Leaderboard

Rehabilitating Cathy - Part 1 Packed up The appointed day arrived. Cathy's transfer to the Meridon Prison was this morning. The van was due to pick her up at 10AM. She hadn't slept much the night before, wakening after only a couple of hours of sleep and tossing and turning the rest of the night. Breakfast in the mess hall with her regular crew was an out-of-body experience. She knew that she'd likely never see any of them again. She sat down with Amelia at the usual table. She wasn't hungry. Amelia addressed her kindly. "Eat your breakfast, girl. You don't know when you'll get a meal next or what it'll be like." "I'm not very hungry. I didn't sleep much last night and now my stomach feels upset." "Drink your juice. That will make you feel better." Cathy sipped the apple juice. "You're right. I'm not hungry, but I'm definitely thirsty." She drank the rest of it down. "Here, I'll trade you my juice for your bacon. Try to eat some of your oatmeal. That stuff always calms my stomach down when I've got the quivers." "I can't wait to go! My mom and sisters will be able to visit me a lot more often. And Brad will be allowed to visit me, too!" "OK, OK. Keep your pants dry, girl. You'll be there soon enough." After breakfast a matron took Cathy back to her cell alone while the rest of the girls went off to their regular morning routines, some to class and some to the various workshops. In her cell on top of her bunk was a cardboard box. Hanging on from her clothes hook on the wall was a cotton shift. It had wide vertical pink and white stripes. It looked a bit big to Cathy. "Pack whatever you want to take with you in the box," said the matron. "You only get the one box, so anything that doesn't fit you'll have to give to someone here or throw away." "I don't have much stuff. I don't think I'll have a problem." "You'd be surprised. You accumulate a lot of junk in a big hurry." "Whatever. I don't really care." "When you're done packing, take off all of your clothes and dump them in your pail. Put on that dress there. The Meridon folks sent it to us. It's how they want you dressed for the trip." "OK." "I'll come get you in about half an hour. The van called in a while ago and said that they'd be here on time." Cathy went through her meager stash of belongings and packed the cardboard box. The boom box was too big. I'll leave that for Amelia, she thought. She'll like that. Cathy wrote a note to Amelia and put it and the boom box and Amelia's favorite CDs on her bunk where she'd find them that afternoon. She closed the box carried it to the cell door. Then Cathy stripped off her baggy shirt and pants. She took the hanger with the shift on it down from the hook and looked it over. There was a cotton brassiere hanging from the crossbar of the hanger but no panties. I guess the panties fell off somewhere along the way, Cathy thought. I'm sure this joint won't give a damn if I take one of their pairs with me. They're certainly nothing to write home about. She took off her bra and put the new one on. Then she pulled the shift over her head and settled it on her shoulders. The top wasn't too bad, but from the waist downward it was too loose and floppy. And the skirt was far too short for Cathy's comfort, stopping above mid-thigh. She took the discarded clothing over to her cleaning pail and piled them in. She looked at the clock. Five minutes to go. Cathy felt like she had to pee, but when she sat down on the toilet she found that she was too nervous to produce. She pulled her panties back up and settled the skirt back around her hips. She sat down on her bunk and waited. Cathy heard the matron and another woman coming down the long echoing corridor long before they arrived. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she could tell that the other woman, probably the guard from Meridon sent to transport her, was doing most of the talking. "Here is Cathy Philips," said the matron. "Cathy, this is Miss Martinez from Meridon. She's taking you today." "Glad to meet you," said Cathy. The polite formula sounded silly in the prison context. What is the proper etiquette on being introduced to a new prison guard, Cathy wondered. Martinez was a middle aged woman who could have been someone's maiden aunt. She was plump and comfortable looking, certainly not Cathy's idea of a prison guard. She picked up the cardboard box and hefted it, nodding not approval but acceptance of its weight. She carried a canvas briefcase of some size, like a very large handbag, on a wide strap over her shoulder. She set it down on the bunk and unstrapped the flap. "Just for the record," said Miss Martinez, "are you Catherine Philips?" "I am," said Cathy. "Good," said Miss Martinez. "I have here an identification necklace that I will put around your neck and seal. It will ensure that no mistakes are made." Miss Martinez produced what looked like a long strip of white ribbon. She showed it to Cathy, who read her own name on it, a six-digit identification number, the name of Meridon Prison, and a toll-free telephone number. Miss Martinez reached behind Cathy's neck and wrapped the ribbon around. She removed a piece of white paper and then stuck one end to the other. She tugged experimentally on the ribbon to verify its security. "Cathy," she said, "you understand that in the interests of security you have to be secured for the duration of the transfer, don't you?" "Um. I hadn't thought about it, but yeah, I'm not surprised." "Good," Martinez said, "then we can get this taken care of and be on our way quickly. You're the first pickup I have today, but after here we have four other girls to get. It will be a long day. Turn around, dear, and clasp your hands behind your back. Hold your left elbow in your right hand and your right elbow with your left hand. That's good. No, turn this hand around here a bit." Martinez then wrapped a padded cloth apparatus of some sort around her paired forearms. She tightened several straps which pressed Cathy's arms together firmly but not uncomfortably. Miss Martinez then wrapped the padded material around the upper part of Cathy's arm and tightened some Velcro straps. Cathy wouldn't be able to pull her elbows away from one another and slide them out of the tube that captured her arms. Having her arms pressed behind her straightened her posture and pushed her breasts out. Cathy caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and thought, I should hold my shoulders back like this all the time. I'd drive Brad mad. "Is that comfortable, dear? It doesn't hurt, does it? Does it press or rub anywhere?" Cathy flexed her torso and wriggled her arms about, feeling for friction or pressure. "It's OK, Miss Martinez. It doesn't hurt anywhere." "Good." she said from behind Cathy. "Just stay put for a second." Cathy heard the clinking of the metal buckles on Miss Martinez' satchel as she rummaged for something in it. "Cathy," said Miss Martinez, "this next step will seem a little strange to you. I don't have any choice in this matter. Meridon's rules about transportation of prisoners are very precise. Would you open your mouth, please, dear?" Cathy was astonished. Open her mouth? "Huh?" was all she could manage. "Open your mouth, dear." Cathy's desire to be closer to home struggled briefly with her natural caution. Home won. She opened her mouth. Miss Martinez stepped forward quickly and lowered a jumble of leather over her head and quickly popped a largeish wad of rubbery plastic into her mouth. As her new jailor pulled straps across her cheeks, the matron stepped forward and lifted Cathy's long hair from her shoulders so that Miss Martinez could seat the straps snugly at the nape of Cathy's neck. Cathy felt Miss Martinez tighten the buckles at the back of ner neck. She experimented gingerly with the object that so completely occupied her mouth. It was shaped like a large relatively stiff tongue pointing backward. The wide part was at her lips and the rounded tip was in her mouth. It protruded fairly far in, though not far enough to trigger her gag reflex. It did, however, pin her tongue down quite effectively. There seemed to be a little ridge around it, just behind the lips, that her teeth settled into quite naturally. She tried biting the object to test its consistency. The outer surface was flexible and rubbery without any particularly definable flavor. There was a definite resistance further inside that hinted that there was more to it. With it completely seated in her mouth, her teeth were forced to stay open what felt like about an inch. She wiggled her jaw hinges side to side slightly. It didn't feel like she'd be uncomfortable wearing the thing, though if it held her jaws any further open she had a suspicion that she'd get cramps before long. Cathy tried to say, "wait a minute," but all that came out was a faint, muffled mumble. "That's OK dear. It's designed to be as comfortable as possible. It has some other useful features which I'll introduce you to during our trip today. Now let's just get this attached and you'll look great." At this point Miss Martinez stepped around to stand in front of Cathy. She had piece of pink cloth in her hand which she held up in front of Cathy's eyes. It was a flesh-colored strip with a pair of lips embroidered on its surface. It looked quite realistic. Miss Martinez turned it over to reveal a Velcro backing which she then pressed up against the strap across Cathy's face, which turned out to have matching Velcro on it. After a few seconds of fiddling, Miss Martinez turned away. "Do you have everything that belongs here, Miss Westix?" "One second, I'll check," said the matron. The matron expertly stripped the bed, piling the blankets and the linen on the floor near the cell door. She took Cathy's pail and started taking the clothing from it, dropping them on the pile of linen one piece at a time. "Slacks, shirt, socks, bra, where're the panties? The panties aren't here?" "Did you pack your panties, my dear?" asked Miss Martinez? Cathy shook her head no. "Hmm. I wonder where they are?" Miss Martinez suddenly stepped forward and lifted the hem of Cathy's skirt. "Here they are, Miss Westix. She's got them on. Hold on a second, I'll get them off for you." Miss Martinez pulled Cathy's skirt further up and reached around behind her. She grabbed the elastic at the back of the panties and in one quick motion pulled them down to Cathy's ankles. "Step out of them, dear, please, won't you?" said Miss Martinez. Cathy blushed furiously and shook her head. She grunted in protest. "Let's not get off to a bad start, dear," said Miss Martinez, with the first hint of steel in her voice. "Don't worry about being naked or cold down there. I'll take good care of you." Cathy stepped out of the panties. After all, she reflected, she was bound and gagged. There was little she could actually do, and in any case, she was a sentenced prisoner with virtually no rights to start with. "Very good dear," said Miss Martinez, all warmth again, "Now the final step in preparing you for the trip will seem at first to be a bit of a surprise. Before we go on, I feel that it's best to explain why I need to do this." Cathy was taken aback. More surprising than strapping this big plastic thing in her mouth? Miss Martinez went on, "Back before the prison was privatized and budgets were cut, we didn't do this. But back then each transport team consisted of two matrons like me plus a State Police officer to keep order and provide any necessary security assistance." "Now, however, each transfer is limited to a single matron, that's me, dear, and instead of one or two prisoners per trip we take up to six. Today we have five, four more plus you, to pick up. Because of the long distances and the number of prisoners, we don't have the time to ensure an adequate number of stops along the way." Cathy looked at her expectantly. Miss Martinez seemed to be beating around the bush for a terribly long time. And when would she give her a pair of panties? "Lie down on the bunk here, dear, and lift your legs up," said Miss Martinez. Miss Martinez stood close to her and slightly behind on the right. Cathy sensed the matron moving up to a similar position on her left. Cathy moved forward to the bunk and turned her back to it. She bent her knees and slid her bottom on to the slippery surface that had so recently hosted her sheets and blankets. Lying back was a bit of a challenge with her hands pinioned behind her, but she finally relaxed and flopped back onto the mattress. To Cathy's surprise and dismay, Miss Martinez and Miss Westix then stepped forward and quickly handcuffed her ankles to the siderails of the upper bunk, one on each side. Cathy felt grotesquely spread out, particularly since the short skirt had ridden up during the maneuver, leaving her completely exposed. Miss Martinez then turned away and rummaged in the satchel, which she'd moved to the top of the bunk across the cell when Miss Westix had been checking the inventory. When Miss Martinez turned to face Cathy, she held a bundle of white cloth in her hand. "All right, dear," Miss Martinez said with a friendly smile, "just stay there and we'll get you taken care of lickety-split. Would you lift your bottom up there for a moment, dear?" By now Cathy was beginning to have a notion of what was coming, but she was too astonished, and too limited in options by now, to resist. She flexed her back, transferring her weight to her shoulders and her ankles and lifting her bottom off of the mattress. Miss Martinez quickly put one of the cloth rectangles down on the mattress. She then picked the other up and folded it in half lengthwise and put it down on top of the other one. "OK, let down now, dear." Cathy lowered her bottom to the mattress. As she expected, the thick wad of cloth was centered underneath her bottom. She could feel the top of the cloth more by the transition from its relative warmth to the coolness of the slick mattress surface than from any particular texture. Miss Martinez produced a gob of cold oily cream of some sort from a jar on the other bed and proceeded to rub it in to the skin of Cathy's groin area, front and rear. Then Miss Martinez leaned over Cathy's midriff and reached down between her legs and smoothly pulled the rest of the cloth up and snugly pressed it between her legs. The top came up to Cathy's waist. Miss Martinez then secured the outer pad using Velcro straps that Cathy hadn't noticed before. Miss Martinez turned back to her satchel and returned with another strip of cloth. This one seemed quite thin and about half the width of the large pad at its widest. This one had Velcro strips at each end, which Miss Martinez secured to the waistband of Cathy's new pair of "panties" at the front and back, so that it covered the central part of the cloth entirely. Cathy was puzzled at the purpose of this extra item and she looked inquisitively at Miss Martinez and grunted questioningly. "Oh that, dear? That's just to let me know how you're doing." The explanation didn't mean anything to Cathy, but it was obviously all that she was going to get. Meanwhile Miss Martinez had turned back to the satchel and fetched what looked to Cathy like a crumpled pink rubber glove. "Miss Westix, if you'd oblige me by releasing her inside leg and holding it firmly by the knee?" Miss Westix sat down at the end of the bunk and reached up to the handcuff that secured Cathy's ankle there. She unlocked it with a key that she produced from her pocket and then scooted forward a bit so that she could wrap her arms around Cathy's leg at the thigh. If Cathy had had any thought of using her one free leg to kick or fight, she was certain that it wouldn't do her any good. Miss Martinez shook out the pink object, which turned out to resemble a pair of baby's translucent waterproof plastic pants, but in a size large enough to accommodate her adult female hips plus the extra padding she now wore, and threaded the hanging handcuff and Cathy's ankle through it. She then briskly reconnected the open cuff to the lower bedrail. "OK, Miss Westix, the other leg, if you please." The maneuver was repeated, at the end of which time the plastic pants were draped around Cathy's knees. Miss Martinez reconnected her right ankle handcuff to the same bedrail as that which held Cathy's left ankle, which reduced the spreading of her legs. Meanwhile Miss Westix slid off of the bed and stood up, smoothing out her uniform. Now Miss Martinez sat down on the bunk just below the calfs of Cathy's legs. She quickly worked the plastic pants up her legs and settled them about her hips and thighs. She checked efficiently around each hem, carefully tucking stray bits of cloth inside. Finally Miss Martinez stood up. She dusted off her hands in symbolic show of completion and turned to her satchel, which she repacked and closed up. She turned back and as she put the strap of the satchel over he shoulder, she said to Cathy, "You're ready to travel now, my dear. Miss Westix will unlock your ankles from the bed. We will help you stand up and then we will walk down to the transit station where they'll process your transfer from this prison to my custody for transportation to Meridon. You won't give us any trouble will you? I wouldn't want to have to ask Miss Westix to hobble you or otherwise restrain you, my dear. You've been wonderfully cooperative so far. Will you cooperate now? Nod your head." Cathy, in a daze, nodded. They set off.

The Calibeen saga is a series of stories - Audrey & Staycee, Lottie, and Velvet - that follow the events of a correctional reformatory, intent on making the worst people into the best. In as little as a year, patients leave the institution with a 0% reoffender rate. But how do they do it? These stories can be read in any order. Audrey & Staycee Velvet Lottie is a side-story to Audrey & Staycee that has less to do with the Calibeen institution itself and more to do with the people it creates. To follow along from Lottie's perspective, read A&S first. But if you want to enjoy the curious nature of this young girl and take the perspective of Cohen and Emerson, read Lottie before A&S! While A&S is a hardcore diaper story, Lottie is a gentle little story. Though there are ABDL elements, the strength of the story comes from the honest familial love between the characters. I'm going to be posting this one casually over the next few weeks. But the entire story is available on our Patreon in PDF and ePub format. Please consider supporting us! ~Sophie ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lottie by: Sophie & Pudding 1. Hello. I couldn't run when the sun was out, and it made things so much harder. The dry leaves crackled beneath my bare feet as I darted through the trees only ever visible as one shade darker than the black of the sky. I'd been running for three nights, the moonlight having left me on the first, and by now my knees were well skinned and my feet full of mud. I would've kept running past the clearing if I had shoes on, but the texture of the gravel had me freeze. A road? I backed up into the forest and ducked behind a fallen tree. The sky was starting to take on color, and the stars starting to dim. And then everything changed: two blinding lights broke through the darkness and lit the road up like a river. It was late in the night, almost well into that point of day where you might still call it morning instead; the sort of time where it was unusual to see any other human being at all, let alone a svelte form stumbling out of the tree line and onto the road and interrupting the flow of your embarrassingly loud singing. I slowed down, expecting the girl to dart away like a frightened deer - but she didn't. She just stood there, awash in the flooding illumination of my brights. She was a waif-like young thing, skin soft and slightly translucent beneath a thin layer of smeared dirt, her hair tangled and knotted and a look of weak exhaustion in eyes that sparkled brilliantly blue regardless. I cocked my head and opened my door, stepping out of the green '91 Thunderbird that I'd learned to drive in when I fifteen. "Hey there. Whatcha doing out here on your own? There are bears in the woods, you know. You lost?" I watched her respond to the sound of my voice, taking a minute to click that the brights were probably making it hard for her to see me before I fumbled at the lever and dropped them down to a lower setting. Her eyes focused and I smiled, my pale freckled cheeks raising and my hazel eyes only shining concern back at the girl. I brushed a string of orange curls from my eyes and repeated the question. "Hey, love… are you lost? Do you need a ride?" "Um… yes… please…" My throat was sore, even with the simple, quiet words. I hadn't had any water in nearly two days now, the stream I'd crossed long behind me. I tugged the lavender nightgown down to my knees and slowly approached the green car. The woman seemed nice enough. And with a car like this, she couldn't have an affiliation to… no, definitely not. So I climbed into the passenger seat of the car, my heart pounding. I was safe, so why didn't I feel it? "Where are you headed?" The simplicity in the woman's voice was so jarring. No ulterior motives… "Um… just… south. As far south as you're going…" I'd been traveling that way since the start; I had to keep consistent. No point running if I wound up losing my direction. And so I'd mark in the dirt every day when the sun would set exactly which way I should go. Then I'd pick a star and follow it, eyes on the sky. "Well, I'm headed home right now, gum-drop." I slipped the car into gear and smiled at the girl, watching as her fingers tugged at the hem of her nightgown anxiously. Middle of the night, pajamas, looking like she'd been out in the woods for days? There was a tragedy at play here. "You in trouble?" The girl didn't reply, though, and I figured it was probably a stupid question to ask; if she was, she wouldn't tell a stranger anyway. "I'm Cohen." "Nice to meet you…" The texture of my voice was much more evident in complete sentences; I wished the woman next to me had offered me a glass of water or something. Then again, we were in her car, not her kitchen. "I'm… um… Lottie…" I'd need to go by that name now, wouldn't I? What choice did I have? "Thanks for this…" I picked at the dried dirt on my palms while Cohen drove down the road; it was so much faster than walking, and with the sun coming up, it meant extra ground I could cover. I smiled over at my pseudo-savior with gratitude. She couldn't have been older than thirty. "Nice to meet you, too, Lottie. That's an uncommon name, I think." Then again, so was Cohen. "Seems like an odd time of night to be out for a walk in your pajamas." It wasn't that I was nosy, per se, I just wanted to let the girl know that I was ready to listen if she wanted to talk. She looked weary, worn down and tired, like she'd ran dry a lifetime ago and was now just running on fumes. We pulled off the road onto a side-road, disappearing into the woods for a few minutes before we emerged into a field that sprawled as far as the eye could see in the dim monochrome that the early-morning cast across the entire landscape. Prominent, however, was the large two story house that we approached. It wasn't much, really: a house on a few acres and a dream to one day have an animal or six. But it was mine - well, it was ours. But it was a start in life most people my age hadn't yet managed. The car rolled to a stop and I sat quietly for an extra minute. I wasn't sure when I'd have the luxury of a soft padded seat again, or the mild air conditioning that the car used to counter the summer morning's heat. Cohen was kind, though, and clearly concerned. She clicked the door open on her side of the car and I followed suit, climbing to my unstable bare feet in the lush grass. "Thank you… for the ride, I mean." The sun was just starting to tint the sky - red in the east. I could use that and follow south until I found a place to sleep. I'd probably gotten further in Cohen's car than I had in the three days walking, and for that I was very thankful.

Let's not be bashing other members here or I may be compelled to do some Moderator-style bashing of my own Let's also remember that this is an international forum and that medical approaches and techniques vary from place to place- they are not universal and as best I can tell nobody can prove that one way is right and the others are wrong. Nobody here can know whether a member is who they claim to be or not. You have to decide for yourself who to listen to and who to believe. And given the vast amount of medical info available online it's not hard for anyone to verify that what is being said is right or wrong. If you disagree with what another member says then do so civilly and without bashing or you may find your voice is the one being quashed I'm here to maintain order and I will darn well do that as more than a few banned members have discovered to their chagrin. I don't like doing that but I will so don't push me. If you have something to say then say it. Add reference links if you want to add weight to your veracity. Speak freely but do not speak ill of others or you WILL be hearing from me and you won't like my message. If you can't do this then best that you say nothing instead Bettypooh

Can't top this Yeah she knows, but if she wanted to open the conversation she could have spoken up right then and there. That could mean that she is open to your starting it or that she doesn't want to talk about it. We can't guess which though you might be able to. Since it's not going badly now why chance changing that? Just leave the matter alone and be more discreet for continuing the happiness Bettypooh

I agree with Texas moms make elephants look stupid ,they don't forget If your mom thought it was bad or bad for you or dangerous she would have have read you the riot act 6-8 years ago , not tucked in under your duvet it would have gotten thrown out and you would have gotten s piece of her mind . If parents perceive a threat to there own they take no prisoners in making sure the kids are alright , she knows you got a thing for diapers and is one of the few adults who are adult about it , you are lucky but certainly don't try to provoke a conflict by asking her about it , that would be a signal to her , that you see it as a problem and then it becomes a problem for her , at almost 50 i understand parents thinking . Sent from my SM-T810 using Tapatalk

This guy, his name is Rebel. I've always had a thing for huskies, but personality-wise he's a bit of a trickster. I was in the process of getting a suit made of him, but I had to cancel it for personal reasons.

2. Thank you for this. "Come on in gum-drop, we'll get you a bath drawn and I'll make you something to eat." It was only apparent now from what I was wearing that I'd come from my job - the resident night doctor at the veterinarians office in the closest town. It wasn't much to speak of, but it paid well enough to get by: at least with my husband’s salary as a teacher to augment. It did mean we didn't see much of each other, though. My eyes ran up and down her body and I smiled in satisfaction. "I bet I’ve even got something you can change into." The thought of food was the greatest incentive I could have been given. I hadn't eaten in over three days, and even then my meals were small. My mouth would've watered over the idea of broccoli, a notoriously hated food, though it wasn't where my mind wandered. And the idea of changing out of the nightgown - light purple, frilled, and clearly juvenile; a constant reminder of my fear - left me lightheaded. But I was dangerous… and Cohen was very nice. "I… don't want to impose, really…" "Psh, it's no big deal. Emerson won't mind, either; our house is clearly too big for the two of us." I smiled and locked my car, wandering up to the door of the house and slipping my keys inside. Lottie was right behind me, though she hadn't yet officially accepted my invitation. I stepped inside and turned to look at the girl. She looked so childish in her nightie, so vulnerable with those big blue eyes that sparkled in the early morning light. Her fingers tugged at her hem, and she bit her lip a little; she was clearly troubled. "Hey. It's okay. It's no imposition, I promise." "Yeah… um… thank you, very much…" I wasn't sure I could say many more words before getting myself a drink. I should've asked, but Cohen had already invited me into her home. But… oh! "Could I use the bathroom, do you think?" She nodded and I followed her inside, tracking dirt into the foyer. "Down that hall, first door on the left," she said. I didn't waste any time in hurrying down the hall, slipping into the powder room - no tub - and flipping on the flow. I dipped my head into the sink sideways, slurping at the stream of clear water pouring from the faucet. Nothing in my life had ever tasted as good as that water had. Ordinarily, I would've been upset at the dirt tracked in on the floor; we didn't get very many visitors and our home was our home. We liked things a certain way. But seeing the enthusiasm fill the girls movements had been worth it. I wandered into the kitchen, resolving to tidy up when she was in bed, and peeled open the refrigerator door. Sitting on a tray on the second shelf was the majority of a roast chicken, surrounded by potatoes and pumpkin, baked carrots and corn. It wouldn't be as good reheated, but Emerson knew me enough to know I'd love it anyway. I pulled the tray out of the fridge and slid it into the oven, turning up the heat and sighing. In ten minutes there'd be a pretty good hot meal for me and my new guest. After filling myself with water from the faucet, I used a toilet for the first time in three days. And maybe that was when it hit me. I'd actually escaped. I was free. My life was mine again. They wouldn't find me if I was smart about it, though it would be a lonely life. I'd need a fake ID. I'd need to find a safe town, maybe in another state. But I was free. I wandered back out to the kitchen, noticing the footprints I'd left on the carpet on my way to the bathroom. I looked down at my feet while I walked - they weren't leaving marks anymore, but they were filthy. "I'm sorry about the carpet…" She'd regret inviting me in. I'd have to go without food, without new clothes. It felt too soon… "It's okay. I don't usually sleep for a few hours after getting home from work - I like to wait for my husband to get up, so I can get it tidied." I took a sip from the cup of coffee I'd just finished pouring and motioned to the refrigerator. "Can I get you a drink? I'm heating up some food at the moment, should be ready in a few minutes. Then I'll draw you a bath and you can soak for a while; I bet it'll make you feel better." The little timer on the oven chimed and I pulled the tray out, the smell of roasted chicken and vegetables wafting throughout the kitchen. My stomach sank at the smell of the food, and I felt my entire body quiver with delight. I didn't care what it was or how much I'd get. I was just so hungry. Cohen dished out a large serving of the chicken and vegetable mixture onto two identical plates, then passed one of them to me with a fork. I knew it was inelegant, but I didn't stop to chew. Bite after bite after bite, and by the end of it, I lifted the plate to my lips and shoveled the rest into my mouth. Cohen watched me curiously as I put the plate down with shaking fingers. I changed my mind - much better than the water from the bathroom. "Sorry…" "Hungry, huh?" There wasn't any judgement in my eyes, simply curiosity and a small smile. I got up and fetched a bottle of Pepsi from the refrigerator, pouring out a tall glass and setting it down before the girl. "How long were you out there, Lottie? You don't have to tell me the details. I mean, you can if you want." I shrugged and pulled my hair back behind my ear. "But I get the impression something bad happened to you." I sipped at the Pepsi, though after one sip the whole glass was gone. Cohen poured me a second. I drank that one, too. "Couple days… I think." I couldn't tell her everything; she'd make me leave. And while I knew it was inevitable, I didn't want to go yet. She’d mentioned a bath. She’d mentioned new clothes. I wanted those things first. But how selfish was that? She'd already done so much… but I didn't want to go! Not yet. "We're about twenty miles from town in one direction and double that in the other. There's a few other farms here and there, but our nearest neighbor is a ways away. Whatever happened to you, gum-drop, you're safe here." I smiled and started to clear up plates; I wouldn't completely clean up until I'd drawn her a bath, but I wanted to straighten up a little. She'd been raped. It was all I could figure. She was… maybe fourteen? Fifteen? She had been picked up somewhere up the highway, abducted, raped and dumped in the woods. It was sickening. So I'd take care of her until she was ready to talk, and then I'd take her to the police when she was ready. "Thanks…" I felt sleepy; with all the food Cohen had offered me and all the walking I'd done, it was no surprise. Plus, I usually went to bed around this time, anyway. Morning had been my night. I climbed up from the table and pushed my chair in, looking down at the handprints the dirt left on the chair. Oh, and the seat. I was making such a mess… "I… I'm sorry, again. Ugh…" Maybe she'd offer that bath, now. It would certainly stop me from destroying her nice home. I smiled at the girl, giving a dismissive look at the chair with a casual shrug as I led the way to the staircase, making sure the girl was in tow. "Emerson will be asleep, but our bedroom is to the right. Your bedroom and the bathroom will be to the left, so we don't have to be too quiet. I'll get a bath going, and then find you something to wear. My clothes will be a bit big on you, but you should be okay." We got to the top of the stairs and I wandered down the hall to the left, opening two doors at the end. "This'll be your bedroom. I know it's spartan, but it's a guest room and we don't have guests very often." Still, it was pretty enough. A queen sized bed, a little television, a dresser and some tasteful decor. I wandered into the other door I'd opened and turned the faucets, the water splashing on the porcelain tub as I busied myself looking through scented oils to add. My room? She just meant as a place to sleep, obviously, but the words were intoxicating. It would be temporary, but at least for now, I had a place in this world. I decided not to pace around 'my' room too much, knowing full well I'd just get everything covered in dirt, and instead followed Cohen into the bathroom across the hall. To the right, past the stairs, was another hallway with a door at the end: her room and Emerson's. She was married, right? "Thank you for all this. The food and the bath and… all of it." "Happy to help, gum-drop. My sister went through something pretty similar a few years back, and a nice family helped her out." It was the first time I made any hint of the fact I had an idea what had happened, and I made sure to not let the focus dwell. The faucets squealed as I turned off the water flow and then knelt down beneath the vanity to pull out a towel and a wash cloth. "There's a laundry chute here." I pulled open the heavy metal drawer set into the wall as I took account of the bathroom; there was shampoo, conditioner, soap and toothpaste. That was everything, right? We needed to have guests over more often. "Just put your nightie in here. I'll go find you something cute to wear to bed and leave it in your room. Come downstairs when you're done and dressed, okay?" Her sister…? It couldn't have been the same as me, though, could it? No - she'd misinterpreted. Still, it was hard to wrap my head around. "Uh huh…" Cohen left the room, clicking the bathroom door closed behind her. I sighed and stripped out of the frilly purple nightgown and the obnoxiously similar panties. I made sure to search each of the garments for a tag before sending them down the chute - I couldn't leave any traces - but there were none. Hand made, clearly, and very good quality. Then I moved to the mirror. My room had a vanity, before I'd left - I could see myself every day - but with my skin coated in dirt, the short brown hair mangled, I looked so very different. Older, especially without the nightgown. "We have company." I'd debated going straight downstairs after leaving the cute two piece pajama set in the spare room, but figured it was best to talk to Emerson sooner rather than later. He mumbled and rolled over, looking at me with a small too-early-in-the-morning smile. "I found her on the side of the road, trembling, covered in dirt, starved and a little delirious." He nodded in understanding and I took a breath, smiling down at my husband. "I think something like what happened to Rikki happened. I want her to stay here for a while, okay? Just until she's ready to talk." "She can stay as long as she needs to." "She's in the bath right now. Think you could check with the police when you go into work today? She says her name is Lottie. Don't be specific, just see if there's any missing person reports." "You think that's a good idea, bug?" Emerson asked. "Yeah. Just wanna know if anybody is missing her. If they're not, we'll take care of her for a while."

You should try that from the other side (NOT!) For most of my adult life, the only way I could stay dry was to consciously clench my sphincter closed any time there was a chance of leaking. Which was anytime I moved or was moving, any time I was lifting something, and anytime I felt I might have a bladder spasm Which meant always consciously monitoring myself for the presence of those conditions. One mistake and I could release a near-unstoppable flood Now I'm sure that this helped me a lot to become IC, but it was also a life-long habit I had to overcome same as it is for those with the usual continence abilities. Which is why I say that ignoring your bladder and it's signals is what it takes to become IC You can't change the bad habit of bladder retention until you learn to not listen to anything your bladder and sphincter are telling you. Forget about them and pee anytime you feel like peeing immediately without restraint. When you bladder or sphincter are trying to send a message focus completely on whatever else it is you're doing at the moment. Push those other bad thoughts out of your mind and in time your mind will stop recognizing them. The mind and body are designed to be efficient and to not waste energy on things which don't matter, so by ignoring something long enough, the body learns to automatically do that for you Other things will help but I think that this is the key to it all in the end. Bettypooh

Part 4 Peter dreamed again, and again it involved him and William but this time, they weren’t Princes they were just normal two year-olds out playing on swings in a park. Both their mothers were there keeping a watchful eye out as they ran, jumped, hid and screamed their way around the playground. They were having fun and it only came to an end when he was being shaken awake by his mother. He couldn’t believe how deep or how long he’d slept but there was no disputing that the sun was up and so should he. He was wet. He could feel the dampness surrounding his crotch but had no idea why he’d done so. There was no stress he could pinpoint as the possible cause, he was even ahead on his school project and it wasn’t proving to be a difficult subject so… why? His dream had been fun, no drama or terror, yet his diaper was soaked. He ran his hand over the blue plastic and was thankful that at least it had helped contain his problem and, as he stroked the fabric, for the first time he became aware of the material. Even though they’d done a good job, the pants from the night before had felt rough in comparison to this smooth fabric and had paid them little attention. However, now his interest was piqued he examined this new garment more closely. The plastic was semi-opaque, bonded, shaped and the silver coloured snap studs down each side made them look both stylish and sturdy. Despite the fact that they ballooned out over his thick soaked diaper he was surprised to think that something that thin could be so strong but, as he had no idea how long he’d be wearing them, he decided he should be grateful and handled with care. As he waddled to the bathroom he couldn’t help enjoying the slight rustle with each step. As he slipped them down his legs (it hadn’t occurred to him that he could pull the studs apart), the soft caress on his skin sent a slight tremble up his body. He quite liked the texture of this new fabric and was pleased his mother had bought him something new instead of only dressing him in Damian’s old stuff. Before he threw his damp protection into the hamper he smoothed the blue plastic pants against his naked thighs and was happily surprised that he experienced again that wonderful shiver through his body. * Once at school Peter had no trouble getting to the washroom when needed so his wetting was just a night time occurrence. There was a test coming up but he usually had no trouble with them, he’d never thought a choice of boxes to tick as worrying so, unlike many of his friends, never gave it a second thought. He did tell a couple of his mates about his nightmare brought on by Huckleberry Finn but left out the bit about wetting the bed as a result. However, he smiled guiltily when one of them said he would have crapped himself if he’d had such a dream. He thought telling them about his dream of being a toddler prince might lend himself open to ridicule (as he would have done to any of his buddies if they had confessed to such a dream) so thought better of that and kept quiet. The problem was that once home and mother putting him into diapers for bed, was now preying constantly on his mind. A couple of times a day he’d discovered his thoughts wandering, thinking about them, even ‘feeling’ their phantom snugness around his groin. He found it most disconcerting but also strangely arousing. He daren’t discuss it with any of his mates, he was convinced he’d die if anyone found out he was a bed-wetter and the only person he could talk to, his brother, was away at university. Once home he noticed his mother out in the back garden pottering around picking out weeds and tidying the flower beds. He was shocked to see his diapers and various pairs of plastic pants wafting gently in the sunny breeze and was only glad that their garden wasn’t easily overlooked. Of course the neighbours had seen stuff hanging out over the years when Damian had his problem but he definitely didn’t want them to know he was going through something similar. At the very end of the line were his blue plastic pants, now unsnapped and as a result looked strange, it took him a second to realise what they were. The blue set amongst all the whites of the diaper squares, the cream and milky coloured plastic pants really did stand out and looked oddly out of place. “Mommm, do you have to leave them out for everyone to see…” he whined. “Couldn’t you dry them inside?” “No sweetheart,” she said continuing her snipping and without looking up, “but if you’d like to do the washing in future you can dry them where you like… or perhaps you’d like to start off wearing wet diapers.” He knew that wouldn’t happen, he didn’t want to take on the responsibility of his own washing. “Well, er, couldn’t you, er, not put the plastic pants out they look so, babyish.” She looked up. “Well Peter, when you stop wetting the bed there will be no need for these,” she said as she pointed to the line of washing. “I’ve done a full load and washed all Damian’s old stuff so they are all nice, fresh and clean for you and I’ve bought one or two other items,” she pointed to the blue pants, “they seem a little more 'fashionable' so you wouldn’t feel you were only getting hand-me-downs.” Peter stood there regretting having said anything. “But if you want to go to bed in stale and old protection just say the word and I’ll not bother in future. Is that what you want?” “No mom. Sorry mom. Thank-you.” He turned and retreated back into the house and headed up to his room feeling like an ungrateful urchin. Once behind the safety of his bedroom door he noticed that the night time equipment had been left on top of his desk ready for applying later in the evening. Whilst he stripped out of his school clothes his thoughts turned to the fact that he didn’t really want his mum dressing him every time. Although the couple of times she’d done it he’d actually liked the way she’d fussed over him. However, he thought, not knowing precisely how long his ‘problem’ would last, he should learn to do it himself. Disposables were relatively easy (or so he presumed) but these fabric creations might take a bit more science to get to fit correctly. He stretched a diaper out on his bed and folded it as he’d seen his mother do so accurately, he wasn’t sure if it was quite right but plonked his bottom on it and wrapped it around his waist, then pulled up the other bit of fabric between his legs and tried to hold them together. Each time he tugged he’d lose one of the other corners, or it would be too thick in his grip and the entire construction would fall apart. After five or six attempts he was getting very frustrated and he still hadn’t been able to put one pin in place. Eventually, and after what seemed an age, he had the diaper pinned together. As he lay looking down on it he sighed with relief that at least, in future, he could diaper himself. Unfortunately, as he stood up to admire his brilliant assembly it simply fell off his hips and settled in a heap around his ankles. His mother wondered what had been taking her son so long to get changed and come down for his meal so she ventured to his room just as his unsuccessful attempt hit the floor. She sniggered in a most un-adult way as she saw her confused son struggling with what had gone wrong. Seeing his mom laughing set him off and naked, apart from a heap of diaper around his ankles, waited for her offer of help. She had him step out of it and then, after flattening the thick terry square out on his bed, started again. She showed him how to fold it correctly, which bits to hold firm, which order to pin into place and how to keep it tight though not uncomfortable around his waist. It wasn’t too late but to avoid doing the operation twice she suggested that he may as well be prepared for bed now. They weren’t planning on going anywhere so it seemed a reasonable idea. So, albeit reluctantly, let his mother get on with it. Within seconds she had loosened the pins, added the extra padding and re-pinned him tightly. She then opened a small package that contained another pair of plastic pants not unlike the blue pair he’d worn the day before, this time they were bright red. The silver studs looking effective as she pressed them into place. She pointed out to her well-diapered son that it was the pants which held the entire thing in place and, as she showed him by tucking in any extraneous bit of exposed diaper, it made the entire thing completely waterproof and almost impossible to leak. “That’s not a challenge,” she said as she tickled him, which produced a high pitched giggle Peter couldn’t remember having made such a sound before. They both laughed. *tbc*

B4NS does not answer phone nor does Phillipe......it has become a scam. Email is not answered either. This happened 17 years ago with the previous owner.

Condensation comes to mind. If you are 100% sure that your diaper did not leak out anywhere at all, it could be condensation from moist air trapped between 2 layers of plastic, the backing of your diaper and the plastic pants themselves.

Hey, you made your bed, now sleep in it as they say! Obviously you agreed at some point to allow your wife to make these decisions, so just go with the flow and be happy. To some of us, a soaked diaper is a great time so make the most of it.

This is not an issue for me, or anyone who understands the term "private life". I function normally (as much as anyone with a severe visual disability can, and better than most; my LG aspect has never been a problem for me) in the world at large. It is just one more thing of many that I compartmentalize, which msot persons do as a matter of course, You are different at work than at home; different at home than out and about. Not to the point of unrecognizability, your core persona is the same, just the context-based areas are modified to suit the situartion. Musical events just do not have the enviromental cues or "triggers" for my LG persona to operate. There are musical aspects to being part fairy, things like the glass flute and dulcichord but that stays there

Gertrude recoiled like she’d been slapped. She stepped back. Her wet cloth diaper rubbed her privates and squished with each step. She lowered the rifle, holding it in one hand at her side. Shock gave way to surprised outrage. “You think I’ll shoot you?!” Horror turned her voice into a high pitched squeal. A few chickens clucked and a cow lowed at the sound. Magda simply stared at her with a blank, gaunt face. “You pointed a gun at me.” Her blank tone was matter of fact. “You broke into our barn! Of course I’m gonna point a gun at a thief. I didn’t know it was you!” “Even when you recognized me, you never lowered the gun.” “I-well. You. I-I didn’t know what to do! I still don’t. You think I’d shoot you?! What the hell’s wrong with you?!” Magda was calm and collected in the face of Gertrude’s shocked hysteria. “I’ve stared up a gun like this held by a soldier in a coat like that. He fully intended to shoot me. I’ve seen people lined up and shot down into big pits by soldiers in coats like yours, armed with guns like the one in your hand. Of course I expect you to shoot me.” Her voice was flat, but her blue eyes were full of horror at the memories. Gertrude shook her head, stepping back. “You’re lying.” “It’s what happened to the Jews from our village. A few of us survived only because it started storming. Lightning struck a nearby tree. The soldiers got scared, wanted to get indoors.” “I don’t believe you. If it was true, the newspapers would’ve reported such atrocities.” “What do you think is happening? All across the Reich, Jews are disappearing. You saw the soldiers round us up at gunpoint like we were criminals.” “The papers said Jews were being relocated. Killings were never mentioned.” Gertrude firmly believed the papers and the news on the radio. She crossed her arms awkwardly, the rifle slipping down in her grip. The lantern hanging off her elbow swayed. “I’m telling you the truth. Where do you think the Jews are being relocated to? I bet the papers nor the radio ever mention that.” Gertrude shrugged. She had no answer to that. “Does it really matter? They’re being exiled from the Reich.” Magda smiled darkly. “First it was a train ride. They stuffed us into a small, poor section of a Polish city they’d walled off. I shared a tiny apartment with three families. There was no room. Little food. Once the ghetto was stuffed full of people, the Nazis sealed it off. Then they started liquidating. People disappeared, packed into cattle cars. Not a train for humans. For animals. That’s how they see us. Animals.” Gertrude wanted to deny it, say her once-friend was lying. Jews always lied. But she knew how Jews were viewed...the things taught in school, read in papers and books, heard on the radio. Even in the movies, in songs. A Jew was no better than an animal. Less than an animal. How could she argue with that? Magda’s haunted blue eyes bore into hers. “Once in a while, someone would escape and come back. They told stories about camps and gas chambers. Huge chimneys that belched black smoke day and night. The smell of burnt flesh spread out for miles around. “ Gertrude wanted to call Magda a liar. That was like something out of a horror book. Edgar Allan Poe stuff. Not reality. Yet, if it was real, how were people getting away with it? It was one big, governmental conspiracy theory. Too surreal to be true. Just like all the dead Hadamar patients. Her old doubts about Heidi’s death surfaced. The doctors had been state employees in a government run hospital. Was Magda’s story that much of a stretch? Or just more Jewish lies? As a child, Magda had never lied to her. She’d trusted Gertrude with her deepest fears and secrets. “Y-you’re not supposed to be here. I-I’ll go g-get my d-dad.” Gertrude’s tone warbled her indecision. She was torn on whether to believe Magda or not. “If you’re going to do that, I’d rather you just shoot me. I’ll be turned into the Gestapo and end up right back on the train to Auschwitz. Or Buchenwald. I don’t know which one they planned to take me to. The soldiers never tell us where we’re going. I only know because I overheard two of them talking.” Buchenwald. The name punched Getrude in the stomach. That was the place Josef didn’t like to talk about. Gassings and mass graves. Working in a place like that, it was no wonder Josef had turned cold and guarded. She still wasn’t fully sure if Magda was telling the truth or not, but that name swayed her. Maybe she just didn’t want to believe such horror was going on. All she knew was she couldn’t turn Magda in. She had to help her. Heidi would’ve wanted her to. How could Magda speak of such horror yet stay so calm? By shutting down her emotions, pushing reality to a distance. The same way Gertrude got on with the loss of her sister and her suspicions of her death. “You can’t stay here. It’s not safe.” Gertrude was calm and firm in her resolve. She knew what she had to do. She gestured to the oversized coat. “Josef is a guard at Buchenwald. I can’t offer you refuge.” Magda’s lips twitched in a small, wry smile. “No where’s safe.” Gertrude held out a hand in an offer to help her up. “I can get you some supplies. Sneak you into the house. Get you warmed up. Get you some food.” Her gaze flicked to the broken egg shells littering the floor. “Some cooked food. Everyone’s asleep; it’s safe if we’re careful.” The morbid amusement fell from Magda’s face. She stared at Gertrude’s hand like it was a poisonous snake. “You’re going to turn me in. You’re trying to trick me. It’s what your kind always does.” For the first time, emotion crept into her voice- hurt and bitterness. Her face stayed blank.

I don't have to...my wife is on top of it before I need it.

Tommy was a pretty average teenager living with his father, step-mother and his younger step-sister... That was until he started wetting the bed. Things go downhill for the teenager quickly. Can Tommy stop the slide and prove that he should be treated like an adult? How bad could his step-mother and step-sister be? This is a long story that will start being posted soon. As usual the story will be first viewable on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 Art is drawn by Tato and coloured by Little Crusader.

Communication is extremely important my wife is going through some of those same emotions but lately she has even cooed at me and tickles me more and helped me pick out an over sized stuffie. Last June we almost divorced because of my secret life. She knew of it but I have kept it a secret because she hated it. Last June she blew up via text message and I really thought she was gonna leave me but she arrange for the kids to be watched back home and she drove down to wear I am staying for work. We talked and cried and talked some more. We started with setting some boundaries for me and giving me some waddle room. We also made a vow to be more considerate and communicating. Then we went and saw beauty and the beast where I snuggled up to her the whole movie. The next couple of weeks were still hard but we also asked some friends to help and explained the situation. They are mutual friends and understanding. This gives her a support system when she scared to come to me first. Since then she has made great advances in her abilities at supporting me as you can tell from my initial paragraph. She still does not do diaper changes or really want to see them. Also pacis are in the dark only and after we done talking for the night but I will take it. Soblike I said communication is key.

His mom and his sister know because they are the one that told me they diapered him as a teen because of bed wetting. At first he pushed the bottle away and refused to take it but now he takes it but is embarrassed:-)

Just punch small hole inthe back of the diaper for the hose to slip in, After completing the filling pricess just add some duct tape. Works great.

I have my stuffed bear and blankie. Mommy is trying to ween me off my Nuk Nuk but sometimes she lets me have it. I also have a bottle of water in case I get thirsty.