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Just a Question ! .If Stanley was a hot looking girl who looked sooo cute would that change the perception ? .I think it would (just my opin) .He does not speak for me i speak for myself

I wouldn't say ".........what happens in the bedroom......." . I would say "what type of underwear i wear is none of anyone's business".

This is typical for today. The politicians say that we have a service oriented economy but the service sucks! When I was young, there was no such thing as an automated attendant. A real person, that actually spoke English, answered the telephone. There use to be elevator operators, in department stores that knew what floor a product was on and could tell you what was on sale. Cash registers did not have scanners and the person on the register was not an idiot! I wish we could return to those days!

Seven As they tear down the main corridor in Subsection Ykev, the Doctor begins to realize that the effects of the kybertine virus are still strong in poor Veronica. Despite his strong grip on her arm, she can hardly keep up with him. Wearing an adult diaper while struggling to regain proper motor control leaves her barely able to manage a frantic waddle. Even Governess Hanna, middle-aged in Sestran years, is moving faster. As they reach the elevator, the Doctor pulls up short and spins Veronica around. She yelps, but manages to awkwardly stop herself from being slammed into the elevator doors. Her face twists into a sour glare. "What are you doing--?" "Sorry to have to do this, dear, but we're a little short on time." The Doctor turns and looks back at Hanna, who's still catching up. "I know you're not much for running, Governess, but how are you at carrying heavy loads?" "I've..." The Governess has to halt and catch her breath. She gasps lightly before adding, "I've carried two grown Puerin in both arms. What do you need?" "Here, attend to your ward." Without giving her a chance to say no, the Doctor lifts Veronica up under her arms and turns her over to Hanna. Despite the young woman's frantic kicks, Hanna manages to cradle Veronica in her arms--a remarkable feat considering how close in size they are. Veronica squirms and scowls at the Doctor, but whatever protest she's about to make gets cut short when the elevator doors slide open. "There they are!" a deep Sestran voice shouts. The Doctor doesn't have time to think. His hand automatically brings up his sonic screwdriver and reactivates the psychosomatic energy burst. He spins around and points it right into a Security officer's face. The man grimaces before falling back into the arms of his surprised comrades. While they're distracted, the Doctor flashes them twice and waits for all three Security officers to slump peacefully to the floor. With a nod, the Doctor waves Hanna and Veronica inside. Then he steps in and rapidly types in an old service code into the elevator control panel. The doors slide shut and over the loudspeaker comes a synthetic female voice: "Service Override accepted. Good afternoon, Doctor." "What in the world is that?" the Governess exclaims softly. "Did a bit of tinkering with the security network last time I was here," the Doctor explains with a proud smile. "Not that I didn't trust your people, Governess, but you never know when it might be necessary to have an escape plan." He taps his sonic screwdriver against the control panel. "Case in point." Both Hanna and Veronica seem relieved to hear it, though Veronica still looks a bit miffed about being carried like a tot in Hanna's arms. The Doctor gives her a patient smile. Fortunately enough, once all this is over, he knows they'll be on their way and off to visit old Blackbeard in the year 17-- The elevator jolts violently, nearly sending the Doctor to trip over the fallen Security agents and slam into the two women behind him. He catches his hand on the door and waits for the shaking to stop. Then everyone looks up at the loudspeaker, which buzzes and warbles with feedback for a second or two. Then the woman's voice comes back on: "Service Override denied. Emergency Protocol Three-Seven-Nyur now in effect." "Care to fill us in?" the Doctor asks, glancing at Hanna. The Governess frowns anxiously at the loudspeaker. "It's the Premier. He's taken direct control of the elevators." "Oh." The Doctor offers a frown of his own at the inert control panel. He flashes his sonic screwdriver at it, but to no avail. "So much for being clever." Then he hears something behind him and turns to Hanna. "Did you say something?" She shakes her head, looking confused. He glances at Veronica, who by now has put her arms around the Governess's neck for support. She gives him a quiet shrug and adds, "Wasn't me." The Doctor blinks. Then he looks down and notices the twitching Security men at his feet. Especially the one on his left beginning to come around and automatically reaching for the photonic blaster on his belt. "I've really got to get this thing calibrated," says the Doctor. He holds out his screwdriver, ready to deliver another psychosomatic assault, when the elevator suddenly lurches into motion again. He feels vindicated for only a second before realizing that they're being sent down to the lower levels. "Doctor," Hanna whispers. Both he and Veronica look up and see that her face is turning a pale shade of pink. "You know what's down there, don't you? Those things. Those horrible things..." He can almost hear the gruff workman's voice in his ears: "Not unless you've got something to stop those bloody bachals..." "Well, well," the Doctor murmurs to himself. "This ought to be fun..." --- When the elevator stops, the Doctor is the first one out the door. He steps to the side and waits for Hanna to carry Veronica over the threshold before sending a scrambling sonic pulse from his screwdriver. The elevator doors slide shut and beep twice, confirming that they're now locked. If they're lucky enough, the Doctor calculates quickly, it should buy them at least three minutes before the Security agents regain consciousness and break the lock. Hanna slowly leads the way down the corridor with the Doctor close behind. The lighting is worse here, and in some stretches has changed from florescent white panels to ominous red bulbs. Every so often, the lights flicker on and off for five seconds, shrouding everything in complete darkness. It doesn't escape the Doctor's notice that Veronica is clinging to the Governess a little more closely than before. A perfectly natural reaction to such a horrible place. "Doctor, do you see that cabinet ahead?" While still holding Veronica, the Governess points one of her elbows toward a gray box on the wall ahead. "I think there's some survival gear we might need if we're going to be down here much longer." "Good thinking, Governess." The Doctor motions for her to wait as he trots ahead. The lights decide to flicker off again, but he manages to bump his arm against the cabinet anyway. When the lights come back on, he's managed to pick the lock and see what's inside: a collection of breath masks and safety harnesses designed for humanoid beings. He grabs three masks and two harnesses, then runs back to the two women. Slipping one mask over his face, he helps Hanna and Veronica put theirs on. Then he lets Veronica stand on her own feet for a moment while he tries to figure out the harnesses. "Like this, Doctor," Hanna offers. She slips one harness on and helps Veronica with hers. The Doctor notices that she put Veronica's on backward and obliges by guiding his companion to face Hanna. The Governess smiles apologetically as she pulls Veronica close and begins securing their harnesses together. "Lower levels are notoriously treacherous," she explains, sounding very much like a nanny. "We wouldn't want to lose each other if some floor panel should break down, now would we?" Veronica glances back at the Doctor. "This is so humiliating. I hope you realize I'm going to make you suffer for this." He grins behind his mask and pats her shoulder. "Plenty of time for that later. Now, up you go!" Without ceremony, the Doctor grabs Veronica by the waist and hoists her up so that she's face-to-face with Hanna. The Governess throws her arms around the smaller woman and waits for Veronica to get her legs around her waist and her arms around her shoulders. When she takes the lead again, Hanna moves a little more quickly and confidently than before. Veronica holds on tight, looking back at the Doctor like a very unhappy child. --- After the first five minutes, the Doctor is grateful that Hanna thought to get the masks. The air in this level is damp and oppressive, making their clothes uncomfortable and finding purchase on the floor tiles difficult. Hanna fares slightly better since her boots were made for moving on wet surfaces, but even she has to stop whenever the lights decide to go out for a bit. They come through a side corridor and end up in the middle of a vast array of old machines and half-finished aquatic vessels. Giant robotic arms tower over the dimly-lit hulks of Sestran submersibles, frigates, and tender ships. Most of the vessels have gone to rust. Wires and lifeless power cables lie scattered about, hanging off the unfinished ships and littering the floor. As the lights flicker on and off for half a second, the Doctor squints at the nearest ship. "Haven't seen this model in years. Wartime surplus?" "We stopped production on this line after we released the virus," Hanna explains. She turns slowly, giving herself and Veronica a good look around. "We had the Puerin to take care of. Couldn't afford to maintain a standing military anymore." "Beating swords into plowshares." The Doctor stops and considers that remark. "Well, more like turning shipyards into nurseries, but you get the idea." Just then, a terrible rumbling begins. The floor shakes beneath their feet and the abandoned ships around them begin to sway and groan awfully. Hanna hugs Veronica close as the young woman frantically looks toward the Doctor. He slowly glances down at the floor. "That wasn't a groundquake." He scans his sonic screwdriver over the floor and waits for a reading. When he gets a beep, the Doctor checks the readout. His breath catches in his throat. "Bachals. A whole school of them, right below us." Hanna blanches. "We've got to get out of here!" "Hold it right there!" a Sestran voice orders. The Doctor's been hearing that line far too often today, but it's the muffled tone of the voice that makes him turn around. Spreading out into the abandoned factory is an entire platoon of Sestran troops. Sixteen plasma rifles bear down on the three fugitives huddled together. The platoon captain points his sidearm right for the Doctor's head. "We're not here to hurt you, sir! We've been ordered to take the three of you into protective custody, nothing more!" "Protective custody, you say?" The Doctor winces as he feels the rumbling start up again. The Sestran troops hold their ground regardless. "How strong is that protection, Captain?" "Very--" The captain's reply is lost in the horrible grinding, screeching noises from below. The floor beneath the Sestran troops breaks apart, sending them crashing below as water geysers up and a giant black mountain rises up with a terrific howl of agony. "Doctor!" Hanna screams, beginning to run off with Veronica. The Doctor starts backing away, moving faster as more of the floor breaks apart under his feet. But he can't stop looking at those lustrous black scales, that meter-long teeth, or the bioluminscent green eyes fixated on him. At long last, he can cross "Seeing a real-live bachal" off his list.

I didn't realize some people here were this mean. Seriously, what the hell? If I thought your motivations were purely out or concern for Stanley and his previous suicide threats after the Taboo episode, that's one thing. However, everybody here is getting on him saying he's making "us" look bad. You know what? There is no "us". It was nice to find out that I'm not the only one with this fetish, but it's not like I'm going to sign up for a newsletter or want to meet anybody in person. I've only done that once at a public munch, and while they were nice enough people, I didn't feel the need or desire to continue. At any rate, I'm an adult baby, Stanley is an adult baby, but he doesn't speak for me, he didn't offer to speak for me, and I didn't ask him to speak for me. You all speak like there's some sort of Federation of Adult Babies, or some other formal collective "us" for Stanley to embarrass, but there simply isn't. If YOU'RE embarrassed by seeing another person in diapers and onsies on TV, perhaps you should rethink your OWN fetish. Furthermore, if said person in diapers and onsies on TV is misrepresenting your personal collective "Us", then get your diapered ass on TV and do a better job. Good luck making the masses understand us better though. I'm not ashamed of my fetish, but at least I'm aware that I'm a freak, and I honestly have no problem with it. Rock on, Stanley. Hope this experience was a better one for you.

There are several on-line suppliers of cloth diaper and plastic pants and everyone has their favorites. I would suggest Changing Times Diaper Company as they have diaper twill pre-folds which are very comfort and absorbent. Prices are not bad either compared to the other sources. https://www.changingtimesdiaperco.com/

I think it's funny though that you revealed the name of your school. Any of the students in your class who decide to come here will see that post likely and know someone in their class is an ABDL. hope you never posted anything personally identifying on here...

advice will come just be patient it takes more than 45 mins from the original post for people to respond