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Sorry for the delay with this Chapter. Have had life issues intervene, along with some writer's block. Please keep the comments coming. I enjoy reading them, and comments spur me on to writing more of the next chapter. ## Chapter 8 - Conflict I felt a kick against my leg, just a tap really, but still enough of a touch to begin my withdrawal from the enveloping fog of sleep and dreams. I squirmed, and took a few unconscious sucks against the pacifier lodged fast between my toothless gums. Slowly opening an eye, I looked straight up at the mobile above the cot. It was still, though the characters hanging from it jiggled around from vibrations emanating from within my cot. My senses detected slight movements in the mattress, though my body was still, totally relaxed, devoid of even a twitch. The wooden cot creaked softly. As I became more alert to my surrounds, I heard a squeak from the foot of the cot, a shifting of position. My peripheral vision noticed a bear move, so I looked at it, in awe of a dream seemingly so vivid and magical that even my toys were alive! But alas, I soon noticed a human hand move, tiny fingers grasping, purple-covered fingernails glinting in the morning twilight. My sense of being immerced within a dream shattered as I realised someone else was in the cot with me. I let out a yawn, and spat out the pacifier, causing more movement at the foot of the bed. Slowly, a human head appeared from behind the bear. I recognised Little Annabelle. Her blonde hair was wrapped up into a bun, her soft and slightly pudgy baby face dominated by a pink pacifier, her cheeks a rosy reddish glow. She was wearing a plain baby-pink footed romper. Every movement elicited a plastic crinkle. She sat at the end of the cot, partially hidden by the bear sitting between her legs, the bear itself being almost her own size. She was leaning against it, cuddling it, her chin resting on its shoulder, her head turned sideways, her deep blue eyes looking directly at me. I giggled at the cute scene, eliciting a smile from an otherwise tired face. Behind her, stuffed into a corner of the cot were the rest of my plushies and dolls. She’d obviously rummaged through them to rescue the bear, which must have been the movements I sensed. She just laid against the bear for some minutes, using it as a pillow, absently suckling away on her paci, examining my face, smiling. Her face would sometimes change to a slight grimace of pain, a tiny grunt, then she’d return to smiling. After studying me for a few more minutes, Annabelle let go of the bear, and gingerly crawled towards me. She lifted the blanket and sheet, which caused some goosebumps on my skin from exposure to the cool morning air, and settled in next to me, re-covering us both up. She retrieved my pacifier, and offered it up to me, so I opened my mouth, and in it went. Annabelle then gave me a tiny kiss on my nose, and snuggled in, giving me a hug. I drifted back into sleep, my head nestled into her neck and shoulder. It was certainly a different sensation being hugged so lovingly and carefully by a Little. As I succumbed to the remnants of tiredness, I couldn't help but think that Annabelle was actually enjoying her life as a babied Little. BEEP-BEEP...FLASH! Click! Both of us jumped fair out of our skins, hearing those sounds, and the flash of intense bright white light. I started crying, heartbeat elevated, feeling completely disoriented. I could hear Annabelle in much the same frame of shocked mind! "Aww, you two were too cute not to take a picture!", I heard Sarah giggle. "Mum, did you have ta do dat?", a weepy and sleepy voice squeaked. Annabelle was not amused at the antics of her mother. Mum appeared beside the cot, reached in, and plucked me out, resting me on her shoulder, and placing my snuggle blanket over my back. "You'll be right, Meredith", she cooed at me quietly, patting and rubbing my back in reassurance. "You're a naughty mum, Sarah", Mum blew raspberries at her daughter, who was almost crying tears of laughter. Sarah scooped her crying Little from the cot, and took her out of the room, giggling and cooing at Annabelle the entire time. I calmed down after realising what had happened. Mum proceeded to change my wet and pooey overnight nappy, stripping me of my sleeper and an cloth singlet, replacing them with a soft baby-green sundress, and matching green nappy cover, some white anklet socks, and shiny black mary-jane shoes. "Want some brekky, Missy?" I smiled behind my paci back at Mum, who immediately lifted me off the changing table, and we were off into the kitchen. I could see Annabelle getting changed in the home theatre room by her mum, sitting up, having her hair brushed and braided, with a deep purple ribbon being expertly weaved into her hair. She was dressed in nothing but a white disposable nappy, which had prints all over it. Her mum would occasionally tickle an exposed stomach, or an armpit, eliciting a cute giggle or squeal from the girl. When her hair was done, Sarah swatted her Little's exposed lower back, eliciting another squeal. Annabelle stood up, turned around, and gave her mum a kiss on the lips and a cuddle. "Ok, girlie, arms up", Sarah asked. Annabelle obeyed, to find a purple tshirt pushed over her head, then her arms. Her mum followed up with a flaired out deep purple denim skirt, which didn't do much to cover her nappy. A deep purple PUL nappy cover was pulled up her legs, followed by some socks, and a pair of open-toed sandals. "Ok, darling, all done, so go and ask Granny if she can get you some brekky, ok?" "Thanks, Mum", Annabelle beamed back. she gave her mum a final cuddle and roared off towards the kitchen. Annabelle soon looked up at Mum and I, tugging on the hem of Mum's skirt to get her attention. "Would you like some breakfast, Missy Bella?", Mum queried the girl. "Oh, yes please, Granny!", Annabelle beamed back. "Ok then, Missy, lets go find your chair" Mum dropped me into my highchair at the Island bench, and walked off to the dining table, retrieving another highchair, and placing it next to me. This chair was a plasticy white, pink, and purple high chair, which could be dismantled to form a low seat with the base of the highchair turned into a table. Mum picked up Annabelle, and placed her into the chair, making sure to do up the harness straps. Sarah appeared, and velcroed a bib around her neck. I was pleased as punch to have company for breakfast, so I ripped out my paci and started banging it on the tray, giggling and breathlessly trying to speak words. "Maaa aa bbaa". Annabelle giggled away, talking to noone in particular, or maybe she was talking to me, but I was so engrossed in my speaking all of a sudden, I'd zoned her out. With a bowl of warm breakfast cereal placed on Annabelle's tray, she grabbed a spoon, and carefully started eating, but not without getting some on her face, fingers, tray, her bib, and her hair. Mum sat next to me, slowly scooping oatmeal out of another bowl, and presenting it to me. Open mouth was an opportunity for her to unload the mush, which I instinctively started to swallow, or dribble down my chin. Of course, I too ended up with it all over my face, hands, and bib. "Annabelle, do you want a bottle of milk?" "Yes please, Mummy!" She was soon presented with a small bottle of warm milk. "Thanks, Mummy!" "You're welcome, dear", Sarah beamed towards her daughter, who was noticably trying quite hard to be polite. She watched as her Little leaned back in her highchair, and started suckling on the bottle. After my breakfast, Mum offered me a bottle of cool-ish filtered water in a bottle. It was a bit different to my normal milk bottles, but I was quite thirsty, so happily nursed it all down, with Mum holding the bottle for me, constantly studying my face and its myriad expressions, or picking my nose, or playing with my hair. "So, what's the plan today, Sarah?" "Well, I was thinking that maybe we could go to the Mall for lunch, and have a chat about what we discussed last night?", Sarah responded. Mum could see her daughter become slightly stressed remembering the discussions about Michael and the Mob the previous night. Sarah fidgetted a bit, looking down into the kitchen sink, playing absently with a fork in the sink itself. "I'm worried, you know, what Mark said". "I know, hon. I feel a bit lost myself for what to do" "I had hardly any sleep last night, thinking about all of it, it scares me. I'm worried about Bella, and her future." "Ok, I'll see what Keith wants to do", before standing up, and walking off towards the Master Bedroom. After a few minutes, she returned to the kitchen. "He's ok with lunch at Bellamys, but only if you're paying for it!" "Haha, sure, why not!" "He was joking, Sarah", Mum responded quietly, touching her daughter's shoulder. For the rest of the morning, Annabelle and I were confined to the Home Theater, to watch cartoons on the TV, or play with the toys from the toybox. I'd not failed to notice that all the toys had been packed away from the previous day's activities with Michael, Tom, and Kerry-Anne. Whilst looking towards the TV, I noticed that the lego model that Michael had built was sitting on the edge of the TV cabinet. All the unused lego was in the toybox. Mum appeared in the doorway, but seemed content to watch me crawl around. I was slowly finding my balance, and moving around a bit stronger each time. Annabelle joined in, crawling around with me, even though she could stand up and walk quite fine. When I strayed too close to Mum, she scooped me up with a rush, and probing fingers found a nappy not too wet. "That nappy will be ok for a bit longer", she concluded quietly to me I instinctively started to rub my face against her shoulder and neck. I felt quite thirsty. "Oh, I think I know what you're after, Missy" Mum sat down in Dads' recliner chair, dropped a strap on her dress, another on her bra, and presented me with an exposed breast. Yes, this is what I wanted, I thought as I latched on to her nipple, instantly rewarded with a few drops of mother's milk. Suckling produced more of the milky substance. Annabelle climbed up onto the lounge, and sat watching me. As I faded away into a milk coma, I could hear Annabelle talking away to Mum quietly, touching me gently. Sarah appeared briefly with something in her hand, my snuggle blanket, which was draped over me. A warm blanket, lots of body heat, a steady Amazonian heartbeat, and milky sustenance didn't fail to put me to sleep. ---- Stowe's legs cramped up from minimal movement. He'd been cooped up in the van for a few hours now, on another self-imposed stakeout. He stole a quick glance through the grimy windshield of the Battle Wagon, before returning his attention to his aching legs and feet. Too long sitting in the one spot, he mused. Too old to continue doing this shit long-term, too. Fucking must get a real job, or something. Across the road, about four houses down, was a fairly new, single storey residence. An ornate Country-style facade with gables and decorative finishings, double-hung square windows, a front porch with chairs, a flourishing front garden, all suggested attention to detail, and understated comfort. It was apparently also the house from which Meredith sent the message. Stowe had been on the stakeout since before sunrise. He immediately noticed problems with the location - a reasonably busy street, with vehicle movements almost constant. A shitty tactical arena, he mused. He had already driven down the street scoping the area, and the cars lining both sides of the road, then the house itself. Up a side street, he did a u turn, then doubled back, sliding into a parking spot where he could sit and observe the house itself. There were two cars in the driveway, an SUV and a trendy little "smart" car to zip around town in. A near-new medium-sized sedan was parked in front of the house. The vehicles windows were all fogged up from the cold morning dew-filled air. Lights eventually flicked on in the house as the occupants woke up, beginning another day of civilian life and activities. Stowe didn't know how many occupants there were in the place. Bringing up a map on his mobile, he studied the surrounds. Satellite view suggested a park behind the house, an avenue of approach that he couldn't see from his current vantage point. Houses enclosed the park, looked to be a quiet street too. Houses both sides of the street Stowe was on, which was a secondary feeder road for the main thoroughfare at the T intersection some 500m further down. Stowe continued to study the map. Overall, the house seemed quite exposed a location to guard effectively. Quietly, he admitted to himself he needed help, so he composed a quick email to Jacksen advising of the tactical situation, then adding a plea for an unmarked car to watch the house. It was time to quickly see about that park, so Stowe jumped out of the van, and walked off away from the house, towards a laneway marked on his map. He admitted that he really needed the exercise, get some blood flow back into his tired and cramped legs. After about 10 minutes of walking, he stood at one corner of the park, soaking in the surrounds, and the warming rays of the morning sun. Today was expected to be a bit cool, not quite as hot as the past few, he thought. Freshly mowed lawns, lots of shrubs, trees, a nice little play area with swings and a slippery-dip, a toilet block. He recognised the back of the Bradley house by a spire finnial from the roof gables at the front of the place. There was an covered Alfresco deck down one side of the house, windows around the back. The back lawn was almost non-existant, due to the size of the house itself. No dog wandering the back yard. He could discern movements in the house through the sheer curtains covering the sliding glass doors to the Alfresco. Sitting on a bench near the toilet block, he could hear nothing but the birds singing to the rapidly brightening sky away to the East. "Oi, you got any smack, bro?" Stowe looked around towards the voice, at a rather disheveled teenaged boy exiting from the toilet block. His eyes were bloodshot and pinholed. His feet black with grit. "Nah, man, none at all", Stowe quietly responded. "Bullshit, bro, you look like you've ..." "I said no, now fuck off!" "Whatever bro, but that's my seat you sittin on", the kid responded narcily, but also a tad impatient at the giant unwittingly invading his bench. "Did you not hear me, punk, I told you to fuck off!". Stowe's eyes bore right into the back of the kids brain, in a clear "don't fuck with me" signal. The kid looked at Stowe, was about to say something, but thought better of it, and walked away, muttering to himself. After a few more minutes of observation, Stowe concluded that he'd seen enough of the bad tactical landscape, and retreated back to the Battle Wagon. No email from Jacksen neither, so Stowe let out an audible sigh, rubbing his tired face with his hands. He discovered a fresh bottle of water after a quick search of the front seat. A swig of the water later, he felt a bit more refreshed, though he really needed a coffee, or maybe a beer. He settled down, and continued his stakeout. With the sun well above the yardarm, casting short shadows on the ground, he looked at his watch and contemplated whether to drive off to the local shops for lunch. Looking disinterestedly across the road towards the house, he noticed some movement, finally. A male exited the house, carrying a folded up pram. He unlocked the SUV, popped the back hatch, and placed the pram inside. Returning to the house, he retrieved a single large brightly coloured bag, suspiciously looking like a nappy bag, placing it into the back of the SUV, before closing the hatch. A tall slender lady appeared at the front door, with a baby capsule in her right hand. Stowe recognised the lady as the same woman he bumped into in the Mall. He instantly surmised that Meredith was the child nestled in the capsule. Stowe watch the lady clip the capsule into the car carrier in the back passenger-side seat. She then jumped into the front passenger seat. The man chivalrously closed the door behind her. Another lady appeared at the front door, holding the hand of a tiny Little girl. They walked towards the sedan parked on the road. After strapping the little into a baby seat, she jumped into the drivers seat, started the car, and disappeared up the road. Stowe didn't fail to notice the Little girl's happiness, chattiness, and loving attitude to her mum. He smiled at the cuteness of the thing. But Annabelle and Sarah were not the targets here. The big SUV soon backed out of the driveway, and followed the smaller sedan up the street to the T intersection. Stowe followed the convoy, but kept his distance, as he was unsure whether the drivers were at all capable of detecting tails. He needn't hav worried. He initially failed to notice a beat up old car pull out of the driveway of an empty house opposite the Bradley residence, and follow at a discreet distance behind the Battle Wagon. How could he have known - the car looked just like any other in the driveway of a home. After about 20 minutes of driving main roads, the convoy approached the shopping district. By this time, Stowe detected and observed the beat up old car behind him after following a few turnoffs, so kept an eye on it through his side mirrors. The driver didn't seem in much of a hurry to bypass the van, so Stowe deliberated over who the guy's target was - himself, or the Bradleys? Suspecting the family were going to the Mall, Stowe deliberately slowed down, to give the convoy more space to make a few turns into the Mall's parking lot. The driver of the old car started to get impatient at this point too, weaving the vehicle towards the centre line of the road, beeping the horn, looking for opportunities to overtake the big lumbering pile of rust in front of him. Time is what the family needed to make those turns and get away, so Stowe hatched a plan. Coming up to a red light, he started to gun the engine of the Battle Wagon, surging and slowing. Just as he slowed to a stop at the lights, he switched the engine off, which caused the van to lurch forward, stalling. He reached across to the glove box, pulled out his pistol, racked it, flipped the safety on, and shoved it down the front of his cargo pants. To the tune of honking horns, he stepped out of the van, and went through the motions of popping the bonnet. Next he reached for the radiator cap, cracking it a fraction to let out some steam, quickly replacing it. The steam showed everyone the non-descript crappy van was going nowhere, fast! Stowe continued his charade of dancing with a broken down vehicle, walked around to the back of the van, opened the back doors, and found a container of water. With traffic constantly wizzing past on the other side of the road, Stowe knew that there'd be no overtaking of the van, until he got it moving again, so he meandered back to the engine bay, reached in, and emptied the water all over the hot engine, causing more steam. Noticing the two family cars were finally gone, Stowe dropped the bonnet, jumped in the van, started it first go, and drove away. Glancing in a side mirror, he saw the driver of the tail exasperated, talking heavily into a mobile phone, and ultimately take the wrong turnoff. In the split second Stowe had seen of him, the driver looked vaguely familiar. Mission accomplished anyway, for the moment at least. Guessing the Bradleys were heading to Bellamys, Stowe parked the van in the HH&S underground parking spot. Before getting out though, he made his pistol safe, and locked it back in the glove box. Where he was going, he didn't need it. Stowe walked out of the HH&S building into bright sunlight, a beautiful calm blue-bird day, forcing the use of his aviator sunnies. He quietly chided himself for forgetting his baseball cap, but with no time to waste, he headed up the street to the bottom of the Mall. The Mall itself sloped gently up one block to a set of traffic lights at a pedestrian crossing, and a gigantic shopping centre beyond that. For the moment, foot traffic was reasonably heavy, being a weekend and all. With the sun high in the sky, he thought of one thing, food. Well maybe also a beer. Oh, and getting Meredith, don't forget Meredith! As he briskly walked up towards the top of the Mall, he glanced from side to side looking for the Bradleys. Towards the top, near the pedestrian crossing was where he finally noticed them. Mr Bradley was pushing the stroller Stowe had noticed being packed into the back of the SUV earlier, Mrs Bradley intertwined with him by the crook of her left arm. She was laughing and prodding him. The younger lady was also pushing a pram, with the tiny hands of a Little occasionally pointing and gesticulating at the things around her. The whole party were slowly dawdling up the Mall. Stowe reached them at the pedestrian crossing, standing slightly forward of the pram in the crush of bodies waiting to cross the road and enter the shopping Centre. As he surreptitiously stole a glance towards Meredith, who was silent and fast asleep, he heard a distressing commotion nearby. A small group of Amazonian teens started arguing and screaming, leading to a few of them squaring off, ready to fight. An all-too common occurrence in the Mall these days, he thought, and an awesome distraction. Everyone looked towards the yelling and screaming, naturally, all except Stowe. With the parents looking away towards the commotion, Stowe examined the tiny sleeping baby. In moments of high stress like this snatch, Stowe swore that time seemed to stand still. His decisions seemed instantaneous, his movements robotic and lightning quick. He had to move fast and silent, as he was about to snatch someone's loved one. He was standing right next to her now, he could reach in, grab her, and be gone before anyone would notice. Meredith was just a tiny version of a Little, and he snatched those nearly every day. Easy peasy! This is what he was trained to do. To snatch Littles. Just as he started the necessary motions of his body to lean down towards her, he stopped. So many emotions and memories and doubt washed over him in that instant. He willed himself to physically move, but something wouldn't release his muscular brakes. A higher unconscious authority wouldn't give the ok to proceed, it seemed. "This is it, I'm doing it", he consciously encouraged himself in response, but again no further movement ensued. Palms sweaty, his heartbeat racing, its BOOM BOOM BOOM reverberating in his ears. Conflict arose within him, an internal voice spoke aloud within his mind, cutting harshly through his confusion, "Is snatching Meredith the right thing to do?". The voice was unmistakably Mrs Henderson's. "She loves me, she needs me, and I love her, I must protect her", he pleaded. "That's not good enough". A voice of reason. "Meredith is mine" "No, Meredith is not yours, lest you be reminded that she is legally adopted, and there are consequences. Remember what Jacksen told you, dumb ass" "Meredith was taken from me" "Look at her, Stowe", it demanded. A glance showed the tiny girl relaxed, at rest, at peace, and very well looked after, clean clothes, a loving family. "Can you look after her?", it demanded. "No, I cannot", his logical side instantly concluded. Within a single pound of his racing heart beat, Stowe knew he had to leave her. He grimaced. He looked up and around, saw a break in the traffic as the fighting nearby lurched onto the road, and scrambled across to the other side, a quick look back at Meredith etched forever within his photographic mind. Stowe was sitting at an outside table at Bellamy's Cafe, in the centre Atrium of the Centre itself, sipping a much-needed coffee, as the Bradley family walked into Bellamy's, choosing a table in the middle of the cafe itself. Their positions afforded Stowe an otherwise obstructed view of Meredith. He tried hard not to stare at them, but only occasionally glance their way, observing the husband, Meredith's new mother, and the other lady with her Little. A waiter approached the table and took their orders. Jennifer ordered a Latte in a mug, and a BLT sandwich, Keith ordered the same coffee, but settled on a burger, and Sarah ordered a Chai Latte in a mug. Looking down at Annabelle, who was basically pleading with her doll-like eyes, "Oh, and I think Missy Bella here would like a babychino, a cheese toasty, and a little bowl of chips with gravy?" Stowe noticed some rather excited clapping from the little girl. She obviously got what she wanted! With the family settling down for lunch, Stowe went back to ruminating into his own coffee mug, a double shot of espresso, made black. He remembered Jacksen once commented on the state of Stowe's stomach, "must be made of bloody concrete, mate, to handle that kind of coffee strength" Jen reached into the pram next to her, unbuckled the safety straps, and carefully lifted the still sleeping Meredith to her shoulder. She grabbed the blanket out of the pram, and tucked it over the baby's back and legs, tucking it in around her tiny body. All everyone could see was Meredith's head, resting on her mum's shoulder. Stowe looked up, and for the first time was really able to examine her face. She looked like a tiny version of her old Little self. Stowe was a bit confused whether the Bradleys had simply regressed her, or physically changed her. Certainly her facial features were the same. But she was so tiny. She was fast asleep. Stowe scoffed at how clucky he felt towards the girl in that instant, though he had no paternal yearnings at all. Years of hard grinding as a soldier in the Army Special Forces destroyed that. Meredith showed a younger Stowe how to care again, to show emotion. It therefore didn't surprise Stowe that he really felt like a cuddle from the girl, he could just walk up there, introduce himself, and everything would be right with the world. "Dad, do you think that Mark is overreacting to this issue about Michael?", Sarah asked quietly. Keith sat back, played with a chip hanging precariously on the end of his fork, and though of Mark's demeanour last night. "I dunno, though he certainly was not himself", he cautioned. "Little Michael didn't seem at all alarmed though", Jenn added. "Is this mafia family as dangerous as Mark suggested?" "Yeah, I think so. I certainly fear for Mark and the family", Keith admitted. "Hmm". "What do you think Mark will do to protect them all" "Didn't he say last night that the cops have put a protective detail on their house" "Yeah, I think so" Keith whipped out his phone, and sent a message to Mark. [Dad] you arranged with the cops for a guard, right? No immediate reply. But not unexpected, Keith thought. Stowe was half way through his coffee, and munching down on a piece of hamburger meat when he glanced up at towards the main entrance to the Centre. A guy dressed in a suit jacket, and shiny black shoes was flanked by two lackeys. One looked like he'd not slept in a day. Stowe immediately recognised him as the driver he'd forced away from the convoy. The bloke had obviously attracted a friend in the meantime, and what looked to be his boss. Stowe studied the clean shaven, fancy dressed boss-man with interested eyes. The guy seemed familiar, though Stowe could not remember from where. Maybe the HH&S office? Reaching around to the small of his back, Stowe only then remembered he'd left his .45 back in the Battle Wagon. Shit! His phone sat on the table next to the plate of chips. Stowe called up Jacksen's messages, and fired off a request for help. [Stowe] Trouble in paradise, Jac! Mob @ the Mall. Need help! Looking back towards the boss man, he was deep in conversation with his goons, deciding on a course of action. Stowe had no choice, but to act, now! Abandoning the remnants of his succulent beef burger, hot chips, and a rapidly cooling mug of coffee, he walked with a purpose into Bellamys. "Mr and Mrs Bradley?" All three adults looked up at the giant man who'd suddenly interrupted their conversation. "Yes?", Keith cautiously confirmed. "You must come with me", Stowe commanded. His voice was authoritative, but also quiet. He didn't need the Bradleys now to make a scene. "Not bloody likely, mate!" Sigh. "There's no time to waste, Mr Bradley. You are all in danger" "And just who the fuck are you?" All four Adults looked down at Annabelle. "I'm your saviour, little one, and also her guardian angel", Stowe responded quietly, pointing towards Meredith. "Annabelle!" "Sorry, mum", she responded, as cheeks started to blaze a beetroot red. Keith shook his head in pure amazement, before looking back at Stowe. "She's right though. Who are you?" "Valid question, I'm the one who rescued Michael from the Ramon Family. I'm sure Mark has told you the story of how he came to adopt Michael". "Yes..." "Excellent, so now we must leave, and right now". To emphasise his point, Stowe looked back over his shoulder towards the shops entrance. No sign of the boss and his henchmen. ---- The sudden flurry of activity caused me to wake up with a start. I found myself on Mum's shoulder, warm, but a tad hungry. I looked around, and immediately noticed Stowe. He had that wildly excited and desperate look about him, reserved for those times in combat of high stress and immediate danger. "Mi...", I started to sound, hand reaching out towards Stowe. As I blinked, I found myself in my office, standing behind my high-backed executive chair. The office was a shambles, papers strewn everywhere. The filing cabinets were open, and looked to have been rifled through. What did they want? Looking at the clock on the wall, it seemed that time was slow, like molasses in winter. The air was heavy, the office space deathly silent, and still. Tick.... I looked at the photo of Stowe. God, he looked so handsome, and manly in his signature "dont-fuck-with-me" pose. As I moved around the desk towards the photo, I absently ran a finger along the scalloped and carved edges of my desk. Tock.... Stowe was in a "ready" position, hand tantalisingly poised over his holstered pistol, ready to quick draw, a rifle slung across his back. A rifle, no his rifle. I remembered now. Expensive. Dark green resin-composite stock, anatomically shaped. Charcoal black matt action and barrel. A massive matt black silencer, covered in a tatty-looking muslin sheet. A massive scope. Matt black, with more tattered muslin. Stowe's pride and joy. I couldn't drive it. I was too small, though Stowe at least let me attempt a shot one day. Probably just for the LOLs. Boy did he laugh, when I squeezed the trigger, causing an almighty whack from the recoil into my right shoulder, sending me flying backwards. I couldn't hold it up, so Stowe caught the rifle easy, as I let go, stumbling back, in pain, and slightly deafened. Good fun though. Tick.... I moved away from my desk, towards the office corridor. Silence permeated through the room, creeping into my bones, but shattered by the clock's methodically mechanical movements. As I reached my office door, I felt a deep sense of loss. Maybe I'd never see this office again. Tock.... I walked down the hallway towards the back of the office. The door to Mum's office was closed. Should I open it? Maybe she's inside. I'd love to talk to her. But something ethereal drove me onwards. Tick.... I continued, pausing a moment to peer through the ajar'd door into Stowe's office. It was immaculately clean, like he had always maintained it. A half-full bottle of scotch on his desk, an empty crystal scotch glass sitting next to it. Tock.... I proceeded to the end of the hallway. To my right was the door to the bathroom. Directly in front of me, a closet. I opened the closet door. Inside was stationery, brooms, a mop, a few unopened packs of Little's nappies, some towels, toilet rolls. A keypad with flashing red light, hidden in a corner. Tick... My fingers gravitated to the keypad, and entered in the combination. Stowe's service number, hidden in plain sight, for all to see, in the photo on my desk. The light went green, a hidden safe door popped open. I grabbed the exposed edge, and pulled it towards me. The contents of the closet rotated to reveal the hidden safe. The rifle was gone. Tock.... I took a step back, surprised. My pupils narrowed, focused on the boxes of ammunition sitting in the base of the safe. Not all of them had been taken. Only just enough for the job at hand. Tick.... The spotting scope was also missing. But, hang on, I was using that scope on overwatch when Stowe snatched Michael Stone. Tock.... Stowe had the rifle. I felt warm, and safe, hungry, and a tad bit wet. Tick.... I awoke in my pram, being wheeled out of the shopping centre, not by the main entrance, but a back street side door. I could hear Stowe nearby, giving directions to Mum and Dad, hurrying them along, with a whiney Annabelle somewhere behind us. As we reached the Mall car park, Stowe seemed confident enough that we weren't in immediate danger, so told Dad what to do next. "You need to get back home, don't stop for anyone or anything. I've sent a message to the police for assistance. They'll hopefully set up a protective detail for you". "Ok, thanks, but we still don't know your name?" "Oh, yes, my name is Stowe." "Right" Stowe handed over a contact card, turned around, and headed out of the car park. "Can someone please explain to me what just happened?" "It seems that this Stowe dude had been watching us all along." "He said something about Meredith back there in Bellamys?" "Yeah, being her guardian angel, but I don't understand." Mum transferred me to the capsule, but not before I gave her a big hug. Her face was ashen, and lined with fear. I smiled back at her, no fear, signalling to her that we were safe. Mother-daughter bonding moment. Her expression changed. "Lets get you settled into the car, ok?" As we drove out of the Mall, I heard the handsfree chirping away. "Hello?" "Dad? It's Mark! Where are you?" "On our way back home from the Mall, why?" "You have to get here, dad. Michael's been injured". I heard the alarm and fear in the voice that tinny little speaker valiantly tried to portray. "Ok, son. You ok?" "Yeah, just get here, hurry". The line went dead. Keith looked across to his wife. "Didn't you hear what that Stowe man said? To go home, and don't stop for anyone or anything" "I don't think he meant for us to ignore our son, now?" Tock....

Thank you for the great help in getting the formatting straightened, it does look loads better! I hit a bit of a productive spurt and wrote more. I'm not really sure how much is too much when it comes to posting new chapters, but being the weekend I have a little more free time so that should balance out when work starts up again. I realize that posting too much too quickly may not give people a chance to digest what's been posted and comment on any issues if they see them to allow for them to be addressed for future chapters but everything will work out okay. I just got excited that I'd actually finally stopped being a scaredy cat and posted something I'd created. For the record, I'm really glad I did this and I'm pretty happy with how this story is developing from what I've had in my head for a while now. I'm sure that the subject matter will be a turnoff for some and that's not happy but my hope is that people that stick with it enjoy it and it isn't too far from something that can be enjoyed broadly rather than just people as weird as me. Chapter Two: I Feel Pretty Laying on the changing table watching Mommy flit around gathering things up, I was filled with a deep sense of dread for what was to come. I looked down at my now hairless body and shivered slightly as if the small amount of hair I'd had on my body previously had been responsible for keeping me warm. My penisfier bobbed rhythmically in my mouth causing me to blush hotly once I realized I'd been sucking on the phallic apparatus without thinking about it, and the blush grew hotter when my own phallic apparatus betrayed me and rose to life between my legs, demanding attention be paid to its apparent desire to suck a cock. Mommy was at the side of the changing table smiling down at me, the items she'd procured laying at the end of the table out of my sight. She reached down and produced one of 'Nicki's' diapers, a sickeningly girly pink princess adorned thing that she unfolded and worked the creases out of before placing it on the table between my legs. She smiled at my stiffness and leaned down to kiss the tip of my penis. "Someone is very excited to go shopping for pretty new clothes, isn't she?" she cooed as she gently stroked my hardness. I shook my head. "Ith na mah fawt!" I tried to insist through the little pecker in my mouth. "Shh, Mommy knows the truth, baby girl." she said calmly as she continued to stroke. She tied her long black hair behind her head and moved her face down to my groin. "I'll bet you're just excited because you're sucking away on that little fake peepee when what you really want is to have the real thing in your mouth." she began, sneaking little kisses to the shaft of my penis between words. "Mommy knows how frustrating it can be for baby girls to suck away and not get the special surprise they want that normally comes at the end of all that sucking." she explained with almost sincere sounding sympathy. A sudden look of mock realization came across her face, "Mommy knows a way to solve both those problems, baby girl." she said before wrapping her lips around the head of my penis and taking the whole four and a half inches in her mouth. My eyes closed at the feeling of intense pleasure the warm wetness of her mouth provided. I found myself struggling to recall the last time she'd given me a blowjob, and then struggled to remember the last time we'd had straight sex without any fetish or kink additions and all I could remember was the times I'd serviced myself with my little dildo as she watched and encouraged from the sidelines. My thoughts derailed quickly as I felt the building pressure signaling my impending climax and began to suck more feverishly on my penisfier much to my chagrin. I caught her watching me as my eyes opened, her green eyes filled with cunning as she slowly bobbed her head up and down. She reached up and pulled at the ring extending from my mouth and lifted my legs and butt so that my threatening to erupt manhood was pointed right at my face while she began fingering my little hole rapidly to push me over the edge. "Get ready, baby girl, here it comes!" she said excitedly just as I reached conclusion. Licking my own seed from her fingers was one thing, a hot, if wholly shameful thing, but actually cumming into my own face and slightly into my mouth was something else entirely. For the first time I actually got a peek behind the curtain of what it must be like to be someone that enjoys sucking dick, I now knew what it felt like to have the hot stickiness fly at you with inhuman velocity like an electric mixer turned on when the used beaters are no longer in the bowl. I knew what fresh from the tap semen tasted like, how warm it actually was when it hadn't had a chance to cool off on a well manicured digit and most importantly, I knew that I wasn't as entirely against the idea of it happening again, which admittedly concerned me quite a bit and made me question a lot of things about myself as I shuddered and dripped onto my chest and tummy. She smiled at me with a deep satisfaction as she lowered my bottom back down to the padded surface of the changing table and clicked her tongue. "Silly girl, you got more on you than in you." she chided as she wiped the spots of slick goo on my face with her finger and inserted it into my mouth, repeating until all the rogue spurts were gone, finally finishing the cleanup with a wet wipe. "We'll keep practicing." she confirmed as she set to work diapering me up, replacing my penisfier before starting. With the thick, pink garment taped snugly around my waist I was sat up and helped off the table. She reached onto the table and produced a pair of white tights that she had me step into before helping me down to the floor and pulling them up the rest of the way until they were in place. The feeling of the thin material against my freshly shaved legs was heavenly and I found myself actually enjoying all the doting sweetness she was piling onto me despite knowing that once I was dressed I was going to have to deal with something entirely unpleasant. The next item was a pair of black patent leather shoes that fit perfectly with the image of a little toddler girl and once those were on my feet I was stood up again and my little dress was put on over my head and zipped up in the back. The dress wasn't as fancy as some of the things she'd shown me in passing when the idea of 'Nicki' had been introduced. She'd shown me things that made the wearer look like a Victorian era doll had come to life and had designs on taking over the world through frills and ruffles. I'd settled, begrudgingly of course, on a simple sun dress that was peach in color with little kitty cats all over it. I thought it was cute enough to satisfy her desires but innocuous enough that I wouldn't feel like a freak wearing it and I'm happy to say I was right. The dress wasn't too much and when she stood me in front of the mirrored closet door I didn't look as much like a man in drag as I did a man that made a pretty passable girl in the right light, albeit with short hair and an Adam's apple. Leading me by the hand into her bedroom she had me sit on the little chair in front of her makeup table while she sat on the bed facing me. "Now, Mommy needs you to sit very still for this next part." she said with a light pat on my exposed knee before she went to work with her brushes and pencils and tubes of things. She'd taken my penisfier out and I actually felt a longing for it as she applied lipstick to me and did whatever else she was doing before she finally declared herself 'done' and turned me around to the mirror. My mouth was agape as I stared at the reflection looking back at me, I was actually really cute! The boyish features of my face had been smoothed away and covered in such a soft way that I didn't look like I was wearing a lot of makeup, more that I was naturally a sweet little girl in every way. I felt myself peeing, probably from surprise and not at all from excitement at seeing my incredible transformation, at least that's what I'm going to say it was and no one will be able to argue otherwise. "We'll get you a wig while we're out today to finish the whole thing off, at least until we can get your hair long enough to do it up how we want it." she explained as she put all the makeup away. She took the penisfier off from around my neck and put it into her purse as she rose and held out her hand for me to take. "Step out of line while we're out and this goes right back into that pretty little mouth of yours, understood?" she asked as her hand closed around mine . I nodded and smiled up at her. "I love you, Mommy." I said in a soft little voice I hadn't intended to use. She stopped and knelt down to my level, hugging me tightly to her and kissing me softly on the cheek. "I love you too, my sweet little angel, forever and always." she said. "Mommy knows how scary all of this is, but know that you will never be in any danger and Mommy will always be there to take care of you." she added. I smiled and nodded before walking with her out of the bedroom and off to the unknown. *********************************************************************** The drive to the mall was uneventful from the backseat sitting next to the Frozen adorned backpack that held my spare diapers and changing supplies as well as other items I'm sure she'd carefully selected with the practiced eye of an expert in the art of humiliation. I watched the world outside go by and wondered absently what would happen if we ran into someone either of us worked with, but the scariness of that idea made me quickly move onto something else, the light and bubbly feeling I had every time I caught my reflection in the tinted window of the backseat door. When we finally arrived at the mall the wind had picked up as November suddenly made its presence known. I shivered unconsciously and Mommy went to the trunk and pulled out a peach cardigan sweater that matched the color of my dress perfectly and helped me slip it on, patting my bottom when she was done to prod me to start walking, taking my hand in hers in the dangerous parking lot. My mind was on my gait, a slight waddle given the thickness of my diaper and also on the wind blowing at my dress, giving anyone looking a peek under the hood as it were. None of that actually mattered to me though, it was like something had clicked into place inside me and I wasn't concerned with having my diaper show or having myself seen out in the world dressed like a little girl. No one would recognize me, I kept telling myself, everyone would just see a mother and her childishly dressed daughter out at the mall, end of story. As we neared the entrance of the mall that thought was dashed away as I saw Mommy's mommy standing on the sidewalk with her hands covering her mouth in surprise at the sight of me. *********************************************************************** "Nana", as Mommy's Mommy was most commonly referred to, had known the truth about Mommy and I's relationship for quite some time. After we had first gotten married we'd invited her over for dinner and she and Mommy had started enjoying their wine and the conversation they'd been having about us having children was derailed by Mommy casually stating 'One baby is enough for me.' My heart caught in my throat and Nana had looked at me quizzically, noticing my new crimson complexion. Nana cleared her throat "Well, husbands can be a lot like children, especially when they get sick." she'd said, bringing her understanding of Mommy's comment into the dialogue. Mommy laughed. "True, but this little one is quite the handful even when he's healthy." she explained after another sip of her wine. "Isn't that right, baby?" she asked me as she set her glass down. I couldn't form words or even look up from my nervously fiddling hands in my lap beneath the table. "You're not having an accident, are you?" Mommy asked as she quickly rose from the table and came over to me, moving my hands away from my lap and checking for wetness on my pants. "Nope, just being shy." she declared. Nana cleared her throat again. "Veronica, sweetheart, I'm not sure what's going on but perhaps it's time I headed home." she said as she slowly rose from the table and began gathering her glass and dessert plate. Mommy shook her head and waved the notion away with her hand. "No, you've been drinking, you'll stay the night. Just let me get him ready for bed and I'll set you up in the spare bedroom." she explained as she took my hand and helped me stand up. "Come on baby, you can come give Nana a goodnight kiss once you're in your PJ's." she declared and led me from the room with my face on fire as I stared at the floor the whole way to the nursery. "What the fuck, Veronica!?" I hissed as we entered the nursery and she closed the door behind us. "You can't say shit like that to your mom!" I added. The look on her face brought a spurt of urine out into my underwear and I quickly found myself being dragged back out to the dining room and forced to bend over the table before my pants were dropped and my nightmare became a reality. "Mother, Nicky here just used very naughty words and tried to tell me, his Mommy, what I should and should not say to you regarding his status in this house and relationship." she explained. "I was going to get him in his nighttime diaper and pajamas in the privacy of his nursery, but now I think he needs his little bottom warmed up beforehand." she continued before she began swatting my backside sharply. I couldn't look at anything but the blackness of my closed eyes as each blow came and the heat and stinging pain began to grow and grow. I knew I was crying and begging for mercy but that was merely muscle memory at this point than conscious thought. Standing me back up and turning me, naked from the waist down as I hurried to cover my frightened little penis, to face Nana, Mommy spoke again. "Now, apologize for swearing and for acting up while Nana was here." she commanded. I sniffled and choked out a weak "I'm sorry for swearing and for being naughty." "Nana." Mommy insisted. "She's Mommy's mother so she's your grandma, but that sounds so informal, so you will call her Nana." she instructed with another swift swat to my backside. I yelped and nodded my understanding. "I'm sorry I swore and was naughty, Nana!" I cried out as the shame and humiliation overtook me completely and I began bawling uncontrollably as I started peeing helplessly onto my hands as they covered my genitals. Nana gasped and scooted her chair back as she stood up and moved away, while Mommy sighed in exasperation and pulled my pants up quickly to try and contain my leak. "And that's why we keep that little thing in a diaper." Mommy chided as she led me back to the nursery to clean me up. *********************************************************************** After that night, and an in depth explanation of the dynamic of our relationship and more questions than I thought possible, Nana was well aware of just what I was and just how I was treated. It hadn't taken long for her to warm up to the idea of finally having a grandchild, even if it was a grown one married to her daughter, and before long she was knitting things for her grandson and even coming over to babysit when Mommy went out of town for work and I was on baby punishment. More and more often she'd bypass talking to me as an adult and either talk to Mommy about me like I wasn't there or talk down to me like a child even when I wasn't being punished. Mommy did nothing to correct this behavior and instead would go out to the car to grab the diaper bag we always kept in the trunk or let Nana lead me to the nursery if we were at our house and allow her to take away my adulthood right then and there. It was weird and humiliating and uncomfortable, but when I tried to bring it up to my wife outside of baby time she told me that her mother wasn't going to be around forever and that I might be the only chance for a grandchild she'd ever have. It made a weird sort of sense when she'd explained it and my unwillingness to upset an older woman kept me from ever putting up a fight about it from that point on. Now though, with Nana seeing her grandson as her now granddaughter, I was finding it very hard not to throw the biggest tantrum in the history of tantrums, but I really didn't want to get my pretty dress dirty by throwing myself on the ground. To Be Continued...

This is my first attempt at a story, and my first ever post here but don't think that means I don't expect criticism because I not only do but I welcome it! I know there's a ton of writers out there doing amazing things in the pantheon of stories for this and other sites and while I hope I can at least bring something enjoyable to you good folks, I won't fool myself into thinking this story is going to be spectacular, it's just something I've been meaning to write for a long time but was always too afraid to display my attempt at writing. If you enjoy the story let me know, if you don't enjoy the story let me know and if you think I can do better and should try again let me know. I'm really very agreeable to critique even if it's harsh. This story is 100% fiction and in no way is intended to be based on anyone's real life or experiences therein. There is an underage character in the prologue but it's just to establish a history for his life more than anything. I know there's a rule about underage characters and I feel that I've followed the rules but if there's a problem please remove the story with my sincerest apologies and I'll rework the narrative to avoid it going forward. I think that's everything I wanted to say, but I could be stalling for time because once I submit this it's out there and omg it's so nerve wracking but I'm gonna do it...go! A New Life Story By: Ramble Lamb Prologue I don't remember much of my life from before. I'm sorry, that was a fib, I remember everything about my life from before but it seems like the story of someone else's experiences more than anything I'd ever had. Thinking about who I was and what I had seems almost like reading a eulogy for some stranger in the newspaper, it can give you an idea of who the person was from the point of view of someone that knew them and cared enough to pay per word to share why they thought this person was worthy of space on a page but it doesn't really tell you anything about who the person really was. As an example, if I were to tell you about myself right now I'd use descriptions like 'adorable' or 'girly' but if I were to do the same thing before I'd have to use words like 'husband' and 'adult'. Those are just words though, letters strung together to form a recognizable pattern that your brain associates with an understanding of what that word means which can be very different from what it means to someone else. If you were to look at me right now, my long brown hair in loose pigtails, a purple glittery pacifier bobbing rhythmically between my lips as my baby pink painted nails dance across the keyboard then you might see a young woman with an oral fixation hard at work on her computer. If you looked longer you'd notice budding breasts beneath an almost lavender shirt proudly labeling me "Daddy's Princess" in rainbow glitter. The young woman you'd previously gotten an image of now seems to be more immature than you'd first assumed, perhaps the pacifier isn't solely being used to assuage an oral fixation but rather is part of a personality cultivated in the hopes of holding onto the younger self of this young woman. If I were to stand up from my chair to give you a look at the full picture you'd see that the shirt extended beyond the length of a normal shirt, going down past my waist, stretching over a bulk that one doesn't typically see adorning young women my age, connecting between my legs with snaps to keep the previously mentioned bulk from falling when any additional weight is added to it. Beneath the bulk are my thin legs, smooth as silk with a lovely tan to them and the image ends at my little feet encased in soft shoes colored to match my shirt and secured with lovely ribbons tied into bows at the top of each shoe. Overall, this image would be viewed by many as adorable when attached to a biological infant or toddler, but being that I am very much not either of those things, I'm probably seen with a healthy mix of strange looks and harsh judgment but, in all fairness, I don't dress like this out in the world beyond these walls I call home. The nice thing about clothes and makeup is that they allow someone to be whatever they want to be. Admittedly, I wouldn't have guessed that I wanted to be this, but when I have my hair done and am allowed to have a bit of makeup I feel every part the pretty little girl I've come to identify as. When I'm wearing a pretty dress or even just something in one of my favorite colors of pink or purple I feel cute and lovable. I told you before that my life before was someone else's story but it isn't, not really, it's my story and even though it ends with me being a happy and much loved baby girl it starts with me being selfish and naughty and I know now that those are two very not good things to be. ************************************************************************** I was born Nicholas Henry Marks some thirty odd years ago. I had no siblings and my mother was my sole parent. My father had made me with my mother when she was his secretary and he was having marital discord with his wife so needless to say he didn't jump at the chance to settle down with us in nice little family unit. My mother provided for us quite well and, though she never said it aloud, lavished me with love and attention because I was her only keepsake of her one true love. As I grew up she became increasingly fixated on me, going beyond "helicopter parenting" into the realm of doing everything in her power to keep me in a position of needing her. Obviously I don't remember too much of my young life, but I've seen the photo albums with pictures dated from when I was five years old playing happily in cloth diapers and plastic pants without a care in the world. I've heard the stories from cousins, aunts and uncles about how they thought I'd never get out of diapers or how they were glad my mother had stopped breastfeeding me before I'd hit double digits in age. I remember some things, like sleeping in my mother's bed the night of my first grade class' Christmas performance. After the show we'd been taken back to the classroom to wait for our parents to pick us up and it being nighttime, my mother had declared it necessary for me to have my "night pants" on beneath my normal clothes. I remember needing to use the bathroom for something other than tinkle and had wandered out of the class in search of a quiet place to fill my diaper away from the prying eyes of my classmates. Ironically enough I chose a spot near the restrooms, a dark little corner where I squatted down and started pushing only to have a hand clamp down on my shoulder a few seconds in causing me to scream and empty myself out of fear rather than necessity. I'd turned to find my mother looking down at me with tears in her eyes, worried I'd been kidnapped when she'd gone to my classroom and was unable to find me. Seeing her crying and having a full diaper caused me to begin crying as well as I held up my arms to be picked up and carried away. When we got home that night she'd changed me first thing and then settled into her bed with me and held me on her lap as she undid her nursing bra and presented me with something to both soothe me to sleep and fill my recently emptied stomach. Now, I know that that account can be seen as deeply wrong and probably disgusting, and you're not wrong. Looking back as an adult, I know that her actions greatly impacted my life in ways that made me who I am today. The truth is that even if she was wrong and even if she was possibly abusive in her coddling and infantilization of me at such a young and impressionable age, it set me on the path to become who I was meant to be, and that me is so very happy and wouldn't change a single thing about her life. After I was fully potty trained and weaned from bottle or breast I led a pretty normal life. I was a good kid, probably could have done better in school but I made friends and had fun and didn't end up dead or in jail. I never did very well with girlfriends, but some of that was the disconnect with what I thought was normal in an intimacy setting and what they thought was normal. My first girlfriend didn't think it was at all normal that I spent so much time sucking on her breasts in what was supposed to be foreplay that I ended up finishing in my pants before she'd even started breathing heavy. Second girlfriend was a take charge kind of girl in the bedroom and had given up the ghost when I failed to get aroused as she straddled me and grinded her pelvis against mine. She'd called me a few not very nice names that I won't risk a spanking to write here for you. The important thing is that we've established that I was in no way a hit with the ladies. I knew I was straight and that I wanted to have sex with women but not in the strictest sense, I didn't know anything about sex at the time beyond penis goes into vagina and that's where babies come from. As I got older and the internet was becoming a thing that people had in their homes the world started to make more sense to me and I began to learn things about myself that helped me to not feel so different and freakish. I'd always had a fixation on things like diapers and baby things as far back as I could remember but with puberty in full swing I started to associate the pleasurable feelings that wearing a homemade diaper, that was really just a bath towel duct taped around my waist, gave me with something sexual. My first ever intentional orgasm was achieved on the floor of my room with a pee soaked towel taped to me and a thumb in my mouth sucking greedily as my other hand rubbed frantically at my damp groin. The shame and confusion I felt in those early years was almost palpable but, thanks in part to my deviant internet searches I discovered that other people were just like me and what I was wasn't wrong or disgusting and everything was okay. *************************************************************************** Moving forward to more current events, my wife and I had met online in a chatroom for people that liked to pretend to be children or even sometimes babies looking to meet people that liked to take care of those people. We'd hit it off almost immediately in the general chat area and quickly moved to a private chat to be able to discuss personal matters without someone spamming "Mommy I poppy peez change me diapy" or other offensive to basic human intelligence nonsense. We talked for hours a day for months on end and found that we had so much in common beyond just our kinks and fetishes. The obvious problem of distance was something we only ever discussed to express our sorrow that we weren't able to hug and kiss one another, something that happened most often around bedtime when she'd watch me through the webcam as I put a diaper on and got into my pajamas becoming her little boy in every sense of the term as she began to read me a story to help me get sleepy for bed and then at the end of the story she'd kiss the camera and wish me a goodnight and then the fantasy world where baby and Mommy were together was over and I'd find myself shuffling into a cold bed wishing to be cuddling with her as I fell asleep. As it became clear we were actively working to close the distance between us she began to enforce more dominance in our relationship. It started small with her suggesting I have a regular bedtime to ensure I was well rested and stayed healthy, she'd have me text her pictures of my meals to make sure I was eating right and not glutting myself on sweets and junk. When she first brought up wearing a diaper outside of the safety of my own apartment I stood up for myself and told her that made me uncomfortable and she dropped it, for a while at least. A week or so later she randomly showed up at my front door and I was so overcome with joy that I didn't even question the fact that something of that magnitude should have been discussed and planned as a couple rather than decided solely by her but my Mommy was there for real and I was too happy to know anything else but love and excitement. Within an hour of her arriving she had me naked on the bed waiting for her to return with the required supplies to transform me into her baby boy. My manhood was harder than it had ever been and my heart was beating like a jackhammer in my chest as I heard the bathroom door open and saw her stride confidently into the room. She'd changed out of the clothes she'd worn for her trip and was now wearing a black and white polka dot dress that stopped in the middle of her deliciously toned thighs. Her high heels were bright red to match her lipstick and nail polish and her black hair was done up into a tight bun to give her the look of a no nonsense mother figure made all the more powerful against her porcelain white skin. She smirked at me as she glided to the bed and set her supplies down near my feet as she sat at the edge of the bed and lightly brushed the shaft of my penis with her fingers. I ejaculated as soon as she reached my balls, covering my stomach and pubic area with my shameful display. She clucked her tongue and declared that messes of that nature were why she would ensure I was diapered until she believed I could be trusted to control myself, none of her words made any impact on me as my head swam and I felt myself slip into my little headspace, clutching my stuffed otter and sucking my pacifier as she offered each to me and set about cleaning me up and getting me properly attired. That first time together was where she secured her hold on me and established her dominance for the rest of our relationship. By the time she went back home a week later she'd, through spankings and time outs and even a mouth soaping, made me into the perfect specimen for a good little boy and I bawled uncontrollably as she pulled away from my apartment and headed to the airport and back to her life without me. I made it my mission in life to continue to show her at every opportunity that I was obeying her edicts without her supervision in the hopes that it would spur her to come back or invite me to come to her. I started wearing diapers all the time, making sure to text her pictures every day so she could verify my compliance and I'd drink up her praise every time she told me I was a good baby, but it wasn't enough, I needed to be with her. When I surprised her by showing up at her doorstep one day it didn't go as I'd expected. The whole thing fell apart when the front door opened and a man much larger and imposing than myself answered. He recognized me and welcomed me in which, in my state of shock, I complied with and found myself in the living room of a well kept and quite lovely home, pictures of Mommy and this mahogany god of a man adorning the walls including one of them on their wedding day. To say that my heart sank in that moment would be quite an understatement and, against my wishes and strongest attempts to keep it together, I began to cry because I felt lied to and betrayed by someone that I'd willingly given my entire self to. Her husband had put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me into him for a hug as he gently patted my back and assured me that everything was okay. He showed me to a spare bedroom at the back of the house, one that only had a bed and dresser in it and nothing else. I was told Mommy would be home in a few hours and that I could take a nap if I was tired from my trip. Depression aided my weariness and I fell asleep without much issue, waking up some time later to Mommy stroking my hair and urging me to get up because I'd wet the bed. I remember apologizing profusely and offering to leave between sobs and sniffles but I was shushed and led by the hand to the bathroom where she stripped me down as the large tub filled with water. Husband entered the room as she gently rubbed my back and took my wet clothes, chuckling softly to himself as I gasped and tried to cover my naughty bits. As I sat in the tub and she lovingly washed me she explained that she was sorry for not telling me she was married but that they were planning on separating because they mutually wanted something else. She explained that they still loved each other and would remain friends as they had for the years they'd dated and the ones they were married for, but she wanted to be a Mommy and a strong and virile man such as her husband just wasn't going to be the baby she needed. She lifted my head and looked me square in the eyes and told me that I was her baby and just as soon as was humanly possible she wanted to marry me and have the perfect life she'd been craving for so many years. Looking back on it now, it probably should have been seen as a bad sign that a major life decision was made without me being asked and while I peed into a married couple's bathtub as the wife washed me. Chapter One: Not To Be Trusted "Nicholas Henry Marks, you get in here this instant!" my wife bellowed from the living room. As with being a biological child, all three of your names being used to summon you by an authority figure is just as terrifying when you're a grownup, albeit a grownup currently wearing a wet diaper beneath his Spider-Man pajama pants, but a chronological grownup nonetheless. When the holy trinity of names is used in our house it's very clear that an adult man is not expected to arrive, rather, the use of the three names acts as a switch that shuts off all adult thought and will and leaves only the outer appearance of an adult with the soft and creamy center being nothing more than a terrified child that knows a punishment is coming but has no idea what form it will take. Shuffling nervously down the hall, rustling loudly with each tiny step, I fought the urge to suck my thumb, knowing that any minor comfort it may bring me would pale in comparison to the humiliating barbs that would be rained down upon me for being a pathetic excuse for a man. It sounds harsh, but it's part of what butters my biscuits so everyone ends up happy, usually after a trip across Mommy's lap and a stint in the corner, but the aftercare is wonderful so net happiness after all is said and done. She stood in the living room with her hands on her wide hips, her high heeled toe tapping on the wood floor impatiently as I rounded the corner. "Do you have anything you'd like to tell me, young man?" she asked sharply, her tone indicating that I clearly should have something to tell her but no specific thing was hinted at. My mind struggled to come up with something I'd done or forgotten to do, something I'd done when I wasn't the baby of the house perhaps? There actually had been a stretch of almost a month recently where work schedules and general life stuff had kept me in the "man of the house" role, but some spare time had come up the night before and I'd found myself on the receiving end of some lovely regression time with Mommy that had ended with a sticky mess in the front of my diaper and a story before bed. In case you were wondering, this was not the same diaper I was currently wearing, I'd gone through a few since then thanks to my smaller than average bladder. "No, Mommy." I told her honestly, completely unable to come up with anything that would earn her ire. She nodded and walked toward me, pinching the top of my ear between her thumb and index finger, leading me over to the chair on the other side of the living room and pointing down to a small spot or purple on the cream colored upholstery. "Did you spill juice and not tell Mommy?" she asked. My diaper began to warm as I stared at the spot and nodded without saying anything. "And how did you manage to spill juice?" she asked impatiently. I swallowed hard as tears began to form in my eyes. Without thinking my hand was rising to my face, thumb extended aiming for my mouth to help quell a full blown meltdown but she slapped my hand away before my salvation could reach me. With a heavy sigh she sat on the chair and pulled me across her lap and tugged my pants down around my legs. "I think thirty should be a good start." she mused aloud before she slid my diaper down, exposing my hairless and still powder and lotion coated behind and began to deliver the sharp swats she'd planned out. I was a blubbering mess by five and in hysterics at the end of it when she stood me back up next to her, leaving my pants and diaper down where they were. "I'm sorry, Mommy!" I cried out between sobs and snot bubbles. She looked at me with disgust and shook her head. "Sorry isn't good enough, young man, not this time." she began. "You've been far too free this past month and clearly it's time for you to be reminded of your place in this house." she said as she rose and led me by the hand to the corner of the living room where she stood me, nose to the wall and red bottom on display. "I think three months of baby time will help you to remember how things work around here." she declared. Without thinking I spun around and began to protest "That's too long, Mommy!" I whined. She smiled and knelt down, running her hand through my hair. "You know, I was going to let you be Nicky for three months, but since you think you can argue with me when it comes to your punishments, I think maybe you can be Nicki for three months instead." she said. "Oh, and I think Thanksgiving will be a perfect time to introduce my little girl to the rest of the family." she added as she guided my thumb into my mouth and spun me back around to the corner before leaving me to process the magnitude of just how bad things were going to be for me. *************************************************************************** So, some explanation is required. See, we're kinky as a couple, we have a Mommy and baby relationship and we've experimented with a fair amount of things in the years we've been together. In the quest for deeply humiliating and sexually gratifying things, we happened upon sissification. It started out as the usual calling my manhood into question which usually ends with me in a diaper being babied, but she'd apparently done her homework and found something she wanted to try and so rather than a diaper I was put into a pair of cute little panties, powder blue with little cartoon bears on the front and had to endure her putting makeup on me all while she commented on what a pretty little girl I was. It's really hard to put up resistance when your penis is straining against the inside of a childish pair of panties, in case you were wondering. At any rate, things began to escalate from there as a cute little party dress was added in a future session and from there she began to fondle me through my panties and under my dress until one night she began to finger my bottom, and as I helplessly came in my adorable little panties she knew she'd stumbled onto something that she could use anytime she wanted. She began to use anal stimulation to bring about climax more and more frequently after that, even going so far as to buy what she dubbed "babies first dildo", a translucent purple thing slightly bigger than her middle finger that she explained would be the only way I could self stimulate from now on under penalty of punishment. 'Nicki' was born shortly after that when she walked in on me working my new toy in and out of my bottom while hungrily sucking my thumb to stifle my pathetic moans of pleasure. "Show Mommy how much of a naughty little baby girl you are." she commanded as took a seat on the bed and watched my shameful display. "Cum for Mommy little girl!" she encouraged. When I finished shortly after that she put her hand in front of my spurting member, catching a fair amount on her palm and fingers and looked at the mess with a wicked smile before holding her hand to my face. "Are you going to be Mommy's good baby girl and clean her hand for her?" she asked in her syrupy sweet Mommy voice. I felt my face flush as leaned forward and stuck out my tongue, tears of shame rolling down my cheeks as I licked and sucked her fingers and hand clean. She beamed proudly at me and clapped her hands. "Such a good baby girl you are, Nicki!" she praised. "That's with an 'i' in case your little baby brain couldn't grasp it." she said with a chuckle as she set about to getting me cleaned and diapered for bed. ***************************************************************************** Thanksgiving was only a handful of weeks away and I wasted no time in trying to have my sentence commuted or dropped entirely if at all possible. The problem was that I'd been deemed "too little" to do the things I'd planned like cleaning the house and making dinner for us. "Mommy knows you want to be a big girl and make the house all pretty and clean, but I'm sorry to say that you're just too little to be able to handle such big responsibilities." she explained, suddenly finding something very amusing as she covered her mouth with her hadn to stifle a laugh. "Can you imagine how silly it would be for Mommy to let you make dinner when you can't even be trusted not make little baby messes on her nice furniture?" she asked rhetorically. I blushed hotly as she turned me around and nudged me from the kitchen with a gentle pat on my padded behind. I trudged back to my room, our marital bedroom was mostly off limits when I was being babied since a wet bed in the nursery was to be expected but one in Mommy's bed would be very costly indeed, and took my spot on the cityscape playmat in the middle of the room with a heavy sigh of resignation. I knew that my punishment started first thing the following day and two days from then I'd have to go back to work and while I was confident she wouldn't put me into a position where I'd lose my job, the concern that people I worked with would discover what was going on was very real. ***************************************************************************** The very first time I'd had to wear a diaper to work I was a nervous wreck the whole day. I'd been put on punishment for dribbling tinkle on the toilet seat and not cleaning it off and the small infraction had earned a week of diapers and a month of bathroom cleaning. I worked in an office and had a cubicle that thankfully afforded me some privacy but every slight crinkle was deafening to me and I was sure that before close of business I'd be the laughing stock of the entire office and demoted to the daycare center on the third floor like one of those ridiculous stories you read on the internet when you're into the ABDL scene, wink. In actuality, everything went off without a hitch almost the entire week minus an extremely close call on the third day when Mommy had come to take me to lunch and decided to change me on the backseat of the car in the parking garage. After the overly suspense filled change was complete I was given the balled up used diaper and sent to the nearby trashcan to dispose of it when a group of ladies came out of the elevator and started heading into the parking garage toward me. I dashed in between two cars and made a beeline to the trashcan, slamming the diaper in as fast as I could and hurrying back to the car, breathing a sigh of relief in seeing that the group of women was too busy talking and laughing about a movie they'd seen to even notice me. ***************************************************************************** The morning my punishment began started like any other, Mommy coming into the nursery and letting down the side of my crib and giving me a bottle of juice to drink while she got me out of my pajamas and wet overnight diaper. Rather than merely change me though, she left me naked and absently played with my morning hardened member while she waited for me to finish my bottle and then led me to the bathroom where she'd set up a wide array of shaving and hair removal supplies. While not overly hairy, I did have a small patch of hair above my manhood as well as a little on my chest, legs and under my arms. My face was always kept smooth but she made quick work of removing my body hair, even doing a little work on my little pucker in back. Satisfied with her work she got me into the tub and began washing me with a lovely smelling, if overly feminine soap and shampoo. Standing me up she began to thoroughly clean my most intimate areas, causing me to develop shaky legs as I began to pant softly and bite my lip to keep my moans from coming out. "Do you like it when Mommy touches your clitty and sissy hole, baby girl?" she asked in a sultry voice as her washrag encased finger traced a circle around my back entrance. I couldn't lie, though I wasn't pleased with the her new names for my parts or the moniker of 'baby girl', and nodded sheepishly as my thumb entered my mouth. She smiled and set the washrag aside as she rose to her feet and left the bathroom, reappearing a moment later with her hand behind her back. "Close your eyes, little one." she said in her sweet, motherly tone. I complied and felt her pull my thumb from my mouth gently followed by a familiar rubber texture teasing my lips, my mouth opened without a second thought but what I'd expected to enter it didn't and instead something more cylindrical went in. I opened my eyes and pulled the pacifier out by the ring on the guard revealing a small penis shaped bulb rather than the normal teat. I looked up at her in surprise and shook my head "I don't want this!" I whined. She smirked at my little outburst and guided the thing back into my mouth. "Mommy didn't ask you, sweetie." she said mater of factly as she tied the pink satin ribbon connected to the pacifier ring behind my neck. "Since my little girl likes sucking her thumb so much, Mommy figured it was probably time to introduce her to a little practice penis she can suck on just in case she meets a special boy when we're out on the town." she explained with a derisive laugh at my expense. I spat the little dick from my mouth and scowled at her. "I'm not going to suck anyone's cock!" I screamed, instantly regretting my outburst as she leaned forward and began smacking my still wet behind with her open palm. "For the next three months you're my baby GIRL," she began, overly emphasizing the change in my gender. "that means you're going to be whatever my idea of the perfect baby girl is." she continued as her blows continued to rain down, her free hand stuffing my new pacifier back into my wailing mouth. "So, if I decide you're going to suck some cock then you better prepare to pucker up, angel." she snapped as she stopped spanking me and sat me back down in the water harshly, causing my burning behind to scream in agony the second it touched the hot water and floor of the tub. "Now, if you really want to fight me on this then we can discuss it like adults once your punishment is over, but until such time as you're considered an adult around here, you'll do as you're told. Am I understood?" she asked as she looked down on me with her most domineering gaze. I sniffled and sucked the little penis pacifier...penisfier? sullenly as I looked up at her and nodded weakly. "Yef Mommy." I managed to get out between sucks and sobs. She nodded her head sharply and stood me back up, pulling the plug in the drain and helping me out of the tub before wrapping me in a large and fluffy pink towel. "Good girl, now let's get you dressed and ready, Mommy needs to get her little girl some clothes today." she said as she began drying me off. To Be Continued...

This is my first ever story about anything, really, so please be gentle with me, and my writing. I've fallen in love with the Diaper Dimension universe, and after reading a number of tales, thought I'd have a go at my own little story. Comments and criticism is absolutely welcome. I'm hoping to stay the course - I have a plan of where the story is going. I hope that my readers get shocked, get mad, get cuddled, and hopefully also shed a few tears. So, with out further ado, I give to you, a story about Meredith Henderson, a Little, and a Littles Broker in the Diaper Dimension.... ## Meredith - A Littles Broker in the Diaper Dimension - Prologue "Henderson, Henderson, and Stowe, how may I help you?", the receptionist answered into the phone with a tone of voice that belied the many thousands of times she'd spoken that same phrase before. After listening to the caller's initial request, a slightly more interested voice is emitted, "I can hardly hear you, hold on a sec, ... hold on will you! Slow down! .. yes, yes ...", furiously taking notes, "of course we do, I'll see if Miss Henderson is available". "Meredith!", comes a scream from outside my office. I'm buried in paperwork, and really not interested in talking to anyone right now. My desk is awash with scribbled notes on brightly coloured legal pads, printouts, paper forms, a few scattered law books. There's a desk phone here somewhere too. Forget about finding the computer keyboard, it's totally buried under all the crap. "Meredith!" "What?!", I exasperatedly respond, banging my fist on the table, which causes a ripple effect across the papers and books, eventually bumping the hidden keyboard to awaken the dark PC monitor from its slumber, itself precariously perched on a corner of the desk. "Line 1, sounds urgent", came the reply from outside my door. I look up from my work to view the rest of my surroundings. My office was large by my standards , but felt enclosed to an Amazonian. Suited me fine. It had everything I needed to conduct business. Neat walls, covered in Certificates, a few University degrees, some photos of happy times, a wall clock which emits an annoyingly loud ticking sound, and one large painting. There were a few single chairs in front of the desk for my visitors, a bookcase with lots of books and a few of my favourite nappies (strategically placed so curious Amazons could see), and a large battered sofa in a corner, which was often filled by a hulking great Amazon. I acquired an awesome high backed executive chair my own size, extremely rare in this Dimension, fairly expensive too, but the end result more than made up for the cost. It was in proportion to my physique, so when I had visitors, the fact I was a Little was often ignored. I wasn't a small body hidden within a giant object, which would be like a red rag to a bull for Giants, likely leading to ridicule of the Litte hidden in the chair. Outwardly, I looked like a professional Lawyer/Littles Broker, my formal office attire accentuated my looks, and exuded comfortable wealth, my office added to that effect, and my Uni degrees on the wall stated in no uncertain terms that I knew what I was doing. Amazonians sought my company, my consult, my advice. Also quite a rare phenomenon in this dimension, but because i was trafficking in the goods they wanted, they were quite willing to overlook the fact that I was dealing in my own kind. Our company motto was, after all, "you find them, we hide them" I had standards though. I didn't deal in misery. I wanted to make sure the objects of my work didn't suffer, and were safe from harm. However, even I admitted, once they were out of our sphere of influence, I had no way of helping them if the shit did hit the proverbial. Well, that's not quite correct. I made sure my work product and deliverables were airtight, legally. My reputation, and the Firm's reputation and survival, were underpinned by that fact - Littles found it difficult to extract themselves from the relationship we set up for them with their Amazonian parentage, and the giants loved us because we only traded good, healthy stock. Littles also found a (hopefully) loving family (if we'd done our work properly), one which they could trust. With the right paperwork, everyone parted ways happy and, of course, our HH&S bank account emerged just that wee bit richer. Most jobs only required a deft touch with pen and paper (and maybe a few key presses onto a website or two), and a few rubber stamps, but there were always the odd ones from time to time which required the metaphorical hammer approach, or maybe the actual silent assassin approach. For those odd jobs, Mum and I hired Stowe. He goes only by that name (I don't think he's ever told me his first name, actually, thinking about it now). He always loved his Little Meredith talking tough to him, or practicing her swooning tactics on him, or her attempts at seduction. "Stowe! Are you mind fucking my daughter again?", I d often hear from across the hallway. "No, ma'am!" All Stowe had to do was stand in the door to my office, and I'd be jelly, incapable of returning to my work until he left, or sat down on the couch in my office reading a report. And sometimes, Id never even notice he'd be there, until I'd sense a "presence", look up from my work, and see his giant square chiselled face, deep in thought, or with an outrageously mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I so wish I was a giant, I'd absolutely do you right now", I'd tell him matter-of-factly. With a massively deep belly laugh, he'd simply wink and walk away, "come get in my belly, little girl", he'd be saying - always drove me crazy. He was a hulking great Amazon man. Rippling muscles, exuding a very manly "don't fuck with me" attitude and look, honed over many years in Special Forces teams. With a long gun strapped across his back, pistol hanging off his right thigh, war paint on his square face, boonie hat and cammies, webbing, and combat boots, him standing with feet shoulder width apart, right hand tantalisingly poised over his pistol as if to quick-draw, his photo on my desk was enough to give me all the warm and fuzzies I needed, for the times I'd be missing him, and needing some security. Curiously, his nameplate on his cammies was just a number. I asked him one day about it, not long after he handed it to me (framed and all). It was his service number (6510029). No one in the SF were outwardly identified by name - security he said. Weird. Studying the photo, I could also see a gentle giant, a true gentleman at heart. His eyes exuded confidence, but also a touch of admiration for those around him, his team, his mates, his family. Mum and I, we were his family. Mum discovered him one day on the street. She was off to an orphanage, and found him fighting a bunch of Amazonian thugs who were dragging a poor Little down the footpath. As mum approached, phone in hand yelling that she'd called the cops, a thug whipped out a knife, stabbed a distracted Stowe multiple times in the arm, turned tail, and ran off with the others. When the cops arrived, they arrested and started to blame Stowe for the Little's injuries, but mum set the record straight, and escorted a bleeding-like-a-stuffed-pig Stowe and the badly beaten Little to hospital for treatment. Stowe, being unemployed and living on the street after being dumped by the SF for being beyond his prime, was eternally grateful to her for saving him, and fixing the hospital bill. She offered him a room at our house, which was where he met me for the first time. She gave him an ultimatum though - get to work, or get out. Mum never tolerated freeloaders, but in him, she could sense something different, something great. He took the opportunity to do something new with his life, studied for an Investigations diploma, got his PI ticket, and learnt a lot of stuff about doing jobs the old-fashioned legal way, and the oh-so-subtle illegal way. We employed him as our Private Investigator, and I loved his company. Protection at law, and at gun, I could do anything with him around. Nobody could fuck with me. Today though, his presence was not felt, not heard, not seen. The couch was empty. I reached out for the phone, punched a flashing light, and spoke into the very old-school handset, tucked between my shoulder and ear. "Meredith Henderson here", I stated. "Hello, can you hear me?", a very quiet voice responded, with a sense of urgency, and a dollop of upper-class, which prompted a raised eyebrow, and slightly raised heartbeat. "I don't have much time. " "Yes I can hear you, so what's up?", impatience welling up inside me. "Do you remember the Stonegate murders?", the voice whispered. I stopped fidgeting, and looked at the photo on my desk. Stonegate was a rather large successful company which manufactured and managed the inter-Dimensional portals. Because they were at all the ports, Stonegate demanded a fee for every traveller using them. One would normally not hear about a company like this, unless one was a frequent flyer across inter-Dimensional space. But about three month ago things changed, and Stonegate Inc was thrust into the news, first page even. The CEO and Chairman of the company, William Stone, was charged with corruption, for attempting to buy off the port authorities after another company tried to push into the interDimensional portal business. The product was quite superior to the Stonegate product, so Mr Stone panicked. Stonegate's share price tanked. Money talks to Amazons, so the port officials in charge of procurement accepted a heaping wad of cash from Stonegate. Unbeknownst to all, some photos of the deal landed on the Federal Attorneys & Prosecutors desk not long after, and Mr Stone was done for. Stone reacted by sending a goon off to a business meeting Stone had arranged with the other company CEO. The goon was to make it all look like a random hit - Stone called the meeting as a peace offering. Stone walked away from that noisy and bloody meeting battered and bruised after being bitch-slapped with a pistol, the other CEO having lost his life, as well as approximately $417 in change. The hit was supposed to be disguised as just a stupid street robbery gone wrong. So much for having a quiet meeting in a cafe. What Stone failed to realise though, a significant shareholder in that company was none other than the Ramon Family, long-suspected of being members of a feared interDimensional mafia syndicate. Don Ramon took offence to having his hand-picked CEO gunned down, so he went after Stone in the most brutal way possible - attacking Stone's family. In one crazed night of horrific violence, Stone was beaten and tortured to within an inch of death in front of his beloved family. He freely admitted in the end to his role in the murder, whereupon Don Ramon selected each of the family members in turn, marched them at gunpoint to stand in front of Stone, who was tied to a chair, breathing heavily, one eye closed from swelling and bruising, matted hair everywhere, and caked in blood and sweat. "Say goodbye to this one, Mr Stone!", Don Ramon would say, before squeezing the trigger, and sending brain matter, blood, and bone fragments all over Stone. "I was there," the voice quietly stated. I could hear almost silent sobbing, and could only imagine the tears flowing. "How? The Stone family were all shot dead", I pointed out. "Not me, I was taken as a hostage". I looked up as my secretary walked in with a piece of paper - "call trace has started" plus some details. I nodded and she disappeared back to the main foyer. "So, who are you?", I queried, slightly confused "I'm Michael Stone, and I was adopted into the family a few years ago." "You're a Little? I didn't know Mr Stone had a Little." "Yes, I am, and I'm now also the heir to the Stone family Estate". I sat up at that bit of news. "I need to be extracted from this situation, so you need to get me out of here!", Michael pleaded with me, with a panicked tone of voice. "Ok, we may be able to extract you, but the price for this kind of job is not cheap" "Aren't you listening to me?" "Yes, you're Michael Stone. Tell me, why are they keeping you alive?" I heard a frustrated groan through my handset. "He's using me to go after the Stone Estate fortune. He wants me to sign over the Estate, by the end of the week..." Which gives us four days to plan and execute the snatch, I thought to myself "... or else I'm toast." "Doesn't give us much time. Risk goes up, price goes up", I openly mused. "I'm at the Ramon Family home, if that's any consolation. " "I don't know where that ...", and was interrupted. An instant message popped up on my computer monitor, "trace completed". "Ok, sit tight, keep hiding, and we'll come get you, likely Friday. We know where you are. " "I won't ask how you know where I am" "Everglades Hills", was my response, after reading the message on my screen. Inwardly, I was scared for Michael, and for Stowe, who'd have to go in and do the snatch. "Yes, that sounds familiar. There's lots of goons around. They keep me locked up in a room upstairs all night, but I've managed to pick the locks on the windows, and can slink around the house undetected." "Umm, what phone are you using?", I enquired, after looking at the trace details in the instant message. The phone number wasn't a Ramon number. "Oh, I stole one of the goons mobiles. The guy's as thick as two bricks, so he'll never find it". After a quick chat about the finances (HH&S were to be quite rightly paid for such a high-risk service), we hung up. "Mum! I've got a hot extract Job for Stowe! Where is he?", I yelled, completely ignoring the option of using instant messenger - I still hadn't spied my keyboard. Next minute, mum walked into my office. She was a typical 50-odd year old Amazonian working mother, constantly on the go doing sales meetings, organising adoptions, attending Littles adoption markets, all the while being a fair and rounded mum to Little me. She was a disciplinarian when I was younger, which I hated, but at the end of the day, I turned out ok for the experience. She was an awesome Amazonian mum to a Little. "What's going on?", she questioned, whilst sitting down into one of the chairs at my desk. I told her the story of Michael Stone, a Little needing extraction from the Mafia. She cringed at that bit of news. So I told her the price Michael and I agreed to. To sweeten the deal, I added expenses paid too. Mum finally relented, and gave me approval to proceed. "Brief Stowe", she commanded, finally, as she stood up and started walking to the door. "I'll start looking for a safe family to hide him in". "Awesome, ok". My excitement was growing - I was about to unleash the silent assassin. After mum left, I was right back on the phone, contacting Stowe. After a quick chat about the situation, Stowe came bounding through my door about an hour later. "Michael's at Don Ramon's residence in Everglades", I briefed him. Stowe took notes, as I told him all the details we had gleaned to date. I added the GPS coordinates of the phone we tracked, wherin Stowe dug out his tablet PC and looked it up on a map. "Hmm... ". He was lost in thought for a long while, obviously looking at the contours and terrain features of his approach to the residence. Prodding and poking at his tablet screen, flicking around maps and satellite images, He looked at me suddenly, with a dead serious face, "... do you want in?" "What, as spotter? Sure, so long as I don't have to go in there with you", I replied with some trepidation. I was occasionally offered the role of spotter for Stowe, and enjoyed those intimate and dangerous moments with him. To tell the truth, I got a kick out of watching Stowe slot someone at long distance. "Yup, I want you on this cliff here", and pointed out a sweet location on the map for me to set up an overwatch position. "Yeah, I can get there, no worries, but when?" "Tonight" At about 11pm, I was dressed from head to toe in black, a black hoodie, black balaclava, radio headset on, black gloves, black cargo pants, and black combat boots. No gun. Usual white disposable nappy, but a dark cammie-print nappy cover (present from Stowe), to really get in the mood. A svelte lass, dolled up in black, ready to do business. I was also quite dirty, as the ledge I was lying prone on was covered in muddy dirt, pebbles, moss, and dead leaf matter. I'd selected a shelf of rock, under the main ledge, so as not to silhouette my outline against the blackish starry night sky - Stowe was a great teacher in the dark art of stalking. It was a beautiful night, lots of light with which to work to. Although I had a pair of night-vision binoculars up to my eyes, intensely scanning the scene below me, I could not see Stowe, could not discern movement, bar some guards wandering around the perimeter of the Ramon compound, which was dimly lit. "I'm counting about 6 guards, four in each corner of the compound, two roaming inside the perimeter. Wait one...", whispering into the mic. "Ok, copy", was the silent response. Stowe was not close enough to the compound, otherwise I would have heard just a click of his mic as an Ok. "Yeah, one guard on the first floor. I also see movement inside the one lit window on the second floor." Click, in return. I moved my binocular vision to the wall facing me, as I noticed movement. It was Stowe. I also didn't fail to notice the guard moving on the other side of the wall. "Danger close, other side of the wall!" Click, in response. About ten second later, Stowe took a peek, and soon after climbed over the wall, and I noticed the guard suddenly but slowly sink down to his knees, hands to his throat. I watched as the guy desperately tried to stem gushing fluid from a slashing knife wound, but ultimately fail, and collapsed completely as his life ebbed away through the grass. Stowe quickly dragged the lifeless body to the shadows of the main house, stashing it behind a bush. Looking around for a way in, Stowe found and slowly climbed up a downpipe to the second storey, and peered into a black window. It was open, unlocked, and that was the last I saw of him, sliding like a cat silently through the orifice. "We're supposed to be reconning the place, Stowe, not actually doing the rescue", I quietly pointed out. "All good, no rest for the wicked", he replied, with an distinctly silent yet well-practiced voice. Complete silence on the radio for about 10 minutes, then a sudden but quiet "we're coming out!" announcement. "Roger, I'm seeing no alarm from any of the guards. They're not missing the one you took". Click. Stowe emerged from a door at ground level, facing out towards the same wall he jumped over earlier. I could see he had what looked to be a sack over his shoulder. Click, click, click. Update time, "Ok, no guards moving along your wall. Guards in the corners are looking out to the main road" Click. I saw Stowe quickly look around out through the door, then make his way to the wall, wherein the sack came alive, and he helped it up onto the top of the wall. The sack laid down along the top of the wall, Stowe jumped effortlessly over it, then helped the sack jump down off it, then both disappeared into the brush. "See you in the car park!" I heard over the radio, and our night was almost over, one enemy dead, one Little extracted. As I walked towards Stowe's battle truck (It was just a lowly van, beaten, bruised, rusted), I noticed Michael for the first time. "Michael, how are you?", I enquired. "Pretty good - he's insane though!", Michael responded excitedly, pointing to Stowe, who was taking a swig of water from a container. Michael looked around for a second, but started acting quite alarmed, vigorously checking his pockets. "Shit!" "What?". Stowe looked up at that comment. "The phone, I've left the mobile phone behind!" In my tired consciousness, I didn't grasp the significance. "What the FUCK do you mean he's not here!". Don Ramon stood behind his desk, face red with anger, eyes bulging, fists clenched in front of him. "He's not here, Boss, we've turned the whole house upside down!" "He was in his room last night, yes?" "Yes, Boss" "Then FIND HIM!" The Head of Security walked out of Ramon's office back to his own little room in the basement, wherein he found one of his goons standing near his desk. "Sir, you wanted me?" "Yes, sit down". The goon meekly sat on a chair in from of the HoS' desk with a shiver of nerves. "You were uncontactable last night, why?" "Umm... I... I...I lost my phone, sir" "When?" "Umm, I think about three days ago" "And when did you last see it?" "In the lunch room, I think" The HoS suddenly stood up and walked out of his little office, leaving a bewildered goon behind. Walking up to the lunch room on the first floor, he looked around for a few minutes, wondering where a phone might be hidden, then a thought occurred to him. Retrieving his own phone from a pocket, he looked up the goon's name, and dialled his number, which end up ringing. At the same time, he heard a very faint noise upstairs. Walking upstairs, he dialed the number again. Following the noise, he walked straight into Michael's room, and quickly located the stolen phone in a wardrobe. Bingo. Walking back down to the basement office, he threw the mobile onto his desk, which surprised the hell out of the goon. "Thanks Boss" "Before you say another bloody word, you'll be responsible now for finding that Little! Got it!?" The HoS picked up the guard's phone, examined the call history, and quizzically stared at the number last dialled. Looked slightly familiar. He rang it. "Henderson, Henderson & Stowe, how may I help you?" "Sorry, wrong phone number, I apologise" The goon watched as his boss put down the phone, wrote something on a piece of paper, and threw it across the desk. "... and you can start there!" "My phone?", the guard tentatively asked, whilst reaching for his phone. "FUCK OFF!", the HoS yelled, arm outstretched, pointed at the door. "Ring me when you find them!" "How? You have my phone, Boss!" "Idiot, that's what payphones are for! Fuck!" The HH&S office was rather silent for a while, apart from the click-click-clickety-click of typing. I could almost hear the methodical tick-tick-tick of the clock on my wall. Looking up from my own keyboard (I'd never quite been able to get the hang of touch-typing), I noticed even Stowe was banging away with his fists of fingers on his laptop keys, probably typing up his after-action report on Michael Stone's rescue. We always produced those reports, for total transparency in case someone asked. I sat watching him for a good couple of minutes before my focus was broken by the unmistakable sound of someone opening the office's front door and stepping into the reception area. Every time that damn door opened, a little bell above the door tinkled, and my concentration would disappear for a few seconds. A few quiet mumbles between the receptionist and someone with a deep commanding voice, and things went quiet once more. The morning was marching on, and I was hankering for a coffee and a snack from up the Mall. Toasted cheese sandwich, butter on the outside, I thought. I noticed the visitor walk past my office door. He was a giant, very smartly dressed, tall even by Amazonian standards, fit looking too. He followed our receptionist into Mum's office. As she came back past my door, I mouthed a "who's that?" at her. "New client", she whispered. Stowe looked up from his laptop. We all went back to work. About 40 minutes later, I noticed line 20 on my phone begin to flash. Immediately I whistled to Stowe, and mouthed a "Mum's in trouble" warning to him. He's a hulking great brute, but he sprung up off the couch like an athlete, walked across my office to a cupboard, and retrieved his pistol, racking the slide, and cautiously exited my office towards Mums. He knocked on the door, opened it, and was confronted with the guest pointing at Mum, anger written all over him. "You have one day to retrieve Michael, or you're in a shit ton of hurt, lady!" Stowe stepped into the office, pistol hidden behind his back, but the guest seemed to know exactly what was going on. Stowe openly wondered if the guy was a proper gangster. "Oh, a tough guy?", the guest trolled, whilst looking towards Stowe, sizing him up. "Out. Your time is up, sir", Stowe commanded. Stowe stepped aside as the guest turned around, threw his hands in the air, and stormed out. The little door bell on the front door didn't make a sound as it was forcibly ripped out of the door jamb, and fell to the floor, making a final little tinkle of doom. It took Stowe and I a while to calm Mum down enough to get her to tell us who the guy was. He'd introduced himself as John Stockton, and initially started asking about the work HH&S could do. After about 30 minutes of general chit chat, Mum was led to believe that Mr Stockton was looking for a Little to be rescued. When he started asking about Michael Stone, Mum quietly hit the panic button (line 20 on the phone system), with the guy finally outright threatening Mum. "He's got to be a goon for Don Ramon", Stowe surmised. "Yes. Obviously a fake name. So how are we going to handle the Ramon Family issue?", Mum queried, looking piercingly to Stowe and I, looking for answers. "How th hell did they even trace Michael's disappearance to us?" I had no idea, as I was being distracted by a feeling of increasing famishness. I needed food! "Ok, executive decision time, lets retire to Bellamys for coffee and discuss this". Its funny how slow time moves during a life-and-death situation. As I took my first step off the kerb walking towards Bellamys for coffee, I was struck by a fast-moving car. The bonnet brushed across the front of my legs, my body's momentum causing me to begin falling forward, whereupon my head struck the windscreen, and I was soon tumbling diagonally over the car, legs and arms flying, my body acting like a rag doll, hitting my luckless head once more on the road pavement. The car travelled about two metres forward, and struck Mum clean across the hips as she turned to see me striking the windscreen. She took the full force, denting the bonnet as she crashed onto it, and cracked the windscreen from impact with her shoulders and head. Being much heavier than I, she didn't tumble over the top of the car. The driver hit the brakes in that instant, which caused the car to skid to a stop, forcing Mum's damaged body to roll off the front of the car, landing heavily on the road, lying prone, bleeding profusely. The driver then hit the gas, running clear over Mum, crushing bones, ribs, organs. Stowe was about 1m behind us, so wasn't hit. He was too shocked and angered by the drivers actions that he immediately ran off in a vain hope of catching (and possibly murdering) the driver. As I lay on the road drifting in and out of consciousness, I was smothered in a huge hug from an Amazonian woman who raced over to me. "Are you ok?", the lady urgently asked. "I ... hurtttt ", I weakly replied. "What's your name?" "Meredithhhh .... Hend...", I began to respond, but was quickly fading away. "It's ok, you're ok, I've got you, you're safe now", I was quietly assured by the woman. In my highly confused and pained state, I believed her. "Ok, Mummy ", I quietly stated, as I fainted, succumbing to my injuries and the dark unconsciousness. Chapter 1 - Awakenings My eyes slowly opened to a scene of almost pure white. I could see a light, rectangular in shape, directly above me. It was bright, so I could discern little detail. It's edges were hazy, the fluorescent bulbs too diffuse and blurry. Am I dead? Is this it? Am I seeing the "light"? What the hell has happened to me? Where am I? A shadow passed slowly across the edge of the light, disappeared for a second. A much brighter pinpoint of light suddenly appeared in my left eye, flicked away, came back. I blinked. The pinpoint of light persisted, and flicked across my right eye. I blinked again. I tried to move my body, arms, legs, but I could feel no movement in my limbs, and there was no shift in position of the overhead light. Hmmm…. I could think of no reason why I was feeling so paralyzed, foggy, so tired. Do I close my eyes, and hope this is just a dream? BONG! Oh, ok, my hearing is returning to the land of the living, at least. That's a start! Pip . . . . Pip . . . . Pip . . . . What were those noises? Muffled sounds of people in the distance, speaking of what, I couldn't discern. My interest shifts back to my body. A command from my semi-conscious self to move fingers returns success, maybe, the answer to my question a bit diffuse, garbled through the narcotic haze. So tell me, Missy brain, did my fingers move, or not? I'd really like to know, you know!? I try to lift my head, but it takes too much effort, I have no energy, and a dull ache results. More weird sounds, a wheeze, a pop, some watery gurgling. I feel something in my mouth, so strange a sensation… I can't close my mouth, it's blocked and forced open by this object, and I can't lift my arms to investigate this intrusion! Pip.. pip.. pip.. BONG! Pip.. pip.. pip.. pip.. My heart starts racing, panic rising, as I realise I'm totally out of control of my situation. Oh shit! The shadow reappears, moves across my left side, fidgets for a bit, then leans over me, obscuring the light from above. What looks to be a little wand appears, which is emitting a weird sound. It finds its way into my mouth, where it begins to extract the mucous I can't seem to swallow. After a few moments, it's withdrawn, the noise stops, and the shadow disappears. The shadow returns to my left side, and I begin to discern features, Amazonian features. “Hello, can you hear me?”, the Amazon queries softly. A high Feminine voice. How do I communicate? I can't move my limbs, I can't talk, how to communicate a response? I know! I blinked. “Excellent! I want you to calm down now, ok?” I don't know how to answer that - I'm discovering more and more the situation I’m in of which I can't work out, and am fast approaching the point of totally freaking out, so how to calm down? "Meredith, you need to calm down", the Amazon said gently, but with a bit more authority. I felt something touch my right hand. I tried to swallow, but that thing in my mouth extended down my throat. It took a breath for me - I could feel my lungs expand, as slightly heated and humidified air was forced into them. Sweet, sweet oxygen. My brain started to connect dots. I'm alive! Hello, but what the actual hell happened to me, to cause this much strife, that a machine seems to be breathing for me? I closed my eyes slowly, to think more clearly, and fighting the urge to comfortably slip back into the dark unconsciousness. "Good, good, Meredith, you're doing ok" The Amazon disappeared from view, and started to fidget with something, pressing buttons, and typing on a keyboard. In the distance, maybe behind me, I could hear some quiet music playing. Soothing music, maybe a popular pop song? So I locked my focus onto it. As the song came to a close, I heard an announcement. Ok, that thing is a radio, perhaps? "... news coming up in about five minutes time..." A wave of narcotic-induced fog, nausea, a sense of complete imbalance and dizziness started to hit me, and I found it quite hard to remain awake, and focused. "... it's Friday 5pm, almost the weekend peeps, and time now for the news.", the radio announced, matter-of-factly. "Parliament today has voted to hold an inquiry on legislation passed late last year, which has snared thousands of Littles into forced adoptions, causing utter chaos for relations with the Little People. The inquiry will determine whether the legislation should be amended or repealed, after the interDimensional-UN raised objections to...", the voice droned. A synapse inside my drug-hazed foggy brain suggested that I maybe should have had an interest in that piece of news, but it seemingly slipped through the memory banks, in one ear, out the other. "... update on that terrible accident in the city centre two days ago which caused the death of a woman after it appears she was deliberately run over by a car. Police have arrested and charged a man with dangerous driving causing death..." Hmmm... death is always a sad thing to happen to someone, but to be deliberately run over though is ... hmm... A synapse did fire, but I was too fogged up to decipher its meaning. "... representations have been made to the UN regarding a proposed football match between the Sandown Giants, and the Liverpool Littles team ..." Hope the Giants kick their asses, if they get the Visas necessary from the UN to travel inter-dimensionally - I could help with that! Must get HH&S onto … Too much excitement and mental activity, and I was whacked by increasingly intense waves of dizziness and nausea sensations, so I couldn't help but succumb to the dark unconsciousness that I'd been fighting to stay away from. As I slipped away I sensed another presence in the room. "Nurse, is she ok?", that presence quietly asked, but with a touch of real concern. "Mrs Bradley, she's fine. We're slowly weaning her off the sedation medication, so her waking up is a good sign!", the nurse reassured her, before returning to her fidgeting with medication pumps, and the vitals monitor. "Will Meredith be ready for her procedure?" "Oh, yes, absolutely" "When?" "Couple of days, maybe. Really depends on her recovery from her injuries, her head especially, and approvals from the surgeons. They’ll assess her in a couple of days.“ "Right". Mrs Bradley went back to worrying about Little me, holding my right hand, stroking my very fine, long, fair blonde hair, which was still flecked with blood stains from the stitched-up head wound. Her hand was twice the size of my right hand, yet her embrace was so soft and tender, I could barely feel it. As she later brushed across my head with a finger, I felt pain flood me, causing my eyes to open and stare at the bright light, again. I could sense movement around me. As I tried to take notice of my surrounds, having no sense of time of how long I was asleep, I was startled when grabbed by my right shoulder and leg, and rolled onto my left side, facing someone who leant right over me, my head and chest covered by their work clothes. I could smell their body odour - unmistakably an Amazonian female - a nurse perhaps? Moist warm sponges were rubbed up and down my back, over my bum, in my butt crack, and in and around my girlie parts and abdomen. That's when I heard the crinkle of something being unfolded and placed on the bed behind me. What seemed only a few seconds later I was rolled back onto my back. The person who sponged me down used a cloth to wipe some cream all over my girly bits, in between my legs, my butt, and lower abdomen. Forcing my legs apart, my nether region was carefully encased in a fluffy cocoon of a thick disposable nappy, taped up reasonably tightly, leg gathers checked and adjusted. As I was moved about, I felt pain shoot around my body, my arms, my legs, my head especially. Another warm, wet, cloth was used to carefully scrub my face, my arms, my chest, and my hands. It felt good to be cleaned up so thoroughly, so I revelled in the help and gentle care I was receiving from this person. A couple of warm blankets were draped over me with the edges tucked into the bed mattress, and I soon settled, and was lost once more to the dark unconsciousness. Jennifer Bradley's phone started to vibrate in her handbag, so she reached into the bag blindly, and retrieved it. Unlocking with a finger print, a message appeared, from a source called "Husband". [Husband] How's Meredith? She looked across at the sleeping Little, and started to type her reply [Jenn] She's good, just had a wash and her nappy changed, actually. Is still fairly out of it, but they're weaning her off the sedation now. Her injuries are healing. The Doc says she lost a lot of blood from her head wound, but that's stopped now. He also says she should be good for NAP soon. [Husband] Ok, have spoken with the bank, they've agreed to our request for a loan against the house. I'm going back there shortly with the title info, so they can arrange to settle the funds with NAP. [Jenn] Sweet, that's great! Love your work! [Husband] You just look after our Meredith, ok. Love you, Jennifer! [Jenn] <3 n hugs - XOX -Jenn Jennifer looked thoughtfully back at Meredith, who looked quite peaceful and at rest, if one could be at rest with all those wires and tubes and bandages, and all the associated bongs and peeps associated with machines keeping one alive. She couldn't help but wonder whether she was doing the right thing by Meredith. Thinking about the option of NAP started not long after Meredith arrived at the Hospital . While Meredith was being prepped for theatre, a doctor took Jennifer into a conference room, and started asking some very interesting questions. "Who is this girl?" "Meredith I heard her say, before she passed out" "Do you know her last name?" "No, she never told me. Does that matter?" "Not really. You're in luck though." "Oh, why?" "We found an adoption chip in the girl. Her mother was killed today in the accident." "The lady killed was Meredith’s mum?" "Yes, seems so” “Oh, my goodness”, Jennifer was visibly taken aback from that piece of news. She sat down in a chair, and put her head in her hands, letting out a few quiet sobs. “No matter though”, the doctor continued, “adoption status dies when the last parent dies, so you're free to adopt umm... Meredith, if you like". Mum never got around to adding Stowe as a "parent" on my chip, so... here we are. "I'd love to adopt her, though I need to confer with my husband”, she advised, looking up at the doctor in front of her. "Excellent, I will get some papers for you to sign, and we can re-program the adoption chip. Now, have you heard about the NAP?" "No, what is it?" "Nano Adaptation Procedure, can be quite expensive, but it's possible to make modifications to Little people, to suit your lifestyle." "Oh, really?" "You don't need to make a decision right now, I'll ask Reception to hand you some info on the process to apply for NAP for your child". Jennifer spent quite some time doing research on the NAP process, and the possible changes that could be done to her new child. Sitting down that night with Keith, her husband, they both went through the myriad options, reviewing ones that they thought would align with their expectations for Meredith, and her new role within the Bradley Family. "Meredith Louise Bradley". Mum never gave me a middle name… Jenn spoke those three words to her husband, looking into his deep blue and very bright eyes, which always seemed to glint and sparkle from reflected lights. She had to dab at her own eyes with a handkerchief, wiping off the odd tear that would magically appear when thinking about her new little girl. Jennifer's eyes were already red from crying for far too long. The past few days had been quite stressful and sorrowful, mourning for poor Meredith's loss of her adoptive mother, the mothers terrible death, and for Meredith's injuries, but also feeling overjoyed happiness at gaining a new family member - a third go at motherhood. Finally they both sat down at the computer in Keith's home office, to begin the application process. She looked at the computer screen, which was demanding answers to a set of very sobering questions, so after consulting with her partner, entered in the answers > **NAME:** Meredith Louise Bradley > **AGE:** 9 months > **WARNING: Soul will be regressed to age < 1 year old. Do you wish to proceed <Y/N>?** Y > **OPTIONAL: Do you wish for body to match soul age? <Y/N>** Y > **WARNING: Physical body attributes will be regressed in size and shape to match selected age. Risks include possible physical stress, mental retardation, body deformities, possible death to subject during procedure.** > **Do you wish to proceed? <Y/N>** Y > **OPTIONAL: With age < 1 year old, do you wish to add Baby Brain? Feature includes changes to emotion states, mental capacity, attachment to objects / persons, bladder/bowel control, fine and coarse motor skills. Do you wish to proceed <Y/N>?** Y The questions kept coming. Over several hours, and a number of arguments between the two parents, they finally submitted the NAP application. The next day, Keith rang Jenn with shocking news - they'd have to mortgage the house to afford all the options, especially due to one particular option, which cost half the fee of the entire procedure. Sitting in the ICU room, looking across at a silent Meredith, Jennifer wondered if that last decision was the right one. > **OPTIONAL: AMAZON TRANSFORM THERAPY - Do you wish to transform your Little into an Amazon, with full rights and function that status confers? <Y/N>** Y > **WARNING: There is significant financial cost, and serious side-effects imposed on the Little, by selection of this option. Do you wish to proceed? <Y/N>** "Look at it this way, Jenn. Littles don't normally get any chance to grow up." "Yes, I know that, Keith! I'd like her to have a life though, do things that she'd not be able to do if she stayed a Little", Jenn advocated, becoming more passionate towards a proper life for Meredith with every passing minute. "Like what?" "I don't know, maybe become a lawyer, work for Littles rights, or something like that?” "Wishful thinking there", Keith retorted. "Don't you want her to achieve something? Rather than remain a Little one for the rest of her life, forced to be a baby all the time by Amazons?” "Of course I do, hon! Let's at least get her to school and see if she's got some smarts and aptitude“. Keith opened another browser window and began doing some searches for the serious side effects mentioned. "Hmm... look at this", he pointed to a paragraph. Transforming a little into an Amazon was certainly possible, but it meant the body aged at half the normal rate. "If I'm reading this correctly, when she turns 20, she'll actually physically be 10?” “Why is that?” “Stresses on the body, it seems…”, he summarised, and continued reading. "And so we'll be something like 60 years old", Jenn concluded. "Oh, and there's also the issue of her current age too, so she'll actually be something like 35 years old. " "Yes", Jenn said, and looked away, emitting a quiet sob. "Must be really hard on her body" "Are we agreed? Give her a proper life, as an Amazon?” Jennifer looked back at her husband. He was very close to tears. She could see that, although Keith had his reservations on transformation therapy, he was a softie at heart, and only wanted what was best for his children, Meredith obviously being no exception. She handed him the handkerchief, and confirmed the final NAP option. My weird technicolour dream was rudely interrupted by noise and voices and light. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the brightness. Oh, a light was shining right at my head, with at least three people here. "Oh, hi there!", a deep male voice spoke, off to my left. “I’m very sorry to disturb you, just looking at how your head is healing up”, he upbeatedly stated. A head wound? Ok… I could hear voices in the background again, and it took a few moments to realise it was that radio from before. “… and it’s a wonderful, sunny, Sunday afternoon, time about 3:15pm, news at 4… “, it droned on. I quickly lost focus in the radio when prodding and poking elicited a wave of intense headachy pain. I heard a couple of phone-type loud beeps off to my right. [Husband] Need you to sign some papers with me, Babe. Consent, and legal liability forms these look like. [Jenn] Oh? [Husband] Yeah, from NAP. [Jenn] On my way!! Jennifer put her phone away, stood up, and bent over to kiss Meredith on the forehead, causing the doctor to stop his examination. I studied this new face appearing in front of me. Another Amazon female, not dressed like the others, kinda nice looking, gorgeous deep blue eyes, I was mesmerised. I’d never seen this woman before, yet she bent over and kissed my forehead so gently, before whispering something incoherently, maybe “I’ll be back later”, before disappearing from view. I could feel myself starting to struggle with the tube down my throat about an hour later. I was starting to fight the machine which seemed really intent on forcing air into my lungs at the most in-opportune times. Which prompted more BONGS! and BLEEPS!, so a nurse appeared above me. “Are you ok?” I very cautiously shook my head. Yes, I can nod and shake my head, but the pain is getting quite unbearable. “Are you in any pain?” I shook my head, before trying to lift my right arm, to discover it was restrained. The nurse glanced at my arm movement, “You want the breathing tube removed?” I nodded. “Ok, I think we can do that”, she responded, and disappeared for a minute or so. The male doctor returned, and told me what they needed to do. Things were a bit messy for a few minutes, as they encouraged me to cough and vomit out the tube that extended right down to near my lungs. I did not look a pretty sight, as my actions, strains, and movement caused immense throbbing pain through my skull. Once the tube was out, they replaced it with a mask over my face, which was delivering 100% pure oxygen. A few minutes later, the nurse used a wash cloth to clean my face up of all the excretions and vomitus. I tried to say thanks to her, but only a croak was emitted. “Don’t talk, your throat will hurt for some time - you’ve had that tube down it for a few days now!”, she warned me. Another croak in response, with a nod. A couple of hours later, after a little bit of practice against the nurse’s advice, I asked for ice. “You can only suck on this, don’t swallow it, ok?”, she instructed. I nodded again. An ice block was given to me to suck on, which felt heavenly as the ice-cold water drops slid down the back of my throat. “Thanks”, I croaked. “Where’s my Mum?”, I eventually asked the nurse, after the ice block was devoured. “Oh, she’s stepped out for a bit. Will probably be back later tonight, or maybe tomorrow morning”, she replied without hesitation. “Ok”. A synapse in my brain started to fire away, but the result for me was only one of confusion. When did I last see Mum? Another synapse, then another. I remember crossing a street, was Mum there with me? Damn this addled brain of mine, as waves of pain began hitting me, so I unconsciously began to stiffen my upper body. “Are you ok?” “My head hurts”, I croaked and cried out. A few beeps later, and I was blissfully swept up in a wave of warmth and haze, drifting off into lala-land. My consciousness arrived at a rush when I felt movement. Looking up, the rectangular light began to move, my bed was moving, they were taking me somewhere. The doctor’s face appeared directly above me, leaning over me. “Hi, sorry to disturb your sleep. I seem to have a habit of doing that, really sorry”, he stated. “What’s happening?”, I asked “We’re transferring you to NAP”, he replied quite cheerfully. “Where’s my Mum?” “She’s going to meet you in NAP” “Ok”. NAP must be another hospital or ward, I thought. With all the movement, and excitement of a new location, I failed to notice my heart rate climb. The doctor certainly didn’t, though, and pressed a couple of buttons. I was soon back into lala-land once more, semi-comatose, semi awake, uncaring about what was happening, and certainly not noticing where they were taking me. As we approached a set of closed doors, my bed stopped moving, and I gathered enough energy to fight through the narcotic haze to wonder what was going on. The doors had some official looking signs on them, and a headboard stated “NAP Treatment Theatre”. My panic started to rise, as my brain synapses began firing on all cylinders - this is going to be bad news. The doctor leant over me, and adjusted my oxygen mask. “Where’s my Mum?”, I called out “Right here, baby girl, I’m right here”, someone responded from behind me. Except this wasn’t Mum, the voice wasn’t my Mum. But those piercingly beautiful deep blue eyes I noticed, as an Amazonian woman came into view. She leant right over my bed, staring at me, and grabbed my right hand. I was terribly confused. How could this woman say to me that she was my mother? Wait. What were my synapses telling me earlier, which I ignored? As I started to pull a weird questioning confused face, “You’re not my mum”, I exclaimed. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry”, she replied, shaking her head. As I looked into those deep blue eyes, I could see tears of sadness, pain, and grief appear within them. Bolts of nervous energy coursed through my body, the hairs on my arms stood on end, goosebumps broke out, as those synapses finally formed a picture. I was lying on my side, on a road, smoke everywhere, dust and grit and stones flying every which way, people running everywhere, Stowe looking down to his left, fingers outstretched, arms rising to cover his face, so I naturally followed his gaze down. Mum was lying spreadeagled across the road, blood all over her face, and arms, and legs. A leg was pointed out, a foot pointed in. Black soot discoloured bits of skin. Clothes torn, some flapping in the breeze of the fast disappearing car. I could not see her face, it was blurring out in the vision my synapses flashed at me, and in that moment in time, I knew. “Mummy!”, I cried out. Pretty quickly, I felt a very tender warm embrace from the woman hovering above me, and a crying whisper into my right ear, “I’m here now, baby girl, I’m here. I will always be here”. A few beeps later, and I rapidly began to lose out to that dark unconsciousness once more, looking up to see the light above me begin to move once more, gently sliding through the double doors into NAP.

“Are you sure?” Sarah asked. I nodded my head once again, gritting my teeth a little as I did. “When I need to go, I’ll go. You don’t need to remind me”. She didn’t look convinced. Which, I suppose, was fair. Much as I didn’t like to admit it, I’d had more than a few wet patches and skid marks recently. It wasn’t like there was anything medically wrong, I just sometimes held it a little too long. Well, a lot too long, really. At first Sarah hadn’t noticed the accidents. Or at least, she hadn’t mentioned them, but then there was the night when I was undressing for bed and as soon as I took my jeans off she noticed a smell. I was oblivious to it, so when she asked me to turn around I didn’t think much of it. Until she came up behind me and pulled my boxers down. We were a pretty kinky couple, and we often switched roles between top and bottom. And it wasn’t unusual for us to start a scene spontaneously, but even still, it was a bit of a surprise when she bent me over and gave me ten hard swats on my butt. “What was that for?” I asked, with a slightly more whiny tone than I’d intended. “If you’re going to stain your underwear like a child,” she chided me, “then you’ll be punished like one”. She took my hand tightly and dragged me to the bathroom, where she had me grab my ankles while she wiped my butt, scolding me all the while. After that night our relationship changed a little. Most of the time we were like an ordinary couple, but she was hyper alert to every sign I needed the bathroom, and would remind me to go like I was a toddler. Similarly she would make snap inspections of my underwear, and any marks or stains were met with spankings. It was about two weeks into this new regime when the first proper accident happened. We’d booked a weekend at a hotel on the coast, and it was a couple of hours drive away. She’d made me go to the bathroom before we left, even going so far as to stand over me while I sat on the toilet, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t go. After several minutes of sitting there I eventually squeezed out enough pee to turn the water yellow, and she let me get up, but she gave me a stern warning to tell her in plenty of time if I needed to go to the bathroom on the journey. We’d just passed a sign for the rest stop when the urge hit me. I felt my bladder twinge, and considered telling her that I needed to pull over to pee. The thing was, we were making good time. We’d be there in twenty minutes, and I assumed I could easily hold it until then. I’d like to pretend the reason I failed was because we got caught in a traffic jam, or the car broke down, but the truth is, I was just terrible at guessing how long I could go without peeing. I realised there was going to be a problem just as we sped past the turn off for the rest stop. Within a couple of minutes I was stretching my toes and fingers, trying to distract from the burning in my bladder. It wasn’t long after that that the squirming began in earnest. Of course my girlfriend noticed. “Why didn’t you tell me you need to go when you saw the sign for the rest stop?” “I didn’t need to go then.” I snapped back. “Really? You’re about to piss your pants in my car and you’re getting snippy with me?” “I’m sorry” I tried to placate her, but it was too late. “Apology accepted, but your attitude just earned you a punishment when we get to the hotel” “A spanking?” I ventured. “A punishment, not a funishment. It’s not going to be something you’ll enjoy”. I was too busy trying to hold my bladder to consider what the punishment would be. I pulled my phone out and checked Google Maps. Five minutes to the hotel. I watched as the little dot followed the path… four minutes… three minutes. Then, without warning, the car stopped. “What’s happening? Why’d you stop?” My sense of panic was obvious in my voice. “I told you you weren’t going to like your punishment. Nothing else I’m doing is teaching you a lesson, so now you’re going to have to suffer some real consequences”. My eyes went wide. “The hotel is about a mile away. It’ll take you about twenty minutes to get there. If you’re lucky you might find somewhere en route that’ll let you use their bathroom.” I didn’t move. “Get going, you’re wasting time here. I’ll meet you at the hotel.” Not quite believing what was going on, I eased myself out of the car, careful not to lose control as I did so. Sarah kept the car stationary as she watched me stagger stiff-legged for a few steps, before stopping dead in my tracks and absolutely soaking myself. She pulled forward a little, wound the window down. “I’ll see you at the hotel, honey. I love you”. With that she drove off, leaving me to walk through the town with piss-drenched pants on display for the world. The walk was more tolerable than I’d expected. I only passed a handful of people, but although each one gave me a very strange look it wasn’t as humiliating as I’d expected. That wasn’t the case when I reached the hotel. Sarah clearly thought the walk wasn’t bad enough, and had decided to up the ante. She was waiting for me as I got to the front door, cases beside her, and a shopping bag in her hand. When she saw me she exclaimed so loud people in the next town could likely have heard it, “Oh honey, you wet yourself again. I’m so sorry. Is it just wet or did you mess yourself too?” Without giving me time to answer, she reached into the bag and handed my a package of Tena adult pull ups, “Here you go. These should make it easier to hide your next little accident”. I turned a deep shade of crimson as I took the package from her. I should have been furious, but somewhere between the humiliation and the fact that it was genuinely quite funny, I went with it. After that weekend, she tended to keep me in pull ups most of the time. Every so often I’d be trusted with underwear, but as they were always dirty or damp by the pre-bed check, I’d be back to pull ups the following day. For a brief while that led to a kind of calm equilibrium between us - if I had an accident it was relatively easy to just put a clean pull up on, so although I still got spanked for having an them, she eased off on reminding me to use the bathroom. The problem was, that meant I put off going even longer, and so the accidents not only got more frequent, but worse. The wet spots turned to floodings, and the skid marks turned into full on messings, and more often than not both kinds of accident led to leaks. Things changed with the restaurant incident. We’d both had a busy week, and decided to treat ourselves to a meal out. Nothing grandiose, just a chinese at the local buffet. As usual, I was in a pull up, and as usual I was far more bothered about things going on around me than I was about using the bathroom. I was aware of a rumbling in my belly, but I was also in line for the desert station, and I didn’t want to lose out on a slice of cake just because I’d had to poop. Besides, I’d already soaked one pull up today, which meant a spanking this evening, so I didn’t think a few skid marks would really matter in the grand scheme of things. As I got a slice of cake for each of us, my tummy gave a deep rumble, and I let out a silent but very smelly fart. I was going to have to drop the cake at the table and head straight to the bathroom. I crept across the room, desperate to hold on, but I was less than half-way to the table when my sphincter gave out, and I crapped my pull up. It wasn’t a huge mess, but I was definitely aware of it, and it felt like clean up would be tricky. That left me with a decision to make: I could drop the cakes with Sarah and head to the bathroom to try to clean up, I could tell her what had happened and we could pay up and go, or I could carry on as if nothing had happened and hope she didn’t notice I’d pooped myself until after we’d left the restaurant. True to form, I went with option three. I sat back down at the table, set the cakes in front of us, and began to eat. At first Sarah did the same, but then she paused, taking a sniff of the air. “Ew, can you smell that?” she asked. I thought best to play along, I sniffed the air, “It smells like the drains are backed up, probably the glass washer or something”. She glanced over toward the bar. It was the other side of the room. She shook her head, then locked eyes with me, “It only started when you came back…” She trailed off a little as she realized what had happened, “Oh. My. God. You messed yourself here?!” “I’m sorry,” I squeaked as my eyes fell down to the table, although not before I’d caught the genuine fury in her eyes. “It’s one thing that you shit your pants”, she seethed, as people at the tables around us caught notice of what was going on, “but then you didn’t even try to deal with it? Really?!” I don’t know why exactly, but I began to shake. She caught my eye once again, and calmed down almost instantly, “I know you’re upset. I know it’s not your fault, but I also know that you knew full well what had happened, and when it does happen you need to tell me. Straight away. OK?” I nodded, “We may as well finish this, then you can wait in the car while I pay”. As soon as we got home, I got the spanking of my life, still in my messy pull up. After that we had a talk. She knew I hated being humiliated, and that it really was an accident, but she also made it clear that we couldn’t go on like this. It was the first time diapers were discussed, and the ultimatum was clear, the next time I left anything other than skid marks in my pull up, or I had a serious wetting accident, I’d be wearing diapers until she said otherwise. Since then she’s been super hot on reminding me to go to the bathroom, and for the last six weeks that’s meant that although I’ve had skidmarks and wet patches, she hasn’t had to go through with the threat of diapers. The thing is, I’ve been kind of a brat about it, and have begun snapping at her for nagging me. I know she’s helping, but it kind of makes me feel like a child. Which brings us up to now, and the moment I pushed her too far. “You don’t need to remind me” “But I do, don’t I? Or else you end up holding until you have an accident.” “I haven’t had one for six weeks” “Because I’ve been making sure you go to the bathroom” “Yeah, the second I need to go, like I can’t hold on for five minutes” For a moment she just stared at me, saying nothing. Finally, after a deep breath, she continued, “You think you’re good to hold it? Fine. Come with me.” She took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom. “I’m going to set you a little challenge. You succeed, and I’ll stop nagging you. You can have whatever accidents you like, embarrass yourself however you want, and I won’t say a thing. Fail, and you’ll be back in diapers.” I nodded my head. “Pull your pants down and bend over the bathtub please” I did as she instructed. “When we’re done here I want you to drive to the store in town, when you get there you’re going to buy a cake for us to share, then you’re going to come back and give it to me. Do you understand?” I nodded my head, “I think I can do that”. “Good job.” I felt her finger rubbing around my butt hole. “What’s happening?” “I’m going to make your little shopping trip a bit more exciting” That was when she slipped the suppository inside me. I gave a little involuntary yelp. I’d done anal play before, but this was a surprise. “What was that?” “A suppository. You think you’re so good at holding, now you have something to try to hold.” I made a slight groaning noise, as her finger slid back out. “I’d hurry up if I were you, you’ve got about ten minutes before it takes full effect.” I didn’t need to be told twice. Within two minutes my pull up and pants were back round my waist and I was out the door. Within six minutes I was pulling up to the store. As I got out the car I could feel it churning away, making my belly and my sphincter tingle. I gritted my teeth and headed into the store. The tingling got more apparent with every step I took, and as I reached the cake aisle my belly began to rumble. I reached over to grab the cake off the shelf, and in doing so I stopped concentrating on holding my bowels. I felt something very runny slip past my sphincter, immediately braced myself, trying to hold off the inevitable. I squeezed my butt cheeks together hard, and waddled to the checkout. It only took me a few moments to pay, but every single second was agony. I fumbled as I tried to get my money out, then fumbled with my change when the cashier gave it back to me. By the time she’d given me my receipt, I was sweating, tripping over my feet, and had couldn’t stop passing gas. Never mind not making it back home without an accident, I wasn’t going to make it out of the store. As I stumbled away from the checkout I felt like my whole body was on fire. I was fighting to avoid an accident with every fibre of my being, but no matter how hard I fought I was losing, and losing badly. With each step I took I felt my control slipping. I had terrible wind, and the farts felt lumpy. I finally lost it completely just as I walked out of the store. In full view of everyone, inside and out, I doubled over and filled my pull up. I felt the sludge trying to escape the leg bands as I struggled to my car, finally pushing past them as I sat down. I managed to drive home, but the smell and the sense of humiliation were overwhelming. I don’t remember getting out of the car, or ringing the doorbell, but I remember the look on Sarah’s face as she opened the door and saw me. And smelled me. She ushered me inside, straight to the bathroom, and had me stand in the shower as she stripped off all my clothes. “Well, this is horrific” she muttered, glancing at my stained jeans and the overflowing pull-up. I didn’t respond. Instead I just stared straight ahead. “I think the suppository might have been a mistake. I’m sorry I put you through this” I managed a little nod of my head in acknowledgement. “We can stop doing this if you like,” she continued, “After I clean you up, you can just go back to underwear.” I shook my head, squeaked out a “no.” She seemed surprised. I continued, “Please... “ I began to stutter, “I… I… want the the diapers, please.” She got the shower head down and used it to wash the poop off of me. As the water, then her hands, caressed my thighs I couldn't hold back a smile. “Are you enjoying this?” I nodded, a little shy. My thumb slipped into my mouth. “You little pervert” she grinned. “Let’s get you dried off and in your diaper then” She led me to the bed and laid me on the fluffy, thick diaper. It was far from discrete and there’d be no hiding the fact that I was padded like a toddler. “You’re not going to have to worry about me reminding you to use the bathroom now”, she said, smiling at me. “I suppose not,” I replied, relieved at the thought. “Although I will be checking your diapers.” she said, taping the diaper shut, “And as you’ve proved you can’t be trusted to make decisions about when to use the bathroom, from now on I’m taking that out of your hands.” I had figured this would be the case. I smiled back at her, “Thank you. I love you.” “I love you too, stinky butt” she said, as she leaned down to kiss me.

I wrote this a while ago, and posted it elsewhere previously. Anyway, enjoy, and let me know if you like it, or would like more. I slipped my shoes on and grabbed my jacket. To be honest, I probably didn’t need it, summer had hit full force, and I was already sweating in just my t-shirt, but I liked to have it with me, just in case the weather took an unexpected turn. Just as I was about to head out the door, Sir grabbed my arm, spinning me around to look into his eyes. Before I knew what was happening, he had undone my belt, and pulled my pants and boxers down a few inches, and cupped his hand around the front of my diaper. Not entirely satisfied with the squeeze test, he tugged my pants down a little further, and slipped his finger into the leg hole. He discovered exactly what I would have told him had he simply asked - I was bone dry. Of course, this was only part one. In one fluid movement, he spun me back around, and pulled back the top of my diaper. “I could have sworn I smelled something” he said. “Not from me”, I offered, “Clean and dry”. “We’ll I’ll change you into a thick one when we get to the theatre anyway, so if you need to go in the car, don’t hold it”. I nodded. The instruction to not hold it was part of our little game, but it was based on something very real. While not exactly incontinent, I had begun having a few issues with with my ability to hold on for very long. If I felt the urge, I’d need to reach the bathroom pretty swiftly, or I’d be soggy. Or worse. Under the circumstances, padding was just a sensible precaution. Given that diapers were already part of our play, and that trying to stay clean and dry was usually an exercise in painful futility, Sir quickly decided to work a rule against holding into the mix. With the diaper check complete, and my pants back around my waist, I grabbed my change bag and headed to Sir’s truck. The ride to the movie theatre was pretty swift, and with the hot weather I really didn’t need to pee at all, but as we pulled into the parking lot I knew Sir would expect me to have used the diaper a little, so I bore down on my bladder and forced out enough pee to avoid a punishment later. Apart from a handful of staff on duty,.the foyer of the theatre was almost completely empty. That was a mixed blessing. Although there weren’t loads of people there to witness sir lead me into the disabled bathroom, the few people who were there definitely saw. I was a little concerned they would think we were going in there for some sort of lewd purpose. Evidently so was sir. His solution to this was to add a stuffer to the already thick diaper he’d planned for me to wear, so that it was abundantly clear we’d gone in the bathroom to change me. As I came out the bulge was pretty apparent, but even more of a giveaway was the used diaper Sir had me carry to the trash can. To make up for my improptu and unintended humiliation, Sir offered to pay for snacks. Which is how I ended up with a hotdog, nachos, ice cream and a big ass drink. Given how thick it was, I was certain the diaper could take it. It actually took me two trips to carry my haul in. Fortunately we had the screen to ourselves, so there was no one to witness my gluttony. Particularly fortunate as I’d polished off the hot dog and half the ice cream before the end of the trailers. The film was OK, but halfway through , I started to feel all that food, as well as the big breakfast I’d had before I left, take its toll. I squirmed in my seat, squishing against the already damp padding around my butt. This caught Sir’s attention and he started rubbing my back. “Do you need to potty?” I shook my head, “I’m fine. Just a little numb-bum from the seat” Sir didn’t believe me “Just use your diaper, that’s what it’s there for” I shook my head again, slightly more vigorously than I had intended as my fight to hold onto my bowels continued. Sir took my hand in his, and started rubbing it, “If you keep holding, it’ll start to hurt” I grimmaced, “I really don’t want to have an accident now.” “It’s fine, we’re the only people in here” he reassured me, I don’t know if it was him calming me down, or just the sheer pressure, but at that point I lost my battle, and Iet out an awkward fart as my poop splorched out into my diaper.I’d barely had a chance to lift myself off the seat, so the load found itself channeled throughout the padding, up my back and right to the edges of the thighs. Throughout all this, sir kept watching me, and rubbing my hand.. “Feeling better?” I nodded, staying stiff for fear of a blow out. Sir noticed this too. He stayed seated, while he lifted my hand and ushered me up. With my butt right at the height of his face, he took a quick sniff. There was no mistaking what I’d just done for a fart, I stank. “Undo your belt please” I did as I was told, and Sir pulled my pants down slightly. He stood, tugged back the waistband, and inspected the damage. Satisfied the back was survivable, he tugged my pants down further, and inspected the butt area, as well as the leg bands. While he’d been doing this, I’d stayed focused on the movie. Partly because it was good, but mostly to avoid acknowledging that I was in a public movie theatre - albeit a deserted one - having my messy diaper checked like a toddler. Whether Sir realised what my reasoning for watching the movie was I didn’t know, but after he pulled my pants back up he lowered me back into my seat, “I’ll probably have to wash your jeans, but don’t worry, you won’t have to miss any of the movie”. He was definitely right about washing the jeans. As my butt came to rest on the seat cushion, I felt the leg bands of the diaper give way, and spent the remaining 30 minutes of the movie feeling the poop squelch all over my butt. I still had to poop a little more and although the urge was minimal, it kept making me fart. Every time that happened, the air would ripple through the semi-solid poop that filled my diaper, like I was sitting in a volcanic mud pool. Eventually, the film came to an end, and Sir lead me out of the screen. He had originally intended to change me in the same disabled bathroom we used when we came in, but as we emerged into the foyer, it had gone from empty to packed. Seeing the look of panic on my face, Sir had led me through the crowd, into the parking lot, and straight to his truck, Where once again I had to sit down, and once again, the mess did it’s very best to escape my padding. I should have felt humiliated walking through all those people, and certainly as the smell began to fill up the cab of Sir’s truck, but sir kept hold of my hand, and kept telling me that he was proud of me for doing as he’d told me without any hesitation. Somehow, in spite of my state, his constant reinforcement really did make me feel a little hint of pride. We pulled onto the driveway, and stopped in front of the garage door. It took a moment before the remote worked, and in that time my heart sank as I imagined Sir was going to make me get out of the truck, into the street where we lived, with a full diaper. To say that I was relieved when the door began to slide up and the truck pulled inside would be a serious understatement. It was, I suspect, that final rush of adrenalin that sent me over the edge. Up until now I’d been fully aware of events, but as we pulled into the garage, I started to disappear into a world of my own. So much so that it wasn’t until Sir opened my door and helped me out that I realised the car had stopped. As he raised me out of the seat, I looked down. There were two half-moon-shaped damp patches on the seat. Fortunately it was wipe clean leather, but there was no mistaking how the back of my jeans would look. I wasn’t that bad in the theatre. I had obviously peed myself in the car without realising. Clearly this realisation was playing on my face, as Sir asked, “what’s wrong?” “Nothing, Sir. I just think I peed myself.” Sir looked down at my butt, a degree of incredulity in his eyes.”Not just peed yourself”. “No, I mean without realising”. Sir shrugged. “Well, that’s what you’re wearing padding for” he began leading me out of the garage and into the hallway, “now come on, young man, your messy butt is starting to stink up the house”. I didn’t move. “What’s wrong?” I snapped my hand away from his, “What’s wrong is that I just peed myself, and all you can do is shrug.” Sir stood his ground, as I began to lose my temper at him. “For fuck’s sake, I shit myself in a movie theatre, and you’re perfectly cool with it. What’s wrong with you?” Sir smiled and gently shook his head, “Nothing is wrong with me. I just honestly don’t care what underwear you’re wearing, or what state it’s in.” Almost instantly, his calm manner calmed me down too. “To be honest, son, I find you particularly cute when you’re like this.” I hung my head, suddenly ashamed at my outburst. Sir held out his arms and I came in for a hug. “Now, I was going to change you, but after that little show, I think you need to be reminded of how this works.” Sir said, once again taking my hand in his. He walked briskly, and I had trouble keeping up with him because I was waddling so badly. That, and I knew where he was leading me, and didn’t really want to go. Unfortunately, the house isn’t that big, so within moments Sir opened the door to the punishment room, and led me inside. Surveying the implements, my eyes went wide. It wasn’t that I was unfamiliar with the room, far from it, but it was rare I was in here in quite this state. I seemed to have caught Sir’s eye, as he smiled at me, “don’t worry, we won’t be doing anything too strenuous”, he reassured me. He draped me over a spanking bench, and secured my hands in place. Then he went into the bathroom and grabbed a brought out a bar of soap. Even the sight of it made me retch as my sense filled with the memory of the last time I’d been made to suck on it. I began to shake my head, “No, no no….” Once again, Sir smiled. He placed the soap down just in front of my face. “Now you remember why you shouldn’t say naughty words then?” I nodded. “OK, well I won’t make you put it in your mouth. It can stay there as a reminder”. For at least the third time today, an enormous sense of relief came over me. That lasted for all of a few seconds, as Sir began to rain blows down against my butt. It wasn’t painful. Not exactly, anyway; the padding and the mess formed a pretty good barrier against the sharp force of the spanking, but the sense of humiliation I felt as each blow landed, sending a dull thudding sensation into my butt cheeks and forward, toward my genitals, was wonderful. It was fortunate Sir hadn’t asked me to count the blows, I’d have had no chance. I began to drift off somewhere between agony, humiliation and ecstasy. By the time Sir unstrapped me from the bench, I was a wreck. “You took your punishment very well. I think I should reward you”, At some point, between the spanking and the release, Sir had laid a changing mat down on the floor. He lowered me down onto it, and instinctively I spread my legs, ready for my change. Sir knelt down infront of me, but rather than undoing the tapes of my diaper, he began to rub the front. I smiled in gratitude, “You did well, young man”, he said, as he produced the magic wand and started vibrating the front of my diaper. I was in heaven. He moved the wand down towards my anus, the vibrations sent shivers up my spine. “Please sir, may I cum?” He nodded. “You may.”. I let the orgasm overtake me, and shuddered as I released yet another fluid into my already wrecked diaper. As I lay on my back in post orgasmic reverie, Sir set to work on the unenviable task of changing my diaper. I kept my eyes closed, and enjoyed the sensations as he cleaned me up. By the time Sir took my hand and helped me stand back up, I was clean, dry, and comfortable, and very pleased that I’d followed Sir’s advice and had an accident on our trip out.

I stagger to my feet as Lily is hurrying the kids out the front door. While Samuel is supporting Friedrick and Eloisa as they make a hasty exit. I notice that Samuel has somehow managed to get everyone out in less then thirty seconds including Ms. Burgorman. We take cover by the car. “Ashley!? But how? I thought you were… They said…” “Long story. You guys???” “The family found us online. Approached us for help with a possible haunting. I was skeptical, was never sure if I actually believed spirit contact was really possible. At first, we didn’t find anything. Not even something mundane like squirrels. The family had reported thumps and scratching, other noises but we couldn’t definitively find anything structurally wrong with the building that could explain it. Then one night around three we started hearing it ourselves. We decided to stay onsite as long as it took to find an explanation. We were all increasingly worried about Dave (the father), he seemed withdrawn and depressed. Counseling wasn’t helping. We started getting EMF static, then the screams started you could here them at night along with a smell of cordite indicating gun smoke. We had been investigating for three weeks, then this happened.” “We heard screaming and knowing the history of the place feared the worst. We found Dave trying to strangle Richey(the youngest). His eyes they…. They were solid black….. It wasn’t Dave in there…. We tried to exorcise it, but it was too strong. If you hadn’t gotten here……” “It’s okay….” I place a hand on her shoulder. “Cavalries here and were going to bust ourselves a motherfucking ghost.” “Damn straight” The strained smile on Lily’s face is a serious improvement. “You hit him with invocation of Hecate. Samuel and I will use Roman Right. I’ll cover our approach….” “We bust him hard…” “Damn straight girl.”

Ch. 3 We pull up into a suburban tree lined street that looks like something out of a magazine. The newly built two story would be quite charming if not for the ominously flickering lights and the wind shaking the trees. Que the creepy piano music as Samuel and I stack up on the door. A quick gesture and Samuel kicks the door in while I rush weapon drawn, surprising myself as I reflexively let out a battle cry. “In the name of the LIGHT!!!........ Lily? What the fuck!?” “Ashley!!??” Inside the front hallway is balls out chaos. There are three screaming kids, an older sister trying to shield two younger siblings. Mr. Burgorman holding a knife to his wife’s throat, eyes an unsettling black. There are also three very familiar people sprawled on the ground or slumped against the wall. Most notably my friend Lily, a local elementary school teacher and Wiccan with a not so secret goth side. We met at a club concert for a “Bealugosi’s Dead” cover band when I first moved here and had been friends ever since. I occasionally went to meetings for her coven which is how I knew Freidrick and Eloisa, currently slumped against the wall. This is something I’d have to deal with later, so I sight down and unleash several blasts, not being particular with my aim since I was using stun. Ms. Burgorman slumps down out cold as her possessed husband staggers back but does go down. Shit why isn’t he down? I’ve used this thing on three muggers and two stick up types and they always drop with one shot. Guess it’s time to do this old school. I’ve only read about this in the handbook but first time for everything I guess. I advance on him ducking the wild knife swing and slam my now glowing hand palm first into his face. Attempting to smite Lenny without doing the same to the host. I find myself flung backwards by a blast of rebounding energy clean through the front window. Tumbling across the lawn in a shower of glass.

I have used both silicone and water lube. I preferred the silicone. You can inject directly into the urethra but I find it makes little difference for me. A day or two is a good time frame for a first time. I love going to sleep in a dry diaper and waking up soaked. This will give you that experience.

There's no need to be neurotic at all. You've got a lot of guts to put your work out there. I'm afraid I'm not a story critic; I don't really do a critique. So I won't be a shining light. My question was really rhetorical .... I didn't expect an answer, but I always appreciate when the author takes the time to talk with the reader. I've been behind in points, and will catch up maybe tomorrow night. I expect to give you at least one if not two then. This is very well written. We only get 3 points daily, so giving points is limited, and I have to retrack.

When I have him lay on the changing I alway hold up the plastic pant I am about to put on him. The way he just looks at them is so cute. I always unfold fold them with a snap. Plus I also pull them up very slow. Most times when Iam doing that he always gets a hard on. I love the smile on his face when I am pulling them up. I over his diaper. It has been almost a year since I started diapering him I wish I would have knew when we first started being together.

CHAPTER FIVE Work on Thursday had been very difficult to focus on for Sabrina. She found her mind drifting frequently, and one of her three new clients had bailed on her. Her backlog was looking substantially less secure as well. Between that stress and the thoughts of the serum, she was beyond distracted. But her stories were there to relax her after work. She began a new story even though her last one was only half done... she just couldn't get Naomi out of her head. There was something about the giant woman, she was so... attractive. Not in a purely sexual way, but there was something alluring about her. And so she found herself with her fingers on the keyboard of her computer, indulging in her favorite fantasy. She, of course, was the protagonist of the story but this time the Amazon was Naomi... she didn't bother changing anything, not her hair, not her eyes, and she emphasized just how tall the woman was, the roundness of her breasts. She even left the name, Naomi. As all her favorite stories went, the Amazon ended up her captive, catering to her every whim, walked on a leash when she was allowed to walk upright rather than crawling, forced to cook and drive her around. There was something about the power fantasy that she found deeply satisfying. Normally those desires lessened after she had put them all down on the screen - she posted the story to the board under her usual screen name before she went to bed. As she lay in the dark waiting for sleep to come, she began wondering... What if I did do this for real? It gave her a new thrill... it still felt wrong but after writing all of the things that she wanted to do to Naomi down and sharing them with her AmzDom friends, she wanted it more than ever. She started to convince herself that Naomi deserved it - she had a Hunting Permit pending, she was a potential threat, but it still felt wrong. And yet the idea kept coming back to her. Friday dragged similarly and she found herself frustrated by the end of the day - two of her three new clients had canceled now, they didn't give any real reason, said they were putting their creative endeavors on hold - but the way they said it seemed off. Her joy that the famine part of the "feast or famine" that came with running a small business was over dissipated. She'd contact the next agency on the backlog on Monday - she'd be done with the current project soon, another day or two at most. She liked to have two more lined up on the schedule... but there was no sense in fretting about it, everything would work out. She smiled when she logged on to the board after work, a new message from Rebel was waiting for her. TinyRebel4: Wicked new story, LittleDomme. One of your best yet. Naomi definitely deserved what she got. So, I gotta ask. You've certainly got all the right ideas. It would be so nice to see the Amazons brought to their knees. Have you thought about using that thing at all? I'd definitely love to read the 'true story' so to speak. What would be the first thing you'd have an Amazon do if you had them as a slave? She pondered the question a moment before continuing, unable to keep the smile from her face. LittleDomme: They always want to make us crawl everywhere, to be helpless. That's the first thing I'd do. If I had my way, they'd make sure their eyes were never above ours unless they were told to - on all fours at all times, see how they like being the short ones. I gotta admit though, I'm still nervous that it might hurt someone. She laughed at the idea as she started getting ready to head to the club. She was nervous - what if Naomi was there, would she even be able to talk to the Amazon after the way she'd left last time? But then again, what if she wasn't there? That seemed like it would be worse. She wanted to be near the Amazon, she wanted- Her train of thought was interrupted by the chime of an incoming message. Rebel was apparently on right now. TinyRebel4: Ha, that's some pretty poetic justice. And definitely no less than they deserve. Don't worry, the drug is like a blackout drunk stage. They won't remember much. A few emotions might stick with them at best, but perhaps the humiliation will be humbling. You'll have an Amazon pet for 2 days, I wish I had the guts to do it myself. I hope I get to hear all about the experience. Rebel didn't have the guts, Sabrina wasn't sure if she did either. But she was going all out for the club tonight regardless - even taller shoes, a black vinyl dress with a keyhole at the hollow of her throat, her hair crimped and her makeup done in a severe style... she almost looked like a tiny dominatrix... which is what she felt like, how she wanted to be perceived. Sabrina didn't realize it, but she was leaning more toward using the drug than away from it. She craved it. She craved the feeling of having an Amazon submit to her. The usual bouncer, a muscle-bound Amazon almost as tall as Naomi, actually blocked her tonight - she came here enough that she didn't feel she needed to show ID anymore, let alone get stopped complete. "Miss Weber," he said gruffly, "Miss Alexis requested that I give you this. I'm supposed to message her your answer." He handed her a small piece of paper. The handwriting was fancy, the lines smooth. Miss Weber, I'm unfortunately unable to come to the club, I'm tied up in business meetings all evening. I wish to offer you an apology, ideally in person if you'll allow it. You're more than welcome to enjoy the club - your drinks on the house tonight, simply show this note to Anna and you'll be taken care of. I do hope that you'll consider joining me for a luncheon at my home tomorrow. Naomi Alexis At her home? Sabrina blinked, alarm bells going off... every Little - Allemagne or no - knew to never, ever go into an Amazon's home alone. It was insanity. It would be so easy for the Amazon to... drug... A smile crept across her face. If that was Naomi's plan, she was in for the biggest shock of her life. The irony of the situation was too delicious to pass up. She could see on the bouncer's face that he expected her to decline - any Little with an ounce of sense would. "Tell her that I accept," Sabrina smiled confidently, fishing a business card from her purse. "My number is on the card. Miss Alexis is quite interesting, isn't she? How long have you known her?" "I've worked for her for about a year," the bouncer answered, taking the card. "What do you think of her?" "Miss Alexis is a kind woman, though I don't quite understand her openness to you Littles. I've never seen anyone treat your people so like everyone else, it's strange. But she does a lot of charity work, treats her employees proper, and pays well. I've no complaints," the bouncer replied but gave Sabrina an impatient look, indicating that he'd really like for her to go inside so he could return to his job. Sabrina patted the man on the elbow as condescendingly as a Little could as she sauntered past him. Before she could make it to the bar, her comm buzzed - a message from an unknown comm. Hello Sabrina, it's Naomi. I'm glad you're willing to give me a second chance. I'm sorry I couldn't be there tonight, but please enjoy your evening, drinks on the house. Consider it a start of an apology. I was sizeist and judgmental the other night. I'm working on being more open to everyone in our society, but I was raised under a different mindset, so it's a battle sometimes, and I tend to falter when I've had a touch too much to drink. I hope that perhaps a sober morning away from the club might help me give a better impression. I enjoyed your company and would like to be friends. You're a lovely person with many talents and you certainly didn't deserve to be looked down on like that. 11350 Violet Naomi Alexis Yeah, sure, Sabrina thought. A nice, innocent lunch. Just you and me alone and nothing bad could possibly happen, right? "Hey Anna," Sabrina smiled as she climbed onto her favorite stool and showed her the letter. Anna read it over and her eyes widened. "I just want one of my favorite." "One aviation?" Anna asked, surprised. "You've got free rein and all you want is one gin cocktail?" "We both know I'm a lightweight," Sabrina laughed. "Comes with being a small Mid." "But I also know," Anna countered, handing Sabrina the note back. "That you like to have a good time - so what gives, why'd the boss give you carte blanche and why aren't you using it?" "I got to meet her yesterday," Sabrina shrugged as Anna made the drink. "She said some things that came off as a little bit sizeist and this is her apology. It wasn't a huge deal though... I don't mind. She seems nice and this is my favorite club by a landslide. As for me - I don't need to get trashed to have a good time. It's kind of her to offer, and I'll totally accept a free drink, but I want to be able to function tomorrow." "Well you're certainly dressed to kill tonight," Anna smirked, sliding the completed drink across the bar. "What gives?" "I've got my eye on someone," Sabrina grinned, sipping the cocktail. "Doesn't look like they're here tonight though, so I might pack it in early. Thanks Anna." She tipped the usual amount - even though the drink was free, Anna still needed her tips. She kept the night short, dancing quite a bit with a smaller Mid guy who liked her look... normally that could have been a hookup, but tonight she had other plans. As she stripped off her heavy shoes that night, setting her club gear gently aside and donning a simple pair of pajamas, she pondered what she should wear to Naomi's house the next day. She settled on a maxi dress - something she rarely wore but felt right for the situation - it had a black top with a dark blue skirt and with the right makeup and her favorite shoes, she'd be able to pull of a softer sort of domme look. She checked her story boards before going to bed - there were several new comments, which she answered of course. She enjoyed the attention that the commenters gave her, and replying to every single one encouraged them to give her more. Her fictionalized Naomi seemed to be a big hit. The next day, around eleven A.M, she found herself outside the address Naomi had given, the robocab slipping away... Jump to Chapter 6!

I have on occasion had received a PM asking how make a stent or what works for me. In consideration of the board crash and knowing that answering a PM will not benefit the community from which I learned I will repost what works for me. I have tried the ridged PVC tubing heating and making bends, worked OK for me. I later worked with blue silicone airline available on Amazon, very soft. Some on here have managed to roll the ends, not me. What I did do was to add two brass ferrules inside the airline. One about ¾” of an inch from the end and second at 1 ½”. The ferrules were placed on a tapered pair of forceps. The airline heated in boiling water and in the ferrules went worked in to the airline. The idea of the two ferrules was one would slip inside my bladder while the other would hold the stent from slipping further inside. Again worked OK. But I made one major mistake that ended me in the ER for a very embarrassing day to have it removed. The mistake was using too small of a o ring on the end of the retrieval line. Now a day the O ring is large enough to slip over the shaft. My third and most successfully for me has been to use either silicone or latex catheter. The 16FR works best for me. This is not only the easiest to make it has become the most comfortable. Doesn’t fall out and in four years has not pulled in to my bladder. However I don’t pleasure myself while using my sent. The night the stent got away from me I had woke with a ragging erection and wanted it gone. My guess is the contraction of the orgasm pulled the stent in bladder. Lesson learned, use a larger O ring and check the lines before each use. In the photo you have a simple 16FR latex catheter. For me 5.5” length works best. After cutting you need to syringe with blunt tip to add about 1 CC of fluids to the balloon. To plug the fill line I used a piece of weed whacker line. At first the line was way too thick so using my drill I chucked 2” piece and using the drill to spin the line while holding some 100 grit sand paper on the line. The white cap in the photo are available at the local Lowes of maybe a hardware store. The store description is ‘screw protector’ Hillman #881037. The model number will depend on the catheter size. Using a leather punch make a hole on the end. For retrieval line braded fishing line works great , I use 10Lb test. The line is so thin that using sewing needle thread the line in the needle and sew in the cut end of the catheter now stent. Tie a few good knots and use your tweezers pull it tight. The screw protector with the hole punched in the end becomes the cap. Thread the line threw the hold and if you sized the screw protector correctly slid it over the cut catheter end. To clean after getting this together I wash with soap and water air dry and then soak in 99% isopropyl alcohol for 10-15 minutes. Air dry again before rolling in a clean paper towel. To inset first wash your hands thoroughly. Then clean the head of your penis with povidone-iodine 10% using a cotton ball. Add some KY from an unopened source. Use the small one time use packets. You can work the stent in slowing working it up the shaft or make yourself a pusher tube like I did. Its piece of vinyl airline semi ridged. To make the tip I used an old hobby paint brush handle tapped to fit in the capped end of the stent. I later marked the pusher tube where I should stop. If you have question please communicated on the open forum so all can benefit. PS the line in the photo below is too long. About 8" is right for me.

Hey all, So it's been a little over a month since my last post and my symptoms and lack of control seem to be the same as it was since last post. Most of the time, I feel little to no urge to urinate before I start actually urinating and I no longer have to consciously "release" to initiate flow. There are sometimes, when I'm sitting or laying, that I do get an urge to urinate; gravity or a kink to my urethra can cause me to retain urine. When that happens I will feel a very strong urge to urinate and I either start to immediately urinate (pressure builds and pushes urine through the kink), or I urinate as soon as I change positions or stand up. If I'm standing, I will often not get a warning or urge to urinate before I start urinating. It's becoming a common occurrence that I will find myself soggy and unaware of when I had wet the diaper. Just this Monday, I was at the doctor's to be seen for some unrelated abdominal pain. I had worn a pull-up to the visit so I could easily pull off my pants when it came to exam time. I saw that the pull-up was dry during the exam but it was wet when I got home. I figured I would be more aware of when I used it because those things hold 1 to 2 small wettings tops but that wasn't the case. And no, the doc didn't ask any questions about the pull-up and I did not mention anything to him about it. The previous week I was in the ER for the same unrelated abdominal pain. I had worn a diaper into the ER and taken changes just in case I was going to be there for a long time. When I arrived, they asked me for a urine sample so they could do a full work-up to see what was causing the pain. I had just wet and told them it would have to wait a bit before I could produce a urine sample. I did not to tell them I wear diapers because they didn't need to know and that I felt I still could produce a sample in a cup if I catch it before I get the urge. So I take the cup with me out to the waiting room. After 20 minutes, I make my way to the bathroom to try to go but I felt no urge and nothing came out. I waited another 20 minutes and as soon as I stood up, I felt the pressure build. I quickly made my way to the bathroom, pulled down the front of my pants and diaper, and started filling the cup. The cup was pretty small and it took just a few seconds before it was starting to get full. I didn't anticipate the cup filling so fast as I had one hand holding my pants and diaper down and the other holding the cup. As the level of urine reached the brim of the cup, I panicked and tried to stop the flow. For a split second, it slowed down to almost a dribble, then just as quickly as I slowed it down it sped right back up. I started spraying and splashing urine all over the toilet bowl and floor before I realized that I should just pull my diaper back up. Of course, I was courteous enough that I took a bunch of toilet paper and wiped up all the spilled urine so no one would know. I was pretty happy about that whole episode as it's solid evidence that my untraining has been working. (If you're wondering what is going on with the abdominal pain, so are the doctors. It's been a chronic issue I've dealt with for years now but it has become more symptomatic over the past few months, which is why I'm seeing the doctor more. I've got several upcoming tests that we hope will narrow down the cause of the pain.) I haven't noticed as much dribbling as I was hoping for since my last post. It happens only a couple times a week usually (unless I'm unaware of other dribbles). Messing still seems to be about the same as where it was; I'm pretty relaxed down there and if I get the urge, then I'm already going. Good questions! On work days I usually change twice a day. Most of the time, my diapers are not at capacity when I change. I will put on one diaper in the morning after I shower and that will last me all day. Then I change at night a couple hours before bed and that will last me all night. I always mess in the mornings so it's easy just to wear it until I need to shower. Some nights I go running with my boyfriend, so I will take off my daytime diaper and wear a pull-up for the run. On weekends, I still will go through 2 diapers a day but may add a booster to the diaper if I know I'm going to be drinking more fluids. Because my wettings are much smaller than they used to be, I feel like the diapers have a better chance of wicking and absorbing all the urine before leaking, increasing their capacity. I haven't actually had much progress with night wettings. I've only had 2 episodes of night wettings, both of which were last week. Most nights I'm not wetting in my sleep. There's a chance that I don't notice some sleep wetting episodes as I wear a disposable with a cloth cover and pul pants over it every night to bed and they make it hard to tell how soggy I am. So there you have it. That was just a really elaborate way of saying, I've hit a plateau. Even then, progress has been good and I'm happy at where I'm at.

Awwww! That was cute! Keep up the wonderful work, B!

Somehow, I was chatting with my boss and a coworker and the topic of drugs came out. I told them, truthfully, that I wouldn't even know where to look. If through some convoluted set of circumstances, I needed to score an ounce of marijuana in order to save the orphanage or something, I just couldn't do it. I wouldn't know who to ask, how much it would cost, what secret keywords to use, etc. And that's just fine with me. I can honestly say I'm not even curious about weed or anything else.

This has been pretty hard to write, and it’s taken a while to actually put words down on paper, so to speak. I’ve been playing with catheters since I was fourteen years old. I’ve had a couple of bladder infections of course, but nothing serious. This stent concept has been the holy grail of what I’m looking for. Absolutely no control, but without having the catheter sticking out of my penis. The bump and fishing line concept worked well enough, but the bump would never keep the catheter in place. Inflating the balloon as per usual and then cutting the catheter and plugging the inflation tube was awesome. However having the fishing line sticking out was bothersome. So I posted how magnets were a perfect solution. It worked well until I went to bed. At around three in the morning I work up feeling a bit of pain in my bladder, kinda like when you first put the catheter in place. I felt for the catheter tube and to my dismay and terror really the tube was gone! I jumped out of bed to further examine the situation and sure enough the catheter had gone completely into the bladder! Oh f**k! I tried to remove the catheter a couple different ways myself. Needless to say, nothing worked. Finally after a couple of days I went to the emergency room at the hospital and faced the music. After explaining the situation to the triage nurse, the ER nurse, the ultrasound tech, the next nurse and finally the resident doc they figured they would book my in for the next day to remove it.... yep another freaking trip back, like I wasn’t embarrassed enough already lol! So next day I’m back in the hospital, legs up in stir ups and having a resident and another doc probing up my urethra with a flexible cystoscopy tool. Guess what doesn’t work? The flexible one was not capable of pulling out the cath. In goes the rigid cystoscopy, yes that’s right, a solid steel rod in through the cock and straight through to the bladder. The pain was something horrible. Finally the catheter was removed and after the flexible goes back in to check around I’m done. I do have to say everyone at the hospital was very professional. The resident urologist was very understanding and respectful, never laughing or making me feel like I was an idiot for this (which I was of course). So why am I sharing this? Well I shared with enthusiasm my ideas, it’s only right to share the consequences of such risky behaviour. Would I do it again? Of course, but you need to know the risks and what happens when something goes bad. I’ve played with catheters since, but not in the stent capacity.