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1000% Relatable. It’s a total mindscrew. On one hand you (we) voluntarily made the choice to wear diapers 24/7, and I’m assuming you’re also an ABDL and derive some enjoyment from wearing diapers. And then you start developing a legitimate physical need for diapers, and you realize just how much continence is ingrained in society. You have to go to great lengths to adapt. You have to spend thousands of dollars, worry about hygiene and supplies, discretion, and always having to take a f*cking diaper bag with you. If you keep it up you’ll start feeling lost and confused about how everyone else can easily make it to the toilet on time. It starts feeling like a disability, or at the very least a chronic condition to be managed. But you kind of don’t mind because it’s still better than having to worry about staying dry. So yeah, mind screw indeed. -
She could be in trouble. Or she might find the woman isn’t so bad. Maybe her Little just enjoys wearing diapers and being a baby and the Amazon is just allowing her to live her fantasy and isn’t evil at all? Too bad Amazons don’t get to experience this. I’m sure a few might not even be able to control themselves as well as she did and end up doing something very embarrassing in front of everyone. I guess a few might’ve experienced it depending on if spankings and diaper punishment for Amazons wasn’t unheard of in this DD universe. -
By AndTheChips · Posted
Chapter 3: Still pouting over the childish stamp, Ivy pondered how to best get into the ridiculous contraption above. She knew that she would need help for this part, that even if she could somehow manage to get up into the seat on her own, that she wouldn’t be able to maneuver the “Little Safe” buckles by herself. Time for another round of “who is least likely to torture or kidnap me”, Ivy thought glumly, wondering if this job was really worth it if it was going to put her at this much risk. But Ivy was saved from the task of finding help when she suddenly felt a lurching sensation in her stomach and saw the world around her drop quickly. It took her half a second to realize that she was being lifted under the armpits and set into the car seat and another half second to ascertain that it was the gruff driver, having moved to stand behind her while she was lost in thought. In that span of a second, the absolute terror that had gripped her, the worst case fears that had somehow simultaneously been confirmed sapped the will to fight from her body and left her limp and lightheaded, limbs feeling like jelly as the man’s large fingers buckled her in tightly without a word. Worse still, was the slight spurt of urine that had escaped in that moment of pure panic. She had stemmed the flow as soon as she felt it, but the damage had been done, that tiny spot feeling like a confirmation of everything the amazons thought of her. At least she had the pull-up on, she thought glumly. It took a few stops for Ivy’s heart to calm and for the feeling to come back to her extremities, and in that time she began to notice more about her surroundings. She was buckled into her seat by a five point harness, she noticed, feeling the tight straps against her crotch and blushing at the small squishy spot she hoped was smaller than it felt. It had been rapidly absorbed by the thirsty padding and Ivy wondered if she would notice it at all had she not felt it happening. That thought alone led to another round of blushing and squirming. Freezing in place, Ivy was met with a darker shame as she realized that it honestly didn’t feel so bad… actually felt good rubbing against her, pressed tight to her body by the seatbelt. Averting her eyes from her own subtly bulging crotch, Ivy looked beyond her shameful car seat. Facing backwards and angled as it was, Ivy wasn’t left with much to see. There was the dark fabric of her seat back, or rather the back of the seat on which her own infantile seat was affixed, the roof of the bus made up of shiny chrome and a digital display flashing a sequence of incomprehensible numbers and letters. She had somehow managed to squeak out a meek “w-waverly” when the driver had asked for her stop, but she had no idea how she was to know if it was near with her view and movement obscured so completely. She couldn’t see beyond the sides of the squishy seat, and the slice of sky she could make out beyond cutesy cloud shaped shades suction cupped to her window was no indication of where she was beyond an occasional flash of tree or building. Of course Ivy had prepared for this bus trip, had scoured the bus maps and tried to make sense of the strange Amazonian shorthand codes that somehow signified various coordinates and stops. Though the latter had proven frustratingly impossible, Ivy had managed to count the stops, memorizing them with a mnemonic: All Littles Deserve A Sense Of Security Despite Amazons’ Perverted Wishes. It was a fitting way to recall the names of her boarding street-Archer and the nine others; Langley, Diedre, Auckley, Sullivan, Othello, Silva, Dorsey, Avolino, and Pennington, before her own stop, Waverly place. The only problem was that her brief terror and full body reboot had taken her mind off that task and left her now wondering whether they were currently on stop three, Auckley Avenue, or stop four, Sullivan St. Gnawing at a bit of skin on the tip of her finger she remembered the city planning having been explained to her by a teacher once, some ornate plan that utilized triangles and some kind of complicated grid patterning overlay that was supposed to be the most modern and efficient city design of its kind. Her Amazonian classmates had seemed to understand this quickly enough that the few students seeming lost, mostly Littles and a few in-betweeners, hadn’t been enough to warrant the teacher going over the concept another time. Now, smoothly rolling along, the doors opening and closing at each stop, Ivy felt a different sense of panic closing in as she tried to decipher the confusing gibberish sliding by on the digital screen along the edge of the ceiling. It might as well have been another language, she thought, letting out a frustrated grumble behind her pointer finger, which she realized she had moved onto assaulting with her teeth. Pulling the digit from her mouth and wiping it on her pants, she felt a new wave of dissapointment in herself. She had the terrible habit of wolf-biting as it was called, and no amount of conditioning or terrible tasting sprays had broken her of it, try as she might. She had been far too wary of the hypnosis her doctor, an inbetweener, had recommended, so she still sported the often bleeding and raw cuticles and even fingertips that proved her a failure at breaking the habit to all around. Sometimes she would bandage her worst picked-over and nibbled fingertips in bandaids as a deterrent, but this often led to more questions from strangers than the tiny injuries that burned her fingers-yet were not too noticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking closely. The stops were getting closer together now, and more people were getting on at each one. Not that Ivy could see anyone. But the sound of footsteps, conversations, curt greetings and movement were enough to tell her that the bus was filling up a bit. It seemed like they had made it into the city proper now, and Ivy strained against her restraints, trying to spot any sign as to which stop they might be at. It was either Avolino or Pennington street they were on by now, which left a huge weight in her stomach. If it was Avolino then the next stop would be Pennington… then her stop. But if it was already Pennington like she thought it could be… then the next stop was her’s. If she got off too soon or too late she would risk being late for work as well as putting herself out on one of the busier Amazon frequented streets alone in a slightly damp pull-up, late for work. Prime pickings for eager adoptive parents as the amazons would call them, or sadistic kidnappers as Ivy saw them. Losing this job would also mean potentially losing her apartment, losing her whole life of independence one way or another. As she spiraled through the rabbit hole of worst case scenarios, Ivy heard the doors pressing closed and felt the bus begin to move again. Figuring that it would feel better to get off one stop too soon rather than one too late, Ivy quickly decided that she would take the next stop, whether that turned out to be Waverly or the too early Pennington. The slight relief of having made a decision at all was quickly bulldozed by the realization that Ivy had no way of signaling a stop or getting out of the restraints on her own. There was no obvious button or pull cord or light she could flip to signal to the driver, she realized. Last time she had ridden the bus, Al had simply signaled her stop for her. Why hadn’t she thought to look this up? Why hadn’t she paid better attention that night to how he had done it. Now, as much as she hated to admit it, she felt small and alone, and isolated in the plush seat. Finding herself gnawing on a rough patch of skin at the side of her middle finger, Ivy quickly pulled her hand back and towards the buckle at her crotch. Her hands worked at the button and pulled at the straps as she frantically tried to free herself from their confines. They were too tight to slide her shoulders free, too firmly clipped into the buckle, which showed no hint of movement no matter how hard Ivy pressed. And that feeling of being trapped, the pressure on her lower abdomen… it wasn’t helping to distract her bladder from the fact that it wasn’t empty. She wasn’t desperate, but that spurt from earlier seemed to have teased her bladder, making it yearn for full release sooner than it might otherwise. Panting now from the exertion of her pathetic escape attempt, Ivy tried to calm herself while also working up the nerve to do the unthinkable. “U-um…E-excuse m-me?” She squeaked, knowing it wasn’t nearly loud enough for the driver to hear. Even with the quiet technology of the city busses, there would still be the chatter of other passengers and the distance between them to contend with. “E-excuse me?” She tried again, louder this time. Nothing. “S-sir?” She tried, louder still. “Driver, Sir?” “Excuse me!” Still nothing Kicking her feet at the base of the seat behind her and groaning slightly, she was starting to feel desperate so she yelled this time, “DRIVERRR!” Someone nearby stopped talking and a second passed before an Amazon woman’s face, flanked by shoulder-length blonde locks came into view over Ivy’s seat. The woman’s slight frown ticked upwards as her eyes fell on Ivy, and Ivy could see the edge of a pink bow and a head of blonde curls moving near the woman’s left shoulder. Crap. Not her. Not really a full section but I’m sick and struggling with pacing so that’s what ya get 🤣 -
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