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5. Is that how everything works? The light above Geneva’s bed was one that had always struck her as wonderfully symbolic. Instead of some generic bowl covering light bulbs, she had a fixture her parents told her they’d found at an art fair when she was just a baby. It was one of those things that looked a whole lot more complicated than it really was: the artist had used steel and crystals to create the effect of stars reflecting off of mirrors. When the light was on full, it was a beautiful ceiling lamp delivering bright light; its real power, though, came when she dimmed it and simply stared at it shimmering above her. She had always looked at the fixture and seen her future: she wanted to be a star. As she looked at it tonight, though, she saw it a bit differently, though certainly still symbolically. She had learned, somewhere along the line, that the entire glorious apparatus was actually lit by two completely normal light bulbs that the artist had hidden within it. The light came from something you could find anywhere; what it was encased in was what was unusual and amazing. Is that how everything works? she thought. Did everything really need a gimmick to succeed? The more time she spent thinking about the Baby G concept—which for every possible reason was almost all of her time at present—the more her thoughts boiled down to two main conclusions: 1) it could definitely work; and 2) she was not at all sure she had the guts to do it. Naomi’s secret had thrown her for a loop. It was one thing to have a bit of fun pretending to be a little girl because your size dictated that you were often mistaken for one, but why on earth would someone who was tall enough to be a normal teen ever want to do something like that? And the diaper thing was way beyond comprehension. Of course she had looked it up online. Typing “little” into google really hadn’t helped much; the term was just too vague. But the couple of relevant sites she found also mentioned “ABDL,” and that, she had discovered, was a gold mine. She’d already spent over two hours reading and looking at photos and videos. It was a weird world. Old people her parents’ age dressed as babies were sort of creepy to look at. But she hadn’t thought that she’d looked creepy at all at Nay’s house. Nay was right: she’d looked kind of...adorable. As she continued to watch videos, she came across some of kids not much older than she was. They talked about why they enjoyed “being a baby” and showed themselves sitting in cribs, wearing diapers and baby clothes, playing with toys. The whole thing seemed to be, as Naomi said, about escaping ugly realities for awhile. Nothing wrong with that, anyway, she thought. But she wondered how they could put these videos online: they were so clearly recognizable! Don’t they care that all of their friends will know? What about employers? She clicked to another of her own videos. 312 likes. How could she be a star if she could only muster such a tiny following? Following. She checked her page’s followers total. 224. Shit. Almost a whole year now and only 224 followers. It was beyond depressing. Staring blankly at the screen, her eyes happened to fall on the Suggested Videos column on the right. Of course there were a few of her own at the top, but then, as usual, the suggestions veered off. And right there, in the middle of the list, was a name that stunned her: Lara Miranda. She has her own videos? That initial thought was instantly replaced with a realization: Of course she does. The bitch. With trepidation, Geneva slid her finger across the trackpad until the cursor landed on her enemy’s video and clicked. The video was called “Fireworks” and was a cover of the song by Katie Perry. Lara, all 5’9”, model-slim, flowing brunette hair, I-look-28-even-though-I’m-only-18 bit of her, had obviously spent some money on it: the thing was very well produced. It featured her on location in Chicago’s Millennium Park, in summer, and used the Chicago 4th of July celebration to strong effect. Lara’s mature looks and her sultry voice made the song into something quite different and rather sexier than Katie Perry’s version. Geneva wasn’t really sure that was the appropriate interpretive read for that song, but apparently it didn’t matter: the video had 12,414 likes. 12,414. Immediately, she skyped Naomi. As soon as she answered, her friend could see that she was agitated. “What’s wrong? Geneva looked at her, upset. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about Lara’s video?” “Which one?” Naomi replied. “She has—of course she has more than one. Fuck.” Naomi suddenly understood what this was about. “You didn’t know she had any videos.” Geneva shook her head. “I just found “Fireworks.” “That’s an older one,” Naomi said. “She made it a couple of summers ago.” “Great,” Geneva said. “She looked more grown up two years ago than I do today. Or probably ever will.” “Oh my God, Genny. What’s going on in your head?” Geneva didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure herself. Finally, she answered, “She has over 12,000 likes.” “So? “What do you mean, ‘So?’ She has 12,000 likes. I have 300. That’s a big deal!” Naomi shook her head as if trying to get something through to a young child. “No, Genny. It’s not.” Geneva was shouting now. “Why the hell not?” “Because,” Naomi said, her voice maintaining its outward calm, “ in the grand scheme of things, 12,000 doesn’t mean much. Yes, 300 sucks, and 12,000 is clearly a lot better, but it isn’t anywhere near YouTube stardom. That’s in the millions. She doesn’t have it, Genny, and she isn’t going to get it.” For a moment, Geneva was silent. “How do you know?” Naomi smiled. “Because she doesn’t think she needs to take risks, and you’re practically required to take risks to succeed on YouTube. Maybe she could be a Broadway star, I don’t know. But not on YouTube.” “You make it sound as if it’s somehow a better thing to make a career out of dressing up as a baby.” “Better? I don’t know if I can judge that. But I know what I can judge.” Geneva studied her friend. “What?” “Fame and fortune. And both come much easier on YouTube than on Broadway, whether that’s fair or not.” “Shit,” said Geneva. “If that’s true it’s terribly unfair.” “I never said it wasn’t. But it’s true nonetheless. Broadway doesn’t make millionaires. YouTube does. And it makes them a lot.” “But what about fame? Broadway makes stars; Lin-Manuel Miranda, Audra McDonald, Phillipa Soo—” Naomi cut her off. “Yes, it does. And for every one of them there are ten thousand others who labor in the background unknown. And for every one of them there are a hundred thousand others who never even make a show, even off off off Broadway. Even in, like, Cleveland. On YouTube, the first ratio may well be the same, but as for the second? Everyone can post, so everyone technically has the chance to become a star.” “But—” “But nothing. For a handful of Stars with a capital S, Broadway really is the Great White Way. But YouTube’s star-making power isn’t limited by the number of available theatres or parts in plays or Big Names available. It’s about being timely and having some luck on your side.” Geneva considered this. “But...if Baby G became a star, Geneva Whitmore still would be unknown.” Naomi smiled. “If Baby G becomes a star, Geneva Whitmore can write her own ticket.” Geneva paused. “Why are you pushing this? Does it have to do with your—” “No. Not at all. I was extremely hesitant even to suggest any of this because I knew I’d have to tell you about that and then...well...that would be a natural conclusion to draw. I admit it’s convenient as hell that I have the costuming, but that’s about it as far as connections go. I’d never ever want to force my thing on a friend.” Geneva nodded. “OK. I was just… A part of me was wondering… I mean I told you about how I enjoyed pretending I was younger and stuff, and…” Naomi finished the thought. “...you thought I thought I might have found a kindred spirit?” Geneva nodded again. “It crossed my mind,” Naomi admitted. “But most of all, when you told me that it scared me.” “Why?” “Because I knew who I was, and I had to wonder if somehow in some unconscious way I had rubbed off on you.” Geneva laughed. “That’s ridiculous.” “Maybe. But it was my first thought.” “Well, it’s ridiculous.” “OK, OK. It’s ridiculous,” Naomi agreed. “Yes, it is,” said Geneva. “Totally,” said Naomi. “Without a doubt,” said Geneva. “Absolutely,” said Naomi. “Indubitably,” said Geneva, and they both started laughing. “God,” Geneva said, “we are both really silly people.” “No shit. Have you written anything yet?” “For English?” “Nooooo,” Naomi, said, dragging out the word. “Songs.” “Oh. Right. Those.” “Have you?” “Not as such.” “Which means,” Naomi interpreted, “you haven’t started.” Geneva smiled. “Something like that.” “Well I’ll let you get to it then.” “I haven’t the foggiest notion of what to write about.” “Whatever’s on your mind, I guess,” Naomi said. “See you later.” After her friend had signed off, Geneva sat for a long time, staring at the screen. Finally, she crossed the room and picked up her guitar. Strumming a couple of chords, she found the combination she was hearing in her head and fingered a little lead-in. The girl spent a lifetime in dance and ballet She picked up piano and voice on the way Her dream was to fly on the stages someday And she knew it was what she would do The goal never strayed very far from her heart She worked day and night at perfecting her art Then off to New York, she could finally start What she’d be when she finally was free But the city is unforgiving And some dreams aren’t for the living When the world leaves you beaten and broken and scared While some moron is now a YouTube millionaire And there’s nothing for you anymore anywhere And you stand on the bridge and look down at the brine And the water looks fine Geneva stopped and examined the notepad she’d been scribbling on. Damn, this thing took a dark turn. She really liked the musical progressions, but she wasn’t sure about the lyrics. Re-reading them, she decided that the two stanzas were really pretty sappy and probably stupid, but there was something about the chorus that was working for her, and that was a bit frightening. She’d never written anything that dark before, didn’t even know she had it in her. Generally, she wrote love songs or songs about making choices or things like that, things that she and every other teen girl could relate to. This one was coming from some new place she had never accessed before. Teen angst? she wondered. Could be. She’d never really suffered from that affliction; maybe this was what it looked like. She’d need to be careful in fleshing the song out that it doesn’t go there; teen angst was too easily dismissible as a source of real world pain, and the pain her lyrics were finding didn’t want to be dismissed. She played the last part again: And you stand on the bridge and look down at the brine And the water looks fine. It made her shiver. And then, suddenly, she saw the whole spectacle: Baby G, in full regalia, singing this dark, depressive song in Geneva’s beautiful, trained mezzo soprano voice. The picture was so absurd it made her laugh out loud. At least my voice isn’t one of those operatic ones; that would be even more bizarre. Her voice teachers through the years had often pushed her in that direction, but Geneva, with her diminutive frame, had no desire to cultivate a diva’s vocal patterns. Very few Broadway actresses sang in that style, Audra McDonald being a notable exception. She could do it, of course: you couldn’t learn and progress as a singer without those lessons. But it wasn’t for her. Neither her tastes nor her body suggested operatic soprano or that such parts lay in her future. She was more pop and ingenue. And, apparently, dark and twisted emo girl. In baby clothes. Geneva started laughing again at that idea, and this time she laughed so hard that she couldn’t stop until she buried her face in a pillow. OK, Lara, she thought. Do your thing. It’s not going to touch mine. In the end, we’ll see what all those high school leads are worth.

Your English is great

Thanks @bbykimmy! I will continue this... I realize this is not everyone's cup of tea. The diaper content in these chapters is not high yet, but in future chapters (already written) it does increase. It's much more on the Pet play side of things though, so far. So for those who are interested... -------------- I couldn’t believe this. Her? Me? It seemed so right in that moment. In the back of my mind, though, something was trying to tell me that this was wrong, that it was not what was planned, that it was going to screw everything up. I didn’t care. The imprinting in the Bond was so strong. I wanted to smell her. I reached out to her, and she pulled me in tight. I hadn’t realized it, but she was quite a bit taller than me, and she pulled my head down, onto her chest. It was wonderful. She smelled wonderful. I heard her voice, deep inside my head, tugging at unconscious controls. “I found you, my Pet. You’re mine. I’ll take care of you.” Her voice and scent were overpowering. I don’t remember what happened next. ** Valerie took over. “Oh no,” she said, reaching out to Karen, who was beside herself, still wailing “No”. She took Karen’s arm, gave her a hug, and passed her to Joe, still standing there with his mouth agape. “Take her outside.” People were definitely starting to stare, some of them seemingly in pity, some showing joy at the new Bond, and some showing surprise at the relatively unusual bonding of a male Pet to a female Keeper. It wasn’t unheard of, but an actual Bonding happening in a very public place, and especially of a male to a woman, was certainly gape-worthy. Valerie gently guided Jenn and I outside, not asking us to release each other, just guiding. Meeting up with Karen and Joe outside the door, we went over to a secluded area with a bench and some privacy given by the arrangement of the bushes. The few folks that were already there saw us, recognized what was happening, and gave us some space. At least it was better than standing in the middle of the busy reception hall. Karen’s mom held her in a supportive hug. Tears were streaming down Karen's face. “He was mine. We were together. We were going to get married. And now…” She sobbed. Her mom held her tight. It was an unusual situation. What to do next? “Honey, I know this is difficult… all your plans… but you know as well as I do that this is a wonderful thing that happens. I know it’s not easy now, but can you help me figure out what to do next? You lived with Angie and JoJo, right? Do you know what to do?” Karen’s eyes cleared a little. She was gaining control of herself, tasked with figuring out a plan. “Angie. She’s working at Pets*R*Us right now. She’ll know. It’s only a block away.” “Well, let’s head there. Better than being in the middle of everything here.” Getting everyone together, Karen started guiding us towards Pets*R*Us. ** About half-way to the Pet store, I started to come around. I realized I was walking, holding tightly to my Keeper. Jenn. She looked at me. “It’s OK. Yes, I’m you’re keeper. You’re my Pet. Everything will be OK, just come with me.” It was my Keeper. I felt comforted, but something was wrong. “…Karen?" I whispered. “Shh… yes, my sister is here too… she’s helping us… it’s OK… can you walk normally, just holding my hand? It would be a lot easier.” I slowly released my hold of her, making sure that I held on with one hand. I had just found her, and I didn’t want to lose her now. She was the most important thing in my life. The most important thing in the world. The most important thing in the whole universe. Slowly, I stepped back, still clutching her hand, not wanting her to get away. I looked into her face. Her beautiful eyes. She was stunning. I would do anything for her. She started walking again, and soon we were walking like a normal couple, hand in hand, me perhaps a little closer to her than was natural. My graduation gown fluttered in the wind. In a moment of clarity I realized that the gown would be among the last of the clothes I wore. I was now a Pet. I felt tears coming up as I realized that everything I had worked for… the schooling, getting a job, and Karen… oh, Karen… I still loved her… what would we do? Could I still marry her even if I was her sister’s Pet? Oh no, my Keeper lived in a different city! Of course I would live with her, but maybe Karen would come live with us? Hmmm... how could I trick Karen into living with us? Then I could have both my Keeper and my friend! Even as I thought it, at the same time I realized my mind had started down the Pet path of making bad decisions. The tears flowed, but I got strength from the hand, holding mine, guiding me on. I could trust my Keeper. Instinct, and her voice that kept telling me that I was her Pet, and everything would be OK, kept me just stable enough to walk. Soon we entered the front door of the Pets*R*Us. JoJo was there in the front display cage, where she had been so many times on my previous visits for classes, or to visit Angie. She was usually there when Angie was working, acting as a store mascot, and helping shoppers and their Pets by directing them to the right section, or providing product recommendations, or giving a Keeper a tip about Pet care. We saw her there often. It had seemed normal. This time, though, I saw her and burst out in tears again. Soon, I’d be in a cage, I knew. The conversations I had with JoJo about how she felt about being kept in a cage came back… the discomfort, the humiliation of being un-trusted to be able to keep out of trouble. I shivered and cried. My Keeper pulled me tight, giving me strength to keep walking. JoJo saw us, a look of confusion coming over her. Why was I with this girl she didn’t know? Why was Karen crying? What was going on? Then she read my body language. She realized what was happening. “Angie, Angie, Angie!!!” She cried, running around her cage. Her diapered bottom, obviously wet, bounced up and down in a way that I had though of as cute before, but now I realized that soon it would be my bottom that was diapered. Another moment of clarity struck me, and I realized needed to make a run for it, before it was too late. Mustering all my self control and focus, I pushed Jenn away. I couldn’t think of her as my keeper if this was going to work. I knew that in a very few cases, the Bond had been broken if it was fought against hard enough, early enough. I had to try. I ran for the door. I pushed my Keeper’s mom and dad out of the way. I saw a Pets*R*Us associate lunge to hit a button by the door, and the doors started to slide shut. I thought I could make it though. I focused. Run. Then, Her voice. “Stop, Jeff. I am your Keeper. Stop.” Her voice. I stopped. I sank to my knees. The doors closed. I could have made it to the doors, but the Bond… the Bond wasn’t going to be broken. She took my hand, more firmly this time, and she pulled me to my feet. We walked back to where I had tried to run. My Keeper’s parent's pulled themselves off the floor, and were dusting themselves off, surprised and annoyed. Angie came running up, the same confused look on her face that JoJo had had only a minute earlier, trying to figure out why I was holding hands with someone who was not Karen, why everyone was crying, and why there had been such a big commotion. Like JoJo, it only took a few seconds to read my body language and figure it out. The fact that I was now standing in a puddle of my urine helped clarify things as well, I suspect. “Oh, Jeff!” She looked almost apologetic as she came towards me, stopping on the way to give Karen a big supportive hug. “Come on, let’s go get you into a room.” She looked questioningly at my Keeper, holding out her hand. “Hi, I’m Angie. I’m a friend of Jeff and Karen here.“ Jenn smiled, shaking Angie’s hand. “Hi, I’m Jenn. I’m Karen’s sister.” Angies face lit up in surprise. “Oh! Well, that’s… interesting,” she said, looking at me, then to Karen, then back to Jenn. “Well, very nice to meet you. Why don’t you bring Jeff over to Room 3 in the back. I’ll have someone clean this up.” She gestured at the puddle under me. Room 3. I shivered. Many of the classes had been in Room 3. It was the larger of the three private rooms. Usually it had been JoJo, or another Pet, accompanying us to Room 3 on a leash to be the subject of the class, and I admit that I had never really considered how they felt. I mean, they were Pets. They were meant to be Pets. Now, I was the Pet, and I didn’t think I liked it one bit. Keeping a firm grasp on my wrist, Jenn lead me in the direction Angie had pointed, towards Room 3. I wanted to run, but I could feel the hand on my wrist, and I didn’t have the ability to fight it. I followed. Everything was hazy. Why was this happening to me? I’m not a Pet. I’m not supposed to be a Pet… but here I was… and the rest of the family following along, as if this were normal, as I meekly went where my Keeper led me. When we arrived at Room 3, Karen opened the door. I saw the exam cage at the front of the room. The bars gleamed silver, the end door open, as if beckoning, waiting for me. Sized to hold a Pet on all fours, it was designed to allow the whole class to see the Pet on display, and give access to their body for demonstration. No way. I wasn’t going in there. I wasn’t supposed to go in there. I pulled away, towards the chairs. Towards where I had sat in all the classes. Towards where I should be sitting. Jenn let me pull in that direction, not sure what Angie wanted us to do. There were three rows of chairs, and Jenn led me to the front row, and we sat. I wanted to run, but my Keeper kept a firm grip. My Keeper’s grip felt good. I liked that she was holding me. Trying to calm myself down, I looked around the room. I recognized the many posters on the walls from the various classes I’d sat here for… “Proper Nutrition for you Pet”, “Is your Pet wearing the right Diapers”, “Pet Grooming Basics”, and “Does your Pet Get Enough Exercise?” all stood out. They were of course sponsored by the various brands… PetChow, KC Pet Diapers (“For your active Pet!”), Pet-Shine grooming cream, and “Home Pet Runs”. I shivered. What would have meant one thing only a few hours ago completely changed when I was the Pet being fed, diapered, groomed, or exercised. I shivered and whimpered, and my Keeper pulled me closer, calming me a little. She pulled my head around to rest on her chest, which had the unfortunate side effect of directing my eyes at the exam cage up front. Mounted on a low platform, it was elevated off the floor, both to make it easier to see for those in the class, as well as make it easier to work on, demonstrate, or do whatever needed to be done, depending on the class. The chrome cage had closely spaced bars, with numerous hatches and openings to provide whatever access was needed while keeping the Pet safely inside. I knew that if I allowed myself to go into there, it was all over. I would be a Pet forever. I closed my eyes, tried to ignore my Keepers’ hand on me, and prepared with all my resolve to run, one last time. If I focused, I thought I could make a break for it. I would put my fingers in my ears so that I couldn’t hear her voice this time. I started to tense my body, preparing the flight-or-flight response. Just as I was about ready to push away and go, the door opened and Angie came in. Distracted, I forgot my plan. Angie looked surprised to see me sitting there. “Jenn, you need to firmly lead him to the front of the room. He looks like he was about to run again.” Jenn looked at me, tightening her grip. I could see her trying to read my mind. I shrank back. “Tell him he won’t run. Tell him he’ll do as you say.” “You’re my Pet… you will not run. Come with me.” She almost had to physically pull me, although there was no way I could resist her, especially when she repeated it. “Come with me. You’re my Pet.” It was only a few steps, but it was as if I had walked death row. I was at the entrance to the cage. Angie was there waiting. “OK, now tell him to ‘kennel up’. He needs to be conditioned that when he hears that phrase, he will get in the cage, crate, or kennel without any thinking. Do it now.” “Kennel up.” I looked at her. She had said it almost as a question. I didn’t want to. “More forceful. You can’t give him an opportunity or thought that he might resist.” “Kennel up!” This time, her voice carried the un-arguable weight of a command, and I found myself climbing head-first into the cage. “OK, reward him with a ‘Good boy’, and repeat the command.” “Good boy, Pet. Kennel up. Good boy.” Her voice was firm, and I felt the warmth of knowing that I was pleasing my Keeper. I was doing the right thing. I was being good. Getting in the cage pleased my Keeper. As I heard the door close and lock behind me, though, it broke me out of the trance I was falling into and I panicked again. This time, though, I was in a secure cage. There was no place to run, nothing I could do. I started bawling. Angie looked at Jenn. “Wow, that was close. I think he was going to run again. You need to be really careful with Pets at this stage… they often still think that they have a chance to run, and Jeff here was definitely on the edge. It’s important to get them in a cage quickly. Now that he’s there, though… you should maintain physical contact with him. It will calm him, and help with the imprinting and Bonding." I felt my Keeper’s touch on my neck as she reached in, and indeed I calmed a little. Tears streaming down my face, I looked at Karen. I could see her through the bars of the cage, sitting in a chair. See her through the bars of the cage I occupied. My cage. The chair next to her was empty. The chairs we had so often sat during classes. Her look told me all I needed to know. Pity. Sadness. Regret. Acceptance. Angie looked around, and decided she needed to take change. So she did. Not knowing what else to do or say, she fell back on her professional training. “OK, so welcome to Pets*R*Us. I know some of you… but for those I don’t, I’m Angie. I will be happy to help you through what I hope is a joyous, but stressful, time as you adapt to your new Pet.” Looking at Karen, she continued, “I know these times can have many loaded emotions, as some people may feel sadness, or even anger, as if they are losing a friend or family member, but I can only assure you that things will get better with time, and I hope you can help by being supportive in this transition?” She said it as a question, and Karen nodded. “Good,” she continued, “And Jennifer was it, right? As a new Keeper, do you have any training?” Jennifer, still petting me through the access hatch, shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. But I hope… that… Karen, I know you have a lot of training. You were looking for a Pet, I know. This is.. weird… I know, but will you help me?” She looked pleadingly at her sister. Karen stood up, and then walked over and hugged her sister. “I won’t say that this is working out how I wanted… and I still have a lot to process… but you’re my sister, and I love you. Of course I’ll help. The fact that it’s Jeff… and we were going to get married… I’m not sure. It will be weird. But I’ll help you.” Angie smiled. “That’s great. I know Karen has taken all my classes already, so that will help a lot. For that matter, so has Jeff here, so for better or worse he knows what coming. It’s obviously hard on him, so he’ll need all the support he can get too. Karen and Jeff, I know you saw how hard it was for JoJo, so I know you are aware that sometimes a new Pet and Keeper have an easy time, and sometimes a hard time. I’ll help do what I can to give you pointers on how to make it as easy as possible, OK?” Karen and my Keeper both nodded. I just felt my Keeper petting me. She could keep petting me all day. I wouldn’t mind. Angie looked at her phone. “OK. I know Karen and Jeff had plans to leave today… so… I have to ask, what’s your schedule? It’s just after 11am.” Joe spoke up. “We have an 8PM flight home to , but Jenn was going to fly out at 3 back to Seattle. Do we… do we need to change it? What should we do?” Angie looked at Jenn. “You’re going to need a fair amount of help over the next few days. There are a lot of changes in the transition for both you and your Pet… if you could be with family, it would be a lot easier.” “It would be hard for us to stay here… and the flight was completely booked. I’m not sure how we we stay around to help out, or bring Jenn back with us…” Joe said, looking at Valerie. “Well,” Angie said, "you have Jeff’s ticket… and Karen, I think you said you were flying on NorthEast, where, as you know, ‘Pets Fly Free’.” Karen looked surprised. “Fly Jeff… as a Pet?” Angie looked sympathetic. “Karen, honey…” she gestured at me, locked in a cage, still wearing the gown from my graduation which was now wet in front. Joe nodded. "You have a point. Let me call the airline and see if we can switch Jeff’s ticket into Jenn’s name.” He pulled out his phone, and walked away. “It’s not ideal, keeping him away from his new Keeper for your whole flight, but you have a few days here for conditioning and imprinting, and I think overall it would be better to do it at home. So, to get ready, we need to prep your new Pet. First things first… she opened a drawer under the exam cage, and pulled out some leather cuffs and handed them to Jenn. He’ll let you do this, but based on his escape attempts and the look in his eyes, I think the rest of us should stay away. His rational decision making skills and judgement are likely slipping already, so while he wouldn’t harm anyone intentionally he might do something accidentally.” I watched as Jenn looked me in the eyes, and while keeping my attention she opened an access hatch near my arm. She took my hand, and buckled the cuff around it. It locked. Then, she put my hand back down in the cage and attached a clip there to the ring on the cuff. Closing the door, she repeated the procedure on my other hand, then broke eye contact to go behind me. “Keep talking to him so he knows it’s you. He might kick if he thinks he has a chance to get loose.” My Keeper’s voice kept going, telling me what a good boy I was, and how happy she was that I kept still. I felt relaxed, and allowed my limbs to be locked to the bottom of the cage. Jenn stepped away. I panicked at the loss of her touch, and struggled, the cuffs holding me tight. “OK, so given your choice to head home, which I think is the right move, you’re going to have to make some choices quickly. We can process the registration here, get him chipped, and give him his vaccinations, all of which will be necessary to get him on the plane. You’re also going to need some supplies, because I know you don’t have any, and there are some things that you’ll need. As far as Bonding, I’ll give you the pointers that I can in the time we have, but I strongly suggest booking an obedience and conditioning class for tomorrow morning. I can help you get into a class in a Pets*R*Us in California, unless you have someplace else you’d rather go?” “Uh, sounds good,” said Jenn. She was standing a few feet from me, and it seemed like she was coming to the realization of what was happening on her own. Angie reached into a binder she was carrying. “OK, here’s the quick list of what you need.” She looked over. “Karen… would you help your sister go shopping? Maybe your mom too? Focus on what’s in the ‘Your First Day’ section. I’d also suggest getting what’s in the ’If your Pet is a male’ section.” Karen nodded, and they left the room. I was alone. I was alone in a cage. I was a Pet. I started to panic again. Angie looked at me. “Well Jeff, I have to say I’m only half surprised to see you as a Pet… you and JoJo got along so well, I guess I would have taken a bet there you’d be here. But… your Keeper being Karen’s sister? A male Pet to a female Keeper, the sister of the girl he was supposed to marry? Well… that’s unusual!” I knew Angie was trying to calm me down, but she wasn’t my Keeper, and it just made me more anxious. Joe was still on the phone. I was in a cage. I was a Pet. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. Panicking wouldn’t help right now. “What do I do, Angie? Why am I here? Why me?” “Jeff… well, I know you’ve talked to JoJo at length. Some people… well, I guess this sounds cliche, but some people are destined to be Pets. It’s not the kind of thing you choose, or not. It’s… it’s just who you are.” “But I don’t want to be a Pet! I don’t want to be in this cage! I don’t want to wear a diaper! I don’t want to be owned!” I sobbed. “What do you mean, it’s ‘who I am’? That’s such… bullshit. it’s not who I am.” Angie reached into the cage, caressing the hair on my head, scratching me. “But it is, Jeff. You found your Keeper, and now you’re a Pet. You can make the best of it, or you can fight it, but… you’re her Pet. You know as well as I do that your body and mind will change now. You can’t be trusted even now… look at what happened when you tried to run. You could have hurt people. And if you’re not kept in control, you’ll try other things. You know this.” I did. I had taken the classes. I knew that the mind of a Pet quickly lost critical decision making skills, and the ability to assess the impact of a decision. It’s why Pets were kept under their Keepers’ control, on leashes, or in cages. “Angie, this sucks. I’m not sure if it’s worse for Karen, or for me.” “Well, I think Karen definitely is going to have a hard time. You guys had your whole life ahead of you, with all sorts of plans. Now, she’s on her own, but you’re still in the family. You, on the other hand… well, I think Jenn will be a very good Keeper for you. And if you have a good Keeper, well… you’re set. You’ll be fed, cared for, and…” she smiled, "have all the sex you can handle. What’s so wrong with that?” “Well, I just pissed myself again, I’m in a cage, the person I expected to be my wife and her sister, who soon will be my legal owner, are on a shopping trip to buy me diapers, and as soon as my registration is complete I will have the legal rights of a pet hamster.” “Ok, so there’s that. But how was the play, Mrs Lincoln?”

Chapter 1 “4582 Valley Drive East, here it is” Marcus announced to the only 2 people in the car: himself and his girlfriend in the back seat. They both knew the address by heart, having owned this cabin for the past 5 years, but it was just one of many quirks that Marcus possessed. Emily loved his quirks too. It was one of the many, many things that made him not only the best boyfriend of all time, but also the greatest daddy a little girl could ask for. They were both in a DD/LG relationship and loved every minute of it. Of course, that would not be hard to fathom if anyone were to see Emily now. Her beautiful brown hair was brought up into two adorable pigtails tied up with vibrant pink ribbons. Just below that was a white pacifier with the words “daddy’s girl” written in pink cursive on the shield that was moving rhythmically in and out as she nursed. Attached to the ring of her binky was a clip, covered with ponies and princess crowns, that led down to the plain white shirt she wore. Above that, Emily was sporting some denim shortalls that completed her look. With her choice of childish clothing and her childlike tendencies, the 24 year old was often confused for a child. It didn’t help that Marcus was a foot taller than her and, when they were out together, they looked like a father and daughter. While sitting in the back seat and cuddling her stuffed bunny (ironically enough, it was named cuddles), she thought back to just a couple hours ago... Marcus opened up the backdoor and held his hand out to her. “Daddy has to fill the car with gas and go potty. Why don’t you hop out and go inside to grab a snack for the rest of the ride?” Marcus announced with the type of tone that made Emily’s heart melt. Stepping out of the car, she smiled as she looked down and saw her Velcro shoes light up. She knew it was very hard for daddy to find them and, when she got them last Christmas, she was ecstatic. Emily made sure to take her paci clip off and leave it in the car. While she did love nursing her binky, she never wanted to expose strangers to this side of her life. The door to the convenience store went “ding” as they stepped inside. “Alright, pick out a treat and I will be right back” Marcus said as he headed to the back of the store to the restrooms. The girl walked down the aisle to the candy selection and her eyes lit up. In front of her was tons of different kinds of treats. How was she expected to choose ONE?!? Her eyes first went to the Twinkies. She loved those cake snacks, but she also wanted something that was going to last her longer than the one Twinkie in the package. Her eyes scanned everything from Skittles to a Hershey's bar to Twizzlers. Emily know that Marcus would be back any second and had to choose quickly. Frantically, she glanced to her far left and saw what she wanted, grabbing a bag. As if on cue, the man she called daddy walked up behind her. “Did you find a snack sweetheart?” he asked, knowing a snack choice was a hard choice for any little one. She hopping backwards to face him and held up the bag 3 inches from his face. He jerked his head back and smiled “Pretzels? Yummy” as he turned around and grabbed a can of Red Bull from the fridge behind him. Once they got to the counter, they put their stuff on the counter as the lady behind the counter greeted them. “I also have gas on 4” Marcus told her as he reached for his wallet. The lady, whose name tag read Amy, made quick work of ringing up the idea and getting everything paid for. Once she had everything put in a bag, she smiled at Emily and said “I hope you and your daddy have a fun day planned today” as she handed daddy the bag. The little girl blushed and smiled at her, almost whispering “Thank you”. Marcus couldn’t help but flash a big smile as he took Emily’s hand and told Amy goodbye. As the memory ended in her head, Emily let the pacifier fall from her mouth as she popped the last pretzel from the bag in her mouth. Following that up with a quick drink from her Frozen themed sippy cup, she brought the binky back to her lips. As he parked the car in front of the cabin, Marcus took a look in the rear view and a huge smile appeared on his face. Just a year ago, he could have never imagined that his life would be as perfect as it is now. “We’re here baby girl” He announced as she reached back and shook her thigh a little just to get her attention. A huge smile flashed behind the shield of her pacifier at her daddy’s announcement. Almost as fast as lightning, she undid her seat belt and pulled on the door handle, totally forgetting that Marcus always had the child locks on. “Hold your horses peanut” Marcus said with a tiny laugh as he hopped out and opened the back door. “Don’t forget your backpack” he told her, handing it to her, the pack covered with Tommy, Angelica, Chuckie and the rest of the Rugrats. It was Emily’s favorite show, so of course she NEEDED that backpack, almost throwing a temper tantrum in the store when daddy wouldn’t let her get it. As he walked to the back of the car to grab his suitcases, Marcus noticed his little one speed walking to the front door. Once she got there and put her hand on the doorknob, daddy used what he called his “punishment voice” and called out to her “Baby girl, don’t turn touch the doorknob.” Once those words entered her ears, she pulled her hand off the knob as if it was covered in spiders. While Marcus called that his punishment voice, Emily know it more as his spanking tone. After a couple seconds of waiting in front of the door, she even noticed she was nursing the teat in her mouth a little faster just because of his tone. As he was carrying the bags up to the front door, Marcus thought back to a couple days ago when he come up to the cabin to get everything set up for his baby girl’s little weekend. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect and spared no expense. Once he get up to Emily, he ran his fingers through her beautiful brown hair. “Alright princess, open the door” he whispered into her ear. Once the door was fully opened, Emily could have melted into a puddle on the floor. The first thing she noticed was the adult sized playpen sitting in the corner of the room. Her gaze then shot to the alphabet mat set up in the middle of the living room with blocks, Legos, rattles, and tons of other toys set up. She spun around like the Tasmanian Devil and pulled her daddy into the tightest hug she could muster. “Tank ou so much daddy! I wuv it” the little girl told her caregiver, her pacifier causing a cute lisp. “Your welcome pumpkin, but there is still more” Marcus said, his voice raspy and a whimper as if her hug was choking him. Taking her soft hand and bringing her to the kitchen, he saw her smile almost recharge to full power when she saw the full sized high chair. “That’s not all princess. Go open that cupboard” the man she called daddy pointed to the cupboard on the right hand side. Emily walked, her legs almost giving out due to her little side slowly taking over, to the cupboard and opened it. Inside was a huge collection of bottles, sippy cups, and cutlery. It was all sized up as if it was made for her. Emily’s mouth was starting to hurt from smiling so much. Sneaking up behind her, Marcus scooped her up and placed her on his hip. As soon as he had her positioned to where she was nice and comfy, he could feel all the tension and stress flush from her body. This is what he wanted this weekend: making sure Emily had zero stress and just had an amazing weekend. Carrying her down the hallway, Marcus brought her to a closed door. Marcus knew what lay on the other side and Emily might have had an idea as well. Nothing, however, prepared her for the feeling that came when he actually opened the door. Once Emily laid eyes on the fully furnished nursery, she couldn’t hold back her tears of happiness any longer. A rocking chair in one corner of the room with a toy chest right beside it. The toy box was even painted pink with white trim and, in the middle of the front, read “Emily’s toys”. On the other side of the white room was a fully stocked changing table. Her eyes shot past the rainbow pad on the top to the wide variety of diapers lying below. White and cartoon printed diapers. Thick and thin. Stuffers. Even some cloth diapers. Not to mention the wipes baby powder, oils, and plenty of other things to put her mind into total little space. In the back of the room, however, was the thing that get her little side excited the most. Painted plain white, a massive rocking horse. If she wasn’t afraid of falling off of daddy’s hip, she would have reach out to the toy horse with the signature “grabby hands” every little has when they see something they must have. Sitting in the middle of the nursery, however, was the main piece of the room: A pastel pink crib. It was like Marcus had reached into Emily’s dreams and pulled out the perfect house. From the living room to the kitchen to the bedroom, everything was absolutely perfect. She could not be happier. She wrapped her daddy into a hug and rested her head on his shoulder. Letting the pacifier fall from her mouth, she wanted to make sure she heard him clearly. “I love you so much daddy. This room and this house is perfect. You are perfect. I could never find a better daddy then you.” She then gave him the biggest, sloppiest kiss right on his cheek. In this moment, there was no way Marcus could hold back the emotion. Letting the tears fall from his eyes, he looked at the little girl in his arms. As he looked into her eyes, he could see that any adult thoughts and stresses were gone. His baby girl had fully arrived and he could not be happier. “Daddy loves you so much princess. I am so happy you love your room. This whole weekend, you are going to be my little princess. No big girl thoughts. You and daddy are going to have the bestest weekend ever!” As if to mimic her, he planted a huge kiss right on her forehand.

I know that I am going too wake up wet.It just all ways happens I still really don' like that I wet.But I know I will my wife was ok with it but it took her a few weeks. I started to wet my self after A fall on ice in 2013 it was day and night and I am a side sleeper and with disp diapers I leaked a lot.Finely I got some cloth diapers worked good My wife died in jan 2016 it was fast In march I meet A lady my age that wet too we were just friends at 1st but in june both my adult daughters both told me it was ok too do some thing we are now having fun

I have been reading the Diaper Dimension stories since the beginning and have been a big fan and consumer since day one. While I have had several thoughts and ideas for stories, this is the first that felt fleshed out enough to post here and this is my first story posted period. Without further adieu, enjoy. Jake had snuck out of his crib easily enough. He had always been strong and hoisting himself out of the crib even with the grip limiting footed pajamas had not been too much of a problem. His heart pounded as he fell out of the crib with a thud. The thick diaper wrapped around his waist provided a nice cushion as he landed. He lay still on all fours for several heart beats listening for any sounds from “Mommy's” room. How he loathed to call her that. Funny how a few short days ago it was a dream, she saw that it was no longer the case. In a few short moments the humiliation of the last week would not matter. He crouched low and made his way towards the nursery door. Each step creating a distinctive crinkle from his protruding nighttime diaper. His only hope was that the baby monitor mounted on the changing table near the door would not amplify the sound too much. Each carefully placed step felt like a gunshot in his ears. The thickness making movement just a little more difficult than it needed to be. Each rustle and crinkle of the diaper sounded as if he had deliberately placed a megaphone against his crotch. His legs bowed as he tried to make as little contact with his legs as possible The door creaked as he opened it to the darkened hallway. Several more seconds passed as his heartbeat drown out every noise in his world. He reached out a tiptoe of each pace searching for any creaky floorboards in his path past the door that stood ajar to “mommy's” room to his right. Ten paces past that to his left lay his escape. The stairs, his next obstacle but one that seemed completely doable and easy in comparison to the task that lay ahead. He knew from experience that Sandra was a light sleeper. Every step he took reality reformed itself. “Mommy” became Sandra, His identity as “baby” became the reality of captive little and not a toddler. The disgustingly cute nightlight depicting Oliver and Co now firmly behind him. It still reminded of him of day one in this bizarre place when the mere peek at the TV caused his diaper to grow warm and his desire to suckle a pacifier grow. He remembered the first full day he was in this dimension. Sandra had taken him the the “nice” doctor. The doctor had injected him with nannites that were programmable. He had given the program to Sandra and he had wondered from that day how many of his thoughts were his own. He reached down to his navel where the pacifier rest and put it in his mouth to silence the jackhammer and the doubt pounding in his chest. “Just make it down these stairs, and you are in the clear” he whispered to himself so quietly that it was only barely audible over his own breathing. As he reached the landing for the top step he turned around, braced himself against the wall and the floor and swung his lower body into the nothingness that was an Amazon stairwell. His logical mind told him that the next stair was mere inches from his toes stretching as far as his adrenaline pumped body would allow. His emotional brain screaming to not let go as if falling off a cliff. Finally he mustered the courage to let go and fell safely onto the following step with the faintest thud announcing his arrival. “Just 13 more of those.” He thought to himself as he set up the next leap of faith. Twelve more heart stopping drops later he was at the bottom of the stairs. Even thought he had planned this day for the last week he had not even considered what to do next. His chances of success up to this point seemed so low that he had not even thought of what was next. Should he go for the garage where the highly mobile car was located that he may or may not (the more likely option) be able to drive was located or should he head for the front door and try and hoof it to the interdimensional gateway. He knew from his previous drives that it was a short 10 minute drive to the portal but had no inclination what that meant for his tiny little legs in this dimension or how quickly he might be picked up on the street. In the end he decided that the engine starting would be too much of a noisemaker and wondered how he could possibly drive a vehicle meant for an Amazon. He opted for the front door. Jake threw caution to the wind and ran towards the door. He took a running start towards the door and reached for the lever handle. He had made contact with the handle when his hands and legs went completely numb and limp for a second as it felt he had just been shocked with a taser. With a loud thud he made contact with the door and fell into a heap onto the ground. The second that his body made contact a loud siren sounded and he knew immediately that he was sunk. In a last ditch effort he scrambled to his feet and race towards the back door. He could hear commotion upstairs coming from Sandra's room. Sledgehammers made their way towards what was his nursery. He quickly rushed to his feet and began to run. Pure adrenaline filled his veins. He stumbled over his own feet on his third step and fell to his hands and knees. The pounding upstairs began again. He got up again and took ran several more steps before stumbling again. He got up a third time and took several more shaky steps, each becoming more cumbersome and uncoordinated than the last. “I must have fallen harder than I thought” he said to himself. Walking as fast as he could bracing himself against the wall, on his forth step He had fallen face down and went to push himself up to run but the most he could muster was a crawl. By now the lights were on upstairs and he could see a shadow quickly rushing down the stairs. “Just a little further” He screamed inwardly. He had reached the backdoor. He teetered to his feet and tried for the doorknob. It was at that time that the smell hit him. He had yet to mess his diaper without some indication! How could this happen? But the smell was there all the same. His body braced against the wall he could feel the warmth in the crotch of his diaper as well. “JACOB DOYLE” she bellowed as he fell flat on his ass. The mess in the seat of his diaper spreading everywhere. His face scrunched as he fell. He did not think it possible but his heart rate dropped once more and stomach dropped as she had cleared the dining area and picked him up off the ground threw him up over her shoulder “You spoiled little brat! You have no idea how many ways you could - have - hurt - your – self” each syllable being separated by a hard swat to his thighs and butt. He began to cry from the pain. Over the last week he had done many things to earn a spanking but this was by far the worst. He was sobbing uncontrollably by the time they had made their way upstairs and back into the nursery. With a practiced hand Mommy had pulled off the sleeper and began to change his now thoroughly soiled diaper. She had finished applying a fresh coat of powder by the time he had calmed down enough to really be aware of anything again. He would try to plead with her one last time. “But I just want to go home” is what he meant to say, but what came out was “Bui wanna ghum” His eyes widened and tried again. “pws lemgu” He began to sob again in earnest. The realization of what had happened fell into place. The lack of motor control, the messy diaper, the speech. It all made sense! The front door had been booby trapped. It had activated the nanites. He was now a toddler/infant for real, there was no escape. As this was going through his head his sobbing became wailing. “There there baby. Everything will be OK” Mommy soothed. She undid her top and directed him towards her breast. “Those nannites have taken all the mean away, they won't hurt you anymore” He felt the front of his diaper grow warm again halfway through the first breast. In his daze he thought to himself. “I would have made it if it was not for that damn remote.” Before drifting off to sleep. As I said this is my first story post. So any thoughts or criticisms are greatly appreciated. I do have other ideas for this story for quite a bit more content but also hope that it works as a one and done as I have not decided for sure on that direction yet. Big obligatory citation and credit Princess Pottypants, the creator of this most addicting universe and and BabySofia, who's take on the universe has been one I have thoroughly enjoyed and shamelessly stolen many plot devices from.

Cool. I was cleaning up some directories on my machine and I found the original version of that (and the one with the few corrections I made).

Although I would love to read the story, I don't think that I take the risk of aquiring it on amazon, since then most certainly I would get recommendations based on my "purchase", which I wouldn't like to be seen by my family members, who happen to use my amazon account from time to time. Anyways, it is nevertheless a generous offer!

In the brief reprieve I'm given I catch my breathe to the best of my abilities while watching you extricate yourself from your clothes. Your soft, curvaceous, luscious body has me entranced as you saunter up to me again, pinning me to the wall with such strength that I couldn't move if I wanted to. And like hell I would want to. You continue your assault, kissing, biting, and sucking as my own lust is building, I grind my naked pussy against your knee as it's pinned between my thighs, my heart beating fast as I gasp for air between each long ferocious kiss, soaking your leg in my natural lubrication as it oozes from my heated core.

So Cool. I'll look at it this weekend. Hopefully, you will remind us. I always thought GroundHog Day would be a good theme on this site.

I went to the living room and talked with my mom. "How are you doing? I heard you got married again, how is that working out?" "Great mom, I'm very happy, this time out!" I tried to sound cheerful, I was still pretty tired. "Good, you're a good man you deserve happiness!" This was my mom? I was sure she would have scolded me for getting married again. "What's her name, what is she like?" "Her name is Julia, but I call her Beautiful, mom I really do love her, l want to make this one work, I guess I'm more dedicated to this one!" "You were pretty dedicated to the first one, too bad she wasn't as dedicated, that bitch anyway!" I had to smile for some reason mom never liked wife number one. Wife two some drunk driver killed her way too soon. Wife three, would have worked out, she dies way to soon, but I was also too busy building my company. I still kind of blame myself for that one. Now there was Beautiful. "I'm only in the states for a while, I'm off to England they found an Iron age settlement in northern England near a town called Aspatria, near Carlisle England. That is Northwest England almost to Scotland. I'm in town for a while and would love to have a visit with my son and his new wife!" "Mom, we would love to have you over for dinner." "No, no we can go out, but somewhere fancy, you still got all that money don't You? Besides we need to go somewhere neutral. I don't want to make a spectical of myself if I don't like Julia. Like I did with old What's her name?" "Teri," I said the name of my first wife. Mom like I said hated her from day one, they argued the first time they met. I always thought it was because Teri, took me away from my mother. Now I know my mom knew the type of woman Teri was, a bitch! Mom had spider senses or something. "How about Bartholomew's?" I asked. Mom always liked that place. Besides I made his building. He promised me that he would accommodate me whenever I called, time to put that to the test. I heard Beautiful get up and go to the bathroom, I heard the shower start, she must have leaked a lot, I reached down and pinched my own diaper, I was wet as well. I called Bartholomew's and talked to Bartholomew himself we had reservations for three at 7:45 pm that night. I called mom and told her about the reservations rubbed my chin and decided I need a bathe and a shave myself. I went into the bathroom and removed my wet diaper and snuck into the shower with Beautiful. Her back was to me and I kind of attacked her from the rear. It scared her a bit until she realized it was me, then her face lit up! I told her I owed her a night out tonight and said, "Remember when I told you families are supposed to be embarrassing?" "Yeah" she said. "My mom wants to meet you tonight!"

I think over many years AB/DL will become more open and acceptable as a lifestyle even though there will still be many who don't like it, don't understand it and don't want to. I look back over the last 40 years and I see just how far the lifestyle has come. Internet sites, TV talk shows and even drama's. Then all you have to do is read the "Diapers in the news" forum to see how much it has gotten in the open as opposed to 40 years ago. Do I like where it's going? I'm undecided a bit but I am glad it is at least getting out there so people are aware there are many different lifestyles. I am at mixed feelings about a combo medical supply/AB/DL store. In one case, I think it's nice that people who are AB or DL have a place they can walk into and view all the adult baby style diapers and adult baby clothes, ask questions and buy what they like. I've always been one who likes to first see in a store what I'm buying and look it over. Many has been the time I have seen an add in the paper and have gone to the store to look over the item only to find that what I thought was a metal housing was cheap plastic, or that it was not at all what I thought it was. Have you ever seen a Burger King ad with a picture of a Whopper? Does what you actually get when you order one even come close to resembling what the picture looked like? It's called marketing in order for you to get interested in their product. It makes sense to actually look at the diapers, onesie's and all in person so you can see how thick the diapers are, hear how crinckly the plastic backing is, see if they look like they will fit you. Are the onesies of cheap material? How well are they sewn? How about the snaps? Are the good or do they look cheap? All things you can see and feel in person a lot better than a picture on a website. It's also a benefit to the store owner to diversify and have another different but somewhat similar product market available to increase profits, especially a product market so rare to come across in a brick and mortar store. On the other hand, there's one thing we usually say here on Daily Diapers. It's not a good idea to involve regular people in your fetish, and that means openly wearing diapers around them, diapers or baby clothes that show in public or mess your diaper among people that can smell it. I'd just as soon see a store like the one above but have all the AB/DL stuff in an area of the store away from the regular customers, perhaps an alcove behind a curtain towards the back of the store. That would do two things. Give the fetish customer's a little privacy from the stares and glares of people who still don't understand the fetish and why a normal adult would go around in diapers and baby clothes. After all, those like AluminumBlack have a hard enough time working up the courage and getting over enough embarrassment to go in and talk about their fetish and buy adult baby diapers to begin with, without having to do it openly in a showroom full of regular people getting their perscriptions. And as I said, it would also keep the fetish stuff away from the vanilla customer's coming in for their wheel chair and ostomy supplies. If you think of it from their standpoint, not only do the old arguments crop up that they think we are pedofiles and sick, but an elderly person who has become incontinent and is having a hard time dealing with having to wear protection could become really upset that he is suddenly in that situation and he has to look at people coming in who choose to wear diapers for fun and enjoyment. The way the world has become, there are way too many stupid changes already. People ordering everything on line from their computer or smart phone and having it delivered by drone. Having a code so the delivery man can go into their house to leave a package. Using your smart phone app for everything including paying your bill at a store credit card machine, and my favorite. Ordering your groceries on line and waiting out in the parking lot for someone to bring them out to you! The latest - order a pizza on your smart phone app with whatever toppings you want on it. Pay for it with your phone. get a code number. Go to the pizza place, put your code into an automatic vending type machine and your pizza comes out! Seriously? Are we in that much of a hurry or that fascinated watching a pizza come out of a vending machine? Too much over use of technology for just stupid everyday things. When you look at some of the really dumb things people have gotten in the habit of doing these days as just their normal every day way of life, going to a store to openly buy your AB diapers and clothing in front of other people just doesn't really seem as bad as it sounds.

This is a good thread which came to mind after I got an email from the author (John Marshall) of his newest book. The book is essentially the story of growing up from age 3 to 16 with zero sexual connotation beyond mentioning that he discovered masturbation at 14 in his nappy and was a total of two sentences in a 40,000 word book. However, he made the mistake of posting about writing a book about his childhood on FetLife. As many would know, Fetlife is full of very unpleasant people with interesting ideas about what rules mean. So, even when not mentioning his book, he referred to the fact that he grew up as a child in nappies. the word 'child' got him a lot of abuse and a ban. I was sorry for him as he was quite angry and rightly so. However, I long ago realised that many people in fetlife just hang around there to get angry about something or other. Clearly, our current world makes writing about children in any situation that may be sexual in nature, a very difficult one to do. But as long as we keep our minds intact, leave our biases and ignorance at the door, its not that hard to do. I have had a few people now submit stories or ideas to me for publication on our site and under our banner. I've always said that any mention of children and sexual situations is a no-no, simply because it is too easy to offend people. And to be honest, too much sex in a story makes it just like every body else's. Our two first-person narratives of growing up in nappies are entirely non-sexual - as they should be. One possible future book may include a mention of sexual abuse as a child. In this case, I will edit very carefully to ensure that it is done respectfully, appropriately and yet still making the incident the powerful one that it was. Well done tho for having 'grown-up' attitudes to this issue in regards to writing. it is more rare than I would have hoped. DD continues to impress at a time when so many other places do not.

That was an unexpected surprise. Not one but two chapters. Any word on the transplant? Obviously if you are here writing it hasn’t happened yet but I was wondering if you have heard anything? I am also wondering who this new subject is. It has to be someone that Robbie has dealt with in the past. Could have been an old boss or someone who antagonized him. It also has to be someone who JoAnn knows and that is complicated because JoAnn and Robbie didn’t know each other before they met to have Robbie become a baby. I don’t have any more likes to give today but I would have given it one. I am looking forward to reading more.

best wishes and good luck BooBoo, we are all pulling for you.

Hoping you pulmonary agrees with the other doctors so you can take advantage of a replacement liver as soon as one is available.

Dear Booboobritches, thank you very much for your detailed informations. I hope you'll get a functioning new liver soon. Be very strong in the belief in God, yourself and your dear family. I wish you tons of luck!! With best wishes Diddldum

I'm sure it has happened, trouble is the people who are successful don't come back to diaperland to tell us I support anyone who feels they need to give up the lifestyle for personal reasons, and always wish them the best, even when it means loosing a friend! ...and those who come back are always welcome!