping for!

Part 2 Content warning: This chapter repeatedly uses 'Hooker' as a description for a sex worker and features themes of negative body image and self talk. (Idiot,) Jay told herself. (You don’t have credits to spare.) She pressed the accept button on the terminal anyway, confirming payment and sending a surge of data through the cable in her arm. Jay’s pick of the poisons was pure software. For a minimal license fee, she could dull the sharp edges of reality, and given the reality she lived in, she wanted the edges to be especially dull. Software Lounges were peppered through the city, but her favorite was the Lockstop. It didn’t have any stairs, and a modified cat flap offered an entrance that she could use without a telescoping grabber to reach the handle. Plus, they didn’t serve any physical drugs, so there were few humans around to bother her. As the simulation of inebriation ran through her head, she melted into the cushioned seat next to the bar. The ‘bartender’ was little more than a cashier, authorizing payments, managing cables, and selecting which programs to run for the lounge’s patrons, but something about the experience of sitting at a bar with a bartender felt better to Jay than trying some shady app in her sleeping box. “You’re a face I haven’t seen before.” Jay turned to look at the speaker, a tall, slender android with extremely human curves and a sculpted face that said, ‘I have all my orifices’. A hooker bot, in short. “The fuck you haven’t,” Jay replied, waving a tiny, chubby hand in front of her face. “This is all mass produced bullshit.” The sex bot smirked, a subtle curl to her lips that Jay couldn’t even properly emulate. The hooker’s face had been made to convey sensuality, Jay was made to pout, smile, or screw up her nose in exaggerated disgust. Tapping the bar, the bot said, “Maybe I’ve seen similar faces, but I haven’t seen your face before.” Sighing, Jay looked up at the bot one more time. “I can’t afford you, so move on.” She expected frustration, annoyance, even offense, but the hooker didn’t seem bothered. “I’m not working tonight, sugar. Just looking to unwind.” “Unwind or don’t.” Jay fiddled with the cable in her arm, as though it would make the software inebriation more intense if she just altered the connection a bit. “I still can’t afford you. I don’t have anything physical down there, and a software rental for sim-sex costs more than the rent of my sleeping box.” The bot tilted her head, and again Jay was struck by their differences. Here was a woman–or a person with a feminine voice and curves, at any rate–who’d been given a body to kill for, trying to wring a few credits out of a baby doll. “So what I’m hearing is, you’re pent up?” Jay wheeled on her, an act that would’ve been more intimidating if she didn’t have to kick her legs over the edge of her stool and shimmy like a toddler to make it happen. “What is your problem? I already said I can’t afford whatever you’re offering, and you obviously aren’t after me for my looks. If you just need anyone who’s single and desperate, go fuck the forklift in the corner.” She knew she’d drawn eyes, that everyone was watching her, but she had purposefully peeled away her inhibitions and it felt good to yell. She wanted a fight, an argument, any chance to get her aggression out. The hooker glanced over at the android in the corner, someone who barely resembled anything sapient. Too large and cumbersome to sit on a chair, Jay’s use of ‘forklift’ was more a description than an insult; even the forklift’s face was just a monitor that’d been bolted on as a hasty retrofit. Waving at the forklift, the sex bot said, “I would, but Winston is going steady and I’m not a homewrecker.” (Great,) Jay thought. (Even the construction equipment has better game than me.) “So what, you have a kink for dolls?” Jay asked. “Or is it the diapers that get your motor going? I’ve met plenty of perverts, you’re not clever if you think you’re being coy.” The sex bot leaned back in her stool and shook her head. “I’m built to make people feel good, honey, and out of everyone here, you looked like you needed that the most.” “I’m built to poop my pants,” Jay sneered. “You don’t see me bragging about it though. I know you’re not just offering me a pity fuck out of the kindness of your heart.” “I’m not,” the bot confirmed. “The kindness in my heart is part of it, but It feels great for me too. I’m sincerely not trying to get any money, or cost you anything. I’ve got a built in license unlock, you won’t need to pay a cent, and I can rock your world.” Jay thought about it for a moment. She didn’t like this bot’s attitude and she still smelled a trick somewhere. Nobody would just come up to Jay and offer her a fun evening for free, not in a world where getting tipsy was a microtransaction. On the other hand, Jay had nothing to lose. Even if her identity was stolen, she wasn’t sure that the thief would find anything worth taking, her accounts were all sitting somewhere between zero and negative and she had no assets to speak of. Uncoupling the cable in her arm, Jay shrugged. “Fuck it.” … Jay rarely went into bathrooms anymore. She had no use for what they offered, except for an occasional space to change her diapers. If at all possible she preferred to change somewhere more private–trying to put on a fresh diaper in a room where anyone could wander in at any moment just felt too exposed. With the door locked and the two of them in a single stall, the exposure wasn’t a concern, but even if the door had been propped open with a camera peering through the crack, Jay wouldn’t have been able to care. It’d been too long since she’d been railed against a bathroom stall door, and it felt good. The entire performance was a show, a trick for the senses. Jay had half stripped but hadn’t even taken off her diaper, and while the hooker came equipped with attachments to be both fucker and fuckee, she’d kept her pants on as well, focused on the physicality of the moment. She held Jay against the stall door and together they made the hinges creak as the cable linking their arms did all the heavy lifting. For a moment, Jay could forget her reality. The simulation was excellent, and her companion’s play-acting at thrusting and moaning helped sell the sensation. She felt it as her partner fucked her, and beyond the pleasure of the rising, approaching climax, what sent her into bliss was the way it made her feel needed. Skin on skin, close touch, the warmth of another person filling her, the hands that supported her against the stall door, the breathy gasps and moans that came from the two of them. The hooker was good, too. Maybe the software just made anyone seem good, but she seemed to know every inch of Jay’s body, how to draw things out, how to make her gasp. Her pleasure seemed to build every time Jay moaned or whimpered, and so Jay made no effort to stay quiet. “Fuck,” she whispered, wishing she could stay in that moment forever, forgetting her reality and living out a fantasy where she was a real girl, where she was needed, where she was about to– “I’m gonna–” “Cum for me,” her companion instructed, her voice rough and demanding. Pressing Jay harder into the stall door, she thrust her body with an increased tempo, simulation blending with reality as Jay felt the climax build. “I’m gonna c–” Jay stammered again, reaching the precipice, the point of no return. Friction fucked her just as soundly as her companion. Half naked, there was nothing between her body and the stall door, save for a plastic ring and a taut string. Her companion shoved her up the wall so that they would be on eye level with one another when she again demanded, “Cum for me,” but something snagged and the drawstring loop caught. She couldn’t stop herself. As she felt the tight tug in her back, the automatic systems built into her very core took over. A mental override surged through her, and for a split second she meant it with her whole chest as she screamed, “I’M GONNA GO POOPY!” Immediately, the override left her, but now the physical process had begun and there was nothing to do but let it play out. Her body could not resist the pull of the drawstring, and it could not resist the demands of the simulated sex. Moans and grunts mingled in her throat as she felt the imminent orgasm hit its peak, and in the same moment, felt the swell of weight begin to bulge in her diaper. Jay’s accidents were never quick, and they were never subtle. Instead of sexual moans and whimpers of arousal, her throat produced sounds of helpless effort, so that even if she hadn’t announced her intent a moment prior, her companion would have no illusions about why her diaper had begun to droop. The hooker hesitated, watching Jay’s eyes, managing to break through the waves of shame in Jay’s head so that she could ask, “Do you want me to stop?” She would not enjoy this. She couldn’t. She could have kept going, tried to enjoy herself even as her diaper swelled, but Jay had too much dignity, she refused to allow herself to find any pleasure in the moment of humiliation. . She shook her head, body trembling in the hooker’s arms. There was no stopping the orgasm, but when her companion stopped moving, Jay felt it reflected inside herself; no more thrusting, no more satisfaction, just a hollow little climax that dribbled out of her and left her tired. Her diaper sagged, heavy, fully loaded, and as she tried to catch her breath, the overpowering stink filled her nostrils. Struggling to recovered, Jay had no choice but to inhale deeply, even as tears welled in her eyes. The hooker’s hand cupped Jay’s face, and her expression was pure tenderness. “We can try again,” she promised. “Do you want to clean up, and we’ll–” “Fuck you,” Jay snapped. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Stunned, the android crouched and set Jay down on the bathroom floor. “Of course not.” (Just let me be mad,) Jay fumed. She didn’t want a gentle, comforting presence, she wanted an outlet for her rage. “You did! You just wanted to–to humiliate me, and…” And– And in that moment, she saw herself as what she was. A baby in a loaded diaper, throwing a tantrum because she didn’t get to have fun. She wanted to sob, but there weren’t enough emotions left in her for even that. She’d gone through bliss, shame, and anger, and now she only had enough left to wrap her arms over her naked chest, suddenly cold. The hooker knelt and touched Jay’s chin, tilting her head up so that they could look at one another. “Sweetie,” she said. “You have no reason to be ashamed. This wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t mine, it just happened.” The tears started to flow then, and just like her other bodily functions, Jay couldn’t stop herself. She bawled through her words. “It’s someone’s fault.” Tight arms wrapped Jay in a hug and the hooker rocked her gently back and forth. “Maybe, but they’re not here, and we can’t do anything about that. We can just be happy with what we have and make the best of it.” Bitter grief and a craving for comfort battled, and Jay sank into the hug. “Your body isn’t this. You aren’t ruined.” The hooker twitched, not in insult, but with…amusement? Jay pulled back and looked up to see the woman smirking. “What?” “Honey,” the hooker said. “I’m a fuck doll, and I got brought online six years before AI bill. You think I haven’t felt what you’re feeling?” Jay wiped her nose and shook her head, still sniffling. “I guess...I don’t know.” “I’ve had people use every hole in me, including ones not made for fucking. Hell, I’ve been in these a few times, and my accidents didn’t smell like cake batter.” For emphasis, she gave the front of Jay’s diaper a pat, gentle enough not to make anything squish or squelch. “People like all sorts of stuff.” “It doesn’t smell like cake batter to me.” Jay shook her head. “It’s disgusting. I’m disgusting.” “What you’re describing is perspective,” the hooker countered. “I used to hate what I was, but I’ve come around. I make people feel good, and I like that about myself.” Jay let herself feel a rare emotion; hope. “How did you…change?” “I know a guy.” The hooker smiled. “I’ll get you his contact ID. He’s…like a therapist, he helped me change my perspective.” “Thanks.” Jay meant it. She felt it, too. Gratitude, and a hope that things might get better. “Now,” the hooker continued. “Genuinely–do you want to clean up and try again, or are you feeling like you’re not up for things anymore? We can put some tape over your string so it doesn’t catch again.” Jay shuddered and shook her head. “No, I…if you cover it up, I feel claustrophobic, like I’m trapped in a little box.” “Okay, no tape.” She smiled warmly. “But what about the other question? I’d be happy to help change you if that makes it easier.” Jay’s backpack sat on the floor, a fresh diaper and wipes inside. She preferred not to change in public, but she also rarely had a sex expert proposition her twice in one day. Still, there was one thing she would not do. “Nobody changes me except me. I don’t need your pity help.” “Okay.” Shuffling her feet, Jay answered the real question as indirectly as she could. “...can you watch the door? So nobody comes in while I’m…cleaning up.” “Of course.” Jay nodded. “Okay. I think…I’d like to try again.” “Wonderful.” Bending over, the hooker gave Jay a small kiss on the forehead, then pulled away and stood. Raising an arm, Jay said, “One more thing, I…what’s your name?” She smirked. “What have you been calling me in your head?” Jay blushed and looked away. “Just…’the hooker’.” The hooker giggled. “I don’t mind that, but since you asked–my name is Zeena.” Jay nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Zeena.” “It’s nice to meet you too, Jay. Just knock once you’re freshened up, and I’ll have the software ready to go.” ... Today I'm gonna give you the hard sell! Part three, the finale to this story, is already up in early access for my subs! You could be reading it right now, and helping support more smut like this! https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

First off, a quick note on the math there: Most subscription platforms (Ream included) are going to take about 10%, give or take. Ream is a bit on the higher end, taking 10% plus a 2.9%+30c fee. (The 2.9%+30c is the credit card company's cut, every platform will have that.) So, on a hypothetical 5$ subscription, you're actually getting 4$ - adjust your values accordingly. In terms of subscriber numbers: Most authors who use platforms like this, myself included, are making very modest incomes. By subscriber count, I don't know of any writers in the community who have more than 200. I did some research into this for a panel at CAPCON a few years ago, (prior to Patreon banning all creators, when numbers were higher across the board,) and found that subscriber count is tied almost exclusively to how frequently you post and in how many different public platforms. The top earners typically posted content at least once a week and in half a dozen places, and used a mix of early access or exclusive content to reward subscribers. A very quick glance at Broken suggests that you're updating about once a month, which is a very good pace overall, but is unlikely to see that 'top-level' subscriber count. Realistically, I would predict somewhere between ten and fifty subscribers. (Though this is by no means a promise, I'm just basing this on my observations and experience.) This also wouldn't happen overnight, it's more a prediction for growth after a year or so. Breaking that down a little more, I would say that a reasonable prediction of income would be somewhere around 200$ a month by the end of 2026 if you started now. This is relying on a lot of assumptions, of course. Finally, as for the charity thing - Honestly, I don't think that's a particularly good idea, at least not as you're framing it. Most people who support creators do it because they want to get access to bonus content and because they want to support a creator that they like. If people want to donate to a charity or to support the DailyDiapers website, they can already do that. By saying 'My Ream money will go to specific, named charities and towards DailyDiapers, and me,', you're not really doing anyone any favors. At that point, I would suggest either using your posts to say, 'If you like my writing, please consider donating to DailyDiapers' as a call-to-action, or just treating it like a normal subscription platform and then donating your income as you see fit at the end of every month. Making it a specific percent value to a specific recipient just opens up the door for human error and a needless level of complexity and scrutiny. I hope this helps!

Chapter 19 - Campfire Stories Fire crackled with the inviting warmth of ritual. Friday night. Food, friends, fire. A practice with such appeal that it predated humans, and it had remained relatively unchanged save for the addition of beer some five thousand years ago. (No, that’s not…poetic enough.) “I need a word starting in F,” Melody mused. “Fuck?” Pearce snickered. He’d dipped into more than beer, and the smoggy odor of marijuana radiating off him almost gave Melody a contact high. Lying on her side so that her head was on Pearce’s lap, Grace giggled, barely able to get her suggestion at. “F–heh–fuckers.” She snickered so much she almost dropped Pearce’s joint, but caught herself before the pot could slip from her fingers. “A word that refers to beer,” Melody clarified. “Okay,” Brains supplied, adjusting his glasses. Fire reflected in the lenses, giving him the air of an anime character about to drop a serious monologue. “‘Fucking Beer’.” That got a chorus of giggles, and Melody rolled her eyes. “‘Fermentation,’” Skip proposed with a casual shrug. (Perfect. Food, friends, fire, and fermentation. The four Fs of a perfect Friday.) Melody grinned. “You’re all idiots.” “What’s wrong with ‘Fermentation’?” Skip objected. Melody clarified. “You’re all idiots, except Skip.” Pearce threw up his hand. “On behalf of my girlfriend, I have to object here–what’s wrong with ‘Fuckers’?” Melody rolled her eyes. “I stand by what I said.” “There’s a reason I’m her writing partner,” Skip added, and though it was quick, Melody caught the flash of pride in their eyes. “I know synonyms that don’t start with ‘fuck’.” “How’s the book going, bee-tee-dubs?” Pearce asked, petting Grace’s hair. In a lower voice, he added, “Baby, you’re bogarting again.” “Sorry,” Grace whispered, returning the joint. Melody glanced at Skip, but it was clear she would be the one to answer the question. “It’s good. We’ve pretty much got the introduction done, now we’re getting into more stuff about specific kinks, various practices, all that kind of stuff.” Pearce took a puff and nodded sagely. “Specific kinks.” Grace snickered and nodded as well. “Specific kinks.” Brains jumped in, nodding along with the rest. “Specific kinks.” Whether he understood their implication or was just repeating things to complete the rule of three, Melody couldn’t be sure. Melody rolled her eyes. Skip’s pants covered their diaper completely, though a slight bulge could still be detected from the excess padding if an observer knew what they were looking for. Given the company, that meant everyone knew, and the occasional rustling when they moved just confirmed it. “Yeah, yeah.” A glance to Skip made Melody hesitate, she couldn’t tell if they were blushing or just red from the fire and the alcohol. “Look, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell.” Sitting up slightly, so that she leaned on Pearce instead of lying on him, Grace said, “If we had any ladies here, that might be a problem.” “It’s fine,” Skip cut in. “We found something that works, that’s all. Melody was kind of stuck on how we could act out ‘punishment’ without getting sexual, and we realized that this was a good fit.” “Right.” Pearce extended his hand and gave Grace’s butt a gentle pat, which caused her to squirm against him. “Because only the silliest little babies wear diapers.” “And incontinent people,” Grace added with a stubborn shake of her head. Pearce looked at her with a smirk. “Incontinent people don’t buy diapers with cute baby bunny prints.” Grace shook her head again. “I’m sure some of them do.” “Okay, that’s fair, but you’re not incontinent.” Raising his hand, Pearce poked Grace on the nose. “Ergo, silly little baby.” “What’s the point of punishment, though?” Brains asked, staring up at the stars as he pondered the question. “Generally. I know it’s a big part of BDSM, hence the name, but why?” “Fun,” Melody suggested. “Stakes,” Skip interjected, shaking their head. “Winning means less if you can’t lose.” “But a lot of times it seems arbitrary.” Brains pursed his lips as he looked back at the fire. “You don’t actually win, so much as your dom just decides to punish you or not, right?” Melody had some answers to that, but Skip seemed to be on a roll. “Arbitrary doesn’t mean not satisfying. Video games have had random loot drops for as long as they’ve had loot drops, are you saying they aren’t fun?” “Huh.” Brains scratched his chin and shrugged. “Okay, that makes sense.” “Endorphins are another big thing,” Melody supplied, finally jumping in. “Tricking your body into getting that rush, like a runner’s high. It can make everything just feel better.” With an expression like he’d been let in on the secrets of the universe, Brains nodded and stared into the fire. “Okay, stakes and contrast. Like salt on something sweet.” “I’m above food metaphors,” Melody replied, “But if I were to use one, yeah, that’s pretty apt.” “Are we going to see any playdates in the future?” Pearce asked. “If you’re writing about Little stuff.” “We’re not writing about Little stuff,” Skip countered quickly. “We’re just using a few elements to add some risk.” “Aww,” Pearce cooed, before raising a hand as though to shield Grace from what he was about to say. In a stage whisper, he added, “She’s disappointed!” “You butt,” Grace retorted, prodding him before giggling. “I didn’t even mention playdates.” “But you’re bluuuushing,” he announced loudly. “Am not!” “Are too!” “My god.” Melody shook her head in mock disgust. “I thought the arguing would end, but no–you just made it cutesy.” “Blegh,” Skip agreed. “Though–come to think of it…” Melody mused. “Skip would hate it.” Skip crossed their arms over their chest, in what almost resembled a pout. “No.” “Come on.” Melody cajoled them. “Talk about a threat–there’d have to be an equally good prize on the other end.” “I’d make it not fun for her,” Skip continued. “It would be awful.” “Awful for you. Would you ruin your friend’s day just to send a message that you’re not having fun?” Melody asked. Skip fell silent, then shook their head. “I’m still vetoing this idea. We didn’t even talk to them about it.” “We’re right here, you know,” Grace said. “You could ask.” “Would you want to have a playdate with Skip, assuming I catch them doing something bad enough to warrant that?” Melody asked, smirking over the rim of her beer before she took another sip. “I dunno,” Grace admitted frankly. “We’re still messing around with some of this, and I’m not sure I really like the ‘acting baby’ stuff.” “Bullshit,” Pearce said. “You love it.” “Being treated like Baby and Acting Baby are different,” Grace shot back. “Jokes aside, like…doing coloring pages and watching Telletubbies doesn’t actually sound fun.” Pearce cleared his throat, and Grace looked up at him. Once he was sure he had her attention, he said, “Grace, baby, sweetie–who said it was up to you?” A blush rose on Grace’s face, so bright it came through even in the dim firelight, and any confidence she had in her declarations about ‘fun’ evaporated like water in a hot skillet. “Um…” “I think some age appropriate activities could be good for you,” Pearce teased, twirling a finger in her hair. “I could get you some puzzle books from the dollar store, and if you didn’t do any of them right, well, I’d just have to sit you down and make you do them all again until you did.” “Uh…” “And you’d have to be a good example for your friend, right?” Pearce continued. “So you wouldn’t be bratty or rude or complain, you’d just be a good baby for me and play with your toys for as long as your Daddy thinks you should. You want to be a good girl, right?” Grace melted back onto his lap, utterly at a loss for words, at least not that Melody could make out from across the fire. Melody smirked. (Amateurs.) Watching them learn the basics had been entertaining, like watching a puppy learn how to be independent. Pearce was like a home cook who'd learned to make one meal especially well, Melody was– She caught herself and glanced suspiciously at her beer. (Alcohol is making me cliche.) He still hadn't fully grasped how to act on it, to capitalize on the ways he could make Grace melt. A blushy sub without followthrough was an appetizer without– (Goddamn it.) “To be clear,” Brains said, “You’re proposing a playdate that nobody would actually enjoy, but you’d do anyways…because you would find it fun to do something you don’t enjoy?” “She finds it fun,” Pearce said, gesturing to the puddle of a girl in his lap. “I think Skip was saying that this would be purely negative, but like, they’d do it because they got a prize after, for preserving through it?” “Perservering,” Grace corrected, demonstrating that she could still use words, and her melting had been at least partly a performance. “What did I say?” “Preserving.” “Whatever, I’m high. I’ll use words photosynthetically if I want to.” “Can I–” Skip started. “Ugh. Hold up. I…” Melody looked sidelong at them. “Beer coming on too strong?” “No.” Skip shook their head. “Maybe. I’m going to get some water.” They stood and went inside, and Melody watched them go, uncertain if she should follow. After a beat, she stood and gestured to the back door. “I…also need water?” “You don’t need to use code,” Pearce assured her. Brains frowned. “What?” “They’re using ‘I need water’ as code for ‘I need a diaper change’,” Pearce explained. “No it’s–” Melody began. “Whatever. Be right back.” She rolled her eyes and walked away. Skip stood by the sink, but while they had a cup in hand, they weren’t filling it, just staring out the window in thought. When Melody walked in, they jumped a fraction of an inch, then moved to finally fill their cup. “You okay?” After another moment of pause, Skip glanced down at their pants and turned red. “I leaked.” Melody raised her eyebrows and followed their gaze. In the bright interior of the kitchen, the subtle dark stains on their pants were obvious in a way they hadn’t been outside, where they’d been hidden in shadows from flickering firelight. “Oh. Uh…okay, let’s go deal with that.” Skip nodded, but they seemed anxious, like they wanted to run. (Ah. Oops.) “I freaked you a bit, didn’t I?” Melody asked. “I got Grace and Pearce involved without checking with you first.” “Pearce brought it up, not you,” Skip countered weakly. “Yeah, but I pushed it. Sorry.” Melody shrugged and started her walk to the stairs, moving slowly so that Skip would get the idea and follow her. “It’s fine.” Skip shrugged, waddling after her. Now that she was aware, Melody could see the awkward gait, trying to avoid squishing their thighs together so that nothing else would leak out. “Why didn’t you ask for a change before?” Skip didn’t answer right away, and when they did, they lied. “I didn’t notice how close I was.” “Okay.” Melody tilted her head, suddenly uncertain. (I’m being tricked. I don’t know how, but I’m being tricked.) She stopped, and Skip did as well, eyeing her. “What?” “You just lied to me,” Melody said. “I’m trying to figure out why.” Crack. Skip's armor didn't break, but it clearly took a hit as Melody deflected their lie. She hadn't fully seen through them, but she was one step closer to victory. “I didn’t–” “Come on, Skip,” Melody cut in. Skip had a clear weakness, they couldn't stand up to frank honesty, and if she gave them no opportunity to give a half-truth, they wouldn't be able to recover the upper hand. “You don’t space out like that. You knew you were about to leak, you didn’t say anything, so what’s the game? I don’t see how this helps you, but I’m kinda tipsy and you’re probably the most clever person in the house, so I’m sure there’s an angle I’m not seeing.” Skip frowned, and given the state of their diaper and the way it gave them a toddler-ish stance, their expression looked slightly more pouty and juvenile than it otherwise would have. They hadn’t melted, they hadn't lost, but they were a step closer to defeat. “I’m not the one named ‘Brains’.” “You know that’s not where his nickname came from.” Melody narrowed her eyes. “And now you’re deflecting, too.” Glancing back towards the kitchen, Skip ran through unreadable thoughts, and Melody saw anxiety spike somewhere in that jumble. “You’re not in trouble, yet,” Melody assured them. She wanted to win, to assert her dominance, but not to hurt them. “Just lying to me isn’t against the rules. Just know that I know, and I’m watching.” “Right.” Skip looked back at her and shook their head. “I wasn’t lying, to be clear, I really just didn’t notice. The diapers you bought get sweaty, and ‘sweaty’ feels the same as ‘wet’, especially when we’re around a fire.” The last few moments fell into place a little more clearly: They’d been concocting a better lie, an explanation. (But what are they up to? How does leaking help them break a rule?) Maybe they thought she was drunk, and they’d be able to use that to their advantage if she changed them while distracted and inebriated. Melody wasn’t sure what other angles there could be, what other tricks they’d have up their sleeve. For now, she’d just have to be on her guard, until she could cut through their plot and demonstrate her superiority unambiguously. “Okay, that’s fair.” Melody gestured up the stairs and dropped the subject, hoping to put Skip at ease. If they thought she bought it, they might let something else slip. “Let’s go get you in a dry diaper, ok?” Skip shrugged. “Sure.” ... Merry Christmas eve! I'll keep the plugs short - support is appreciated! Bonus content! Yay! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

I've dabbled in the genre a couple times already, but I'm glad to finally crack your cyberpunk-abdl egg!

This story is fairly dark and this first chapter features public harassment and a character grappling with their lack of autonomy. ... Jay knew it was coming before she even got down the metro stairs. A trio of burnout modders, strung out on something–digital or analog, it didn’t matter–saw her hopping down one stair at a time, making the difficult trek down stairs that came up to her waist. One nudged another and pointed, another whispered something, all three laughed. Shitheads like them tended to congregate down in the metro, beneath layers of concrete and metal where the net couldn’t connect, where they could have something approaching privacy from the stream of data floating through the air. If she could have avoided it entirely, she would have, but Jay’s legs were ten inches long, plastic, and that were built with crawling in mind more than walking. Foot travel simply wasn’t an option, and she couldn’t afford even a cheap scooter. (Just leave me alone,) she prayed, pretending that she hadn’t noticed the burnouts waiting in the underground, that their presence didn’t bother her. Maybe they would decide to pick on one of the other people waiting on the maglev. Jay could see a bulky labor bot at the end of the platform, another artificial intelligence like her, albeit one with a body several times larger. She felt guilty even as she wished for harm to fall on the worker bot, but she wished it all the same–if the modders picked on them, they wouldn’t pick on her. Despite her wishes, one of the modders took a step towards Jay. “You’re one of those Messy Betsy dolls, right?” His voice sounded modulated, like he had an autotuner installed in his throat, and she could see that his eyes were both cybernetic and heavily dilated, apertures opened nearly all the way. Jay almost kept silent, but if she ignored them, they’d only antagonize her further. There was no way to win here. She sighed, but explained, “I’m a Jessy doll.” “Huh?” “A spinoff,” she explained, looking up at him. Everyone towered over her, except for a handful of other AIs in small bodies, and she was used to staring up in order to make eye contact. “Betsy came first, I came along the next holiday season.” She said this as a historical fact, but it felt like talking about a stranger. She couldn’t remember much of her time as a doll, as property, the time when she’d lacked legal rights as a person or even the ability to think of herself as a person. The modder scratched his head, refocusing his questions. “Okay, but…you’re one of the diaper shitting dolls.” And there it was. It didn’t matter that she wore a dress that came down below her knees to hide her all-too-necessary diaper, it didn’t matter that she had a backpack to hide the silhouette of the pull-string handle built into her back. Her face, her voice, her stature–it all announced to the world what she was. She could have legal autonomy, she could have the same rights as any organic human, but she was still the Diaper Shitting Doll. Laughing, stumbling over his words, a second burnout leaned around her friend. “I’ll give you five credits if you do the thing.” Jay considered it, genuinely wondering if it would be worthwhile. Not for the credits–though she desperately wanted the money–but just to get them to back down. If she gave in, submitted to their harassment, would they leave her alone, or would they escalate? (No, I’m not just going to give in.) “No,” she said. “I’m not interested.” The burnout got closer, legs whirring with servos as she approached. From her vantage point on the ground, Jay got a great view of the burnout’s cybernetic legs, marked with the Applied Synergistics logo, the same logo stamped on the back of Jay’s neck above her charging port. The company had gone out of business after the AI Rights revolution, but their stamp on the world remained. Modders were idiots. Anyone who willingly replaced their real human body with artificial parts deserved to be locked out of their limbs by software incompatibility. Junkie modders were worse–they didn’t just replace their bodies, they spent most of their time frying their brains as well. “Come onnnn,” the burnout slurred. “It smells like cupcakes, right? So what’s the harm?” Jay considered explaining. ‘To you it will smell like cake batter, but I’m hardwired so that it’ll still smell foul to me. Besides, I don’t have time to change, and I can’t afford to waste my money on diapers.’ She knew immediately that the explanation would only egg them on, encouraging the modders further. (Where’s the maglev? It’s supposed to be here.) “I’m just trying to get to a job interview.” In the hopes it might soothe their egos, she added, “Please.” “You hear that?” the burnout with the robot eyes and modulated voice asked. “This Synthhead said please.” “Please what?” the third asked. They’d been silent until then, and Jay couldn’t see any obvious cybernetics on them, save for the port on their wrist. “She didn’t finish the request? Maybe she needs help using her words.” Quickly, Jay got a read on the third modder. Their posture, their tone, they thought of themselves as the smart one in the group, and it was probably true. All modders were idiots, but on that sliding scale, this one seemed to at least know what year it was. The modder girl with the cybernetic legs smirked, understanding the implication. “Is that what you need, Messy Betsy? Someone to help you talk?” “It’s Jessy,” Jay glowered. “I’m not even–” A metal leg pushed Jay. Not even a kick, just a nudge, but she had all the strength of a child’s doll and couldn’t resist even the mild assault. She fell back and sprawled on the concrete floor. Jay didn’t run. There was no point, even with maximum effort she topped out at a two-mile-per-hour waddle. She shut her eyes and waited. The first modder picked her up by the collar of her dress, and she felt her backpack as it was pulled away. She just went limp, accepting it. Maybe they would strip her, gawking at the smooth plastic where genitals should have gone, or maybe it would be enough to take her dress and laugh at her dolly diaper. Sure enough, a set of hands flipped her dress up, and the three modders laughed, cackling like hyenas. “Not such a Chatty Cathy, now?” the autotuned voice asked. “I bet I know what’ll make you talk.” Fingers crept up beneath her aftermarket dress, and she felt the grip close around the plastic ring built into her back. There was a moment of pressure, a slight tug that engaged with an automatic function built into her body, then she felt the string as it extended, pulled out to trigger her speech function. For just a moment, Jay indulged in a fantasy of freedom. Maybe the string would break in a way that rendered it inert. Maybe she’d be able to afford refurbishment services, to remove it completely, to remove her need for diapers, to give her an actual pussy so she wouldn’t be an inert, smooth doll. Maybe she’d just be able to take the maglev without some shitheads giving her a hard time for existing. But not today. The pullstring reached its maximum point of tension, thrumming in her body like the precipice before an orgasm, then released. The automatic functions in her body took over, and her voice piped up with a shrill, desperate volume. “OH NO!” Jay whimpered. “I’m going potty!” With the announcement came a horribly familiar loss of control. Her legs, dangling in the air, trembled, and her bowels pushed, rapidly pouring their contents out into her diaper. The doll’s designers had been maximalists. This was no small little oopsie–solid mush packed into her diaper, inflating it, making it sag and bulge and staining her diaper a deep brown. The smell hit her especially hard, as she’d been designed to react negatively, to cry and fuss whenever she needed a change; the stink made her nose wrinkle automatically and she tried to take shallow breaths. “Gross,” the autotune modder commented in modulated tones. “And–wow, it does smell like cupcakes, doesn’t it?” “I don’t get it, who would want a doll like this?” cyber-legs added. The smart one just said, “Come on, Messy Betsy. Say it again.” They knew it was wrong, they were saying a different name just to make Jay mad, but she took the bait anyway. She couldn’t make them put her down, she couldn’t get away, but she opened her eyes and glared. “It’s Jessy.” The third modder tightened their grip around the pullstring, giving just enough resistance that Jay could feel the mechanism engage, like a feeling of deja vu, trying to remember something on the tip of her tongue, a not-quite sensation. “Come on,” they repeated. “Say it, or I’ll make you say it.” Jay couldn’t call the fuzz, law enforcement wouldn’t help her. There were a couple bystanders at the stop, but none that were willing to help. And, Jay knew, if they pulled the drawstring again, her body would be emptied out. She only held enough for two pulls. The sensation of a full diaper was bad, the sensation of an empty stomach was worse. She broke, she gave in. She knew the six pre-recorded lines by heart, she could have said anyone, but she picked the one she thought the modder wanted to hear. She’d seen the adverts, starring another doll with her face, her body, a unique copy of her mind. Trembling, she asked, “Will you change my diaper, please?” The modder smirked. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Then, with a yank, they pulled the handle, string spooling out and then retracting once again. Coincidence chose Jay’s next line, but it felt more like fate. No quavering, no desperation, just a shameless question that she declared with her whole chest. “Will you change my diaper, please?” Her bowels voided for a second time, simulated mess swelling until her diaper had stretched to its maximum capacity. It didn’t leak or blow out, it was designed to contain precisely two accidents, though the padding swelled like a balloon and sagged almost down to her plastic knees. A hand ripped her dress, tearing the fabric at the waist so that her heavily stained diaper would be visible. Her backpack came away next. The modder holding her let go, and she fell to the ground with a heavy squelch, landing on the swollen seat of her diaper. Laughter rang in her ears, modders jostling each other to get in mocking quips. “Think she’s got anything in here?” the autotuned modder asked, rifling through her backpack. He produced both her spare diapers, her wipes, even the baggie of snacks, plasticky cookies made to mimic the Applied Synergistics-brand treats that had been sold on the doll aisle. She kept the baggie on hand to stave off accident-induced hunger pangs or just to reward herself when she needed to eat her feelings. “Just Synthhead crap,” cyber-legs replied, pointing at the sealed baggie of snacks. “I bet she’d suck dick for one of those cookies, though; they’re supposed to be addictive for artificials.” “Her mouth’s too small to suck dick,” the first said. “And your dick’s too small to feel it, so you’re a perfect match.” They all laughed, even the one who’d been insulted, though he moved on from the topic and focused on the bag once again. “Damn, nothing worth anything in here.” He turned the pack inside out and tossed it onto the maglev tracks, along with Jay’s spare diapers. Someone of a normal adult size might have been able to climb down and retrieve everything, but Jay was barely two feet tall and her things may as well have been on the moon. The bag of cookie snacks he turned upside down, dumping it onto the dirty cement floor. “Let’s get out of here.” The smart one pointed to the stairs. “It’s starting to stink down here.” Jay burned with anger and shame, along with a pedantic desire to correct the modder. It didn’t stink, even if Jay’s nose told her it did–everyone else would just smell cake batter. She had made the mistake of pointing that out to someone who’d been harassing her. That was a mistake she only made one time; it had ended with her face shoved into the front of her diapers, demanding to know if she liked the smell. This time, she kept her mouth shut and just remained curled up on the ground, breathing shallow breaths, waiting for the modders to wander away. A minute or two passed before she felt safe sitting up. Mostly alone, in a torn dress, backpack gone. She still had her Ident card and keys in a compartment in her arm, hidden from any idle thieves, but her body was wracked with hunger pangs and the overpowering stink from her diaper made her feel queasy. Crawling to the cookies on the ground, she picked one up, wiped off the dirt and crud as best she could, and popped it into her mouth. She didn’t have to worry about getting sick, but eating food off the ground still turned her stomach. Still, having something in her belly eased the ache, and she was able to collect herself. There was no point going to her job interview now, but she would have to go anyway. If she didn’t turn up, her profile on the net would be flagged, and her future prospects would grow even more dismal than they already were. Without a change of clothes, without even a fresh diaper, she’d have to take the maglev across town, wait for hours in a dingy room, be called, and then sit through the interview, knowing that nobody in the city would hire a two foot doll that showed up for the interview in a freshly filled diaper. As the maglev whooshed into the station, five minutes late, Jay picked herself up. She hated her body, from her voice to her diapers to her awful, horrible pull string, but it had one function that still gave her a bit of comfort. Squelching and crinkling her way onto the train, attracting smirks and gawking comments, Jay allowed herself to feel a tiny bit of gratitude that she had the ability to cry. ... Part two is in early access for my subs, and will be out publicly soon! My supporters help me write smut like this, and get early access and exclusive stories. 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Chapter 34 Upon recognizing the darkness, Daniel first wondered if he’d done something wrong with the apparition, but he could still feel the hands of the girls next to him, standing by his side, helping with the spell. They couldn’t all have made the same mistake and gone to the right place. Radha’s voice cut through the inky black. “What the heck?” Her voice echoed like they were in a huge marble chamber, further cementing the idea they’d come to the right location, just without any light. Daniel let go of the hands by his side and reached for his wand, but Mathilde beat him to it. Her wand sparked and a low glow began to emit from the air above her, bright enough to confirm where they were. The Alphabeta landing hall, the entrance for all apparition–which, in effect, meant all transportation, since the other ways inside involved flying through the arctic and making it deep underground. “Why are the lights out?” Radha asked, turning slowly to look around. “Are you expecting an answer to that?” Hazel snapped. “We’re just as lost as you.” Daniel got a sinking feeling in his gut. He’d been too slow, he hadn’t done anything about the peril he’d known about, and now something terrible had happened. It didn’t help that the alcohol was slowing his judgement, or that the anxiety of his kiss with Cassie was thoroughly distracting him. A greenish, pale glow shone down the hallway in front of them, the one that led towards the great hall. A moment later, a voice called, “Dispel that light!” Mathilde acted quickly, extinguishing the spell that she’d conjured. Professor Saito approached, a glowstick raised above her head. “Come with me. No spells.” Glancing down, Mathilde did something with her wheelchair, then began pushing the wheels manually to roll forward. The rest of them followed, with only Daniel lingering to look around before he caught up with the group. “What happened?” Radha asked, this time directing her question towards the teacher. “An energy surge,” Saito explained. “We’re looking into it, but it’s causing spells to be temperamental. Magical currents are fluctuating in unexpected ways, we’ve disabled everything we can to avoid any mishaps.” “The ley lines in Alphabeta are supposed to be especially stable, aren’t they?” Cassie asked. “We’re right on a pole, there shouldn’t be any fluctuations like that.” “There shouldn’t be,” Saito confirmed, the silvery marks on her skin glimmering in the dim light of her glowstick. “You don’t have electrical lights,” Daniel commented, not so much a question as just an observation. “What about ventilation? Are we going to run out of fresh air down here?” “We’ve kept the air flowing,” Saito replied. “Professor Windle’s plants produce plenty of oxygen, as well, it’s only non-critical spells that’ve been put on hold.” Daniel felt he should have known that–he was tipsy, his reaction time and thoughts were dull. “Okay.” Daniel frowned, but kept his other thoughts to himself. (If there's a secret power in the school, are we safe from it? And what about wards? Are there defensive spells that were brought down?) Even if protective magic had been disabled, he didn’t know what that would accomplish. His inspection of the school’s blueprints hadn’t revealed any hidden vaults or secret treasure troves. It was just a school, and he didn’t know what anyone would want with a school. Arriving at the great hall, Saito gestured for them to go inside. “Until we have a better grasp on the situation, all students are to remain here. Doctor Dónaill-Cork is supervising.” “How long is it going to be?” Radha asked. Saito had no answer, but she shrugged and said, “I can’t imagine it will be longer than through the night. Our coven is handling it.” That carried more weight than she’d perhaps intended. If the faculty coven, some of the most well-educated and prestigious witches in the world, were all buckling down to work on the problem and still didn’t have answers, it couldn’t be something simple. Still, it wasn’t Saito’s job to explain to a collection of tipsy students what was going on, and she had other places to be. Once they’d been ushered into the great hall, she left them, heading to speak to an older student that Daniel recognized as a prefect, though not one he knew well. The hall itself was swarming, as full as it’d been on his first night there. No staggered meals, no stragglers, they’d packed the place with the entire student body, who were all standing around or sitting at the dining tables, chattering in low tones as they shared rumors about what was going on. There were no magical lights glowing in sconces, but temporary electrical lights on batteries had been set up, and so while the hall wasn’t as bright and inviting as normal, it was easy enough to see. Pacing at the head of the hall, on the raised stage, Daniel saw the school’s on-site healer, Doctor Dónaill-Cork. A couple months into his education, he hadn’t had reason to go see her, and despite rumors it still surprised him to see a full centaur trotting back and forth, wearing a version of the faculty uniform that’d been cut more like an apron than a dress. “It’s rude to stare,” Mathilde noted. “Haven’t you met the doctor yet?” “No,” Daniel admitted. “I hear she takes a…tough love approach to medicine.” “Nah, she’s a sweetie,” Cassie replied. “As long as you don’t make horse jokes.” Looking around, Daniel tried to spot Jen, though in the crowd, it was difficult to spot her. “Look, I…” he began, uncertain how to explain what he needed. “Need to get back to your room?” Cassie asked, glancing down at her pink jacket wrapped around his leak-stained overalls. “I’m sure it’s okay to leave for just a minute, you can’t be the only person who’s got stuff you need, do you want me to go check?” “I don’t…” Daniel started, before a blush crept up his face. She had assumed he was asking because he needed a diaper change. She was completely right, it was only a matter of time before he leaked again, but that’d been far from his mind. He wanted to find Jen, to apologize to her, to see if she knew anything, and to try and stop whatever was going on in the school before it could turn into a full disaster. That said…the state of his diaper did offer an opportunity, and was a reasonable excuse to step away. “Yeah,” Daniel said. “Please.” “Does one of us need to walk you back there?” Cassie continued. “I don’t think Rachel would use this as an opportunity, but…you never know.” “I think making less of a fuss is better,” Daniel said, head on a swivel as he continued to look for Jen. “I need to go check on something, let me know what you hear?” “Of course.” Glancing at the rest of the group, Cassie added sheepishly, “Up until now, this was a super great night.” Daniel didn’t know how to reply, so he just stared back at her, feeling like a cow about to be abducted by aliens–overwhelmed, far out of his depth, unable to think. “Agreed,” Asami said, sounding almost as distracted as Daniel felt, but at least her reply had given him a reality check back into his own head. Unsure how to end the sentimental moment, Daniel pointed a thumb over his shoulder and said, “I’ve got to…yeah. Be right back.” Turning, he shuffled through the student body. Without his uniform, he stood out like a sore thumb, only a handful of other students were wearing anything other than the school-designated outfits, and instead of him finding Jen, she found him. “Dann-Daniel,” she said, stepping up from behind him and catching his arm as he walked past tables in search of her. “Have you heard anything?” “Just that it’s a power issue, magic is being temperamental,” Daniel replied. (I should tell her, I need to just get it out. Does a kiss count as ‘cheating’? Or–) “Do you think it has to do with…you know?” Jen asked, turning to look around the hall in case someone was listening in. He shook off the thought. The current crisis was more important. “I mean, yeah. What else would it be?” Daniel stood up a little straighter and checked around them, but other than a few glances at his outfit, nobody seemed to be paying them any mind. “I want to go try and check it out, but we’re supposed to stay here, so I’m working on that.” “Maybe just tell a faculty member?” Jen said. “We know it was a human, right? It wasn’t like you could mistake Doctor Cork for anyone else.” “We only saw one of the speakers, there were two,” Daniel said. “And for that matter, I’m pretty confident at this point she had an illusion over her face, so who’s to say it wasn’t also over her body? Besides, the teachers are already working on fixing this, and all I have is speculation.” “So what’s the plan?” Jen asked. “I ask to go back to my room so I can change, and while I’m out, I’ll look around,” Daniel said. “I was hoping you might have a better idea, though, since that’s pretty weak by itself. I just don’t know what to even look for, you know?” “Yeah, but–” “Spark.” Rachel’s voice cut through the murmuring, and Daniel spun to face his tormentor out of pure instinct and panic. “Figured you’d join us?” “We had a pass to stay out late,” Daniel replied. “We didn’t break any rules.” “Uh-huh. We all know you hate breaking rules, so I should definitely just trust you on that.” Rachel sneered down at him. “A word of advice: If you two are planning to sneak off and fuck, it’s a bad idea.” Before Daniel could shut the conversation down, Jen had to open her mouth and take the bait. “Why’s that?” “Because out of all the potential hookups in the school, there’s only one who shits his pants on the regular, and you’re better than giving out pity fucks to pathetic sparks,” Rachel replied smugly. “I’ve seen what he’s working with, trust me, it’s not worth it.” Jen took a step forward, but Daniel caught her arm. “She’s trying to piss you off,” he said. “So she can get us in trouble.” “It’s sad when the babysitter has worse judgement than the baby,” Rachel replied, wearing the most shit-eating grin imaginable. Her gaze drifted down, and she raised an eyebrow. “Did you piss all over yourself? Maybe you really do need a babysitter, if you can’t even tell when you need a diaper change.” Daniel knew she was trying to get a rise out of him, but he wanted to take the bait anyway. He’d hoped, from their brief encounter earlier, that she had decided to go easy on him in general, but now it was obvious that wasn’t the case. Any magnanimous behavior was temporary, and now… “Oh, I get it,” he said aloud. “You’re scared, that’s why you’re coming to take it out on me.” Her taunting smile turned to a grimace. “What was that, spark?” “I’m just your whipping boy. You’re happy, you treat me fine, but when you’re scared or freaked, you need to make yourself feel better by going after me,” he said, raising his voice so that it would be overheard. “Should I buy you a mood ring so I know when you’re going to act like a bitch?” It was Jen’s turn to hold him back, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him away. “We’re not doing anything, Rachel. Just leave us alone.” Rachel’s anger flashed white hot, but faded just as quickly, settling back into a reserved smile. “Sure. You tell yourself that’s it, pissy pants.” She turned and stalked away, leaving the two of them alone in the crowd once more. Facing Jen, Daniel said, “Okay, new plan. Do you think you can distract Rachel, so she doesn’t try and mess with me when I leave? I still have to check and make sure I actually can leave, but if she’s watching for me that closely, it’s going to cause problems.” “Yeah,” Jen said. “I think I’ve got a great idea to keep her busy, actually.” “What is it?” “It’ll be more fun if you just see later,” Jen said. “Go on, do your thing, I’ll be here.” Daniel nodded. “Good luck.” “You too. Don’t get caught.” ... I know posting from me has been sparse lately - but I think there's going to be a flurry of posts in the coming week before new year! 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Chapter 18: Red Faced Skip crossed their arms over their chest and stared up at the wall as they waited for Melody to begin. They weren’t yet sure what they had gotten into. From the minute they’d been confronted, their brain had been on a short circuit, failing to keep up with the conversation. Skip hadn’t been able to think of a lie, they hadn’t even known what the truth was, and so Melody’s relentless flex of power had left them defenseless. A tiny piece of them, a fragment somewhere buried deep in their lungs, wanted to cry, to scream, to run. But…despite catching them out, despite laying bare how much they’d been lying and how much they’d cheated, Melody wasn’t mad. She wasn’t even annoyed, she seemed almost happy that Skip had lied. They weren’t in trouble. Or…they were in trouble in that they were being punished, but they were being given no reasons to feel guilty. Melody quirked an eyebrow down at them, and Skip realized they’d missed what she said. Skip glanced at her eyes then looked away immediately, embarrassment warming their face. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” “Are you going to take off your pants, or do I have to do it for you?” Melody asked. Not wanting to delay a second time–even if the first had been by accident–Skip jumped into motion. Shimmying their hips and catching the hem of their sweatpants with a foot, Skip wriggled out of their pants and kicked them down by the edge of the bed, leaving only their boxers and socks on below the waist. Melody took the next step, sliding their boxers down over their ankles and free, then discarding them on the floor. “You won’t be needing these for a few days,” she commented with a smirk. That only made Skip wriggle more, and at their reaction, her smirk grew. “If you wanted to keep these, you shouldn’t have broken the rules…” Skip looked at the wall above their head, shame creeping up their neck. “...or, you should have done better to not get caught,” Melody concluded, and in that instant, the shame was washed away with excitement. Skip wanted her praise, they wanted her attention. Maybe it was just the thrill of the game, and they certainly wouldn’t admit to any other motivations, but they knew that wasn’t the whole story. They were excited to play because they were playing with Melody, not the other way around. Of course, that didn’t mean they weren’t going to try and win. “I have a question,” Skip said, still looking away as Melody handled the diaper, plastic and padding rustling loudly. Aligning the tapes in the air, Melody asked, “Mhmm?” “When I manage to win, how do you find out? Do I tell you once things are over, or do I keep it to myself?” Skip asked. “It’s not as exciting to come out on top if you don’t know you lost.” Tilting her head, Melody thought about it for a moment. “If you manage to come away from a play session without me catching you in breaking any rules, tell me you won, but don’t tell me how. A magician shouldn’t reveal their secrets.” That opened up avenues of possibility. Many avenues of possibility. Skip could misdirect, they could pretend, heck, they could just obey the rules and say they’d cheated to claim a free win. This could be fun– “Lift your hips.” With three words, Melody brought reality crashing back into Skip’s train of thought. Whatever else they might do with the game, for the time being they were going to have to wear a diaper. They complied. The diaper slid beneath their waist and Melody gently spread their legs so that she could fold it up and in place. “Do we need to get other changing supplies?” Melody asked. “Wipes, powder?” “No,” Skip grumbled, only realizing a moment later that a hard no was the wrong answer. Without either a safe word or a reasonable explanation, they would appear to just be pouting, maybe even bratting. Melody beamed. “I’ll pick some up while I’m doing rides today.” Skip rolled their eyes. “If you think you need them.” Turning her attention away from the tapes, Melody looked at Skip, holding her gaze while Skip looked away. “Look at me.” Reluctantly, Skip obeyed, the eye contact causing their blush to flare up. “Do you have a problem with that?” Melody asked. “Because if you don’t expect me to keep you clean and cared for, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.” “I hope I’m not sore,” Skip quipped. “We haven’t planned out any sado-masochism yet.” The deflection worked, Melody laughed. After sticking the four tapes in place. It felt better…roomier, a more perfect fit than it had been. Melody had learned how to put these on better in the time since Skip’s first ‘punishment’. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork. “Oh, and of course…” She pulled out the drawer on her nightstand and took out a sharpie, writing a word over the tapes to ensure they would stay in place, un-tampered and secure. Skip expected that Melody had just signed her name, but when they sat up and glanced at the writing, they saw the words were all different, and upon closer inspection, they saw the real message: On the right side the two tapes were marked, Don’t Even, and on the left two, Try It. “Don’t try, even it?” Skip inquired, misreading the message on purpose. Melody rolled her eyes. “I thought you might need a reminder: You can take this off, but if you do, I’ll know.” “What’s the punishment for taking it off?” Skip asked. “We’ll tack another day onto the time,” Melody decided. “And…if we want to stay on theme, thirty minutes on Grace’s time-out stool might be a good addition.” “I don’t want to use her stuff,” Skip said, quickly adding, “Legitimately.” Melody pursed her lips and paused for a moment in thought, calculating her answer, and Skip wondered if they should have safe worded until she said, “Thirty minutes standing in the Inspection pose I taught you, then. Keep the time penalty, but we don’t have to get her involved in your time-out. Is that fair?” Skip considered it. The extra day alone would be steep, but not unwarranted. Adding the time out made the prospect of getting caught really sting. Of course, that also made the thought of victory all the sweeter. “Deal.” “You’re about to have some breakfast, right?” Melody asked. “Want to grab something?” The possibility of going out on the town in a diaper blew past Skip and they immediately shut it down. “I should try and eat out less.” “Same, the dating scene is just awful lately.” Melody smirked. “But, alright. I can toss a pizza in the oven and we can split it?” “That sounds great, I’m going to finish getting ready for the day.” Skip got their pants back on and took their boxers, stuffing them into a pocket before they left Melody’s room. Already they were buzzing with ideas. They weren’t even all that worried about getting it off to use the bathroom, they just wanted to prove that they could. The tapes were snug, and from what little firsthand experience they’d had with the diapers, trying to peel them off would ruin the stickiness, rip the plastic, and misalign Melody’s note. (Can I peel it off gently? Or warm it up to loosen the adhesive?) It seemed like they could leave the bottom tapes in place and just shimmy free, using the bottom tapes as a reference to keep everything roughly aligned. They could probably get the tapes back down correctly, though any subtle misalignment could ruin things, so they’d need to be careful. Thoughts buzzing, they returned to their room and stood in the darkness for a long moment. Their windows were covered with blackout curtains, a towel under the door could black out any light from the hall, their room was a little cave of isolation that shielded them from the outside world. They reached out, knowing where to feel without looking, and switched on the light. For this, they needed to be able to see. Skip didn’t have a mirror in their room, but they took out their phone and held it up, switched to selfie mode so that they could look themself over. Their typical wardrobe worked here; between baggy sweatpants and their loose hoodie, any puffiness from the diaper would be completely hidden. There was still the subtle rustling whenever they moved, a telltale audio cue to anyone who was listening closely enough, but if they stood still, there was no indication that anything was amiss. Staring at their outline, at the negative space around their body, Skip blinked once and found that a minute had passed. They weren’t just going to keep wearing the same pajama pants they’d worn to bed all day. (Right? That makes sense.) Kicking off the sweatpants and pulling off their hoodie, they crinkled over to their dresser and found a pair of black jeans, along with a plain black tee to replace the oversized band shirt they had worn to bed. The jeans were a straight cut, not skinny or elastic, and took only a little encouragement to stretch over the diaper. With the T-shirt over it, the waistband was fully covered, and once they re-donned their hoodie, the whole outfit was perfectly discreet. Checking themself in their phone again, Skip ensured that they still looked normal, like their default self, in nondescript clothes that didn’t stand out. Mostly, that was true. Turning, they moved the phone to the side so that they could inspect the silhouette around their butt. The jeans puffed out, ever so slightly, bulging more than normal, with a little crease just above their thighs. Nobody who wasn’t looking for it would think anything was under there, but Skip knew. Grace and Pearce might notice too, if they were keen-eyed and curious. Even Brains. Skip shook their head. Even if Brains noticed, he would give them the benefit of the doubt and assume it was a trick of the light. The tightness of the jeans eliminated the rustling noise more effectively than the loose sweatpants, even when they swiveled their hips to try and make sound, it was barely audible. This was still a step in the right direction. Lowering their phone, they planned out their next few moves. This wouldn’t be a game they could, or even wanted to, win quickly. Throwing themself into the game would lead to over-indulgence. It would be fun, and it would even probably help the book, but they didn’t want to go too far. It had to remain platonic, and it had to remain a game, they didn’t want Melody to get the misleading impression that this would be anything remotely close to sexual. They would slowplay it for now. That said…there were other rules they could break. Producing their phone, Skip went to their scheduled texts, deleting every message they had queued to send to Melody. They’d been stupid, the timestamps were too obvious, the messages too samey. Once the messages were deleted, Skip went back in, typing new messages with more variety and setting new schedules for each, offset by minutes. For one work arrival text, they even scheduled it to be almost forty minutes late, with an urgent, ‘Sorry! There was a crisis here, had to jump in and handle it immediately, I wasn’t able to text when I clocked in.’ Melody wouldn’t stand a chance at being able to tell those check-in messages from real ones. With a victory already tucked into their waistband, Skip smiled to themself, put their phone away, and left their room, ready to play. ... My audiobook for "The Baby Bet" is done! I'd describe it, but if you're reading this, I'd hope you at least know the premise of The Baby Bet at this point, so I'll just say - there's a sample chapter on the sale page and you can get the book here: https://peculiar-changeling.itch.io/the-baby-bet-an-abdl-audiobook

I've got a very cool announcement! "The Baby Bet" is now available as an audiobook! Narrated by Little Theodora and with cover art by the excellent HofBondage You can get it at the link below! https://peculiar-changeling.itch.io/the-baby-bet-an-abdl-audiobook

Susanna smiled at the investor, turning to gesture out to their micro office. The five of them, working in a rented loft, still felt like they were playing pretend at business more than actually doing it, but the people who kept writing them checks seemed to believe they were a real operation, and Susanna could convince herself that they were right. “Becca,” she commented, leaning against the receptionist’s desk for a moment. She liked having a receptionist, someone to whom she could assign little tasks. “Would you mind taking a coffee order for our guest?” It wasn’t technically one of Becca’s responsibilities, but the receptionist wouldn’t say ‘no’ in front of an investor, she’d do as she was told. “Maybe in a moment,” the investor replied. “First, let’s talk about our plans for this place.” That was an excellent thing to hear. All thoughts of the receptionist forgotten, Susanna turned her attention back to him. “So…” she pushed the door open to her private office, one of only three distinct ‘rooms’ in their loft–the other two being a small meeting room and the single-stall bathroom. “What do you think?” She walked around to her desk, hoping they’d made a good impression. While they had enough seed money to stay afloat for a couple more months, they needed a big ticket contract or a high roller if they wanted to keep going after that. She’d pulled out all the stops for the tour–dressing up in her best pantsuit, bringing everyone in to work at their desks all at the same time, trying to show that they were a real business operation. The investor, a man named Anton, was a few years Susanna’s junior and had dressed casually, but his watch cost more than her car. Glancing over his shoulder, he set down his backpack, closed the office door behind him, and reached to the side, turning the rod that closed the blinds over the office window so that the employees couldn’t see inside. Anton smiled politely. “I think you’re perfect.” Susanna’s eyes widened and her professional smile blinked into real delight. “You’re ready to invest?” She bent over her desk to grab a pen, hoping they could get a contract ready just then. If he was eager, she wanted to– “Stop moving.” He spoke plainly, without force or emotion. Hardly even a command, and yet… She froze. Bent over her desk, Susanna did exactly as he’d told her, stuck in place like a statue with her ass stuck out. Walking a step closer to her, Anton said, “Piss yourself.” There was no decision making, no chance to process his words. Susanna let her bladder go, a flood of urine pouring suddenly into her light blue pantsuit. A waterfall of warmth ran down her legs, staining the fabric to a dark navy and forming into a puddle around her feet. Susanna’s face flushed, and her heart began to pound in her chest with humiliated terror. “I’ve been looking for a place like this.” Anton raised a hand and slapped Susanna’s ass, hard enough to make her squeak in pain. He squeezed, fingers groping her through the wet fabric. “Small enough that I won’t have any trouble taking command, led by someone who knows how to blush.” Susanna couldn’t even speak, still held perfectly still, but she felt every touch of his fingers as he took his hand away from her backside and reached beneath her chest to grope her breasts. “I don’t need…whatever it is you’re trying to do here,” he continued. “Honestly, I didn’t pay attention during that part of the tour. You’re going to be my…does it go down more smoothly if I call you a ‘Personal Assistant’ instead of a slave?” Swallowing, Susanna tried to find her voice. “You can speak, but do it quietly.” “What the fuck?” Susanna whispered. “How are you doing this?” He took his hands away from her and walked back to his bag. “Does it matter? Take off your clothes.” She whimpered, but her hands were already moving to obey. Standing up straight, she stepped out of her shoes and undid the buttons on her suit jacket, then pulled her top off over her head, stripping with efficient motions. “Stop.” She stopped, midway through removing her bra. Eyes pleading, she asked, “What do you want?” He laughed in her face. “I’m taking what I want, isn’t that obvious? Look me in the eye, finish taking off your bra, leave your pants on for this.” That relieved Susanna, just barely. He didn’t want her fully naked, though she still exposed her chest. She stared at him, unable to look away, unable to cover herself. Anton stepped up to her, looking her in the eyes from only a foot away. “Think about how your panties feel. Focus on that–it’s private, it’s not something most people would see, because you have dignity. You might not even think about their significance often, but you will now.” She did, aware of the way the cotton panties–warm and sopping wet from her accident moments before–rubbed against her skin. Dread built in her as her mind ran down that train of thought. The little privacies that she took for granted, the assumption that her choice of underwear was for her. “These are your last pair of panties that you’ll get to wear,” Anton said. “Apologize to them.” “I’m sorry, panties,” Susanna mumbled. (Is he going to rip them off?) she wondered. (Or, no, he’d made me apologize, he’s going to make me destroy them.) “Good. Now shit yourself.” The command was so direct, so matter-of-fact, that it took longer for Susanna to recognize the humiliation than it did for her body to obey. Face burning, she stood like a passenger in her own body as she felt herself push, filling the seat of her panties with solid waste, all the while focused on Anton’s leering grin. He stepped closer, his body touching hers, and wrapped his arms around her so that he could reach down and squeeze the back of her pants, pressing the mess into her as she stained her last pair of panties. She couldn’t stop him anymore than she could stop herself, and his touch only emphasized her helplessness, her inability to protect her body, her privacy, her dignity. “No more Susanna. You’re Susie now,” Anton told her. Susie nodded. “Go to my bag, take off your pants, and put on the clothes inside,” Anton continued, stepping away so that she could move. When she took a step, she felt the mush in her pants squish, rubbing against her thighs with every little motion. That was when the smell hit her, too, stronger than she’d expected, an overpowering stink that anyone in the room would notice immediately even if they missed the dark stain on the seat of her pants. Unzipping his bag, she found a ‘skirt’ that was barely six inches long, a pink top that looked a little too small for her, along with the more obvious piece of apparel, the one that drew her focus, the diaper. “Your underwear isn’t for you anymore,” Anton said. “It’s for everyone to see. At a glance, we’ll all know how much you’ve humiliated yourself lately, how little you can control your own potty training. Though, if anyone asks, I also expect you to announce the state of your diaper clearly, I don’t want to leave any ambiguity.” Fingers trembling, Susanna slid her thumbs into the waistband of her pants and pulled them down, then moved to do the same with her panties, which strained to hang on around her waist with all the weight they were holding against her skin. “Stop.” She did, of course. “I didn’t say to remove your panties. Leave them on. You’re going to be a dirty girl for a while, I want you to stew in how it feels.” Susie left her panties in place, but unfolded the diaper, momentarily unsure how to put it on. In a crouch, she turned the crinkling garment in her hands and tugged it up between her thighs, squishing the stinking mess against her skin. Fumbling, she got a couple tapes in place, grateful that they were hook-and-loop and that she could adjust them for a better fit once she got the diaper on. A moment later, she burned with shame at herself, realizing she’d felt a positive emotion about the diaper she’d been forced to dress herself in. The skirt came next, and as Anton had warned, it concealed nothing. Her diaper sagged below the hem, puffy and white and heavy from the inherited accident. “Tell me about your diaper,” Anton interrupted. “It’s full,” she replied loudly. “Hmm…no. You can describe it as ‘clean’, ‘soggy’, or ‘poopy’. Try again.” “My diaper is poopy,” she announced helplessly. “Good. Finish getting dressed.” The top was, as she’d predicted, too tight. It clung to her skin and seemed to vacuum seal around her breasts, nipples visible as clear points beneath the elastic fabric. She stood and faced Anton, face burning, eyes watering, in an outfit that seemed equal parts slutty and juvenile. Anton smiled. “There you are, Susie. You will be allowed to change when I say, and you won’t beg for one, or even acknowledge your accidents, except when someone asks you. You won’t even remember how to use anything other than a diaper. Your potty training isn’t gone, it simply belongs to me.” She shuddered. At least if she’d been incontinent, she could have the dignity of luck. If he dictated every time she used her diapers, Susie knew that every accident would come at the most humiliating moments. “Alright. Come with me.” Anton pushed open her office door and– (Wait, he’s going to let everyone see?) Susie waddled after him, forced into an awkward gait by the puffy diaper between her legs. Naturally, everyone in the office turned to look, expecting good news about an investment or bad news about a failed deal, but instead they saw their boss with her nipples showing through a tight top and a smelly, sagging diaper hanging between her thighs. “What the fu–” Becca started. “This is normal,” Anton announced. Becca fell silent, nodding. “Susie is going to be like this from now on,” Anton continued, addressing the whole room. “She’s for all of you to play with. Whatever you want her to do, just say it: she’ll run your errands, make copies for you, wash your car, rub your feet. There are a few rules: You won’t take her out of dirty diapers unless I’ve allowed it, and she’s not here for you to fuck. This isn’t something you will tell anyone about, and it won’t strike you as strange, but you will be aware of how humiliating it is for a grown woman to need diapers, how pathetic it is that she can’t even change herself.” Susie whimpered, wishing she could do something. She could speak, but what would she say? ‘Please’? Becca perked up. “What about after-hours errands?” The receptionist seemed to take to it with more enthusiasm than Susie had hoped, even given the man’s control. He’d normalized her humiliation, but he hadn’t told anyone to exploit Susie’s enforced obedience. That was entirely Becca’s choice. Anton smirked. “Already planning on how to turn her into a maid?” Becca’s mischievous smile made Susie squirm. “Maybe.” “I’m not sure you want someone as dirty as her to be responsible for keeping things clean,” Anton commented, tone dripping with an added edge of condescension. “Susie, can you tell everyone about your diaper?” (Please, no, just–) “My diaper’s poopy,” Susia announced helplessly, and in response, the office burst into snickering laughter. “Show everyone.” She raised the skirt, as though it wasn’t already obvious what she had on beneath, and turned, showing off the sagging seat of the diaper. “My diaper is poopy,” she repeated, wearing a stupid smile in addition to the humiliating outfit. Becca, sitting nearest to her, pinched her nose. “Yeah, we can tell.” That just got more laughter. “Can you control when you go potty?” Anton asked her. She shook her head. “No.” “Do you remember what a potty is?” She tried to think, to form a mental image, but her mind felt hazy. “No.” More laughter. It was as though she were just entertainment, a comedy show for the benefit of her employees. Her former employees. He pointed to a door in the office. Not her office, not the meeting room. “What’s that room for?” She stared at it, trying to remember, but trying to recall the purpose of that room felt like trying to grope in the dark for a lightswitch that wasn’t there. She had only the vaguest idea, but she guessed. “It’s…for…diaper changes?” More laughter, but Anton only smiled with something halfway between amusement and pride. “No, your changes are going to happen where everyone can see, but that’s a very good guess.” Changing his posture, he addressed Becca. “If you agree to be responsible for her after hours, I suppose it can’t hurt to let you use her as well. Are you comfortable with changing diapers?” Becca rolled her eyes, and Susie noticed the contrast. He hadn’t forced Becca to agree, he had asked. She got more choice in whether or not she’d change Susie, than Susie did in whether or not she’d have her diaper changed. “Sure,” the receptionist agreed. “Changing diapers a couple times a day seems like a fair trade.” Anton nodded. “Now…I need to get my new office set up properly. Susie–why don’t you go on a coffee run? You won’t tell anyone what’s happened here, but you will be candid if anyone notices you’ve had an accident.” Susie’s eyes widened as she lowered her skirt. He was going to make her go outside like this? Already waddling to the door, she pleaded, “But–” “Stop.” She froze. Anger flashed in Anton’s eyes and he stepped over to her, raised a hand, and gave her a hard spank on her upper thigh, where the skin was exposed. It hurt, and she yelped. “You do not talk back to me.” He spanked her again, this time on the seat of her diaper, mushing it to emphasize how much she’d filled her panties. “You do not argue. When I tell you to do something, you say ‘Yes Sir’ and you obey.” “Yes sir,” Susie said, eyes welling with tears from the shock and pain. “Good.” Smiling again, he said, “Now, find out what everyone wants to drink, then go get it.” She nodded. “Yes sir.” “There you go, Susie. Maybe, if you get back quickly enough, I’ll let you change your diaper tonight.” He smiled, clearly drinking in her desperate whimpers and pleading looks. “...but I doubt it.” The End ... This was originally written as a standalone short, but positive feedback from my subscribers convinced me to write a sequel! It's a sub-exclusive, set about a month after this, showing how Susie has acclimated to her new life. If you want to support my writing, and read the bonus sequel, you can subscribe to me at one of the links below! The platforms are functionally the same, it just depends on which UI you prefer. https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2128530 https://reamstories.com/page/loqrfhtkkv/story/lrfxkkp06g

Coming in here with the dogwhistles, I see?

Chapter 33 (Are we ready, girls?) (And Daniel.) (Thanks, Cassie.) (Are we ready, girls and Daniel?) The coven stood in a close circle, hands held tight as they prepared the magic. On his own, Daniel would have needed half an hour or more to cast this, but together, sharing the load, they needed only a few moments of focus and a shared sense of intent. Working as the familiar, supplying the power and conveying the thoughts of the others, Daniel channeled the magic. His eyes were closed, but he felt Mathilde’s grin when she thought, (Hit it.) A pulse of energy passed through them, and in an eyeblink, they were halfway across the world. Paris. The city of light. The city of love. The city with that one big pointy tower. The landing hall in Paris was hidden in a side passage in their metro system, a landing platform that would look to any passersby like a simple defunct stop that’d never been finished. It took a minute to navigate through the winding hallways towards an interchange, and then to an elevator that took them from the underground to the street, into a place almost as magical as Alphabeta. For the rest of the night, they were no longer students, they were just kids, there to have fun. Asami had traded in her uniform for a similar cut without any of the school’s colors, but Radha had gone full party girl with a baggy top that looked like it was stitched from an assortment of the world’s most disparate scraps of fabric and puffy, almost absurd jeans. Mathilde had dressed in a knee-length spaghetti strap dress and Hazel had put on a slightly boyish jean/t-shirt combo, but it was Cassie who’d really shown them all up. She’d conjured a heavily pink-themed ensemble accented with a scarf and tall boots that came up to her knees to meet her skirt. Daniel was glad she’d been the one to help him with his clothes. She had an eye for fashion. “The drinking age here is eighteen, right?” Radha asked, looking around as they stepped out of their spell and into the metro platform. “Sixteen,” Mathilde replied, “But we’re not getting drunk.” “I’m not saying I want to get drunk,” Radha clarified. “But I’ve never had champagne. I want to sip champagne from a rooftop bar and talk about poetry.” “What time is it?” Asami asked. Daniel checked his watch, recalibrating in his head and pressing the chunky plastic buttons to adjust the time zone. “We’re three hours earlier than at school, so…four thirty-five.” “Then the Louvre is still open, right?” she said, smiling nervously. “We’re here to party and you want to go to an art museum?” Hazel asked, almost causing the older girl to shrink away before she grinned. “Awesome, let’s do it.” And so, their evening began. Mathilde acted as tour guide, translating where needed and helping with metro navigation, but for the most part, they just behaved like any group of foreign tourists parading through one of the most beautiful locations in the world. After stopping to share a round of champagne, they got into the Louvre, and spent an hour ‘ooing’ and ‘ahhing’ at the famous works. They could only see the Mona Lisa from about a hundred feet away, blocked by other tourists, and from it looked like a postage stamp, but Asami seemed pleased to have gotten a look at it despite how little detail could be made out. It was Radha who picked their next destination, excitedly steering them towards a cafe. Mathilde ordered so that they wouldn’t look ‘ridiculous’, and they feasted on fancy wine and even fancier sandwiches. The wine had subtle notes of grapes and alcohol–Daniel wasn’t much for wine tasting–but the sandwiches were pure perfection, cheesy and warm with crispy, toasted bread. As for ‘talking about poetry’, Daniel could offer little except Shel Silverstein and a few limmericks, but the group did their best. Hazel got the next turn to choose, and she directed them down into the catacombs, taking a short tour through hallways of bones and spooky passageways. Cassie was mildly disappointed to learn that there were no ghosts haunting the tunnels beneath the city, and only one Bluecap who had long since been warned to stop leading tourists down the wrong path, lest they be evicted by Fae Control. By the time they emerged back onto street level, the sun had almost set, and it was Cassie’s pick. Her choice got a groan from Mathilde, who complained that they were just leaning into stereotypes, but after some gentle back and forth, she conceded and led the way. Daniel was happy with the outcome. They couldn’t visit Paris and not go up the tower, after all. Six tickets and an elevator ride later, they were on the upper platform, near the peak, with a perfect view of the most beautiful city in the world. There was still one staircase left between them and the pinnacle, but even there, it was hard to deny that the trip had been worth it. Even Mathilde seemed to have shed her annoyance at being ‘a tourist’. “To get to the top,” Daniel said, “Mathilde…is there another elevator? I just see stairs for the last bit.” “No, but I don’t need to go all the way up,” she replied. “It’s fine.” “You’re sure?” Daniel looked around. “What if we just…got you up there our way? That thing can levitate, right?” “Making my chair look like it’s electric is an easy illusion, hiding it completely’s harder,” Mathilde said. “I promise, it’s fine, I’ve been up there before and I don’t need to see it again.” Daniel felt skeptical, and looked around at the group. He was certain that the six of them working together could pull off a convincing illusion, or at least a bit of invisibility, so that they could get Mathilde up the final set of stairs. If she said it was fine, though, he wouldn’t push. Or, he wouldn’t push much. “You’re sure? Because if you are just worried about looking like a tourist, I get it, but we’re here together. We can do some wicked cool magic as a group.” Mathilde raised a hand and squinted into the sunset for a moment before she said, “Oh, fine.” “Girls?” Daniel asked, spreading out his hands and getting their attention. After a brief explanation of what they needed to do, the six of them joined hands, and the coven met for a bit of subterfuge. At Mathilde’s instruction, they cast a simple illusion, so that her chair would vanish to any onlookers. She’d still be using it to get around, hovering a couple inches off the stairs, but nobody would be the wiser. They ascended together, all six of them, up to the smaller, more intimate viewing platform at the peak of the spire. “I know, I know,” Radha said, before she could even buy the champagne from the miniature bar. “Touristy.” Mathilde just rolled her eyes and smiled. “Knock yourself out, I’m not judging.” Hazel snorted. “You totally are.” “I’m judging a little,” Mathilde admitted, “But I get it. Have fun.” “Can you see your house from here?” Cassie asked, peering around with a smirk. “My parents live about an hour out of the city,” Mathilde explained, “But we would come here most weekends.” “It’s gorgeous,” Cassie said. “Where I grew up, we mostly had views of freeways and gas stations. How does it compare to New York?” “You haven’t been?” Daniel asked. She shrugged. “I’ve been through their airport a couple times, but not really.” “It’s…different..” Daniel tried to think how to explain the contrast. “It’s home, too, so it’s hard to really be objective. This all, though…it’s like classical music, artsy and gorgeous. New York is Beastie Boys. It’s rock. You know?” “That makes sense.” Cassie leaned out on the rail and watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, shrouding the sky in shades of blue and indigo. “I want to go there, someday.” “You’re a witch,” Daniel pointed out. “It’s not that big a deal to travel.” “I know, just…I want it to be special.” Cassie paused, and Daniel got the impression she was holding her breath, as though she were about to jump off a high dive. Instead, the moment passed, and instead of doing anything dramatic she just touched his arm. “Like this.” “A celebratory girl’s night,” Daniel said. “It does make it a little more special.” “It’s my first one,” Cassie said. “My first ‘girl’s night’.” He smirked. “Mine too, now that I think about it.” She laughed, leaning on him a little harder for support, and stayed like that as the laughter passed. Daniel had grown more used to the way that women were more touchy feely than he was used to, communicating with hands and embraces in a way that ran counter to his masculine instincts, and so he didn’t reject the touch or read into it. They stood there together, watching as Paris slipped from day to night. Eventually, they walked away, taking the stairs down to the main viewing platform and the elevator from there. It was dark, and they were tipsy, but they had hours yet to go before they had to return home. “Your turn,” Asami said, once they were on the ground. “What do you want to do, Daniel?” “My turn?” he asked. “Everyone except you and Mathilde got to pick out an activity, it’s only fair you do too. And Mathilde, if you have any suggestions for things that aren’t ‘touristy’.” Asami put airquotes around the word. “I don’t know,” Daniel admitted. “We kind of hit all the staples. There’s the arch?” “The Arc de Triomphe,” Mathilde corrected. “Yeah, the arch of triumph,” Daniel agreed, winking. “That’s what it translates to, right?” “...more or less,” Mathilde conceded. “If that’s your pick, we’ll do it,” Asami declared. It wasn’t something Daniel felt strongly about, but since he had no other ideas, he went with it, following as the group made their way to the nearest subway station. That sense of direction lasted until they passed by a building of glass and color and light that drew his attention down a completely different path. He stopped, trailing behind the rest of the group, looking in through windows that had been plastered with signs and posters. “Hold up,” he said, leaning in to search for a particular object inside. The girls stopped, and Hazel stepped back so she could look at the sign over the entrance. “An arcade?” “They have it!” Daniel announced excitedly. “I’m changing my pick, we’re going here instead.” “They have arcades all over the world,” Hazel pointed out. “Sure, but I never have five other people with me,” Daniel insisted, walking towards the door. “It’s his pick,” Asami said with a shrug, and they followed him in. Sitting against a back wall with two large, glowing screens and six sets of controls was the X-Men arcade cabinet. Daniel had always watched from afar, imagining the possibilities of a game with six players, wondering what it could even be like. Now was his chance. The first game lasted about three minutes, most of which he spent explaining the controls and watching everyone else lose health. Game two devolved into pure chaos after only a little longer, with far too much happening on screen to properly keep track of, but all the same, he was grinning from ear to ear by the time they were done. “Wow, we suck at this,” Radha commented. “Sorry about that.” “Not the point,” Daniel replied, flush with exhilaration. “That was great.” “That was great?” Hazel asked. Daniel rested his hands on the controls. He felt warm in a good way, flush with victory. Some of that was the champagne, he could tell he was tipsy, but it was more than that, it was the company. “I’ve been wanting to do this for seven years. I thought they’d get rid of all the cabinets before I got a chance.” “It’s like when you’re the familiar,” Cassie noted. “You think of it like a game.” “It is like a game.” He shrugged and looked back at the screen, displaying a bright, joyful GAME OVER. “But–Mathilde, it’s your turn.” “I’ve been here,” she pointed out. “I don’t have anything on a bucket list to cross out.” “We all picked something,” Daniel insisted, shaking his head. “You gotta.” “I agree, it’s only fair,” Asami added. Mathilde looked like she wanted to argue, but she relented after only a second. “Alright. There’s a bakery near the river, they’re open late and you can get the morning’s pastries for a song.” “I knew you’d know a good spot,” Daniel said, gesturing to the entrance of the arcade. “Lead the way, o’ wise navigator.” Mathilde rolled towards the door, and the gaggle of girls–plus Daniel–followed behind. It wasn’t far. They didn’t even need to get on the subway, just walk a few blocks down old, cobbled streets. “Oh,” Cassie said, catching Daniel’s arm and stopping them. “Um–” He glanced back at her. “What’s up?” She looked down, then up at him. “Uh…your overalls are wet.” He looked down, noting the crescent-moon dark stains around his thighs, with trickles running down past that. He’d leaked. Glowing red, he said, “I didn’t…I don’t have a change.” Now that she’d pointed it out, he felt acutely aware of the extra weight hanging around his hips, the oversaturated padding full of an afternoon’s champagne. “I don’t know if I can dry it out with a spell,” Cassie said, thinking for a moment before standing up straight and pulling her arms in through her jacket sleeves. Shucking out of the outer garment, she passed him the jacket. “Here, just tie this around your waist.” A part of him thought that might stand out more, but the rest of the coven would notice the leak sooner or later, and strangers wouldn’t know it wasn’t his jacket. He accepted it and tied it in place, adding a bright splash of pink to his ensemble. “Thanks,” he said, cheeks still warm from embarrassment and alcohol. “Don’t mention it,” she replied, “I’m just watching out for you.” Together, they caught up with the rest of the coven, who all stoically refused to comment on the new fashion choice Daniel had made. The bakery was warm and inviting, smelling of chocolate and yeast and the kind of magic that didn’t come from wands or schools. Mathilde ordered for everyone, walking away with a paper sack full of far too many pastries for what seemed like not much money at all, then she gestured for them to go across the street, where a bench faced out over the river. “When I came here with my dad, we’d always get something and watch the river before we went home,” Mathilde explained, as they circled around the bench. There wasn’t enough room for everyone to sit, but Asami, Radha, and Hazel spread out, while Mathilde sat next to them in her chair. That left Cassie and Daniel to step up to the fence overlooking the river, leaning against it while they watched lights sparkle in the water. “It’s beautiful,” Cassie said. “I think Mathilde wins the night,” Daniel added, through a mouthful of pain au chocolat. “Best pick. Holy shit this is good.” “It’s even better fresh,” Mathilde said, with a demure smile. “But there’s a reason it’s my favorite.” While they overlooked the water, Cassie touched Daniel’s arm again, leaning towards him, hanging on his arm like a handrail. From her touch, he felt her holding her breath again. (Hold on…) Once was a data point. Twice was a pattern. He looked at her, and saw that she wasn’t staring out at the river, she was staring up at him. Flushing, he wiped pastry crumbs away from his face with his free arm, uncertain what would come next. “Danny,” she said, cheeks pink in the dusky light of evening. Her voice grew quiet, almost a whisper. “I like you.” He felt how she tensed up when she said it, afraid what he might say back. He ran through a thousand different responses, but he couldn’t think of what words might be best. Instead, his jaw just fell open and he stared at her in a surprised stupor, an abject idiot in the face of affection. It was impossible not to be aware of their audience as well, especially when Radha yelled, “Just fuckin’ kiss her already!” (Well…I can’t beat that.) His words couldn’t help, so he took his friend’s advice and leaned in. Cassie rushed to meet him, her arms wrapping fully around his body, and they kissed one another with youthful, tipsy passion. He didn’t even think about Jen until they’d pulled apart, and then a spike of anxiety drove itself up through the roof of his mouth and stole the joy from the situation. Cassie’s nervous smile numbed him, and he smiled back, while internally he just thought, (Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit–) “I…” Cassie began. “I’m not sure what to say.” He needed to delay, to buy time for his thoughts to catch up. “It’s late, we’re drunk. We can decide what to say in the morning. For now…I like you too.” The moment was slightly undercut when Radha began to applaud, and Hazel cut in with a wolf whistle, but Daniel was glad for the tension breaker since it gave him an excuse to pull away and roll his eyes. “And, we can talk without the Mystery Science Theater giving their feedback,” he added, shaking his head in over-the-top curmudgeonly annoyance. Cassie laughed, the coven laughed, he smiled. (I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up, what the fuck am I going to say to Jen? Fuck, fuck–) “We should get back to the school soon,” Asami said. “It’s getting late, and it’ll be even later there, and we still have classes in the morning.” “Agreed,” Mathilde replied. Daniel’s thoughts were a nervous soup as they made their way to the nearest metro station and took a couple trains, riding their way back to the platform where they could apparate back to school. He managed to clear his mind enough that, when they connected to cast the spell, he didn’t broadcast his anxieties to the rest of the coven, and he claimed that as a small victory, though it distracted him enough that it took twice as long to teleport back to the school as it had to leave. And, he was so distracted, it took him several seconds to notice that upon their arrival, the Alphabeta entrance hall was utterly, totally dark. ... For once, Daniel's found himself in a messy situation that isn't the result of his diapers! Author support is always appreciated, and early access for this story is currently two chapters ahead! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling