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I guess it depends on your injury or problem to have bowel incontinence. Mine stem from nerve damage in lower back ( spinal cord injury). 4 lower back surgery's with a 5th on the way. Just to say you can never trust a fart. having nerve damage sucks. As the doctor calls it, getting mixed signals with the sphincter muscle area. weak sphincter muscle and diarrhea better stay home on that day. I don't know why any one would want to be bowel incontinence on purpose. stinky and smelly and a pain to clean up.

Hi all, sorry about the long hiatus. Life, it happens to all of us. I honestly hope at least some of you find this chapter to be worth the wait. Chapter 4 “Yes, the Salon,” Kenzie replied, tapping his nose as she laid him onto the changing table and began to diaper him. “Honestly, Honey, Mommy really wants to lengthen your hair to style. Maybe darken the color a bit to match mine. Plus, you need your nails cut anyway, so they can deal with that so Mommy doesn't have to. I know what a squirmy baby you are.” To punctuate her point, she shook a plume of Baby powder over his crotch and began to rub it in with her hands, spreading it over his privates and butt and causing Chris to jump. She giggled at the glare he sent her. “You are so cute when you pout, Crystal,” she said, taping up the new diaper with a grin. Then, Chris noted with a hint of fear the devious glint in her eyes. “But I bet you'd be even cuter...if you giggled!” Suddenly he was under assault, the giant woman viciously blowing raspberries into his belly. He couldn't help himself, and soon was laughing up a storm. And with his new voice, it sounded even more childish. Once she allowed him to catch his breath, he was quickly dressed in a two-piece set of pajamas that were teal – not pink at least, he noted with a bit of relief – and bore gold lettering which declared 'I don't need Beauty Sleep...I'm already Gorgeous!' After being made to say 'Night-Night' to Jenny and Sarah, he was once again brought to the playpen in Kenzie's room, swaddled tight just like the previous night. His stuffed pony was laid next to him, and his mouth was quickly filled with the bulb of a pacifier as Kenzie kissed his head. A baby monitor was switched on and placed on her nightstand and the room became engulfed in darkness as she left him alone. Raising a brow, he managed to wriggle enough to get a look at the clock. 7:30 pm was the digital time which flashed out, and Chris grimaced. He hadn't been aware it was still so early. He supposed he should have expected it. After all, the crazed young lady was totally convinced he was a baby, and babies went to bed early. Turning his eyes toward the ceiling, he did the only thing he could and waited until his eyes had adjusted before beginning to scour the tiles for any patterns he might be able to see. After he passed out, he awoke sometime around midnight, the feeling of being hoisted into the air snapping him out of dreamland and back into his waking nightmare. He was thrown over Kenzie's shoulder and his mommy began to rub and pat his back. “What's going on?” he asked, before his stomach gurgled and he began to fill the back of his diaper. Now he was growing concerned. That time there was next to no warning. “Mama's just giving you some nummies. Doctor's orders, remember Sweetie? Dr. Nemeth said to feed you as often as I can.” With that, she began guiding his head to her nipple. Already, Chris was opening his mouth, but the warm, smelly squish in his diaper forced him to try and reject the liquid meal. “No! I just pooped, I need a change!” he whined, getting only an amused smile from Kenzie. “Mommy will change you after you eat, Sweet Pea,” she insisted, and immediately thrust his mouth onto her nipple. Her charge had enough mind to let out an indignant grunt before the milk-haze set in. “Thaaaaaat's it, Honey Pie,” Kenzie whispered. “See, you're ok. Babies poop their diapers. Sometimes they have to sit in it for a while. It's perfectly normal.” Her cell phone broke the soft whispers, and she quickly answered to the voice of Ashley. “Hey, I take it you're up feeding Crystal?” “Yeah. And I assume you're giving Lizzie a night-time feed. What did the Doctor say?” “Basically same as you. Breastfeed only, as often as possible.” Kenzie nodded, leaning herself and her Little back in her bed so she was propped against the headboard. “I figured as much. How's Lizzie taking the news?” Back at her own house, Ashley looked to the Little in her arms, feeling the girl's diaper grow warm and swell as the nursing Little suckled. She was looking past the breast and glaring up at Ashley, but the Amazon could see the Little's eyes beginning to droop. The new mommy smiled a bit at that. “She's adjusting,” she replied, patting Elizabeth's wet butt. She heard her daughter give one last infantile whine before the trance set in. “Anyway, you doing anything tomorrow? Cause you could come over here and we can have a playdate for the girls.” Kenzie smiled, rubbing Chris' back and crinkling her nose at the stench from her daughter's dirty diaper. “I think that can be arranged,” she said. “But it'll have to be earlier in the day. We're taking the girls to the salon tomorrow afternoon. Crystal needs a baby-makeover before she meets the family.” “Ooooh, sounds fun!” Ashley replied. “I can't wait to see her.” Both mothers noticed their Littles begin to squirm a bit. “Hang on,” they both said into their phones at once, hoisting their babies up and onto their shoulders. As they patted and rubbed the Littles' backs, both smiled at hearing the tiny belches of the others' daughter through the phones. x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x As Chris was carried through the doorway of Ashley's home, he quickly began searching for Elizabeth. He would have called out to her but for the large pacifier shoved in his mouth. Thankfully there was little in the way of coos and coddling by the Amazons before he was plopped down on the floor in front of Elizabeth, who was looking more than a bit uncomfortable in her baby bouncer. The thing was electric by the look of it and was slowly rocking in an almost wave-like pattern. Based on Elizabeth's slightly green complexion, she was clearly getting a tad motion-sick. The pacifier was plucked from his mouth and Kenzie kissed his forehead. “You two play nice,” Ashley declared, she and Kenzie sauntering off to the kitchen. “How you holding up?” Chris asked, his voice still the high squeak of toddler girl. He had been given his inhalant first thing that morning, meaning he was well on his way to being permanently stuck with the voice of a two-year-old. “If you don't wanna be thrown-up on, I suggest you not stand in front of me...” Elizabeth groaned. “It wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't so bloated. My 'Mommy' has me on a feeding schedule of every three hours.” She spat the word Mommy with such venom that had either of the Amazon girls heard, he was sure Liz would be sporting a bright red bottom already. “Same,” Chris grunted, holding his stomach. “Until she starts going back to school at least. I may not be able to hold it for more than a second, but apparently the fact that I know I'm going to use the diaper at all beforehand is something she's trying to 'fix.” Chris shuddered at the thought. It was bad enough that he was already essentially incontinent after just a couple days, but to render him ignorant of his own urinating and bowel movements until after-the-fact...well, it wasn't a pleasant thought. A sudden stench reached his nose, and Elizabeth's face turned from green to red, seeing that he had smelled her. “Don't. Say. Anything!” she whispered harshly. Chris put his hands up defensively. “Wasn't going to,” he replied, but taking a step back all the same. “We literally pooped in front of each other just yesterday.” He heard the soft thumps of footsteps before his floral skirt was pulled up and the waistband of his diaper pulled back. “Not mine,” Kenzie announced in a sing-song voice, looking over her shoulder towards Ashley. “Want me to change Lizzie?” Ashley smiled and thanked Kenzie, going to get her changing supplies. Elizabeth however looked displeased. Chris could relate. It was bad enough to have a 'Mommy' wiping your butt and private parts. Neither of them liked the thought that literally any Amazon could change their diapers and the two Littles had absolutely no say. “P-U, smelly girl,” Kenzie said, taking Liz from the bouncer, patting her mess-filled behind a few times, firmly. Elizabeth was squirming now at the sensation of her wet, mushy poop being squished and spread against her crotch and butt even more. “And I thought Crystal was a little stink bomb.” Ashley returned, passing the changing supplies to the kneeling Kenzie. Not really wanting to watch the girl be embarrassingly cleaned, Chris chose to turn away from the scene. Unfortunately, having turned in the direction of the bouncer, it was somehow apparent to Ashley that he wanted a turn in it, and the young mother was more than happy to oblige. Chris quickly found himself lifted by the armpits and in mere seconds was plopped down into the seat, before being securely strapped in. A flick of a switch and the rolling wave-like motion began. Once again, he was facing Elizabeth, whose ankles were firmly held together and pulled into the air by Kenzie, her poop-covered rear-end on full display, among other things. Blushing profusely, Chris's eyes darted to the ceiling. Liz, likewise embarrassed for herself, covered her red face and teary eyes in her hands, breathing deeply to try and stave off a full on wail. The attention of all but the occupied Kenzie was quickly turned to the opening door of the house, as well as the Amazon couple entering with an infant carrier. “Knock, Knock!” The woman declared cheerfully, ignoring the panicked squeal of Elizabeth. Chris noticed however. This new arrival was clearly not popular with the babied woman, and one look into the infant carrier her husband carried made it clear why. While he hadn't known him prior to the trip, Chris could definitely recognize Jake strapped inside it. And if that was Liz's boyfriend, that made this Ashley's sister. Emmy, he thought he remembered her saying. Likely short for Emily. “Hiiii, Kenzie,” Emmy greeted, eyes darting mischievously between her younger sister and her friend. “Heeeeey, Emmy,” Kenzie replied in kind, handing the now clean and diapered Liz back to Ashley. Elizabeth looked fearfully into the carrier holding Jake, and Chris took note that the young man was barely awake, his eyes fluttering and a bit of drool running down his chin. Kenzie then turned and gave a little wave to what could only be Emmy's husband. “How's it going, Tony? Keeping this one in check?” “Ha!” The man exclaimed. “Good one. I learned early on that the secret to a good marriage is she does what she wants, and I stand back and watch the catastrophe.” “Ha Ha,” snarked Emmy with a playful smile and a roll of her eyes, unstrapping the little from his carrier. “The feeling is mutual, Sweetheart. Sorry to interrupt your playdate, but Mom wanted to see little Jake after we had his work done.” A bit more awake now after being laid down on the floor, Jake struggled to move, but found he couldn't get off his back. What little movement he could get from his legs were some occasional weak twitches and kicks. As all the eyes were on him, Emmy leaned in close, cooing to the little she had forcibly adopted. “How 'bout it, Honey Pie? Any of your little swears you wanna throw at Mommy or Daddy.” Whatever Jake was expecting to come from his own mouth, the gurgling and babble of an infant was not it. Nor was it helped that he had no teeth in his mouth. Elizabeth had to shove her thumb in her own mouth to keep from screaming outright. But as Jake came to the realization that his ability to speak had somehow been taken from him, he and his girlfriend began to wail in tandem. Though Jake's wailing sounded way to close to the cries of an actual baby for Chris's liking. Jake was quickly silenced with a pacifier and hefted over Emmy's shoulder so she could comfort him. “Jake here wasn't too happy about Mommy and Daddy taking his walking away...no he wasn't” Emmy explained. “He threw a giant tantrum, kicking and biting, and he said some very adult words. So Mommy and Daddy decided to fix that too. Now our Jake is just as a Little should be, aside from needing a mild attitude adjustment.” “Cartoon time?” Kenzie asked, but Emmy groaned at the thought. “Mind-wiping hypnosis? I'm not cruel, Kenz,” she replied. “Littles won't learn anything if we scrub their brains. No, I think lots of love, plenty of meaningful punishments when needed, and good positive reinforcement during their milk hazes is just what they need.” “Reinforcement during the hazes? What?” Chris thought, eyes narrowing as Kenzie smiled and nodded. “Same,” his Mommy said. “A few soft praises during feedings goes a long way.” “Wait, what?” Chris now thought back to anything he could recall about his feeding, but they were mostly blank. “So, is this some sort of passive hypnosis? What sort of things does she whisper in my ear while I'm sucking on her tit? How long until I can't even think of her name as anything but 'Mommy?' How long until I can't think of myself as male anymore?” He was broken from his musing as Emmy lifted him from the bouncer. “Hello, Cutie Pie. Looks like you got what you needed anyway, huh?” she said with a sly smile at him, before turning back to Kenzie. “Good choice making him into a her, by the way. I probably wouldn't have thought of it, but she's just such a cutie as a girl.” As the two Amazon Mommies began discussing the story of how Chris had become Crystal, the aforementioned Little was getting extremely uncomfortable. Emmy was cradling him rather close, his cheek pressed against her left breast. A breast that was almost bigger than Ashley's, and undoubtedly filled with milk. The thought made his mouth begin to salivate, and he whined, breaking the conversation. “I think she's getting hungry,” Emmy announced. “Is she on the same diet as Lizzie?” “Mmmhmm,” Kenzie replied, taking her Little and beginning to lift her shirt, revealing the nursing bra underneath. “I might start doing that with Jake,” Emmy continued. “I was planning on letting him keep eating pureed baby food, but only a couple days in and my breasts are sore, and full-to-bursting. But my Little boy fills up so quickly, and the last thing I want to do is forcibly overfeed him and make him sick.” “Well, if you wanna take Lizzie, Sis, it's time for her feeding too,” Ashley chimed in, offering up the trembling Little to her sister. As Chris latched onto Kenzie's breast, the last thing he saw before the milk haze took over was a very pale, squirming Elizabeth being handed off to her very grateful-looking Auntie. x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x When Chris finally came to, he moaned, finding himself back in the baby bouncer, his diaper very wet and very messy. He looked to the couch to see Emmy laying across it, completely topless. Jake on one tit, Liz on the other. He noticed just at the edges of the leg holes of Elizabeth's disheveled diaper, her skin had a faint red tint. Likely she had thrown a fit over having to feed from yet another Amazon's breasts and got rather soundly spanked for it. Emmy gave him a very satisfied smile. “Don't worry, sweetheart. Mommy and Auntie Ash are just upstairs in your Auntie's room, and it's still about two hours before your salon appointment.” Chris didn't honestly want to know just what they were doing in there. Tilting her head back to look over the couch to the kitchen and her husband, Emmy called to him. “Hon, would you mind changing Crystal? I'd do it myself, but you know...arms full.” Chris paled. It was one thing to be changed by Mommy. Another thing to be changed by another Amazon. It was an entirely worse thing than that to him, the idea of his butt and private parts being cleaned and touched by another man. Rising, Tony replied in the affirmative. He didn't dare fight back against the inevitable, but Chris still tried to shrink away back into the bouncer chair as the Amazon man approached, carrying Kenzie's diaper bag. “Come here, Princess,” Tony said softly, unhooking Chris from the bouncer and depositing him onto a changing pad he had laid out on the floor upon entering the living room. Chris squeaked as his floral skirt was merely slipped off, leaving him in just a shirt and poopy diaper in front of these generally new people. Before he knew it, his diaper was pulled open, exposing his privates to the cooler air. The Little did everything possible not to squirm too much. The last thing he wanted was for this couple to be the ones to dole out a punishment. It was not easy though, as Tony was being quite thorough with that cold wipe. As the final puff of baby powder was applied and massaged all over his crotch, the Little let out a relieved sigh. New diaper taped up, Tony slipped his skirt back on. Over on the couch, Emmy smiled again. “Don't forget to thank Uncle Tony now, Sweetheart,” she said softly, easing Jake off her right nipple and with one hand slipped him onto the couch nestled between her legs. She let Liz continue to suckle for a few moments before switching her to the side previously occupied by Jake, urging the girl to finish what her 'cousin' hadn't eaten. “Thank you, Uncle Tony,” Chris stammered. Tony just smiled down at him. “Any time, Princess.” With a yelp, Chris was quickly lifted by his armpits, and just as quickly placed inside a playpen in the corner of the living room. As Tony began to walk away with the balled-up soiled diaper, Chris stood. The pen was massive. If he stretched his arms toward the ceiling, his fingers would just barely brush over the top. Frowning with a sigh, Chris plopped down on his diapered butt. There were a few stuffed toys, and a few noise-making toys. They could have at least put something for him to draw with in the playpen. Now the room was silent, apart from the suckling of Liz, and the sound of Tony patting Jake's back, trying to draw a belch from the Little. Deciding to not even bother fighting the ensuing boredom, Chris merely threw himself back onto the stuffed animals and closed his eyes. Even if he couldn't sleep, maybe feigning it would keep the Amazons off his back for a little bit. As he listened to the sounds of the room, he heard a few burps from Jake, and Emmy was now trying to do the same to Liz. And having suckled far more milk than Jake, Elizabeth's gas bubbled up far quicker and far more explosively than his. At the sounds of Emmy getting up from the couch, Chris had to force himself to keep his eyes closed. He went rigid though as the Amazon laid her adopted niece down uncomfortable close to him, draping her arm over him in a bid to have the girls 'hug.' Unfortunately, despite being a 'Little,' Liz was a fully grown adult woman. And the fact she wasn't allowed to wear a bra meant her boobs were now thoroughly squished against his body. Cracking one eye open discretely, he noticed hers were squeezed tightly shut, and she was blushing so red she looked like a tomato. Apparently she had come out of her milk haze very fast, and was following his lead in pretending to sleep now. And she was definitely as uncomfortable about this situation as he was. Sure, her boyfriend was practically no more than an infant bodily now, but he was still of sound mind, and he was currently in the room. Sure enough, the two heard Jake see them as he began to squawk and babble furiously. “Oh hush, Honey Pie,” Emmy chided, shoving Jake's pacifier into his mouth and securing it in place before turning to her husband who was still holding their Little. “Come on, we'll let them sleep. I'll make us some lunch.” Once the couple had moved into the kitchen, Chris and Liz cracked their eyes open slightly to look at each other. “I'm so sorry,” Chris whispered, practically only mouthing his words he was so quiet. The girl couldn't speak for a moment, only sniffling in response, before asking the question Chris had asked himself a hundred times in the last two days. “How are we going to get out of this?” Chris wanted to give the young woman an answer. He really did. But at the moment, he could not see any hope for their situation.

Ann And Joe Learn Joe's Rightful Place Chapter 1 ‘Joe!’ Ann called angrily to her husband of three years. She stood waiting in the kitchen, having turned off the smoking, empty frypan on the stove. ‘What?’ replied Joe from the study of the comfortable ranch style home Ann’s money had paid for. ‘Joe, come here please!’ Ann shouted. 'And turn down that racket!’ Grumpily, Joe killed the sound on the PlayStation and slouched towards the kitchen. It was 8.30 in the morning. Ann was smartly dressed for work but Joe was still in his pyjamas. He had been supposedly looking for work for the last four months, but job interviews were less frequent now and he often stayed in his pyjamas all day. He knew that riled Ann, but he didn't really care. She made more than enough money for both of them, and she loved her job whereas Joe had hated his. Ann held up the frypan as Joe sauntered into sight. ‘First you ruin one of my good saucepans, now this, Joe,’ Ann said with exasperation. ‘I forgot,’ muttered Joe. ‘Sorry.’ He had put the frypan on the stove to preheat a but, but had become engrossed in his war game. ‘And you broke the tip off my good German knife doing God knows…’ Ann continued. ‘Yeah, I said I was sorry,’ Joe said rolling his eyes. Ann spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘You're always sorry,’ she said, ’But sorry is not enough. It's not the cost, which is considerable, it’s your lack of responsibility. You don't seem to care. You lounge around playing your stupid games all day, drinking can after can of beer and leaving a trail of mess. In my house.’ Joe looked at her sharply at the last sentence. That subject was by mutual agreement off limits. Ann lowered her angry gaze. ‘You can’t even keep yourself decent. Close up the fly on your pyjamas. I don't want to see your willy dangling around,’ she said. Joe looked down at the gaping fly of his pyjamas and tried to tug the opening closed. ‘Hold on a minute,’ said Ann, stepping towards Joe and crouching to inspect his pyjamas.'Move your hands away, please.' ‘You are disgusting,’ she said, reaching out to feel the soft flannel. ‘Look at the front of your pants! Take those off now!’ Joe, to his credit, blushed hotly. ‘Ann…’ he began. ‘I don't want to hear it,’ said Ann. ‘You have absolutely no decency. You're too tired, or lazy, to think of me for your sexual activities, but you're happy enough to masturbate in your pyjamas like a teenager. The semen on your pyjamas is still wet, for heaven's sake. As if your sloppy bathroom habits weren't bad enough. You stain the back of your underwear with revolting brown streaks and the front with, well, I don't even like talking about it. A toddler’s dirty diapers aren't much worse. And don't start that lip quivering self pity act,’ she continued, looking fiercely at Joe. ‘I know you've had a hard time, I know you've been under pressure and I know what Dr More said about rest and recovery, but she didn't mean that includes behaving like an irresponsible child who can't keep from playing with himself.' Joe did his best to look pitiable. He actually felt pitiable. He was 27 and Ann was 35, richer, employed in a more important job than Joe could ever aspire to, and to boot, Joe was totally out of condition while Ann’s regular workouts kept her in top trim. She was taller than Joe, and he had to admit, probably stronger. The couple stood facing each other. Ann felt like hitting Joe while Joe felt like crying. ‘I said take your pants off,’ she said matter of factly. Joe turned to go to the bedroom. ‘No,’ said Ann. ‘Here. Now.’ Joe looked at her questioningly. ‘Now, Joe,’ Ann commanded him. ‘Now means now.’ Joe began to untie the cord at the waist of his pyjama pants. ‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ said Ann. She strode towards Joe and with both her hands tugged the loose fitting pyjama pants to Joe's ankles. Joe’s hands flew to his groin. ‘Ann!’ he objected. Ann laughed. ‘I don't care if you cover that little thing or not,’ she said. ‘I'm not interested, especially after you've been touching it. Now, take your foul pyjama pants to the laundry, and come straight back. Don't put any other pants on. I don't think you’re worthy of an adult privilege like being fully dressed.’ Joe stood stock still, staring at Ann. He was still trying to process the awful things she had just said. The mention of adult privilege really stung. Joe’s last boss had said something similar when she had fired him. Joe was even closer to tears now, ironically out of concern that he wasn't considered adult. Ann waited a moment, then grabbed Joe firmly by one arm and turned him towards the laundry. As she did so, she spanked Joe’s bare behind as hard as she could with her free hand. It hurt her hand plenty, and she hoped it hurt Joe. It did. Joe looked at her in shock, wailed ‘You hit me!’ and burst into tears. ‘And I'll spank you again if you don't do what you're told,’ said Ann, and propelled Joe towards the laundry. She watched with steely satisfaction as Joe’s white bottom, branded with her angry red hand mark, receded. Then she noticed something reflecting the sunlight from the tiled floor. She looked more closely and saw a trail of little puddles and droplets of urine tracking Joe’s path. Joe, meanwhile, was standing in the laundry where he'd dropped his pyjama pants on the floor. He was crying and helplessly peeing through his fingers to create a large puddle around his feet. He heard Ann’s quick steps coming along the passage, and desperately wiped up the puddle on the floor using his foot on the pyjamas. ‘Great,’ said Ann from the doorway, where she stood in her closely fitting tan business pants and neat off white blouse. ‘I suppose you'd made a mess of your pyjama pants already. Pee all over them isn't going to be much worse. When you've cleaned up your trail of pee in the hall - with a mop like a grownup - I want to have a serious talk with you. And no pants. Irresponsible, messy little boys don't need pants.’ Joe looked at Ann fearfully. ‘Ann, I…’ he began through his sobs. ‘Save it,’ said Ann. ‘Clean yourself up and see me in the living room.’ Ann glanced with displeasure at Joe’s modest penis, now sticking out horizontally beneath his rounded tummy. ‘And I don't care how stiff your little wee wee is, don't touch it. I'll see you in the living room,’ she said, then turned on her heel and left. Joe did as he was instructed, and hurried to the living room, trying to will his stiff little member to soften as it bounced with his steps. Ann was standing like a sergeant major when Joe arrived. ‘Stand in front of me,’ she ordered him. ‘And take your hands away from your penis,’ she added. ‘Your wee wee is out of bounds for your dirty little hands. That's new rule number one. No masturbating. It's disgusting and I won't have it in my house. That little thing is for peeing only unless I say otherwise.’ Ann paused, looking at Joe’s penis sticking out from his sparsely haired groin. ‘Do you find this exciting?’ she asked Joe. ‘N,no,’ replied Joe, looking down and still sobbing. ‘Mm,’ said Ann. ‘Rule number two, you sit on the toilet to do all your business from now on. I'm sick of cleaning the floor around the toilet of your smelly mess, and half the time you don't lift the seat anyway. And you wipe properly, front and back, whenever you use the toilet, OK?’ ‘Yes,’ mumbled Joe. ‘And rule number three, you've caused enough chaos in the kitchen,’ Ann said. ‘You are now banned from there. If you want a drink, or something to eat, you ask me, OK? You're not responsible enough to be allowed in a kitchen by yourself. Got that? What do you do if you want something from the kitchen?’ ‘I ask you,’ said Joe quietly. ‘Why do you have to ask me?’ said Ann. ‘Speak up.’ ‘Because, because I'm not resp, resp, responsible enough,’ replied Joe. ‘Good boy,’ said Ann. ‘Come with me.’ Ann headed down the hallway with Joe following, still trying to will down his erection. Ann took Joe's hand and led him into the master bedroom. She went to the chest of drawers and opened her underwear drawer. ‘These are new,’ Ann said, handing Joe a pair of white cotton interlock full briefs with elasticated waist and leg openings. ‘I don't like the idea of you wearing undies with any access to your wee wee through the front, so you'll wear these all the time now, day and night. They will show up any stains or disgusting marks, so I expect an improvement in your childish toilet habits. Put them on please.’ Carefully, Joe put on the briefs. Ann watched him, then tugged the panties up snug high around his waist. She inspected him front and back, then pulled the front of the briefs away from his stomach and pushed his penis downwards. ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘It's only a little bump anyway.' The touch of Ann's cool fingers had done a lot to deflate Joe’s modest manhood, and there certainly wasn't much to show now. ‘Go and put your track pants on. We'll see if you can keep your new panties clean, then I'll think about you being allowed to wear grownup boys' pants with a fly,’ Ann said. ‘You can play in the study until I come back at lunchtime. I don't want to see you until then. I've had enough of you for a while. Off you go.’ Ann went back to the living room. Joe began to stifle his sobs and found his track pants. Before he put them on he glanced at his reflection in the big wardrobe mirror. His pale legs stuck out from what looked like a juvenile girl’s panties. Joe swallowed and pulled on his track pants. At least the new underpants felt warm and comfortable. He felt his penis begin to grow again down between his legs. He dared not put his hands anywhere near it. He went to the study, avoiding looking into the living room. To be continued

I would say my number one fetish (slightly above ABDL) is desperation and wetting. I love the feeling of having an achingly full bladder and being desperate to use the toliet, holding it until I end up wetting myself. I also love, love, love watching someone else wiggle, dance, moan, whine, and beg to use the bathroom before inevitably soaking their pants.

Greetings, fellow deviants! I come to you today with a brand new story! "But RambleLamb, you still haven't finished your other story!" - many someones, probably. To that I say shhhhh, I'm doing things and that should be good enough. Before I submit this thing I'm undertaking, I want to thank @bbykimmy for providing the names for our two leads, they're very pretty names and all credit goes to her for them. <3 My hope with this story is that I'll be able to tap into some raw and real emotion to elevate the story to something better than a fake Civil War documentary. I touched on something when I wrote one of my very dark short stories, but that emotion was angry and cathartic whereas I hope to touch on something weepy and fulfilling for this particular story. I plan for this to be a very long story, and that obviously means it won't be jumping into the realm of "OMG lesbian diaper sex!!!!!1!!!" until much, much later, but there will be lesbian diaper sex and by that I mean there will be diapers that identify as lesbian unfolded and touching padding, spoiler alert, everyone now needs a towel. Okay, I think I've properly set the bar for expectation and given the people what they didn't ask for, so if everyone is ready, please enjoy the story and be sure to comment if you have time or desire to let me know how bad/good I'm doing, if you have any likes to give and @bbykimmyhasn't posted anything to claim them, I'd very much appreciate one or more floating my way. A.B + D.L. = <3 By: RambleLamb Part One: About a Girl Chapter One: New Kid in School "Numbers, letters, learn to spell Nouns and books and show and tell At playtime we will throw the ball Back to class, through the hall" The White Stripes - "We're Going to be Friends" Beginnings are always the hardest part of storytelling, at least for me they are. When I sit down to write I'm filled with a near limitless number of ideas about where things could or should end up, and the myriad of branching pathways that can lead my characters to those ends makes me hopeful that something special can be achieved in my writing. When I set to kicking everything off though, that's when things become difficult and the pressure to produce coupled with the fear of failure leaves me staring at a blinking line on my computer screen for hours on end. I've tried writing the ending first and working backward, but that's counterintuitive for the way my brain works, and everything just ends up being a muddled and unfinished mess. The truth is that that's the most true representation of what I'm trying to achieve though, because I can't think of any words more accurate to describe life than 'a muddled and unfinished mess'. We can never write the ending to our own life stories, time or disease or even freak accident does that for us. Someone writing about our life after we're gone may know every last detail about our history, but they can't really capture our personality or the deeper innermost thoughts and subtle nuances that made us the person that we are. I can tell you that my name is Alina Benez, but that won't mean anything to you at this point because you know nothing else about me. I'm just a name to you right now, a static pairing of monikers that does little to nothing to create a fully realized human being that has a life, dreams, hopes, fears, all the things that make me who I am. More to the point, you have no reason to care about me or my story right now, and that's where we have to begin. We have to give you a reason to want to read my story, something to make you invested in me enough to want to go on a journey with me to discover what I'm about and where I'll eventually end up. I can give you the long, sordid history of my family, and that would certainly give you an accurate picture of why I am the person I am today, but to do that would take up an entire novel's worth of story, but this isn't Harry Potter, and we're not going half a dozen books or more to tell you that I'm a girl and I'm unequivocally in love with another girl, and have been for as long as I can remember. In a weird way, I don't feel like I can tell you my story without telling you parts of her story, I mean, it's not like either of us had lived very long before we met, though I know that time doesn't always give an accurate indication of maturity. In truth, even though we were only in first grade when we met, we were both pretty far along when it came to life experience, but we'll get to that a little later. For now, let's talk about the first time I met Dawn Lassiter, and how the random chance of assigned seating changed both of our lives forever. ****************************************************************************** The din of the other children discussing their weekend adventures filled the room as everyone entered and made their way to the back of the room to put their coats and lunchboxes away in their assigned cubbies. I waited patiently near the middle of the room to avoid the crush of the other little human beings carrying on about the cartoons they'd watched or the places they'd gone while paying little attention to their surroundings, regularly bumping into one another as they babbled on. I held my plain red lunch box with both hands as I watched each child put remove their coat and or hat and put it on their designated hook, dropping their lunch container of choice in the little box below either with care or apathy depending on the student, or perhaps depending on the contents of the container. Amber Barrington, for example, carefully placed her pink lunchbox adorned with princesses of various animated features in the box so as not to disturb what was most certainly a very gourmet lunch inside. Conversely, Danicka Lane practically hucked her lunchbox into the cubby, clearly unconcerned with whether her PB&J on white remained intact for the designated eating period. Once the majority of my fellow students had moved on to their desks I made my way to my cubby, setting my lunchbox down carefully in the lower compartment, removing my hood from my head, allowing my chestnut hair in its tight ponytail freedom to breathe once more before unzipping my red hooded jacket and hanging it on its hook, taking a moment to smooth out my uniform with my olive toned hands before shuffling over to my own seat. Being in the back of the class meant I got a good view of the back of everyone else, giving me a chance to see them all without having to be seen myself. In the few months since school had started, I'd come to know most of the other girls by the backs of their heads more than by their faces. I knew that Cynthia Mckinney hadn't mastered the fine art of brushing her own hair just yet, the frizzy sand colored mop on the top of her head usually threatening to seize up in an explosion of tangles not helped by the fact that she had a penchant for wrapping her hair around her thumb to suck on it when she got nervous or was overly tired. I knew that Hazel Grant would probably be bald by the time she hit thirty given how brittle and strawlike her blonde hair was even at age six. One thing I didn't know, and couldn't learn from staring at the back of a girls head was, was what kind of girl they were, and that's what kept me back while everyone else rushed in in the morning, what made me stand with one foot turned inward as I gripped my lunchbox for dear life, what kept my hand from raising when I knew the answer to a question the teacher asked. I wanted to be part of their conversations, like any other child wants to be a part of a peer group, integrating successfully and moving from "classmate" to "friend", but I never knew what to say or how to act around them. On the first day of school we were made to stand up in front of the class and say our name and one personal thing about us, and some girls chose to share their love of ponies or a favorite color, others shared how many toys they had and how wonderful it was to have a Summer home in some distant part of the world where money buys the time and labor of other people less fortunate than yourself so you can have ice cold juice by the pool. I chose to share that my dad had died two years prior and that I listened to his extensive record collection every chance I could and that I wanted to grow up to be a musician like he had been, in hindsight, this is not the kind of information that makes other six and seven year old girls think you're friendship material. No one really talked to me after that bit of sharing. It wasn't that they actively avoided me or anything so harsh as that, they just didn't even try. My mom told me, after I'd come home crying and begging her to move us to another place with a new school so I could have a clean slate to try again, that people my age didn't know what to do with certain information and that the other girls not talking to me didn't mean they didn't like me, it just meant that they weren't really sure how to talk to me since they hadn't experienced the death of a parent and didn't listen to and enjoy music written decades before they were born. She assured me that one of them, or more, would come around eventually and everything would work out for me. My mother is many things, but it's that assurance that cemented her as a liar in my mind. My salvation from a childhood of eating lunch alone and reading on the bench outside while hops were scotched and ropes were jumped came in the form of a little girl with jet black hair and ice blue eyes. She couldn't, at that time, show off her individuality given the strict dress code at St. Abigail's Academy for Young Girls, but she was instantly someone I knew I wanted to be friends with. When she arrived in our classroom, accompanied by the Vice Principal, she was wearing a purple hooded sweatshirt similar to my own, the hood down allowing the ladybug barrette adorning her shoulder length hair. "Ladies, quiet down please." Mrs. Thomasson said, clapping her hands three times in succession as she made her way from her desk to stand beside the newly arrived girl and take the note the Vice Principal was holding out for her. The room quieted and everyone turned their attention to the front of the room, a few small whispers ending the excited chatter as Mrs. Thomasson took her place next to the new girl, placing a hand on her shoulder to show the Vice Principal that custody of the girl had officially been transferred. "Class, this is Dawn Lassiter," Mrs. Thomasson said, reading the girl's name from the paper in her hand. "and she'll be joining our class going forward." she added, her horn rimmed glasses sliding down the longish bridge of her nose to be pushed back into place by her bony index finger. "Why don't you tell us a little about yourself, dear." the older woman urged with a reassuring pat of her hand on the girl's shoulder. Dawn shifted her backpack from her shoulder and set it down on the floor in front of her, taking a deep breath before looking up at the class and plastering a broad and friendly, if not forced, smile onto her face. "My name is Dawn and my family just moved here from Las Vegas." she said. The class began to hum with individual conversations at this information, the possibilities of all the depraved debauchery this girl could have witnessed in a den of sin as notorious as Las Vegas. Ridiculous things were whispered, including whether Dawn's mother was a stripper, if her father was a mobster, even if Dawn herself had been a prostitute. That last wondering had come from Tiffany Alvarez who regularly let everyone know that she had HBO and that her parents didn't care if she watched it. Dawn's smile remained despite the rudeness of the other girls, and after a few more claps from Mrs. Thomasson the room returned to its polite quietness. "I'm really happy to be here, and I hope we can all be friends." the young girl added, forcing excitement into her statement for the benefit of her peers. "Thank you dear, and welcome. Why don't you find an empty cubby in the back for your coat and other things and take a seat at the empty desk in the back." Mrs. Thomasson urged, giving the girl one final reassuring pat on the shoulder to send her on her way. Hearing that Dawn was to take the desk next to mine filled me with happiness, my clean slate had arrived and she seemed nice and interesting and I'd get to have the first opportunity of everyone in the class to befriend her. I watched her walk to the back of the room and remove her coat and put it on the hook before she opened her backpack and pulled out her lunchbox and put it in the cubby below. I turned my attention away as she made her way to her desk and waited until she sat down to turn toward her and smile, jutting my arm out toward her with my hand open for shaking, because I'm a very well mannered dork. "My name is Alina, it's nice to meet you, Dawn!" I greeted in a hushed tone to not alert Mrs. Thomasson. Dawn looked at my hand and then up at my increasingly nervous smile, and then her face lit up as she placed her hand in mine and shook it enthusiastically. "It's nice to meet you too, Alina!" she declared in a similarly hushed tone. ****************************************************************************** You never know the moments that are going to change your life forever, apart from the ones that end your life or devastate it immediately, like losing a limb or something. We always see our lives as these long roads that stretch outward into years beyond comprehension when we're younger. We may think randomly about being an old person straddling the line between life and death, but then we remember that that's not going to happen for decades and push it out of our minds. We rarely take into account the pitfalls of everyday life that can take that old age from us and squash our plans for the future without giving us a chance to do anything about it. I didn't know that when I was four my father was going to be involved in a fatal car accident caused by a drunk driver. My mother didn't know that had she let my father take the extra twelve minutes he needed to finish the work he was doing in his studio that he would have gotten home from the store without issue and we would have continued being a complete family unit for who knows how long. The drunk driver that took my father's life that night didn't know that he'd had just a little too much to drink during his celebrating his wife's pregnancy announcement with his friends from work and that getting behind the wheel that night would destroy two families forever. That was a bad moment in my life, but it strengthened me as a person for having experienced it, and even though I would trade anything in the world to have my father back, I'm not sure what kind of person I would be without that experience. In that regard, meeting Dawn Lassiter that day in first grade set me on a path that has made me the woman I am today. We obviously wouldn't know our true feelings for one another until much later in life than our Elementary School days, but that first day she appeared in our class started a friendship that lasted a good long while, but we'll get to that later. ****************************************************************************** "So what was it like living in Las Vegas?" I asked Dawn as we sat on the swings together during recess. She shrugged nonchalantly. "It wasn't as crazy as all the other girls think." she said. "We lived in a house away from the city, so it was actually pretty quiet, but I could see the lights from my bedroom window and my dad took me there a couple of times when he had things to do there, and he let me ride on his shoulders when we walked past the casinos and I could see people gambling and having fun, so that was kind of cool." she explained. I nodded. "Those girls are dumb." I told her, not actually meaning to be as blunt as I was. "I mean, they were saying things that were silly about your family just because you lived in Las Vegas." I corrected. She nodded. "I heard someone say she wondered if I was a prostitute." she said. "I don't know what that is, but I don't think I was one." she added with an embarrassed smile. "That was Tiffany Alvarez, she watches HBO and thinks she's so smart and knows all this grownup stuff, but she was my bunkmate at camp this last Summer, and she cried like a baby when her parents dropped her off and when we told ghost stories around the campfire, and when we went swimming and everyone laughed at her because she wouldn't let go of the dock." I told her, trying my best not to laugh thinking about it. "Basically, she's a big baby that pretends to be so grownup so people think she's cool." I added. Dawn giggled at the stories about Tiffany and smiled at me. "That's good to know, thank you." she said warmly. I nodded and returned her smile. "You're welcome." I said. "Don't let any of these girls try and make you feel like they're cooler than you, they're all just scared little girls pretending to be something they aren't." I told her. "What about you?" she asked as she stopped herself with her feet in the worn rut beneath her swing. I stopped myself the same way and looked at her confused. "What about me?" I asked. She shrugged. "I mean, are you as cool as you seem to be or are you just a scared little girl too?" she asked. My heart skipped a beat that she'd vocalized her thoughts of me being cool to her, and I shook my head to get my thoughts back under my control. "I'm not cool." I confessed. "I read books by myself while the other girls play, and apart from you, I don't have any friends." I told her quietly, ashamed that the embarrassing truth about me was spilling out to someone I desperately wanted to like me. "What kinds of books?" she asked. "I'm reading The Phantom Tollbooth right now." I told her. Her face lit up. "I love that book! We'll have to talk about it after you finish it!" she exclaimed excitedly. I was so surprised that I'd found another person my age that read at a higher grade level that I sat with my mouth open for longer than was socially acceptable, and only managed to close it when it registered to me that Dawn was giggling at me. "Are you shocked that I'm able to read?" she asked. I shook my head vehemently. "No!" I exclaimed. "I just was surprised that you had read that book, it's like a grade four or five book." I told her. She nodded. "My dad read it with me last month." she said. "He helped me with some of the words." she added with a small blush. "Does your dad read with you too?" she asked hopefully, maybe thinking she'd made herself seem stupid in my eyes because she wasn't entirely as independent in her reading as I was. I lowered my head and shook it. "No." I told her. "Um, my dad died two years ago." I added glumly. She gasped and put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know!" she declared apologetically. I nodded. "There's no way you could have known, it's okay." I said quietly as I looked over to her and forced a smile. The genuine feeling of compassion radiating from her hand into my shoulder put me immediately at ease. A moment passed to allow the awkwardness to fade and Dawn gave my shoulder a small pat. "Would you like to come over to my house this weekend?" she asked. "You can help me figure out how to decorate my room and maybe sleep over!" she added excitedly. My little heart swelled and I nodded eagerly, the awkwardness and hurt forgotten completely. "I'll ask my mom tonight!" I told her to which she made a happy squealing sound as she bounced on the seat of the swing. *************************************************************************** To this day I don't know why I put myself in the position that I did, I mean, I could have easily declined her invitation to sleep over, or lied and said my mother had told me no, but I think some part of me never wanted to lie to Dawn, that she was too important a person in my little world to jeopardize our just beginning friendship by building it on a foundation of lies. Maybe I wanted her to know everything about me and keeping my nighttime secret from her wasn't an issue because I felt confident that she wouldn't judge me or mock me or tell anyone. Whatever the true reason was, I took an unknowing step into a future relationship with Dawn because of that sleepover, and knowing what I know now, maybe that wasn't the best idea after all.

Could be. Dampness between your legs and the diaper could cause a rash

It could also be fungal, the outside of the diapers (even the cloth-like ones) aren't exactly "breathable." A little lotramin powder (they sell this as athlete's foot/jock itch powder) will clear it up pretty fast if it is.

vi: Jim Jim was barely in the door before he went to the open bottle of wine and poured himself a huge glass of pinot noir. He stood at the kitchen bar downing it in large, quick gulps until it was gone; then poured another and went to the couch to sit. It had been a hell of a meeting. Not that most of them were not stressful—this was people’s lives after all—but tonight had been hellacious. He’d known it would be, of course. When he invited Paula and Mary, he’d expected...well, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected but he knew he’d come out of the night worse than he went in. And he had. It helped that so many people stopped by afterwards to make sure he was OK; it was good to know they cared. But hearing Mary say those things… He knew what the Bond did. Of course he knew; he couldn’t lead this group if he didn’t. Week after week of listening to people whose lives, like his own, had been radically altered by some mysterious force. They’d started calling it a virus, but no one knew for sure. And anyway, unlike many viruses, there was nothing you could do to protect yourself. No vaccines. No treatments. No little white masks filtering the air. There was nothing that could help. Like Mary: you’re in the wrong place at the perfect time and BAM. Paula had told him that the met at the Post Office. The freaking Post Office! Who even uses the Post Office anymore? Especially 20-year-olds. But there she was, waiting in line, and Mary stopped at the counter to fill out a form, and they both looked up, and then… How can your whole life change over random chance? But it does, doesn’t it? You choose to attend a party or don’t and you maybe meet the love of your life. You get bitten by the wrong mosquito and end up with a terrible disease. You take a random elective course in college just for fun and it changes your whole career goal. You get off the highway seconds before a deadly crash. Or you miss a plane that ends up going down. Chance controls our lives. And especially now, with the Bond, everyone is keenly aware of that fact, as hard to accept as it is. The Post Office. Jesus. Jim tried to think of a more mundane task than mailing a letter or package but he failed utterly. You just don’t expect anything to happen when you go to the Post Office. Maybe they’d have an interesting new stamp or something, but aside from that… He poured a third glass. His nerves were starting to calm down but he wanted to get drunk. Really drunk. The kind of drunk he hadn’t been since college frat parties. The kind of drunk that pulls a dark visor over everything that you do or are. The kind of drunk where...you can truly forget. He looked at the pinot bottle. That last glass had emptied it, and he found that he had no more. So much for getting drunk. Why did I think that inviting her would be a good idea? What he’d said to Jared Caplan was true: a glimpse, even a painful one, was better than none at all. Still, his heart had broken all over again. And now he had actual memories to fight off instead of just feelings. All he needed to do was close his eyes and he’d see her in that collar, on that leash, almost naked except for the diaper. And he’d hear her saying that Paula was all that mattered. That the only reason she had for thanking him was for making her a better Pet to Paula. That it was easy for her to face him. Because he meant nothing. He took a huge swig of his wine. Desperate for something to take his mind off of Mary, he reached for the remote and turned on the TV. News. The thing had defaulted to CNN. And he was just about to click over to Netflix when he heard the word “Keeper” and refocused. “We’ll have more of this developing story in a moment,” said Anderson Cooper. But before the station could switch to commercials, Jim saw what the chyron below Cooper said: “Justice Ron Wallingford bonds with Starbucks clerk.” Seriously? Wallingford’s confirmation just two years ago had been a heated partisan battle due to both his ideology and his youth. He’d only been confirmed with the aid of a tie-breaking vote by the Vice President, yet he’d already cast the key vote in a handful of huge decisions including Kiefer v. Bensonhurst, the decision that codified the legal standing of Pets. Prior to that ruling, the status of Pets had been dubious, but for the most part they continued to have legal rights as citizens. The Kiefer decision had erased that, finding that a Pet was personal property of their Keeper and that, due to the physiological changes that occurred after bonding, they could no longer be considered human. The practical result of the “Keeper” ruling—as a derisive nickname given by activists had it—had been to legalize seizure of a Pet’s assets by their new owner and convey legal “ownership” titles, rights and responsibilities to Keepers. And now Wallingford had his own Pet? Jim couldn’t help it: he silently thanked the powers that be that the Pet had only been a barista; people like Wallingford should not profit from their horrific rulings. If he had bonded with a millionaire, like that guy in Seattle had done, his own law would make him very rich. It would be like winning the lottery. Anderson Cooper came back on. Jim once again thought about Netflix, but found he was interested in the story despite himself. He turned up the volume. “...not the first government official to experience the Bond. Assistant Treasury Secretary Martha Townsend resigned after bonding last year, making her, at the time, the oldest known person to bond. Three freshman Congressmen continue to serve after their bonds. But Wallingford may be the highest ranking American, and arguably the most famous, to become a Pet.” Jim’s shock was enough that he spilled some of his pinot noir. “A Pet? Wallingford is a PET?” he said aloud as he sopped it up with a napkin. “According to the provisions of Kiefer v. Bensonhurst, which Justice Wallingford vocally supported, he automatically relinquishes all citizenship rights and is now the personal property of Alissa Noonan, the 27-year-old barista who is now his Keeper. For a look at what this means to the state of the nation’s highest court as it is about to open its session just weeks before midterm elections, we turn to—” Jim’s phone rang and he muted the TV. “Hello,” he said. It was Raina. He hadn’t heard from his sister in several weeks, but of course she was following this news. She was far more active in political matters than he was, and had in fact gone to Washington to protest the Kiefer decision. “Karma,” she was saying. “It’s everything that jackass deserves for the way he has been voting since he got on there.” “I can hardly believe it,” Jim said. “Believe it, bro. Rachel Maddow devoted her whole show to it.” “What–wait: her whole show? How long has this story been out there?” His sister laughed. “God, Jim, where were you? Under a rock? It broke right around 5:00 Eastern time and they already have interviewed the barista and everything.” He shook his head. “Maybe I should switch to MSNBC?” “No, no,” she said. “You’re on CNN, right?” Raina knew his viewing habits well. “Yeah.” “Well unmute. She’s coming on now.” The screen was now split between Cooper and a young blonde woman. The legend beneath her identified her as “Alissa Noonan, Keeper of Justice Wallingford.” Well, that’s wrong, he thought. He’s not a Justice anymore. “I recognized him right away from the news,” she was saying. “I was surprised he was coming in himself to buy a latte; ordinarily important guys send their clerks or their interns. I had always thought of him as a bit of a dick before, but he was pleasant to everyone in line, even the one guy who made some negative remarks.” “Negative remarks? “You know: about the cases and such. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention. Anyway, I was about to apologize to him on behalf of the store when our eyes met, and, well, we bonded.” “We hear about that more and more with store clerks because of the number of strangers they deal with.” “Yeah,” she said. “Actually I’m the second one at my location to bond. The first was a couple of years ago though.” “Do you have any plans?” “Just to take care of my wonderful Ronny,” she said. “I had no one in my life, really, before today. But this is definitely going to change all that.” “How do you feel about the social differences between you and Justice Wallingford?” She smiled. “Well, you know, first of all, that he will be resigning his position. I’m going to take care of that officially tomorrow. As for his wealth, well, I’m still going to spend it on him. He’ll be the best cared-for Pet in Washington.” “What about the age difference?” She shrugged. “What is it, like twenty years? NBD. And anyway he’s not a 40-something man now; he’s my Pet.” There was a glint in her eye. “His own decision says that.” Jim hit the mute button again and spoke into the phone. “Jesus,” he said. “You said it, Bro,” Raina said. “And like I said: karma.” There was a short lull in the conversation, and then he said, “I saw Mary tonight.” Raina’s voice faltered a bit. “Oh, God,” she said, “this was insensitive. I shouldn’t be gloating about Wallingford and karma, not to you.” “It’s fine,” he said. “I thought it too.” “Where did you see her?” she asked. “At the meeting,” he said. “What? That woman brought her to your meeting? What on earth for?” He drew a deep breath. “Because I invited them.” He started counting mentally. One thousand one, one thousand two— “WHAT?” came his sister’s stunned voice. “Why would you do that?” He shook his head. “I don’t know, Raina. People wanted to hear from a Pet and I...missed her.” “Well,” she asked quietly, “how did it go?” “About as well as you’d think it would.” “Oh Jim,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” “Thanks,” he said, a tear sliding slowly down his cheek. It surprised him; he thought he should be all dried up after the dam had broken at the meeting. “She said she loves being a Pet, Raina. She said it is the most fulfilling thing ever.” “It’s the Bond,” his sister said. “It brainwashes them.” There were more tears now, several little rivulets turning his face into a damp road map. “She was there on a leash and she said she was happy.” “But you know that isn’t real,” she said. “It’s all the Bond.” “Yes,” he said, “but the Bond is real. And it’s apparently unbreakable. She wasn’t the only Pet we heard from. They agreed that life had never been better.” “Brainwashing.” “You didn’t see them. They meant every word.” He glanced up at the TV. Wallingford’s picture was up again, and the chyron said, “Pet Justice to speak on Thursday.” “I’m surprised she’s letting that happen,” he muttered. “What? “Wallingford. Apparently he’s going to speak publicly. From what those Keepers have told me, it surprises me that she isn’t protecting him from that.” “How?” she asked simply. “He’s huge news. I doubt that there is much she could do to stop it. I wonder what he’ll say.” Jim finished his wine. “I think I know. He’ll say how happy he is to be with this Noonan woman and how she makes him feel loved and it’s all he needs.” “Someone is bound to ask about the Keeper ruling. It’s too deliciously ironic not to.” “Yes,” he said. “But they’ll be disappointed. If they are looking for karmic retribution, anyway. He’ll say he doesn’t need the Court, that the only thing he cares about is her.” “Yeah, but he’ll be saying it in a pet diaper.” Jim laughed, the sound surprising him. “He may or may not be used to that by Thursday. Anyway I guess the picture will give you visible retribution. But from what Mary and this other woman said, they are perfectly content. He probably will be too.” “You sound like you’re OK with Mary.” “Oh, I’m not,” he said. “But at least I get it now. I was sitting here before feeling sorry for myself, but this Wallingford thing...if it can happen so easily to a Supreme Court Justice, how can I blame Mary or Paula?” Raina’s voice was comforting. “I guess you can’t,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later, Little Bro.” ‘Bye, Raina,” he said before clicking off. Wallingford’s picture was still there on the silent TV. He found the remote and turned it off. Mary, he thought, but he found that his dark emotions has disappeared into an even darker abyss. He still loved her; he always would. But she wasn’t his any longer. Another tear rolled down his cheek, and he rubbed it away. Picking up his empty wine glass, he moved slowly to the kitchen to clean it out. There would be another day tomorrow, a day full of news about Wallingford and nothing about Mary. Even Pets were unequal, he thought. But that was the way the world worked, wasn’t it? Even though the Wallingford story would eventually die down as the former Justice settled into his new life, there would inevitably be the intrusive, voyeuristic follow-up pieces. And Mary Coughlan would fade into oblivion. He looked at her picture on the wall. No, he thought. They all must be remembered. And he decided to contact the national leaders of FAFOP to petition Congress for some kind of Pet Remembrance Day. He’d lead the charge if need be. Too many people were simply gone from the lives of their loved ones. They should be remembered, and he’d make sure they were.

Tiptoe

Love it when a daddy fingers me while I’m wearing a diaper.

When it is written it will be posted here Work is slow when I have a bunch of commissions to focus on I'm afraid to say.

i never got out of bedwetting and always hated it until about 13 when i was beginning to except it now i just dont care

"Come on honey-pie. If you can't pick one..hnmmm let's seeeee nooooow" Fantasia looked through and then she gasped and grabbed a dress that was bright pink with a teddy bear on the chest with frills all over the hem and sleeves "well isn't this one just too cute! Oh baby you would look so precious in this!"

My story is somewhat sad soon after started wetting the bed and after my wife had me return to diapers we were buying a new mattress and the clerk ask Do you need a mattress protector and my wife without batting a eye Yes me standing there in a diaper could,t say a word.

Well honestly, progress has been very slow. I do tend to believe my overall bladder capacity has gone significantly down. I never flood .y diaper anymore. Frequency has gone up significantly, on a good day I wet at least once every hour, sometimes more, other times less. Urges to pee, come out of the blue, and it's a very uncomfortable feeling I get from feeling anything in my bladder so I almost instantly release. But even with these sudden urges volume is low, like 100-150ml. I guess. Stream is slow despite these strong urges, not that I try to suppress them or slow down. I don't need to. Surprise wettings are becoming more frequent also. Here I mean I don't feel anything in my bladder, but anyway I begin to wet myself, it happens automatically. Dribbling happens frequent now both before and after wetting. Can I hold myself from wetting myself, I honestly don't know....but definitely not something I would do, anyway. Bedwetting, here I only had woken up a few times in a wet diaper. Where I know for a fact that my diaper was dry when I went to bed, so I count these genuine sleepwettings. I do from time to time wake up and just wet my diaper before drifting off to sleep, again

Okay, full disclosure, there's some upsetting stuff in this chapter. Without spoiling anything, we deal with a nightmare in this chapter and if you're not familiar with my work in the past you may not be prepared for it, hence the warning. I'm going to be honest with you guys, I'm really proud of this chapter and my ability to write the way I talk and think and somehow make that into a coherent narrative...mostly, I do go off on little tangents now and again, but I'm very pleased with the results of this chapter and think that I've started moving us in the right direction for what I want this story to accomplish to be a thing. As always, I hope you enjoy my work and if you do throw me a like if you have one or a comment if you have time. I like to hear what people think about my work, even if it's not positive, so if you have a complaint or a criticism I'll accept it and try and do better in the future. I'm still new to writing and posting my work, so I know I have things to work on and I don't think negatively of someone for sharing an honest opinion. On the flip, if you like the story or even just a small part of it, let me know, I like hearing what people think...except that one time where I was combative toward praise because I legit didn't believe anyone actually liked my Civil War "story". I think that's everything, so I will see you guys in the comments section! <3 Oh yeah, two other things in case people didn't see and are curious: 1. I work 12 hour shifts so I only write on my weekends, hence the delay between chapters and 2. Parts and chapter titles are song titles so if you're into music and wanna give a shout out or whatever to knowing what song I used that'd be neat of you kthxbye Part One: About A Girl Chapter Two: Golden Slumbers "I'm just so tired Won't you sing me to sleep And fly through my dreams So I can hitch a ride with you tonight" Yellowcard - "View From Heaven" I sat in the living room on the edge of the couch, straining to hear my mother's conversation through the kitchen door. She'd been on the phone with Dawn's mother for a few minutes now, and I couldn't discern anything from her muffled tone that would help me to know whether she was agreeing to me sleeping over at Dawn's this weekend or not. After my dad died I became pretty introverted. To be fair, I was only four, so my pool of known associates was pretty much limited to my parents, one of whom was gone and never coming back, and a few girls in my preschool class, but those relationships were mostly based on whether or not so and so shared Play-Doh or if whatsherface picked her nose when she thought no one was looking or ate the findings when she was sure no one was. It wasn't hard to withdraw from social interaction, people that didn't know me just assumed I was a sad little girl. People that did know me gave me a pass for a long time, turning a blind eye to my altered behavior while making pitying faces in my direction and commenting about how tragic it all was to see such a shift in me. When I first went back to preschool I literally couldn't stop crying. My dad was always the one to drop me off in the mornings because my preschool was on the way to his studio. Every morning he would take me out of my carseat and hold my hand as we walked to the front door and then he'd hold it open for me and I'd go in and he'd help me take off my coat and then he'd kneel down and open his arms for a hug. He always smelled like warmth and calm, like if curling up under a blanket on the couch while you watch the snow falling outside had a smell. His facial hair would tickle my cheek when I hugged him and I would giggle every time and rub my cheek as we parted and chide him for not having a smooth face, but we both knew I wouldn't have traded his beard for a clean shave in a million years. The first day was hard from the very beginning because nothing was the way it was supposed to be, there was a person missing, the most important person with regards to my daily routine wasn't there and thus the routine was foreign and weird. My mom tried, she really did, but her hand was smaller and cool in contrast to his warm enveloping one, and she smelled like perfume and her hug wasn't as strong, and it was all just a little bit different but made it apparent that the familiar interactions were really and truly gone and weren't ever coming back, and I couldn't handle that and cried. In hindsight, I was very unfair to my mother in that first year after my dad died. She was suffering the loss of the love of her life, the man she'd chosen to be with forever and that had chosen her for the same, and on top of that devastating blow, she had a daughter that looked like him walking around as a constant reminder of a life cut short with no hope of reclaiming it. She never said it, obviously, but I think she loved me a little less because of that reminder, the bitter pill she'd been dealt was hard enough to swallow on its own, but with a daughter too young to successfully navigate emotional devastation on her own to deal with at the same time, I think she looked at me as somewhat of a burden. For a few weeks after my dad died, my aunt stayed with us and helped out around the house. This was a particularly strange time because my aunt was one of those "I don't have children of my own but I read parenting books in preparation for when my crushingly lonely existence isn't filled with cats but instead filled with human children" kind of ladies, the kind that wear holiday themed sweaters and think that bathing in perfume they got off of QVC will fool the world into thinking they're normal and happy when really they just go home after work and cry because their dinner is soup for one, salad for one, and wine for three. My aunt had read that children that lose a parent tend to regress in the face of extreme emotional trauma, and even though I exhibited no outward signs of this being my preferred coping method, she insisted on babying me as a way of "helping". Had my mom not been a curled up ball of tears and sobbing for the better part of three months, she might have noticed and put a stop to her four year old daughter being given baby bottles of warm milk before bed on their aunts lap. I had tried to fight her, arguing that I was certainly not a baby and wasn't in need of being treated like one, but her meaty arms had simply plucked me from where I stood and situated me on her lap with "soothing" assurances that it was okay for me to be a baby and that I was safe with her. Being four years old and having to consciously decide whether to drink milk from a baby bottle or choke to death on the warm liquid can have a surprisingly lasting effect on a person. The real kicker was the bedtime routine that followed the bottle feeding. I was already a bedwetter, not that a four year old having trouble staying dry at night is uncommon, but the reason my dad had gone out the night he'd died was because my mom had noticed I was running low on my overnight pants and had sent him out on the routine retrieval mission that ended up being fatal. This was something that took me years to deal with, knowing that my inability to control my bladder while I slept was directly responsible for the death of my father sounds absolutely ridiculous, but the shame I already felt because of this issue was magnified and compounded exponentially when my aunt took me to my room, carrying me on the mass of blubber enshrouding her hip because baby, and revealed that she'd gone out and purchased actual baby diapers for me to sleep in. I remember laying on the floor on that thin sheet of plastic adorned with pastel rabbits at play among happy, fluffy clouds and having a pacifier put into my mouth while I stared at the package of diapers near my head. I'd never really thought anything about babies before that moment, but seeing that chubby little face smiling toothlessly at me, it's skin tone and eye color matching my own as if to illustrate that I was meant to wear these things because it was where I'd started and all of this was happening to drag me back to that point of my life. I actually started to believe that this was my punishment for killing my father, to have to restart my life without him from the beginning. Having an adult that was supposed to be responsible for my wellbeing taking the reigns and enforcing these new changes made that belief all the more plausible in my young mind, and I didn't entirely hate the soothing feeling that sucking that pacifier brought me, but at the same time, fuck that baby. Literally Pampered, and full of warm milk, I slept heavily and dreamed heavier during that time, waking up to my aunt cooing at me and making syrupy sweet comments about my sodden and swollen diaper before she broke the spell and changed me out of my infantile garment and into my normal underwear, at least at first, but something maternal kicked her biological clock into overdrive fairly early on and it wasn't long before she was changing me from the used diaper into a dry one for the day. When my mother finally returned to the world of the living and emerged from her cocoon of sorrow and not showering, she was, let's just say surprised, to find her four year old daughter sitting splay legged on the floor of the living room sucking on a pacifier and playing with soft baby toys wearing a t-shirt and a diaper. I had fought for some time against actually using the diapers during the day, my parents had successfully potty trained me after all, but once my aunt had made it clear that my diaper was going to be my toilet for the foreseeable future, I backslid into using it for its intended purpose with only a few tantrums and balking. The sudden outburst of my mother screaming at my aunt however, that was enough to tear my attention away from the blocks, crawling to the other side of the couch where I squatted behind the arm and watched the argument, filling my diaper without concern as the fear that everything was horribly wrong in my world filled the pit of my stomach and forced the contents into the seat of my diaper. After my aunt left, narrowly avoiding a black eye, from what I could tell, my mother sat on the couch and cried in frustration and anger. Her emotions shifted quickly to sorrow and remorse when I crawled out from behind the arm of the couch and slowly made my way to her, looking up with wet eyes brimming with tears, my fathers eyes, as the pacifier in my mouth bobbed rhythmically. All the forced babying my aunt had piled onto me had triggered a need in me, just not from her, I didn't want to be a baby, not really, but I did want my mommy. I didn't want a pacifier but I did want to have something to soothe the swirl of emotions at war within me. I didn't want to be crawling around the living room with a load in my diaper, but I did want to have the feeling of being loved and cared for by my parent, to feel safe in their embrace because I was small and they were big and even though the world around us was bigger than both of us and full of scary things that hurt and made no sense, I knew that in their arms it would all be okay. Well, I knew that when my dad was alive, but in that moment in the living room with my mother I was just hopeful that would still be the case. ***************************************************************************** It had been agreed upon by my mom and Dawn's mom that I'd spend the night on Saturday and come home Sunday afternoon. When the news was given to me I was elated, but my mother quickly tempered that by reminding me that I was going to have to wear my overnight pants to sleep and questioning me about whether she felt I could be trusted to put them on myself or whether she needed to call Dawn's mother back and explain the situation to ensure that the bedtime ritual was enforced. The whole thing kind of took the wind out of my sails, mostly because in my excitement of being invited for a sleepover and making an actual flesh and blood friend I had actually forgotten that I was a bedwetter, thankfully my mother knew just how to gently remind me of that fact. In all sincerity, I was really just thankful she was letting me go, I had convinced myself that she was going to nix the idea on the grounds that she didn't feel I was ready to be in an unfamiliar house with unfamiliar people because I wasn't ready for such a big step in emotional independence or something a television child psychologist had said somewhere. With only two days of school left before the weekend, my mother and I had gone out that night to get a sleeping bag for me, and a housewarming gift for Dawn's parents and something nice for me to give Dawn as a thank you for inviting me. I was seated in the basket portion of the cart at the local big box store, mostly because my mother knew it was close to bedtime and I was probably tired from a full day of sitting in a classroom and sitting on a swing talking to Dawn, or maybe it was the sitting at the lunch table outside with Dawn sharing our mutual dislike of weird cheeses and mutual love of cherries in mixed fruit cups that sapped all my energy and required me to ride in the second most babyish spot in the cart. Whatever the belief, I was forced to watch the world roll by through the small squares of plastic of the carts body, knowing from past trips that the first stop was going to be the worst. I still haven't been able to figure out why, as a planned layout, the baby section is near the entrance of the large retailer. I mean, for parents with infants I suppose it's good to be able to get in and buy whatever you need for your little one and get them back out before they're exposed to germs from recycled air or from random strangers wanting to tickle beneath their chin or whatever, but for children with bedwetting issues this is a terrible place for the overnight protective garments they require to be stocked. For one thing, you're putting their needed item right next to actual infant diapers which makes the correlation between wetting ones bed and being a baby very strong despite also trying to reassure the child that the overnight protective garments aren't diapers. For another thing, putting these things near the entrance ensures that, as in my case, the humiliating package is right there in plain sight for the remainder of the shopping adventure free for anyone to see, like a classmate for example. I get that every kid that has a bedwetting issue thinks they're the only one with this issue and that it's something to be ashamed about and that if anyone they knew from school found out about it they would insert overly hyperbolic and dramatic sentiment regarding death or suicide here, and as an adult we know that that's not the case and that lots of kids suffer from continence issues, but the thing is that carting them around the store with this package right next to them is basically like putting the scarlet 'A' on someone that fools around on their spouse and does nothing to help the fear and shame that they have for having this problem. So it was, that my mother drove the cart to the baby section, passing through the aisle of actual diapers, the babies on the fronts of the packages smiling down at me knowingly as if to say "it wasn't too long ago that you were just like us, making your peeps and poops in your diapers, maybe your mommy will decide to buy these for you instead and you can go back to that life". There was always a small part of me that believed that would be the case, my heart beating faster as we neared the dreaded aisle, my eyes looking around at all the bright and happy colored packages and the sea of vacant eyes looking down at me before I cast my gaze to the floor of the cart basket and watch the linoleum roll by, counting the tiles along the way until I reached the magic number of twenty eight and knew we had safely come to the end of the aisle without my mother deciding I did in fact need to return to diapers proper until my little problem was resolved. At the very least, I had long since stopped leaking a little bit of pee into my panties when the trip down the aisle started, that warm spurt acting as a warning to me that I needed to get myself under control or else I'd enact a self fulfilling prophecy and end up proving my baseless fears correct. We didn't ever stop on that aisle, though had I been brave enough to look up at my mother I would have seen her looking at the sea of diapers and then looking down at me in the cart and making a face that could only be described as pitying. She knew without me saying anything that I was afraid of her deciding to buy actual diapers for me, but for whatever reason she never chose to bypass the aisle and come around the neutral side to get my overnight protection. Maybe she was waiting for me to say something to her, maybe she thought that I might request the actual diapers given how easily, at least in her eyes, I'd fallen back into the role of baby and lapsed my toilet training to the point that I'd done something wholly infantile in them without, again, in her eyes, so much as an argument. Maybe she thought that driving the cart down that aisle would remind me of the events of the past and serve as a warning that should she desire it I could be brought back to that point with a simple stretch of her arm and a grip of a package, leaving me to ride in the cart next to a declaration that Alina Benez wasn't a big girl at all, but actually a bona fide infant with a rare disorder that gave her the body of a six year old. With the package of Little Mermaid adorned protection sitting next to me in the cart, as far beneath the seat at the front of the cart and away from me as I could push it, we made our way through the store and back to the camping supplies and found a plain purple sleeping bag for me. My mother tried to talk me into a Tinkerbell or Cinderella one, but I was vehemently against showing up at Dawn's house with a collection of overly girly things and having her think I was like the other girls in class. I wanted her to think I was cool, and if I could keep my bedwetting pants a secret, she might just believe that was true and want to continue our friendship. Conversely, if she saw my Little Mermaid bedwetting pants she might assume I was a dumb baby like Tiffany Alvarez and demand my ejection and permanent banishment from her home entirely. Being a young girl is so damned hard. We left the store with gift card for Dawn's parents because I actually did start getting very sleepy around the fortyfive minute mark on the completely devoid of anything interesting for kids Housewares aisle, and I picked out a stuffed otter that I thought was absolutely adorable and secretly desired for myself but was reluctant to say anything in front of the bedwetter pants for fear that an admission of the desire to have a stuffy would lead to a switch in nighttime attire being made in favor of something more infantile. **************************************************************************** Saturday came quickly and my mother pulled up outside the quite nice two story house that the Lassiter's now called home. It wasn't any more or less nice than the other units in the cookie cutter housing development, but it was newer than our house, and that was really all the excuse I needed to be excited as I was helped from my carseat and handed my sleeping bag and the bag with Dawn's now boxed and wrapped otter along with the gift card and led by the hand to the front porch. My mother wasn't a big woman, she was fairly petite in comparison to someone with a carriage like my aunt, but being only six, she looked like a normal adult, towering above me in her adulthood, her black hair tied into a loose ponytail beneath her pink ball cap that she wore on the weekends, her face devoid of all but the slightest amount of makeup, just enough to look "presentable", but not so much as to look like she was trying too hard to impress people. She'd put on a light sweatshirt that had been my fathers, effectively swallowing her womanly features in favor of a more relaxed look over her bike shorts that she wore to the gym, which I knew she planned to go to after dropping me off. Looking back on that outfit now, knowing what I know about the world, my mother was dressed like a girl many years younger than her given age, finding comfort and security being swaddled in my fathers sweatshirt. She wouldn't be seen as the confident and powerful businesswoman she was during the week, but more as an approachable and at ease woman without a care in the world despite her myriad of cares hidden just below the surface. I already said I looked like my dad, and that statement was backed up when I stood next to my mother. I didn't have her pale skin with just a hint of pink from the sun and her rare encounters with it inside of an air conditioned office high above the city. Her eyes were blue but leaned more towards a grayish color, especially when she was sick, and I had more pronunciation to my facial features than she did, pouty lips in contrast to her thin ones and large eyes that many people found quite lovely as opposed to her more beady looking ones. She wasn't an ugly woman, though you may think that's what I'm driving toward with my descriptions, she just wasn't as pretty as me and that difference would grow more and more readily apparent as I got older and developed into a woman myself. Dawn's mother was stunning, statuesque and buxom, a trophy wife if ever there was one, but with the brains to be a biologist at a pharmaceutical company across town. She looked like, what I imagined at the time, a queen would look like, her dark hair and icy blue eyes mirroring Dawn's and making me all the more interested in being around Dawn long enough to see her become this woman in front of me. Dawn's father was equally pretty, muscular without being gross and well groomed without looking effeminate, his head shaved and his goatee trimmed short. Where I looked adopted without my father as an indication of where my looks came from, Dawn looked like her parents were split equally and mushed together to create the perfect little girl, no Chemical X required. The livingroom was still smattered with boxes in various states of unpacking, though they'd been moved out of the major thoroughfares and off to the sides as much as possible. The parents made introductions and greetings to each other, and Dawn and I exchanged niceties toward one another's parents with me handing over the gifts we'd bought with all the ceremony of a postal worker feeds a mailbox. I ignored her parents as they opened the envelope with the gift card and thanked my mother and I, and instead focused on Dawn as her face lit up when I handed her the package and she eagerly asked her parents if she could open the gift now and tore into it with excitement, her face beaming with happiness as she saw the otter inside and looked up at me and threw herself at me for the most sincere hug I'd experienced from someone I wasn't related to by blood. There was love in that hug, though at the time I assumed it was for the otter, and it probably mostly was, but I'll maintain my belief that that was the moment that Dawn started loving me until the day I die. Dawn and I raced off to her room to put my things away and see the rest of the house, our little legs racing up the stairs and around the corner and down the hall as fast as we could in our fever pitch of excitement. Her bedroom door had colorful foam letters on it spelling out her name and was cutely surrounded by butterflies of similar colors. The room had tan carpet, still sinky and new beneath my bare feet given the house rule of removing our shoes and leaving them near the front door. The bed was surprisingly still one that you'd find in a toddler's room, a rail along the side facing out into the room, white wood, or what looked like wood with pink accents on the various defining features and a pair of cartoon kittens on the headboard that looked like they'd probably be comfortable positioned next to a mobile above the bed. There was a white bookshelf on the far corner of the room filled with various books and collectibles, and a pink toy box next to that, the lid closed and a small stack of extra blankets on top. The folding doors of the closet were open and showcased the expansive collection of clothing Dawn had, ranging from obvious party and special occasion dresses to overalls and shirts. Next to the entry door was a dresser that obviously used to be a changing table but had been gussied up to try and hide its former purpose but, like pulling a tablecloth from a table, it would only take a small amount of effort to restore it to its base form. "I'm so glad you came!" Dawn chirped excitedly, breaking me from my thoughts about nefarious changing tables and bringing my attention to her, seeing that she was clutching the otter I'd given her to her chest in the crook of her arm. I nodded and smiled. "Me too! Thank you so much for inviting me." I said, not the least bit concerned at how actually desperate for her validation and friendship I sounded. "You can set your backpack and sleeping bag on the bed if you want." she offered, gesturing that way as if the room were too vast for me to possibly find the bed two and a half feet away, it was sweet and I kind of cherish the little things like that that she used to do. I moved over to the bed and set my things down, the bedding beneath the blankets and sheets crinkling softly, making me bristle at the sound, suddenly angry with my mother for telling Dawn's parents about my nightly problem, sending them out to buy a special sheet to protect the bedding from me. I turned to look at Dawn, hoping that she could possibly be unaware of the protective bedding now adorning her sleeping area and found her blushing and looking down at her feet. "I guess you heard that, huh?" she asked. I nodded. "Yeah, listen, Dawn-" I started to say. "I wet the bed!" she blurted out suddenly and probably louder than she intended, actually startling me a little. In that moment after her outburst there was a noticeable shift in our demeanor. She became more relaxed when she finally looked up from her feet to see me smiling at her, confessing my same problem, and I became more relaxed knowing that I wasn't alone in my struggle and more importantly that someone as wonderful as her was the person I shared a secret with. I didn't think about it, I just kind of auto piloted my way to her and hugged her, this was the actual moment that Dawn started loving me, for those of you keeping score at home. ****************************************************************************** We were at the beach, my mother and father watching me build a sandcastle as the water began to wash up closer and closer as time ticked by. The sky was on fire with orange and pinkish hues as the day began to fade away to be replaced by night, and my parents were packing things up, my father picking me up from the sand and wrapping me in a towel as he held me to him, my head resting on his chest, his heartbeat acting as the timekeeper to the score of the ocean waves coming in and rolling back out. His forearm supported my bottom, alerting him that a dry diaper would probably be a good idea before the car ride home and he handed me off to my mother to do just that while he loaded up the car. From my carseat I could see the sky begin to take on the inky blackness of night, the pastel hues slipping away, packing up the wisps of clouds in favor of a quilt of stars. My bottle of milk whistled softly as I began to suck air from it, and my heavy eyes tried to focus on my father as he turned in his seat and took the bottle from me and replaced it with my pacifier, looking at me with adoration as the plastic shield began to bob up and down in my mouth. His face was the first thing to change, his beard becoming spotted with little white pills, but that wasn't right because pills didn't wriggle and dance as they tried to move without limbs to successfully do so. The maggots multiplied in his beard as his eyes began to sink into their sockets, their emerald green replaced with a milky white as they clouded over and became bloodshot as they began to crack open and leak their essence down his cheeks which were becoming gaunt and sickly looking on their way to splitting from desiccation. His hands lost the flesh on them as if they were made of ice cream on a hot day, the putrid melt dribbling onto the floor of the car with little plops and splats. His smile grew wider as his lips receded, the corners of his mouth splitting and tearing with a leathery paper sound that was equal parts disgusting and terrifying. His mouth opened and his gray green tongue lolled out and snaked over his teeth as they began to dangle by the threads of their roots, the weight of its eel like form forcing some out entirely sending them to the floor with his skin drippings. "What's wrong, baby?" he asked, his words garbled but still understood somehow despite his lack of teeth or lips or even functioning tongue. The sound of metal smashing into metal and glass shattering filled the car as headlights from the windshield washed over everything and blew the world away in a blinding flash of illumination. ***************************************************************************** I woke up to Dawn shaking me, my screams of "daddy" dying in my throat as I began to sob uncontrollably, my already damp cheeks being doused by fresh tears, the clammy warmth in my overnight protection making me feel more helpless and alone. Dawn hugged me tightly, having left her bed and come to my aid, telling me that I was having a bad dream and that everything was okay. Everything was not okay though, and I knew it, just like I knew that this was not simply a bad dream, this was a nightmare and it was the same one I'd had every night for the last two years. It took several minutes of Dawn hugging me for me to calm down enough to be able to speak coherently without my wheezing sobs breaking up every other word, and several more minutes after that for me to be able to get up with Dawn and join her in the bed, her otter between us as she pulled the blanket up and listened to me tell her about my nightmare.

Ann And Joe Learn Joe's Rightful Place  Chapter 2 Joe sat in the big swivel chair in the study, facing the computer screen as his game booted up. He thought over recent events. He looked at the framed picture of him and Ann, taken on holiday a year ago. They looked like a typical happy couple. Joe kept looking at the photo. Usually, for a photo, he tried to find a place to stand that minimised Ann's significant height advantage over him. In this photo, Joe looked even shorter than usual next to Ann, who had her arm protectively around Joe's shoulders. Ann was wearing tight, high waisted jeans, presenting her broad hips and wide, smooth crotch confidently to the camera. Her mummy jeans, Ann called them. It wasn't really funny, thought Joe with a frown. From a distance, they could be mistaken for big sister and little brother, or even mother and son. By comparison, in the photo Joe wore crumpled, somewhat juvenile shorts. Worse, he was holding a child's beach bucket he had just found. His other hand was covering his crotch, as if he were trying to hide something. Ann was smiling at the camera. Joe was looking up at Ann, as if he were about to ask her something. He remembered the moment now. Ann had given her phone to someone else to take the photo, and Joe had told her that they needed to hurry up because he needed to use the toilet. He had finally got to the toilet on the beach, but had wet his shorts a little and changed into his swimming gear straight away to avoid Ann finding out. She never did. Joe looked unhappily at the picture then turned to his game which was ready to go. Joe shifted in the chair, feeling the way his front and rear were now encased in soft cotton. He shifted again. The feeling of softness, containment and warmth wasn't unpleasant. His hand went to his crotch to exploit the good feeling, then he remembered Ann's warning. His backside still hurt, and he withdrew his hand, feeling guilty not that he had been about to touch his wee wee - his penis, he corrected himself - but that he had been physically disciplined by his wife, and that it was working. After half an hour of game playing, Joe got up and walked to the living room. He saw Ann sitting and reading. Joe stopped near the kitchen. He took a breath and exhaled. Ann looked up. 'What is it honey?' she asked. 'Erm, can I have something to drink and a cookie or something?' Joe asked, feeling ridiculous having to ask his wife such a question. 'In a few minutes, sweetie,' said Ann. At least she's being nice to me, thought Joe. 'How are your new panties?' asked Ann, looking up. 'Fine,' said Joe. He wasn't so keen on the phrase 'your new panties'. He didn't want yo be wearing them tomorrow. 'And how's your bottom feeling?' Ann continued. 'Fine,' said Joe shortly. His backside did still hurt, but he didn't want to give Ann the satisfaction of telling her. 'I'm sorry I had to spank you,' said Ann, 'But I won't tolerate brattish behaviour from you. I've put up with too much of that. Let's hope you've learned a lesson and can be better behaved.' She didn't have to spank me, thought Joe. They were both adults. Adults don't get spanked. Not husbands by their wives. She was his wife, not his mummy. Mother, Joe corrected himself. 'Joe?' he heard Ann say. She was looking at him. 'What?' asked Joe. 'What Ann,' she corrected Joe. 'Well, have you learned a lesson?' 'Yes,' Joe said, feeling pathetic after his brave thoughts of a moment ago concerning wives and spanked husbands. 'Yes, Ann,' he heard himself add, just to complete his submission. 'Good boy,' Ann said with a smile. 'Now, let's check your new panties then I'll get you a snack.' Joe glared resentfully at Ann, who stood up and walked towards him. 'Don't start, please Joe. You've been good, now don't spoil it. Let's have a look. Have you been to the bathroom since you've had these on?' Ann asked, gently pulling Joe's track pants to his knees. 'No,' said Joe quietly. Ann inspected the front and back of Joe's underwear. 'Well done!' she said happily. 'All dry and clean!' Joe said nothing. What other husbands wives check their panties, he thought. Underpants, he corrected himself. Of course he was clean and dry. 'I'll check you again at dinner, and if you're still nice and dry, I have a treat for you,' Ann said. Joe couldn't help but feel a small flush of pleasure at Ann's words, then felt resentment again. What other wives would promise their husbands a reward for keeping their underpants dry for a few hours? 'Give me a kiss, honey, and I'll get you your snack,' said Ann, as she deftly pushed Joe's penis downwards and tugged up his panties and track pants. Joe felt a little trussed up as he followed Ann to the kitchen, but he didn't dare try to rearrange things. He took the drink and cookies Ann offered. 'OK, you go back and play until dinner. I'll call you,' said Ann. 'OK,' said Joe. She could have said 'play your game', he thought. He sat looking at the holiday photo again. They really were equal, he thought. It was just recent events that made his mind come up with other ideas. Then he felt again the extent of the full briefs wrapping his loins. He had had to ask his wife for a snack from the kitchen, and he'd just let her check his panties. More than that, Joe thought unhappily, she'd insisted on checking his undies and he couldn't refuse. Joe looked again at the photo. Ann was in charge, he realised. He began to sob softly. Ironically, he just wanted her to be there to hug him. To be continued.

They see me rollin', they hatin', patrollin' and tryin' to catch me riding dirty.

It took Tahc a few days to get back to the lands of the Duke of Threes. She could not just go straight back to him, not if subtlety was required. And even when she returned to his kingdom, it was not as if she could go right into his office. She was an ‘off the books’ asset. In the city, she paid the owner of a large inn to fly a bright blue flag over his building and then waited at the arranged meeting place, often in the form of a small, black cat that disappeared in the shadows. It was about two days before the Duke of Threes came to the out of the way section of his castle. He paused and asked, “What do you have for me Tahc?” Tahc jumped down, flowing from the form of cat to woman between the ledge and the floor. She bowed respectfully. “My Lord, I am sorry that I cannot tell you where Gorgeous is. However, I believe that the sixth Nursery Knight you are seeking is in the Magical Realm.” He stared at her for a few seconds without saying anything. She wondered what was going on behind his eyes. He maintained a deadpan look so often when they spoke. The emotions, if they appeared on his face, were schooled to show Tahc what we wanted her to see. “And how did you come to that conclusion?” “Gorgeous pulled in a Liason named Gwens to help her with something. She, Gwens, was recently wounded. I suspect during the events on Mountain Seven.” He did not say anything. Tahc continued. “Gwens was one of the Liaisons for the Nursery Knights, for Betty. It is not impossible that Gorgeous just wanted to know more about that project, but it is possible that she brought Gwens along because she, Gorgeous, was dealing with one of the Nursery Knights.” “So the Magical Girl with Gorgeous is one of the Nursery Knights?” “I believe so.” “Which means she may come right to me,” he said, and for a moment Tahc thought she saw something in his eyes. Something not schooled, something he may not have wanted her to see. Desire, lust, hunger. It was gone before she could be certain. “Assuming you are correct.” “I believe I am.” “I do not think a single Nursery Knight could defeat a War Titan. Pretty things, they are not particularly strong nor bright.” It was an unfair assessment, though not an unjustified one. Tahc nodded. “Yes my Lord.” “So, you still do not know where Gorgeous is, and you really don’t know who the Magical Girl with Gorgeous is.” Tahc nodded. “I am certain that she is travelling with a Nursery Knight my Lord.” He smiled. “Well then, if you turn out to be right I will commend you then on your analytical skills.” Tahc did not ask what he might do if she were wrong. “Should I continue to seek out Gorgeous?” He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head. “I think not. You have not found her yet, I take that is an indication of her skill at travelling unseen. We will wait for her to come here, as it seems certain she must.” “Yes my Lord.” “Watch those ways in which Gorgeous might try to enter my lands. Inform me immediately of anything important you might learn.” She nodded. He said nothing else to her and left her. Tahc stepped back into the shadows and wondered how Gorgeous might enter the Duke of Threes’ land unseen. The Ebony Zephyr was a strange train or train like thing. The stations it stopped at were often out of the way, not really hidden, but more forgotten. Except by those that had the desire to ride the train. In the lands of the Duke of Threes, the station was found beneath a mountain. A long set of stairs led up from the station into a small forest village at the base of the mountain. Kristine, Tac and Gorgeous left the train, a few other passengers disembarking at the same time, a handful boarding. Kristine looked around at the darkly elegant station, with walls of polished black stone and checkerboard floor tiles. It was starkly clear and empty. There was a small ticket kiosk with a single bench, both looking tiny in the cathedral-like space. This was not a place where people were supposed to spend any time. Already the passengers who had disembarked were climbing the stairs, and the Black Zephyr’s engine was beginning to tremble and hum. Surely it would leave soon. “Well, we’re here,” Tac said, hands shoved into her pockets as she looked around. “What now great leader?” Gorgeous seemed thoughtful. “I suppose we’ll need to head up top, try to keep a low profile, start a search for Umon.” “Or we could have Kristine search for him magically,” Tac said. “What?” Gorgeous asked as Kristine said, “I can do that?” Tac, hands still in pockets answered Kristine, “Probably. Let’s give it a try.” “She has access to Clairvoyant magics?” Gorgeous asked. Tac only shrugged her shoulders as she took her hands from her pockets. “Okay Kristine, like everything, it is all about visualisation. So, I need you to think about multiple things, assuming you can keep more than two different thoughts together in that small head of yours.” “Thut up Tac.” Tac smiled as she stepped close to Kristine. “Okay, think about the magical energies all around you leading off to cameras.” “Camerath?” “Like security cameras. You tune into them and peek through.” “Okay,” Kristine said as the idea began to form in her mind. "So you look through those cameras and try to find Umon. And you got to let the magic handle things, it’s like,” Tac thought for a few seconds, “software, that does it for you. You’ve heard of that?” Kristine blew out an exasperated breath. “Facial recognition thoftware. Of courthe, I know it.” “No one likes a smart ass little girl Kristine. So keep those ideas in your head and add this one. You can’t let anyone know you are doing this. So you got to hide as you do this. You can’t let anyone know that you are watching them. That will give away the game.” “I underthtand,” Kristine said as the different ideas began to gel in her head. “Okay, so you want to find Umon, who is probably being shielded in some way, so you’ll need to look around those shields without disturbing them.” Kristine nodded again. “Umon is middle management, middle-aged type, all full of himself.” “He is probably scared right now, uncertain,” Gorgeous added. Tac and Gorgeous followed with a detailed description of the man, sometimes arguing over details. Kristine listened and after about ten minutes said, “Okay, let me try thith.” She walked over to the bench and took a seat. Closing her eyes, she let the magic form. She spread her hands. “Nurthery Camera Peek a Boo,” she said, felt her cheeks heat up at the words. She added the next part of the spell, “Blanket Fort Hide Away.” There, she was hidden. “Gentle Chwistmath Pwethent Shake.” “This is the baby crap I have to put up with,” Tac said. “Shut up Tac,” Gorgeous told her. Kristine kept her eyes closed as the multiple magical creations wove together into a single spell. She gasped softly, information overload like a stabbing headache. She wet her diaper a little, hardly aware of it. Ignoring the sharp pain, Kristine focused on filtering out what she did not need. The description of Umon, the fact that he was warded in some manner, that allowed her to start ‘shutting off’ different Nursery Cameras. The more she did it, the faster it went. The pain receded. The condition of her diaper made itself felt. She sighed and continued. Gently she bypassed the wards she found, not really giving what was behind them much attention unless they were Umon shaped. How long she was at it, Kristine was not sure. She heard Tac and Gorgeous talking but had no time to focus on what they were saying. She opened her eyes. “I found him,” she said. “Really?” Gorgeous asked. She sounded surprised. Kristine wondered if she and Tac had been talking about her ability to find Umon. “Really,” Kristine said, more bite in her tone that she intended. “He’th in a castle, but he ith protected, like I am theeing his reflection, but through many mirrorth.” “Redirect wards, pretty common,” Tac said. “That you can see through them means you can get him.” She nodded. “It will take theveral teleports.” “Tic Toc,” Tac said. “Faster you grab him faster we leave.” Tac was hopeless. “She is right,” Gorgeous said. “The longer we stay, the more likely we will be found out.” “I underthtand,” Kristine said, trying not to sound angry. She was the one doing all the work. No point in arguing. Kristine stood, ignored the crinkling of her diaper, brushed her hands down her skirt, felt the damp diaper beneath her fingers, and then visualised the first point on the path of the redirect wards. She teleported. After Kristine had left Gorgeous said, “I am amazed that she could scry like that. And see through the wards.” “Sure you are.” Tac’s tone was thick with sarcasm. “What?” “Don’t play dumb with me Gorgeous, I got it figured out.” “Got what figured out?” Tac stared at her for several seconds and then nearly shouted, “By all the powers. You really are stupid. You don’t know.” “Don’t know what?” Gorgeous said with a growl as she stepped up towards Tac. Tac took a step back. “Just cool it Gorgeous. I figured you had put this all in motion.” “Put what in motion? Your riddles are making me cranky Tac.” “Chaos, primal magic, doesn’t follow the rules, but does have an internal logic and consistency.” “I am aware,” Gorgeous said in a snippy tone. “Well then Miss Aware, what do you think happens if you contract a magical girl and none of the other magical girls, potential or contracted, are around?” Gorgeous opened her mouth, to say what she did not know, but she closed it as Tac’s question sunk in. “It would assume, as much as it could, that the other team members were gone.” Tac smiled and nodded. “Gone, defeated, but either way, the one magical girl…” “Would have to be as powerful as the entire team all by herself.” “Oh Fuck.” “You really didn’t know?” Tac asked. “This really was not your plan all along?” She shook her head. “Well, aren’t you just lucky. Team class Magical Girl. That’s you in the,” Tac smiled and laughed, “dog house.” “This is not funny Tac.” “You see, that is where you are wrong. It is funny to me.” “You contracted with Kristine.” “On your orders.” Tac continued to smile. Like the fucking cat that swallowed the canary, Gorgeous thought. “When did you know?” “Figured it out when Kristine took out that War Titan. I mean, she was pretty damn good and all before that. Figured she was a prodigy, but taking out the Titan was something you’d need a team for. So, stands to reason.” “I can’t believe this. And we…” “What do you mean we?” Gorgeous narrowed her eyes, locked her gaze on Tac. “We,” she said firmly, “dumped her in the primal chaos.” Tac did not reply to that. “What am I going to do?” It was a rhetorical question, but Tac answered, “Get a job in a hostess bar? I mean you’re not my type, but I’m sure someone would find you attractive.” Gorgeous sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose as if in pain. “Tac, let me point out that if this goes pear-shaped, you are going to be caught up in it, no matter what, seeing as you did not do your gods and goddess damned job twenty years ago. And even if you are not, a new broom sweeps clean, as they say. If you somehow manage to avoid all that, no one new is going to let you get away with the shit I have let slide.” “When you put it that way I suddenly have an opinion on this,” Tac said. “Oh? You do, do you? Pray tell, what is it?” “That we cover this up. Sell Kristine to the Duke of Threes for money and the Duke’s help in making Umon go away too.” Gorgeous stared at Tac for several seconds and then shook her head. “You are evil.” “I am self-centred and amoral.” “You sound proud of that.” “Good. So, how do we sell Kristine? I’m still her kill switch, so I want the lion’s share of whatever we get.” “Tac, you are going to shut the hell up. We are not selling Kristine out. We are going to find a way to deal with this within the system, and when it is all done, I’m going to oaky your expense account and pretend you don’t exist for a few decades in the hope that you will drink yourself to death during that time.” “Deal!” Tac said happily. Elsewhere in the Duke of Threes’ land Umon Derrypiz wandered the private, enclosed garden of the Duke’s castle. Part of the water that came off the mountains was diverted to flow through the glassed-in hall. It was as cold as the water that exited the base, and the air within the garden was frigid. Small pine trees grew among frost covered ground, and the hoarfrost on the glass walls gave the light that passed through a glacial feel. It was beautiful as it was cold. Umon did not care much for the beauty or the cold, but it was often the closest he got to being outside. He was not alone in the room. There were two ‘assistants’, a man and a woman, who trailed him wherever he went. They were guards, more so to keep him from leaving than to protect him. He paused near a glass wall, looking at the opaque, frosted glass. Blinking he thought he saw his reflection in the dull frost. Then, as if she had stepped from the glass, a small girl appeared in front of him. In her pale blue dress, and with her pale skin, he thought she might be an ice nymph. Leave it to the Duke to have something like that in his garden. He did not feel any alarm until the girl reached out and grabbed him. There was a crinkling sound, and a sour smell, like piss. He felt his stomach twist as he was carried away. It was rare that anyone disturbed the Duke of Threes when he was working. It did happen when something important happened. An invasion, or news of an attempt on his life, that kind of thing warranted such a disturbance. A guest slash prisoner being spirited away in the middle of his castle, that rated as well. He ordered the guards to begin searching for Umon and then cleared his office. The summons he then sent was answered in less than a minute. A small cat appeared outside his office, on the window sill. He opened the window, and Tahc leapt in, her form changing to that of a slim woman. “My Lord?” “Someone grabbed Derrypiz. The guards said it was like she came out of the glass and then pulled Derrypiz in.” “Teleportation,” Tahc said. “The Magical Girl.” The Duke nodded. “Yes. Of course. Where could she go? Where could she have come from?” Tahc looked thoughtful. “If it is a place that she knows, a Magical Girl of average strength can cross thousands of miles, but I don’t think she could have known your castle. She probably had to come here, somewhere close to make the attempt. However, she could be far away now.” “She could be, but she isn’t.” He turned and looked out his windows. “If she came here than she came here with Gorgeous, and perhaps others. The Magical Girl would have taken him to them. There will be questions. They will think they are somewhere safe. We have minutes. How did they enter my lands?” As he turned his gaze on Tahc, she took a step away, eyes wide, going pale for a moment. She trembled, and her form grew indistinct as if she were about to shift back to her cat form. Then, with a gasp, she said, “The Ebony Zephyr.” For a few seconds he did not know what she was talking about, then he remembered. “Damn that train,” he hissed. “Where is the station?” She asked him. “In the mountains, nearly on the other side of my kingdom.” He looked out the windows. “I will have a gate created. You will come with me.” He turned and strode from the room, calling for his guards. Tahc ran after him. Kristine appeared in the nearly deserted station. The single station employee in the ticket booth ignored her as she pushed Umon, so he ended up sprawled at Gorgeous’ feet. Gorgeous knelt down, looking down at the prostate Umon. “Well, hello there Mr Derrypiz. I think you have a lot to explain about your misuse and misappropriation of the organisation’s resources.” Umon pushed himself to his knees or tried to. Tac put a heeled shoe between his shoulder blades and pushed him back to the floor. “Bit miffed about you lying to me, pretending not to know what I was talking about, being rude.” “What do you think you are doing,” Umon grunted. For a moment Kristine thought he was angry, but she realised he was scared. She knelt down beside Gorgeous, trying to pull the short skirt of her dress down so it would cover her diaper. It was a pretty fruitless endeavour. Gorgeous looked at Tac, still standing on Umon, shook her head, then looked back to the man. “I’ll need you to tell me just how the Duke of Threes has influenced the organisation.” Umon stopped struggling to get up. He started making a sound. It took Kristine a moment to realise he was laughing. “You idiot. You think the Duke did something you can prove. He has arranged things so he can honestly say he did nothing wrong. It's all been set up, so he was never in any danger.” The laughter was bitter and sounded near tears. “Tac, get off him,” Gorgeous said. Tac frowned but took her foot from him. Umon pushed himself once more to his knees, hunching his shoulders as if expecting another kick. “What are you talking about?” Gorgeous demanded. Umon knelt there, gaze on the floor. “I didn’t notice, whenever we talked, whatever the communication, he never once acknowledged that what we were doing was wrong. Never used the word bribe, never asked if I was breaking rules. He can state clearly under the influence of a truth spell that he did nothing wrong.” Umon laughed bitterly. “All wordplay, but he will walk away guilty of nothing.” “What are you talking about?” Gorgeous demanded. “That the Duke of Threes is not stupid. He used me. I thought we were in it together, but I was really just the sacrificial lamb from the start.” Gorgeous frowned. Kristine shook her head. “That thort of thing would never work in a real court of law.” Her voice was soft, a complaint meant for only her ears. “Can’t we just ask him if he knew it was wrong? Nail him down to a yes or no answer?” That she asked louder. Gorgeous looked over at her, an expression of surprise. “You don’t get to ask a Duke yes or no answers,” Tac said. She said it as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “That’s thtupid.” “Is this the Nursery Knight?” Umon asked, looking at Kristine. “Shut up,” Gorgeous told him. “You are not the one asking questions here.” “That is her, in all her infantile glory,” Tac said. Gorgeous looked crossly at Tac. Tac only smiled with a shrug of her shoulders. Umon said, “Give her up to the Duke.” “We’re not giving her up.” “Not unless there is a suitable economic compensation.” “Tac shut up.” Kristine was not joining in the conversation. Something else had caught her attention. “We’re not alone,” she said. Tac became a cat and jumped up onto Kristine’s shoulder. “What?” “Coming down the stairth, trying to be quiet I think.” “The Duke of Threes' people,” Umon told them. “Give them the girl, make a deal.” “Be quiet,” Gorgeous told him, her tone sharper. Kristine had her mace in her hand, the huge, rattle shaped weapon ready. “There are a lot of them.” “Hey Kristine,” Tac said softly into her ear, “I’ll split any reward with you if you let me hand you over.” “Do you ever lithten to yourself?” “Not really.” “It explainth so much.” Umon continued to counsel surrender while Gorgeous kept telling him to stop talking. “Big Baby Thilence,” Kristine chanted. A pacifier gag suddenly appeared in Umon’s mouth. “Thank you,” Gorgeous said. “Pervert,” Tac accused. “Too bad I can’t gag you,” Kristine said to Tac as she stood ready. Looming figures, twice the size of a man, came lumbering down the stairs. They were made bulkier by the heavy armour they wore, and they all carried strange weapons that looked to Kristine like cannons. “Ogres,” Gorgeous said. “Dangerouth?” Kristine asked. “More so than Redcaps, not even close to a War Titan.” Kristine nodded. The ogres reached the bottom of the stairs, formed out in a line, weapons held out, pointed towards Kristine and the others. More soldiers followed the ogres, tall, slim people who marched down the stairs in suits of armour that shone like polished silver, muted in the shadow of the platform. They each carried a long, curving sword. Among them walked a tall man, dressed in white and gold, carrying a sword likely as long as he was tall. Even at a distance, Kristine got the feeling he was beautiful and powerful. She knew that he was the Duke of Threes. The Duke and his honour guard reached the platform, the ogres moved slightly to the side, providing a space for the Duke and those with him. The Duke’s voice filled the cathedral-like space when he spoke. “Free your prisoner and surrender to me.” Kristine was about to shout an angry denial, but Gorgeous spoke fire, her voice unnaturally loud. “Derrypiz is under arrest for misuse of organisational resources. I am taking him with me.” The Duke did not answer for a few seconds. Kristine was not sure, but she felt as if he was staring at her. It was a hungry presence, and it made her shiver slightly. Her diaper felt wet, but she was not sure if they were related. She hoped not. “Do you have a warrant to that effect?” The Duke called. He sounded bored. “I don’t need a warrant. I am the Senior Supervisor of Magical Liaisons and have the authority to make an arrest as part of any investigation.” “And if I don’t recognise your authority?” The ogres shifted their cannons to a ready position. “I don’t give a damn what you recognise,” Gorgeous snapped angrily. “He’s trying to distract us.” Tac’s soft voice was a tickle in Kristine’s ear. Kristine did not ask what and did not look about. A soft whisper, “Nurthery Camera Peek a Boo.” Scrying the area around them Kristine sought out any other threat. She found them. A small group coming up the mismatched tracks behind them. Gorgeous and the Duke of Threes continued to argue jurisdiction as the stealth attack closed on them. Kristine took a breath, then called out, “What did you do with the other Nurthery Knightth?” It was almost as if Gorgeous and the Duke had forgotten that Kristine was there, but Kristine knew that the Duke was only making a pretence. He had never forgotten her. After a few seconds, the Duke said, “The other girls are my guests and wards, under my care, as you should be as well, my dear Kristine.” Kristine bit down on an angry outburst and just said, “I am not interested in being your guetht.” “Poor Kristine, don’t you realise your ability to take care of yourself is failing? I accept responsibility for this, though of course, I had no idea that my musings would lead to this. You can lay that at the feet of Umon Derrypiz there.” Umon tried, unsuccessfully, to speak around the pacifier gag. She supposed the Duke was making a truthful statement. He could not have been one hundred percent sure that Umon would follow through on his ‘musings’. Behind them the stealth group crept onto the platform, sticking to the shadows at the edge of the room. “Why would you even want thith? The Nurthery Knightth are ridiculous!” “I find your helplessness endearing.” Kristine felt as if she should be furious, but there was something there that pushed anger down. It was like when a witness was being cross-examined. She knew that with the right question she could catch him in a lie, though as to what he was lying about she did not know. But there was no time. The stealth group was almost one them. Kristine swept out her mace, casting her spell of protection, putting a wall of crib bars between the soldiers and her. Then she spun and brought her mace crashing down on the head of something that looked like a scarecrow covered in oil, its shape uncertain and liquid. Gorgeous shouted out in surprise, seeing the new attackers. The ogres charged forward and tried to break Kristine’s shield. Kristine drove the scarecrow-like creatures around, smashing two more. Tac on her shoulder said, “We should…” Then something small flashed by Kristine’s shoulder and carried Tac off to the floor several feet away. Kristine drove more of the attackers back with her mace. She looked away from them for a moment to where a ball of hissing and yowling fur resolved itself into two black cats fighting. “Tahc,” Gorgeous called out. One of the scarecrows was trying to grab Umon. Kristine stepped close and pounded the thing into the ground. Standing over Umon, she called to Gorgeous, “Let’s go. There are more of them coming.” What was more she felt the Duke of Threes working his own magic against her barrier, working at bringing it down. Gorgeous reached into the fighting cats, earning several scratches on her arm for her effort. Yanking Tac free she then kicked the other cat, Tahc apparently, away. Carrying a still yowling Tac close to Kristine, she reached out and put her hand on Kristine’s shoulder. Kristine looked across at the Duke of Threes. The hunger had grown. She did not understand the mad desire she felt rolling off him. But there was no time to figure it out. As the barrier began to fracture and a small army of the scarecrows poured out of the tunnel onto the platform, she teleported away. Tahc rubbed at sore ribs from Gorgeous' kick as she limped back towards where the Duke stood, “She can’t have teleported far. We should search…” “Are you sure of that?” The Duke asked, interrupting her. Tahc blinked at the question. “The Nursery Knights were not that powerful, I would doubt she could jump more than…” The Duke interrupted her again. “I am the Regent of this land, my power here is nearly unassailable, and yet I had to work at breaking her barrier.” He paused and looked around, then lowered his voice and said, “And she was not even focusing on maintaining it.” Tahc had to think over what the Duke had said twice before she was certain she had heard it clearly. “She could not be that powerful. Magical Girls that powerful are almost unheard of.” “Then how would you explain that barrier?” Tahc chewed at her lip for a moment. “I can’t.” The Duke looked around the station platform, the bodies of his slaugh, smashed on the floor, and his ogres who had been useless against the barrier. “I do not think we will find her close, but we will find her.” Tahc took a step back, surprised by the vehemence in the Duke’s words. “I will have that girl, I must.” Tahc held her breath. The Duke’s whisper was not for her, and she did not want to remind him that she stood close, that she had heard him. The four of them appeared on the high tower station of the Mountain Seven. Gorgeous dropped the still hissing Tac to the ground. Tac looked around, then, after several seconds, began to groom herself as if nothing was the matter. Her still fluffed up fur made the nonchalant behaviour a lie. Gorgeous knelt down and pulled the pacifier gag out of Umon’s mouth. “Where are we?” Umon asked. “Mountain Theven,” Kristine said. “That’s impossible.” His eyes were wide. Kristine ignored him. While Gorgeous continued her interrogation of the man, heedless of the people who looked on, Kristine walked to the railing around the platform, looked out at the mountain. Why did the Duke want her? Tac jumped up onto the rail. Her fur was smooth again, though damp in places from blood. “Who is Tahc?” “My little sister,” Tac said. “Used to be a Liaison herself. Stupid little bitch quit.” Tac lifted a paw and gave the pads a lick with her raspy tongue. “Little sister? And her name is Tahc?” “Mom had no imagination,” Tac said. Kristine had to rush out of the room or mess her diaper. The questioning of Umon had not been really going anywhere, but leaving like that felt so wrong to her. As am inspiring lawyer, she would have never left such a session. But as a Nursery Knight, her bladder and bowels had different opinions. When she came back, a fresh diaper on, she found the room empty. “What the hell?” she asked aloud. “There you are,” Tac said, coming out of another room further down the hallway. She was holding a tumbler and a bottle of whisky. “Where ith Umon?” “They took him away,” Tac said as she drank back the contents of her glass. “Where? Why?” Tac filled the glass from her bottle. “Truth spell, punishment, you know, bout what you’d expect. Well, maybe not you.” “But, what about the Duke.” Tac knocked back her whisky. “What about him?” “Oh, Kristine,” Gorgeous said as she walked out of door different from the one Tac had exited from. “Where’th Umon.” Gorgeous shook her head. “Sorry, they just showed up.” “Who?” “Gorgeous’ boss, gonna sweep all this under the rug,” Tac said, pouring herself yet another glass of whisky. “They are not going to sweep it all under the rug.” Gorgeous walked to Kristine. “Umon is going to be dealt with for what he did.” “What about the Duke of Threeth?” Gorgeous did not meet Kristine’s gaze. “He’ll be asked a few questions, under a truth spell of course.” Kristine shifted to the side, so she could look up into Gorgeous’ face. “Yeth or no quethtions?” Gorgeous swallowed. Tac drank again and then asked with a laugh, “What do you think?” “I don’t think so,” Gorgeous said. She was flushed, with red in her cheeks. “How does thith thtop him from hunting me? How does it punith him?” Tac burped. “We’ll find another way to deal with him,” Gorgeous assured her. Kristine took a step back from Gorgeous. She shook her head. “I’m going to have to deal with this mythelf.” “What do you mean.” “Who cares what she means.” “I mean that if you can’t deal with the Duke of Threeth I will.” She teleported away leaving Tac and Gorgeous behind. Kristine appeared in the enclosed glass garden, where she had captured Umon. It was deserted. Well, she could change that. There were warding alarms all over. She had avoided them in teleporting in. Now she reached out and tripped them all. Kristine was certain she would not be alone for long.

New update for this story now posted on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 For $5 you can see the latest update in Sarah and Nick's adventures plus early updates to all my other stories. For $10 you get all of the above and exclusive stories as well! All support is greatly appreciated --- Kirsty opened the door to her bedroom, let Sarah walk past her and then closed the door again. She maintained her smile all the way until the door was closed. As soon as the door was shut her smile dropped and it was replaced by a look of acute anxiety. “This is a nice bedro-” Sarah turned around and saw Kirsty’s face, “What’s wrong?” “What’s wrong?” Kirsty repeated with wide eyes. She pulled out her phone and opened up the text that Sarah had sent her last night. She held it up to Sarah and showed her the picture. Sarah blushed when she was shown the photo. It seemed so weird to see herself in that situation on Kirsty’s phone. At the time it felt like the right thing to do, in the cold light of day it felt a little more embarrassing. “What?” Sarah asked, “We were having fun. It’s no big deal. You knew it was a distinct possibility.” “Jesus, Sarah…” Kirsty said as she closed her eyes in exasperation, “What the fuck did you do...” “What did I do?” Sarah asked in confusion, “I did what I said I was going to do…” Kirsty shook her head. She was experienced in all things kink and despite Sarah’s fast progress, she had made some very poor decisions recently. Kirsty suddenly felt terrible that she hadn’t monitored everything more carefully, she was very scared that she may have broken her best friend’s relationship. For her part, Sarah was confused. Sarah felt like her friend had been encouraging her to push limits and then, all of a sudden, was shouting at her for doing so. “Kirsty, what’s wrong!?” Sarah asked impatiently. She really wasn’t sure what the big deal here was. “You told me that Nick was OK with you dating someone else.” Kirsty said quietly. She didn’t want her voice to carry next door to where the babies were, “You told me you had both talked about it.” “We did!” Sarah protested, “I told him what I wanted to do and he agreed to it.” “Did he?” Kirsty asked with a rather accusing voice, “Or did you tell him what you were going to do and not give him an option?” “Well…” Sarah started after a long delay. “Did you give Nick a time out from this baby stuff? Did you talk to him as an adult?” Kirsty asked, “Did you say what you wanted and let him honestly tell you what he wanted?” “I… I…” Sarah tried to think back to her conversations with Nick, “He was definitely in baby mode, he always is.” Kirsty nodded. She could see the exact problem, she just hoped it wasn’t too late to fix things. Sarah had neglected the most important part of any relationship like this, she had lost the sense of balance. You can have a power based relationship, even one that is near full time, and have it be healthy. Sarah’s problem was that she had ceased to treat Nick with any kind of equality and it had led to her making decisions that could potentially ruin the relationship because she had lost sight of who was truly important to her. “Kirsty, What’s wrong?” Sarah asked. She had started to sound a little worried, the gravity of the situation was starting to dawn on her. Kirsty wasn’t playing around; she was genuinely upset at her. “I’ve been around a lot of cuckolded men.” Kirsty started, “I’ve done it myself before. Heck, George likes it every now and then. It is so, so important that you make sure the man is OK with it.” “I did!” Sarah replied, “I asked him an-” “Sarah, Stop!” Kirsty said firmly as she closed her eyes in frustration, “Please… Listen to me.” Sarah nodded her head and sat down on the edge of the bed. She had been in control so much recently that she had forgotten what it was like to be told what to do, if she was honest her power had rather gone to her head. “You have to make sure that the man is REALLY alright with it.” Kirsty continued, “Not in any power play situation, not in any sexual situation. You have to let him know that he is perfectly within his rights to say no.” Sarah was beginning to see where this was going and she felt a sudden panic rising up in her. “If you had Nick in nappies, if you were asking him as “Mummy” rather than as “Wife” then he didn’t give you consent.” Kirsty continued, “He may have said OK to things, he may have told you he was fine with you doing anything but I will tell you right now… That man, remember he is a man and not a baby, was not happy.” “Oh my God…” Sarah said softly as she started to realise what was happening, “But he hugged me when I came in… I haven’t ruined things have I?” Kirsty shrugged in an exaggerated fashion. It really could go either way at this point, she was just glad she was getting through to Sarah about the problems here. Nick had been very happy to see her when she walked in but what was he really thinking? How did he feel once the initial excitement of seeing Sarah wore off? “Honestly, you and him need to talk.” Kirsty said, “I have no idea how he is feeling except that he isn’t happy.” “How do you know?” Sarah asked with an anxious look on her face. Maybe Kirsty was blowing all of this up into a much bigger deal than it really was. Kirsty grimaced. She looked at her laptop that was on top of the bedside table. Walking over to the computer, Kirsty clicked on to a video program and scanned through a list of videos. Seeing the one for last night, she double clicked it and went to the timestamp that had her standing next to the crib the previous evening. “Watch this.” Kirsty said as she full screened the video and pressed play on the video. Sarah took a second to work out what she was watching. It was hard to make out with the bright night vision to start with, but soon Sarah could make out the layout of the nursery and she could see Nick leaning against the bars of the crib. “You have a camera in there?” Sarah asked. “I do.” Kirsty replied, “Not all the time though. I like to keep George guessing.” In the video Kirsty was walking away from the crib when she paused and turned around. After a few seconds she pulled out her phone. “This is where Nick asked to see the picture you sent me.” Kirsty said, “I showed him because you said I should. I assumed he knew what he would be seeing.” Sarah bit her bottom lip as she watched the Kirsty on the video open her phone and bring up the picture that Sarah had sent her. She watched Nick intently, she already guessed this wasn’t going to go well. She put her hands together in the prayer position in front of her mouth as she nervously watched the little figures on the screen. The figure of Kirsty held up the phone to the crib and Sarah watched as she held it there for a few seconds. “Oh no…” Sarah whispered as she felt her heart sink. As she watched Nick visibly slump down in the crib, Sarah felt her heart doing the same. She felt so bad, she had no idea that her picture would have that effect, she had no idea that Nick was as cut up as he was by the picture. Sarah honestly believed that it would just be a bit of fun for them all, she had in no way expected that reaction from her husband. “Yeah…” Kirsty said, “When I saw his reaction. I realised he had never been into this whole thing. His reaction, had he liked this, should have been one of excitement. He would’ve been embarrassed and humiliated but he would have liked it.” Sarah looked away from the screen and closed her eyes. She lowered her head and shook it slightly, it was now clear as day. She had started taking the power too far, she hadn’t made certain Nick was OK with everything. She was rather ashamed to admit that her husband’s feelings hadn’t really been much of a concern to her. She had just expected him to acquiesce to the situation. “I’ve got to go talk to him!” Sarah said as she stood up from the bed. “Well, just hold on a minute.” Kirsty replied as she put a hand on Sarah’s arm, “There’s something else you should see…” Kirsty pressed fast forward on the video for the briefest of time and then clicked play again. The scene played out just as it had done the previous night. The camera caught all of the blowjob that George had excitedly and expertly given to his friend the previous night and the two women watching the footage were both enthralled by it. Kirsty didn’t mention it but she was very much turned on by what she saw. “Wow…” Sarah said in disbelief when the act was finished. “I thought you should see it.” Kirsty said. “I didn’t know he had it in him.” Sarah was shocked by everything that she had seen. She thought Nick would have been OK with what she did, she also thought she would have been OK with what Nick did and yet both acts had left her reeling. “Well, I’m guessing he hasn’t had much relief lately.” Kirsty reasoned, “Then he saw the picture you sent.” Sarah nodded slowly. She knew she had a lot to talk about with Nick and maybe she would have to change what she was doing. If she wanted this arrangement to work, she couldn’t keep hurting her husband. If anything she owed him a grovelling apology but how to do that without ending the whole power aspect of their relationship was another matter. “I went along with everything yesterday because you told me, with no hesitation, that Nick would enjoy it.” Kirsty said, “You need to make this right with him.” Sarah nodded again. She motioned for Kirsty to come with her and together they walked down the landing and into the nursery. Kirsty was the first to reach the nursery door and she paused briefly to make sure Sarah was ready. When Sarah gave her a small nod, Kirsty pushed open the door and took a step inside. “George!” Kirsty yelled when she stepped through the door. “Mistress!” George spluttered as he jumped back from the table, “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.” Nick went a deep shade of red as this scene unfolded. Whilst being changed he had become excited and George, who had been the one wiping him had started to give Nick some manual relief. That was when Kirsty and Sarah had walked in. Nick felt awful at having been caught by his wife and her friend being pleasured by another man. At the same time there was another voice in Nick’s head. A voice that wanted to shout at Sarah that now she knew how it felt. That voice was stifled by Nick’s feelings of embarrassment though; he couldn’t hold his wife’s gaze for long. Kirsty stormed over to the changing table and grabbed her sissy by the ear. She pulled the yelping man away from Nick and was muttering about punishment and paying for what he was doing later. She mouthed a “sorry” to Sarah who quickly walked over and took her place between Nick’s legs. Nick looked up to his wife as she came over and stood between his legs. He was rather perplexed by Sarah’s rather hesitant and fearful face; it wasn’t something he had been used to seeing recently. George had already cleaned Nick up and put a new nappy underneath him so when Sarah came over to Nick all she had to do was pull up the front of the nappy and tape it closed. Nick’s still excited tool was pressed against his belly and he was grateful that it was finally tucked away. As Nick was lowered from the changing table he watched as George was pulled into his crib. The side was put up and George looked out sadly from between the bars. “We should go.” Sarah said quickly as Nick regained his balance on the floor, “Where’s his clothes?” “I washed them over night.” Kirsty said, “They are downstairs, they should be OK now.” Kirsty led the way and Sarah followed as they started to leave the nursery. Nick was at the back of the procession and he looked to the crib as he was pulled towards the exit by his wife. He saw George sadly wave goodbye as he was pulled around the corner and out of sight. Nick followed the two women downstairs in silence and walked into the living room to find his clothes laid out for him. He didn’t resist as Sarah quickly got him dressed, if anything he was glad to finally be back in his own clothes. He was a little confused though, there seemed to be tension in the room and he wasn’t sure why. There was no doubt that Nick was pleased to see his wife again even if he still felt some resentment. Unless he was crazy though, it felt like the awkwardness was coming from Sarah and Kirsty. This was very unusual when it was Nick who was heavily padded. He felt almost like the most normal person in the room which was not something he had felt for a long time. Once Nick was fully dressed, he was shepherded out to the car by his wife. He noticed Sarah and Kirsty murmuring a quick goodbye to each other and thought it was a little strange, they normally spent a long time talking. Nick was quickly strapped into the car seat and he settled in for the short ride home. As he sat alone in the car his mind went back to the previous night again. He remembered what he did, but the thing that really stuck in his head was the photo he had seen on Kirsty’s phone. He saw Sarah covered in another man’s milk and he felt a strong feeling of disgust rising up in him. When the driver’s door opened and Sarah stepped in, Nick forced himself to push that feeling of disgust to the back of his mind. He would have to deal with these feelings at some point but right here and now was neither the time nor the place. The drive home was very quiet. Sarah turned the radio on but didn’t say anything to Nick. If anything, this actually infuriated Nick even more than anything that had happened the previous day. After everything she had done the previous day and everything she had made Nick go through, she now wouldn’t talk to him at all. He didn’t say anything but the longer the journey went in silence the more resentment Nick started to feel. When the car pulled up in the driveway, Nick waited for Sarah to release him from the car seat. He looked away as he was unclipped and then walked straight to the front door. He impatiently tapped his foot as he waited for Sarah to gather her things and let him. By this point, Nick didn’t even care that he was in the open with regards to his diapers. He was mad at Sarah and that was overriding all his other feelings. If some neighbours would see what Sarah was doing to him than so be it. Maybe he would just walk over to them and tell them exactly what was going on. Maybe it was time to call Sarah’s bluff… The key was turned in the lock and the door pushed open. Nick didn’t wait for Sarah. He just started heading for the stairs, he didn’t want to talk to anyone or do anything. He wanted to be alone and he started storming up the stairs. “Nick.” Sarah called when Nick was halfway up the stairs. She saw him stop moving but he didn’t turn around, she couldn’t see his face but she could tell from his stiffness that all was not well. Nick didn’t respond and he didn’t turn around. His immediate instinct and his learned response was to respond with as much happiness as he could muster and answer to his wife’s commands like a well-trained dog. He suppressed that instinct though. Nick was angry, he was upset and he was confused. Everything over the last few days had been so confusing, he no longer felt like his wife was training him to be a better husband. He felt like she was now just taking advantage of him. “Nick?” Sarah repeated. This time it sounded more like a question than a command. Her voice had lost that self-confidence that Nick had grown used to. Nick could feel his eyes filling with tears and now his anger moved on to himself. Why did he have to get upset? He was angry, not sad. Why couldn’t he control his emotions anymore? It was so frustrating, it was Sarah who should be crying. His own emotional weakness only made him even angrier. He hung his head low as he tried to keep his emotions together. “Please… Nick?” Sarah’s voice had no authority now. Her voice shook as she felt her own emotions running high. Everything that had been pent up since seeing that video, all of the things that Sarah and Nick had both not talked about started to overwhelm them. Hearing his wife’s voice shaking with emotion was the thing that pushed Nick over the edge. His head dropped and his shoulders shook with the tears that started running down his face. Nick turned around and sat on the stairs, the waistband of his diaper poked out between his shorts and shirt. Nick honestly felt like a toddler having a meltdown rather than an adult who was upset. Not by choice, he wanted to be the strong man who laid down the law not the overgrown baby crying on the stairs. He looked down the stairs at his wife who seemed incapable of looking him in the eyes, she was looking down at the floor. “We need to talk…” Sarah sobbed as she wiped her eyes and looked up at Nick. Nick nodded. It was hard to deny that they had hit a low point in their relationship, there was a real communication problem and mistakes had been made by both sides. Nick rubbed his eyes and stood up, he looked down at Sarah who, with her head still down, walked into the living room. It was clear she was having trouble making eye contact with her husband. Nick was pleased that she seemed genuinely ashamed of what she had done. Taking a deep breath, Nick followed. When he entered the living room he saw that Sarah was already sat down on the couch with a box of tissues at the ready, she indicated that Nick should sit down next to her. Sarah could feel her heart beating at a million miles an hour, her stomach felt like it was doing backflips and she felt like she had no control of the situation. For the first time since this had all began Sarah felt like the power was shifting back to her husband. It scared her because after everything she had done, if Nick decided to just leave she knew she would have little she could say or do to stop him. Sometimes you only realise what you want when you are threatened with losing it. Sarah felt like she was losing Nick and it had become more clear than ever how much she loved him. This was supposed to be the triumphant morning where she showed Nick that her plan had been right all along. That Jack would be a great Daddy for him and they could all live happily, only now did she realise the arrogance in the assumptions she had made. Nick did as he was asked and took his place on the couch. They were rather awkward and neither of them quite knew where to begin. For a few minutes they just sat quietly and tried to work out who should say what. “I’m sorry, Nick.” Sarah said as she wiped her eyes with a tissue, “For everything.” Nick wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. By “everything” did Sarah mean just the last couple of days or did she mean something more substantial, maybe she meant the entirety of this baby stuff. “I…” Nick tried to think about what to say, “I’m sorry too.” “No!” Sarah cut Nick off with a rather loud shout, “You don’t have to apologise for anything. This is all on me.” “Sarah…” Nick looked across at his wife. She looked absolutely heartbroken. “No, Nick.” Sarah repeated, “This is all on me. I’ve done unforgiveable things, I took you for granted, I just didn’t understand what I was doing.” Nick stayed quiet as Sarah started pouring things off of her chest. He could hardly believe this was really happening. It felt like something he had been waiting for since the beginning, now it was here he wasn’t quite sure how to react. “This started as a bit of fun and I-” Sarah began. “FUN!?” Nick interrupted loudly causing his wife to wince. “Let me explain.” Sarah said as she put her hands up to placate her husband. Nick tried to get past the shock and he indicated that Sarah should continue. He knew that she had relished her role as being in control but he didn’t know she had enjoyed it from the beginning. “You have to admit you were behaving pretty badly.” Sarah started, “Losing your job, not helping out around the house, the wet bed…” “Can we beyond the blaming me part?” Nick asked rather coldly. His patience and willingness to take the blame for any of this were being stretched to the limit. “Sorry…” Sarah said as she looked away, “I don’t mean to blame you for everything. It’s a nasty habit I’ve got into.” Another quiet period descended over the two of them. This was proving a lot harder than Sarah had imagined, she just came saying the wrong thing! “I went too far.” Sarah eventually said, “The last couple of days, it was too much. I wasn’t fair to you and I made a big mistake.” Nick just nodded slightly. He tried not to make it too obvious that as his wife was talking, he was wetting the diaper between his legs. It wasn’t a complete flooding but Nick knew that he was looking into the middle distance for a few seconds as it happened. He thought Sarah gave him a strange look but he hoped it was his imagination. “I want you out of little space or whatever you want to call it, at least for the moment.” Sarah said with a deep breath, “Forget everything from the last week or so, I want to ask you a question as a man and my equal.” Nick was a little stunned but elated. It had been so long since he thought he was someone’s equal that just having someone say he was on the same level was a tremendous boost to his ego. Despite everything he else, he couldn’t help but smile a little. “Are you OK with what me and Jack did?” Sarah asked. She got straight to the point, there was no beating around the bush, Sarah needed to know whether what she had done yesterday was something Nick actually didn’t mind. Straight away, Nick’s smile vanished. Any semblance of joy disappeared as quickly as it had come and Nick was left sat on what felt like the hot seat. He could see, when he looked at Sarah that she was getting increasingly upset the longer it took him to answer. What could he do? He couldn’t lie to her. “No…” Nick whispered as he shook his head. He felt a lump in his throat again as the sobbing threatened to return. He used the shoulder of his shirt to wipe his eyes. “Oh, Nick…” Sarah covered her face with her hands and lapsed into much more pronounced sobbing. She was legitimately distraught. Nick felt awkward. He was sat just next to his wife who was crying her eyes out and it was because of something he said. Half of him wanted to reach over and hug her, tell her that it’s alright and they can move on, but was that how he had been condition to react over the last few weeks? The other half of him was rather upset himself. He was almost glad that Sarah was crying like this, she deserved to feel some of the pain. She had done this! “Why?” Sarah sobbed to Nick as she reached for a tissue and looked at Nick. “Why?” Nick repeated. What did she mean by that? “Why did you say you were OK with it?” Sarah asked as she tried to get the sobbing under control again. Nick paused and looked out of the window. The bright and sunny day felt like a very strange backdrop for this conversation. It almost felt surreal that this could be the breakup of his marriage. “What was I supposed to say?” Nick asked honestly, “You spent the last few weeks telling me what was going to happen. No choices. It was like it or lump it, I wasn’t an equal partner.” “That doesn’t mean you had to agree with anything…” Sarah said sounding exasperated. “Doesn’t it?” Nick asked, “I was definitely under the impression that it was your way or the highway. Tell me honestly, if I had said a firm and definite “no” what would have happened?” Sarah looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. She really tried to think about what she would have done. She wanted to say she would have respected her partner’s wishes but she wasn’t sure that would be true. She had been drunk off of her own power. She had truly started to believe that her husband had a duty to just acquiesce to what she said no matter what she said. Nick was less a husband and more a slave, it pained her to admit it, even to herself. Sarah dropped her head. She couldn’t admit the truth; she didn’t have to. Her silence was confirming everything Nick had thought. “Exactly…” Nick said quietly. He shook his head slightly and grimaced as if to say he knew the answer already. There was another pause in the conversation. Tension filled the air and it felt like you could cut it with a knife. Nick gently smoothed the shirt down over his tummy. “I… I forgot who I was.” Sarah whispered, “I wasn’t treating you fairly and I’m so, so sorry. Could you ever forgive me?” Forgiveness is a funny thing. It’s easy to say but difficult to mean. Nick could easily tell his wife that he forgave her and go back to how things were before all this had happened but he didn’t know if he would truly have forgiven her. He might just be doing it because he knows that is what Sarah wants and that is how they ended up in this position in the first place. “I don’t know.” Nick eventually replied with a little hesitation, “Believe me I want to but I don’t know.” “I would do anything for forgiveness.” Sarah whispered, “I made a terrible mistake, the worst mistake I could have done. I hurt you and I hate myself for it. I made a terrible mistake but I love you so much and I just want to fix things.” “I still love you too.” Nick replied, “It’s why this has all been so hard.” “I’ve never done all this power play stuff before.” Sarah continued, “Kirsty said I made a rookie error. I let the power take control of me.” Nick nodded. He didn’t know a great deal about these kinds of relationships either but he was sure Kirsty was right about this. He thought back to dinner the previous night where Kirsty had suddenly stopped treating him and George like babies, it was so jarring for Nick because he hadn’t experienced anything like that with Sarah. He wasn’t saying that he needed time off like that, but he did need something more than he was given, he needed to know he had the option. “I was always under the impression, in fact you told me this was the case, that if I didn’t do what you said that I would be kicked out of the house.” Nick said simply, “I had no reason to believe that threat ever went away. Hell, I’m not entirely sure that you won’t kick me out now!” “I know, and that was terrible of me.” Sarah replied sadly, “I don’t deserve you. I’m not going to kick you out and I should never have threatened that.” “Well maybe you don’t deserve me.” Nick said, “But I don’t want to go anywhere.” Sarah’s face flickered with a brief spark of hope. She dared to look up at Nick and, for the first time, felt like maybe the two of them could work this out. The room was strangely quiet, Sarah could hear Nick’s nappy crinkling and suppressed the almost automatic urge to reach over and check him. “Really?” Sarah asked with her eyes still shining from the tears that were ready to leak freely at the slightest provocation. Nick nodded. He really did want to make this relationship work; despite everything he knew that Sarah was his one true love. He wasn’t going to let her off scot free though, Sarah had hurt him a lot with the previous night. He could endure almost everything through the love of his wife but when she had spent the night with Jack, that was too much. Sarah smiled widely and held her arms out for a hug she started leaning across towards Nick but was stopped when he put his hand up. Sarah’s smile faltered and she leaned back in her seat. She didn’t know what to think, Sarah assumed she was forgiven by how the conversation was going. “I can forgive you.” Nick said as he looked at Sarah, “But there need to be major changes. I need to know you love me like I love you.” “What do you mean?” Sarah asked with concern. “I mean…” Nick said, “If this relationship is going to continue then we need to make some huge changes.” “Like what?” Sarah asked. Was Nick about to ask for time off of the baby stuff? Maybe for it to end all together? It would be sad but Sarah would give up control for him, she owed him that. “I want you to know what it’s been like to be me.” Nick stated. “L-Like you?” Sarah was starting to realise what Nick was saying and she could feel her heart hammering. “I want you to be in diapers.” Nick clarified. “D-Diapers!?” Sarah was in shock and she felt her stomach do a flip “I want you to experience everything I have experienced.” Nick continued, “I want you to show me that you love me as much as I love you. That you will change places with me. You gave me all this baby treatment because I was immature, right?” Sarah nodded mutely. “Well, what you have done… Letting the power go to your head, cheating on me… You have been acting as badly as I was before all this started.” Nick said. The more he spoke the more confident he was feeling, the surer that this was the right thing to do. Sarah found it hard to disagree with that logic. She had been acting badly and after saying she would do anything for Nick to get forgiveness she would be a hypocrite to now refuse. Besides, if she did refuse, that could be the end of the relationship. She felt like she was walking a tightrope and had nearly navigated the whole thing, this was the final and biggest hurdle to saving her relationship. “How… How long for?” Sarah stuttered. “I don’t know.” Nick said with a shrug, “You never gave me a time frame.” Sarah didn’t say anything. She looked down at Nick’s crotch. What did one of those nappies feel like? Was it as bad as she imagined? Would Nick keep her like she kept him? Sarah had a thousand questions buzzing around her head like bees. “Will you do it for me?” Nick asked his wife seriously.

Wonderful very long chapter. I really feel bad for Nick. No matter how much of a big baby he is made to be, you can still tell he loves Sarah and what she is doing to Nick is just wrong in my beliefs. If she needs to get physical relief that way, she should get herself a vibrator or leave Nick and end their relationship. As far as George and Nick I don't think its right for Nick to be messing around either while he is still in a relationship with Sarah. I can better understand why he would react to the picture and allow George to pleasure him. I actually believe Kristy had a part in that happening. Putting up what would seem to be a hidden camera was an act showing she expected that to happen and then the nod she gave to George as she was leaving all suggest she was telling George to do it. Didn't seem like this was George's first go at something like this either. Good story though and I will add that I would like to see it continue at least to a point where there is resolution between Sarah and Nick, no matter what actually happens. They stay together or split up.

I'm with Kimmy because I put myself into the character and would have had a total fit, but wouldn't have agreed to let Mommy go out on dates in the first place.