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I thought a few tips on how to spot and avoid a "scam mommy" might be useful to people. Some things may seem obvious to many but there are some who fall for these things and if they are new or hurt by it they can be put off the community for good. So, how do you spot a scammer? 1. They follow you - Sorry guys and girls but mommy's are not going to just fall into your lap and real ones don't come here looking for any baby they can get. If you have never spoken to them and they follow you it is likely before they message you or they are hoping you notice so you message them. A real mommy would be here looking for someone special rather than just someone, so treat any random encounter like this as extremely suspicious. 2. They message you - See above for the most part. They will come here and mass message as many people as they can, it is usually copy and pasted and they will often just scroll through users messaging them. It only takes one or two "hits" to make it all worth their while. If you receive a random message like this from a mommy make sure to report it. 3. Profile Picture - Many will come on with a profile picture that is either stolen from someone else, a pro model shot or something else designed to emphasise their beauty. I'm not saying we don't all try to get attractive pictures but the ones used in these profiles will likely not feature anything ABDL and would be something you would be much more likely to find on facebook than a fetish site. A good way to check photos (though not foolproof) is to search the image on Google. It may show you that the picture is stolen from others. 4. Location - It's not nice to say but nearly all scam mommies that visit here are from the same place... The Philippines. However any mommy from a place not close to yourself but still messaging should be a warning sign. This is difficult to check because, they often lie about where they live and will usually pretend to be American. That includes having a western name. 5. Do they have Mommy[Girl's Name]/Mistress[Girl's Name] in their name? - This is far from foolproof because there are many users with those names who are here for the same reasons as everyone else but just about every single scammer I've banned has started with those two words. 6. Broken English - Many of them will claim to be from America despite being from somewhere else. English will likely not be their first language and that should show through messages. Unusual spelling, poor grammar, something that is clearly not written by someone proficient in the English language... These are all signs of a scammer. 7. Do they instantly treat you a baby/slave or invite you to be their baby/slave? - Real mommy's don't do this. If they seem instantly to want you to be theirs it's because they want what's in your wallet. 8. Do they try to take you to a different website? - One thing a scam mommy will try to do is to get you to go to a website where you either have to: a) pay to send messages and thus give her money or b) get you off this site ASAP so that it is harder for admins to find them/make it harder for you to report them. If they are in a rush to get you off of site messaging and into e-mails, instant messages or another website it is to avoid scrutiny. A big red flag. 9. They ask you to pay for things for your new nursery with them - Some mommies or mistresses will quickly want to make it seem like you are going to live with them and have all your fantasies come true. They will say they want to have a nursery ready for you but that they need you to send money to them to help get it ready. Needless to say none of that money is going on a nursery and none of that stuff will be used on you. So what do you do if you get a message you suspect is from a scammer? Report it. The admins can then see the message and we are very experienced in separating people who are lying and scamming from those who are legitimate. You can also message me or another admin if you aren't sure and we can give private advice. --- I hope this helps some people and remember that whilst a lot of this is going to be obvious to long term members there will be others who will learn something so let's not judge anyone. If these scams weren't occasionally successful they wouldn't happen. If anyone else has good tips to spot a scammer just post them below and I'll add them to the list! Stay safe everyone!

--o Bill and Sarah spent the next weeks planning the wedding. They decided that they’d have a small service at a local hotel with a reception to follow. Sarah had her family and Bill had his, along with a small group of friends. They picked a date. Of course, Sarah had an immediate selection for the maid of honor. Without Cheryl, they’d not have been together. One item still to be resolved is where they were going to live. They both realized that Sarah’s place was too small, lacking a room to use for a home office that Bill needed for his work. Sarah didn’t like the location of Bill’s place either. They started a hunt. Bill got a call one day from Sarah. “You need to come to 115 Prospect Street right away. I may have found the perfect apartment.” “On my way,” Bill replied and headed out the door. He found the building in a trendy section of downtown. He walked into the lobby and Sarah was there. “One of my coworkers has a place here. She told me there was a unit available and I just saw it, come.” The manager led them to the apartment. He showed them a nice living room and kitchen. There were two bedrooms which was perfect. “Now here’s the great part,” Sarah said leading him through to the master bath. He stared at the bathroom not quite comprehending. Sarah swept her hand over the large vanity in the bath. “Look how large this is.” The landlord broke in explaining how convenient having the space was, especially with women and all their cosmetics and hair dryers and such. It didn’t mean much to Bill. Sarah moved in closely and whispered, “Think, changing table.” Bill looked again. There was easily six feet of clear space beyond the sink. Lots of drawers underneath. He smiled. “We’ll take it.” After the landlord was out of earshot, Sarah pointed out there was a linen closet that could easily hold the diaper pail. “Just one?” Bill asked. “We only need one,” Sarah replied. “Isn’t sorting out yours versus mine going to be a problem for Cheryl?” Bill asked. “I’ve decided to wear the same pinnable diapers like you. I’ll need to get some plastic pants, but I can get started with the ones of yours that don’t lock. I’ll order more of both. We’ll need them. Let me take care of it.” Bill just nodded his assent. They proceeded to move their things from their respective apartments to the new place. Sarah had indeed made her switch away from the all in ones to the same diapers Bill used. Bill continued to change her any time they were together and she kept him locked up most of the time. About two weeks before the wedding a large box arrived. Sarah opened it with glee. It contained more plastic pants, locking and not, in quite an assortment. She had spent a happy evening researching these and picking them out. Also, there as a selection of various disposable diapers. Bill came into Sarah spreading them out on the living room floor. “That’s quite a stash,” he said. “Well, it’s probably not practical to take Cheryl’s diapers on the honeymoon. We’d have to haul all the dirty ones back.” “And the lock on mine will probably set off the metal detector, and that might take some explaining,” Bill said sheepishly. He looked through the piles. Not only were there plain white diapers like he had worn before, but a variety of others, some all black, some with juvenile prints on them, even some pink ones. Bill stared. Sarah looked down and said, “I just thought they were cute. Besides I need the black ones for under certain of my dresses.” Bill just nodded. Soon, the wedding day came. Bill was banished from the house, so he headed over to his best man’s to get dressed. Cheryl was helping Sarah prepare for the ceremony. Bill made his way to the hotel with the best man. He stood near the front of the hall. A friend of Cheryl’s who happened to be a minister was standing ready to officiate. The music started. Cheryl entered in a very nice dress, but then all eyes turned as Sarah was led in by her father. Bill smiled. She was lovely. He didn’t remember much of the service after that. He got through the vows and the I do’s, and in a heartbeat, it was “You may kiss the bride” time. Bill did so in earnest. They walked out of the room and headed over to get pictures taken while the rest of the guests headed for the reception. Bill beamed. He leaned over to Sarah and asked her if she needed a change. “I’m good. Cheryl double diapered me. Good thing this dress has a full skirt.” Then she paused and broke into laughter. “I guess I give credence to the rumor of bridal diapers.” They both laughed and headed into the reception. Afterward, they headed back to their place. Bill helped Sarah out of her dress revealing a white satin pair of plastic pants with ruffles. They had added a small mat to the vanity in the bathroom to make a comfortable changing table. She climbed up, and he slid them down. “You are wet,” he said unpinning the first diaper and then the second. She sat up and started undressing him. She leaned down and used the key on her neck chain to unlock his pants and removed them. They headed off toward the bed. The next morning they got ready to leave. Sarah had put on the pink diapers, and she pulled out another from the drawer. “These would look cute on them.” Bill made a mock scowl. “OK, how about this one.” She pulled out one with teddy bears. He got up on the changing table, and she fitted it to him. They headed off to the airport to their honeymoon and to launch their married life. Sarah had packed plenty of diapers for the trip. And she was determined to get Bill into the pink ones at some point. She smiled at the idea. Bill looked at his new bride and smiled back. The End.

Cloth diapers and PINS

Thank you again for the feedback, everyone. Here are the next 2 chapters: Chapter 27 I followed Dr. Venello’s advice and spilled my thoughts all over the blank pages. Within the first week, I must have filled at least seven pages! A lot of it revolved around my father and me. Had I dropped the book on the ground and someone were to read it, they’d have probably thought I was a pessimist. But, you know what? It felt good to write it down. That way I could see it and it was off my mind enough to where it didn’t make my heart heavy. There were only a couple of things I failed to put in there: the fact that I’d tried killing myself, and the fact that I was an infantilist. Those were realistically the two things I needed to admit to Dr. Venello so I could move on with my life and with my therapy, but at the same time, simply the thought of writing them down paralyzed me with fear. So at my second session, I avoided the issues, despite so badly wanting to talk about them. Part of me thinks Dr. Venello knew something was wrong, as she studied my face more often that time around. Now you might be wondering how Jill felt about this whole therapy thing. One of the hardest things about going to therapy or counseling while in a relationship is that there runs the risk of the significant other wanting details…details you may not necessarily be comfortable sharing with them. This isn’t always the case, but sometimes it is. Fortunately for me, Jill wasn’t like that. She’d ask a simple, “How’d it go, babe?” and allow me to share whatever I wanted. No asking what my therapist was like, no asking what we talked about, no nosy nonsense. Yet another reason why I love her to death! The third session. This was it. The entire week preceding it I contemplated spilling my guts to Dr. Venello about everything, and not just because I was feeling courageous. If I even so much as thought too hard about my father screaming at me and the knife I held so closely to my chest, I’d choke up. The simple thing to do would’ve been to not think about it, but when it’s so deeply etched into your brain, that’s nearly impossible. I remember walking into Dr. Venello’s office with a rapidly beating heart and a feeling so horrible in my stomach that I thought I was going to vomit. “So, John, what would you like to talk about today?” Dr. Venello asked as I sat uncomfortably in the chair across from her. I didn’t speak right away. Instead, I handed her my black book, showing her the page where I’d written, I hate how I can’t shake why my father said the things he did and what I did to myself after he died. “John, I know we briefly touched on this during our first session, and even a little more last week, but this isn’t something that you can ‘shake.’ At least, not just like that. We should explore this more so we can-” “-It isn’t that simple.” I cut her off. “I have only told two people in my life the thing that led my father to hate me. He only found out by accident.” “And why is it that you only told two people?” “Because it isn't something people generally accept. I told Jill because it was important that she knew...the other person I told when I was drunk.” “How did the two you told react?” “Jill was completely fine with it, and I guess Trish was. But despite that fact, I was so afraid of them calling me a freak or never speaking to me again.” “And your father didn't take it so well.” “...no. Like I told you, he told me I wasn't his son. 'Fucking freak', he called me. Told him I made him sick to his stomach.” I swallowed hard as past feelings stirred violently around my chest. There was a brief silence as Dr. Venello jotted something down on her notepad. She then looked up and spoke once more. “Why do you think your father got so upset and angry with you?” Let's see, I like being treated like a baby and wear diapers sometimes, despite the fact that I'm an adult. “I wish I could tell you.” “Well, you could...” “Nice try.” It was almost like a fight between our words. Hers tried to use attacks to get me to open myself up, but I was always on my guard. And then she got me to lower it. “John, how do feel about your father now? If you could see him again, what would you say to him?” “I don't know...I-” I knew damn well what I wanted to say to him, and still I wouldn't, until... “So he said all of these mean things to you, and you don't have anything you want to say back? Let's imagine he's right here in the room with us. What do you want to say?” the combination of verbal punches made me cough up not blood, but all of the feelings I had towards my father. “I fucking hate him! I hate him for what he fucking put me through! I hate him...and I love him!” I stood up from my chair and paced behind it, my breathing heavier than ever. “He was supposed to be my father, and he turned his back on me! All these fucking years I knew what I was and I was so scared! I hid it from everybody because I knew one of these days it'd happen! I knew he'd find out and hate me for this! And despite that, I couldn't prepare myself enough for it. Didn't even try to make amends...and then he dies! Do you have any idea what that feels like? That...poison running through your veins? Being left with the final memory of your dad telling you you're not his son? I wanted to die!” Dr. Venello jotted some more down in her notebook, then leaned forward with a look of concern on her face. “John, you say it's like a poison. How have you been coping with it so far? I mean, before the therapy, what did you do?” “I-” I was extremely hesitant. “Did you talk to anybody or seek counseling through the school?” “No...” I felt an even worse trembling sensation throughout my body. I knew it was coming. I knew she'd ask it and yet I prayed to God that she wouldn't. “I want you to be honest with me now, because this is important. Did you ever have thoughts of suicide upon your father's death?” “...yes...” I shook more violently as I cried a little harder. “John...did you at any point attempt suicide?” I nodded my head and sobbed. “I-I couldn't handle it...over and over and over the scene played in my head. All I'd see was my father yelling and the last night we had dinner together. I couldn't take it...no matter what way I looked at it, it was my fault he died...the stress I caused him through our arguing, him finding out about me...it could have been avoided.” I grabbed a handful of tissues from the table and buried my face in them. I didn't want Dr. Venello to see me, or anyone else for that matter. And yet at the same time, I just didn't care. I didn't care what I told Dr. Venello anymore. When you're at such a low point in your life, sometimes you just say, “Screw it” and that sense of fear goes away temporarily. “The important thing here is that you didn't end your life. You sought help instead. But it's also important that you tell me what it is that you've been hiding. It's the only way we're going to get around this, John. You've trusted me enough to tell me all of these horrible things that you've been through. You can trust me with this. I'm here to help you.” And for the first time in my life, I looked someone square in the eyes with a straight face and uttered the three words I'd avoided saying for so long no matter how much truth was in them: “I'm an infantilist.” Chapter 28 I'd never tasted words so sour as they escaped my lips...but why did they taste that way? It felt like I'd told Dr. Venello I murdered somebody. An overwhelming dryness filled my mouth and my face got red hot. I looked down at my hands to see them trembling violently. “An infantilist.” Dr. Venello repeated. “Yes.” My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear myself speak. What would she say? How would she react? Would she kick me out of her office? What the hell had I done? I wanted to die, and I wanted to die right then and there. My eyes shifted all about the room, sweat dripped down my face, and my body trembled violently. I told myself it'd take just the slightest hint of disgust in Dr. Venello's voice or facial expression and I would pass out. “John, calm down. Deep breaths.” she spoke calmly. Despite her being only a few feet in front of me, her voice sounded so distant. Of all the times I'd felt anxious, this was close to, if not as bad as when my father had discovered my secret. I followed Dr. Venello's instructions and inhaled as slowly and calmly as I could. “That's it. It's over, John. It's out on the floor now. Try to relax.” “I-I can't.” I whispered. “Just try.” “H-how come you’re so calm about this?!” I raised my voice. “How come you’re not?” “Because it’s-not normal…” “And what exactly is normal, John?” She had me there. What was normal? There is no such thing when you think about it. Perhaps normalcy is judged by one’s sanity…but whose sanity is considered the happy medium? Still, I expressed myself further. “This isn’t, okay? Having to hide this isn’t normal. Having to keep it a secret for so many years isn’t normal. Having to keep your mouth shut while people speak so maliciously about people like you isn’t normal! Not having anyone to talk about this until you meet the one person who accepts you for you isn’t normal! And having your parents look at you like you’re not welcome in their home anymore even after you lived there for your entire life isn’t normal!” “You say this as if you hate this part of you.” Dr. Venello was quick to respond. I paused and listened to the clock’s rhythmic ticking on the far corner of the wall, gathering my thoughts. “I hate what it has done to me.” “How do you mean?” “I hate the fear and anxiety it’s caused me, even after all these years. I hate how any time something too ‘babyish’ is brought up, I have to leave the room because I feel like they know and they’re judging me. I hate the way it caused my father to react and what it almost made me do…and still, in spite of all of that, I can’t…no, won’t…let it go.” “And why is that?” I told her everything good about being an infantilist; about being totally immersed in serenity and forgetting all the anxieties the world instills in your brain; about that indescribable feeling of being looked at and cared for with absolute adoration by someone who genuinely loves you; about the new bond it created between me and Jill, and how it helped her cope with her loss; and as equally as important, about how happy it made me. “It’s like I’m torn between considering it a flaw and considering it a unique quality.” “Perhaps the question you need to ask yourself is which is it more of? On the one hand, it sounds like your infantilism is doing you more harm than good. Yet on the other hand, it’s benefiting both you and your girlfriend.” I pondered the question for a moment. Which one was it more of? It almost seemed like it was the perfect balance; a gift and a curse. “It shouldn’t matter, should it?” An epiphany! Dr. Venello turned her head curiously. “It seems to me that, through my experiences and research on this whole thing, society generally frowns upon and refuses to understand that which they know nothing or little about. They assume too much without getting the facts or taking the time to understand people in my situation. And that makes me afraid. It makes me afraid of being ridiculed and abandoned by the people I care about; my friends, my family. So I’ve been hiding it out of fear of others finding out. I’ve been hiding it, because I know that it’s not something that society is willing to understand with the compassion I desire them to understand it with, and because I have seen how some people react and how much hatred and disgust they have towards this lifestyle. Yet, there’s Jill, who loves me and accepts and understands me. I’m comfortable with her knowing, while being extremely sensitive to the idea of others finding out. She brings out the best of this part of me, while my perception of society brings out the worst. She’s more important to me than society. So why do I care? What has tricked me into thinking that I should care and worry about what others think when I have somebody who doesn’t care? But when I think about it, I can’t stop being afraid.” I didn’t know it then, but looking back now, I had hit a critical breakthrough in figuring the whole infantilist thing out. Although, as I’ve mentioned before, there doesn’t seem to be any true “figuring out” of this lifestyle. There was a brief pause as Dr. Venello finished writing everything down in her notepad. “It sounds to me like you’ve been thinking about this for quite some time, John.” “Probably since…since I knew, really. I mean, before Jill, I had nobody, but I yearned for someone. I prayed whenever I could that God would either send me someone who wouldn’t shun me for this, or to help me find a way to make it disappear.” “I see. You that you can’t stop being afraid. Why do you think that might be?” “Because…” I knew the answer, but again had a difficult time letting the words escape my lips. “I guess despite Jill being okay with it…sometimes it makes me feel guilty, as if I’m doing something wrong.” It was something I had never even shared with Jill, although I think based on what I had told her and how sensitive I was about it, she sort of knew. “How so?” “When I think about it, all I can picture is someone I know finding out about me and saying, ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ or someone exploiting me and ruining my life. It’s like there’s some kind of unsung stigma society places on us. They don’t speak or know much about it, but they classify it as wrong and assume all people who are into it are either pedophiles or are sick in the head. So I suppose because society says it’s wrong, I feel guilty at times.” “That stigma could be why you feel guilty. If you think about it, the norm of our society is that when you grow up, you do grownup things. You essentially let go of the childish things and move on with your life. But, infantilists don’t do that. They hold on to those childish things for a variety of reasons, whether it’s a self-defense mechanism in response to various stressors, a yearning for that sense of innocence, and, in some cases, simply a sexual turn-on. Sometimes it’s a combination of these things. You and others like you go against what society has deemed as ‘normal,’ thus making you feel like you’re doing something wrong.” “That’s it! And any time I hear people speaking badly about it, I feel like they’re onto me and I get so scared. Like it keeps holding me back and I can’t seem to find a way to stop thinking like that. I just feel like I have some great qualities that people see in me…and it’s like if they found out this one thing, they’ll disregard everything good.” “But is that truly the case, John?” Dr. Venello asked as she touched her temple with her right hand. “Altogether you’ve told five people, and only one of them gave you a negative reaction. There are three things I’m getting from what you’ve told me. One, the stigma you speak of has altered your own perception of both yourself and your preference, meaning you’ve allowed it to grow into something much bigger than it really is. Two, it appears you have a need for acceptance from certain people in your life. However, you have to understand that you’re only in control of yourself. In a perfect world, everyone would accept each other for who they are, preferences and all. In this world, we cannot control how others think of us, so it can take time to accept that. Three, the negative feelings you’re experiencing are not just a result of what happened between you and your father. They are also a result of you feeling like it’s your fault, and it isn’t.” I bit my lip harder with each observation Dr. Venello made. By the time she reached the third, I cringed a little, knowing she was right, but still wouldn’t accept it so easily. “You’re right about the first two…” “John, look at me. You can’t blame yourself for this.” “I-it robbed me of so much, and I just sat there and let it happen.” “But that doesn’t make it your fault-” “I’ve been looking over my shoulder my entire life, covering my tracks and praying nobody finds out.” “You hid it away because you felt you had to.” “I kept everyone at a safe distance. I chose not to be close friends with anyone. I chose to end relationships so I could protect myself, because I couldn’t trust anyone enough to tell them and was so damn afraid of what they’d do if they found out. I lived in fear for nearly my entire life, and just when I thought it was going well, I slip up and my father loses his life after disowning me. I should’ve sought help sooner, and I didn’t. I should’ve told somebody, and I didn’t. ” “John, this is going to be hard to do, but you have to learn to understand that you did what you felt was right. You protected yourself because you thought people would use it against you. The environment and situations you were in and the people you met made you feel like you had to do this, and in a way, you did. But everybody has their preferences, and I think once you learn to establish your infantilism as a preference rather than this thing that you feel has been ruining your life, you’ll feel a lot better about yourself and your preference. That doesn’t mean you have to shout it out to the world, but it does mean that you have to work towards coming to terms with it, with my help, of course.” “And if I can’t?” “You can.” “But if I can’t? Then what?” “Then this will haunt you for the rest of your life. You’ll be looking over your shoulder and living in this fearful state of mind, wondering if the next person is going to find out. But if you’re willing to let me help you, I promise you I will do everything I can to not let that happen.” I sighed in defeat; Dr. Venello was right. My quir-sorry-preference, became my obsession. It became my cursed treasure in which I had to protect at all costs; my greatest vulnerability in which I shielded and shoved so many people away from if they got too close; my prison in which I was tormented in for nearly my entire life. And there, in that therapist’s office, we had picked me apart, piece by piece. All of my insecurities and doubts, my constant inner-struggle between self-acceptance and self-loathing, in some kind of exploded view in Dr. Venello’s office, and no matter how much I wanted to turn away, there was no denying that I had a problem. This was the next big part of the war that I had to win. It was at that point that I decided it was at least worth a shot, and that maybe Dr. Venello could help me. After all, doing it alone hadn’t done me all that good. “I’ll do it.”

8. Good thing I don’t have any boobs. “Little cheeks, little necks, everything around me is Little. If I wring little necks surely I would get an acquittal!” All of the eyes in the audience were on her as Lara Miranda sang her version of Miss Hannigan’s funny/abrasive anthem. But she was paying the most attention to the eyes of the director, Mr. Harvey; his was ultimately the only opinion that mattered, and she was actually nervous for the first time in her high school career. This was such an odd choice for a musical. Not only had much of the prospective cast done it in middle school or elementary school, but there was no diva role for the school’s star actress. She’d hoped for Hello, Dolly or Sweet Charity or something that could feature her throughout the performance, but in Annie this comic foil was the only part she could practically go for. Almost all the rest of the female main characters were, quite literally, “little girls.” It was a smashing showcase, all right, but for freshmen. As she arrived at the song’s final moment, she reached into herself to find that something extra that would assure her the role. “Someday I’ll land in the nuthouse with all the nuts and the squirrels. There I’ll stay, tucked away, til the prohibition of little girls.” She allowed the first syllable of “Little” to get completely wrapped up in vibrato and then stretched out the others as long and as hard as she could. Go big or go home. When she was through, she saw the familiar look in Harvey’s eyes; she’d won the part. That may not have been the way he wanted it sung, but he knew she could adjust anything. She felt a huge jolt of relief course through her; she really hadn’t known how concerned she was. A couple of other girls sang “Little Girls,” nowhere near as well as she had, but she was deprived of the moment she’d been waiting for when Geneva Whitmore didn’t try out for the part. She had been smiling to herself all day about a “little girl” singing that song. No doubt Geneva would have sung it well, but the visual would have been hilarious. As she looked around the auditorium, she realized that Geneva wasn’t even there. Guess she couldn’t see any role she could do, Lara thought. She sat down in the back of the house with Raven to watch (and comment on) the rest of the auditions. Lara loved this part; she thought of it as Mystery Musical Theatre 3000. As usual, She and Raven spent much of the time trying not to laugh out loud; the parade of little Annies was adorable but also often ridiculous; most of these girls simply lacked the voice. Around the sixteenth or seventeenth trip through “Tomorrow,” they gave up and went out into the lobby where they could speak more freely. “I suppose that Kleinman girl might be OK,” said Raven. “You’re just being blinded by her curly hair,” said Lara. “Her voice was nothing special.” Raven shrugged. “Are any of them?” Lara shook her head. “I mean one of them has to take the role, but it’s going to be a stretch for Harvey to make her solid enough.” They were both silent for a moment, listening to the strains of the song—must be Contestant #20 by now (how many were there anyway?)—coming from the theatre. Raven wandered over to the theatre door and glanced in at the blonde freshman girl who was trying unsuccessfully to hold the stage. “Well, at least there is enough talent there to make a great bunch of orphans for you to beat on.” “Shhh!” whispered Lara, waving her hand in front of her friend’s face. “You’ll jinx it. I haven’t got the role yet.” Raven rolled her eyes. “Right. As if anyone could compete with you. I noticed that Geneva Whitmore didn’t even bother to try.” Lara smiled. “Probably sick of losing to me,” she said. Neither of the two had been able to believe it when Geneva had beaten Lara in the vocal contest. It was an annual thing, and it meant that Geneva would get the choice choir solos for the whole year. But whatever, Lara thought now, I still get all of the plum parts. Suddenly the two girls stopped talking. Inside the theatre, someone was killing “Tomorrow.” The voice was strong and stunning even without amplification. “You’re only a daaaaayy a-waaaaay.” “Shit!” Raven said. “Sounds like you might just have a decent lead after all!” They made their way back into the theatre but the girl had turned her back and was exiting the stage. Only when she passed through a side door could they see who she was. “Geneva?!” Lara said. It hadn’t even occurred to her that the diminutive singer might try for a little kids’ part. But of course she would. It’s the lead! And the fact of the matter was that she had rocked it. “This is even better than we thought,” Raven said. “What do you mean?” “Well,” she said slowly, “Miss Hannigan is in charge of Annie, isn’t she?” “I mean in the play, sure.” Raven shook her head. “You’re missing my point. You know how Harvey likes to use in-character improvs in his rehearsals.” “Yeah? He likes to build character relationships on shared experience. So?” “He’s bound to cast a bunch of frosh as the other orphans, which means there will probably be some improvs where you get to mother hen the bunch of them.” A light went on in Lara’s eyes. “Including Geneva,” she said. Raven nodded. “Including Geneva. She’ll actually have to do what you say!” Lara’s smile was devious. She thought for a moment and then said, in character, “You’ll stay up until this stage shines like the top of the Chrysler Building!” They both laughed at the mental picture of Lara lording over Geneva as she cleaned the stage floor on her knees. “You’re right, Raven,” Lara said. “This could be a lot of fun.” ### “Tell me again why we need Ryan?” Geneva tried to keep her voice down so he wouldn’t hear them, but it was difficult; she was agitated. “I thought we were keeping this between us.” Naomi spelled it out for the third time. “We have essentially two options. Either we borrow the equipment from school, which would make this a school project and we’d have to show it to Ms. Johansson, or we use somebody else’s equipment. Ryan’s the only one I know who has what we need.” Geneva watched him carefully as he sat on the other side of the room. The boy was a junior; she knew him from the tech crew, but not that well. He was one of Naomi’s geeky friends; he basically kept to himself most of the time. Even in last year’s musical, when he had been assistant stage manager, she hardly interacted with him. And here Naomi was telling her that she needed to trust him with the biggest secret of her life. As if reading her mind, Naomi said, “You can trust him, Genny. I’ve known Ryan for years, and he can keep things to himself.” Geneva scanned the tall, thin boy who was hunched over his books, reading. She couldn’t tell what it was (other than thick), but based on the stack of Neil Gaiman books next to it she figured it was probably fantasy of some sort. His longish blonde hair dangled close to the pages and he pushed it back without a break in his concentration. This was the boy Naomi trusted to do sensitive things? Well why not? He sure looked the type. As Geneva well knew, though, you can’t just a book by its cover. “OK,” she said. “Ask him.” Naomi got up and walked across the library to the table where Ryan was sitting. It was too far for Geneva to hear what was being said, but it must have been interesting to Ryan; he had actually moved once. It was when he briefly looked across the room at her. Shortly the conversation ended and Naomi came back, her face aglow. “He says he’ll do it,” she told Geneva. “Does he know what it is?” she asked. The expression on Naomi’s face read, Sort of. “I mean he knows it’s a secret and all, but I didn’t go into details.” “Don’t you think we ought to do that some time before he has to, say, walk into that ABDL shop?” Naomi tilted her head. “Look at you with the lingo!” Geneva shrugged. “I pay attention. But really, how do we even get him there if we don’t come clean?” “No worries,” Naomi smiled back. “I’ll talk to him at tech and tell him all about it. He’ll be fine. He’ll probably find it just as adorable as I do.” “Yeah,” Geneva said. “I think that’s what I’m afraid of.” Naomi nudged her friend playfully. “I think we should change the subject. Let’s talk about your first-ever high school lead!” Geneva smiled. When she’d gone to the website to check the cast list, she told Naomi that it really didn’t matter to her, that if she didn’t get it then she’d be very happy with the Sutton Foster part. But the squeal she let out when her name was at the top of the list belied that argument. They had gone out for some ice cream to celebrate. Pistachio, of course, for Naomi; chocolate chunk for her. She loved biting into the large pieces of semisweet chocolate and letting them melt in her mouth and mingle with the vanilla ice cream. Other than her, Lara, and Flynn Weathering as Daddy Warbucks, the list was pretty much a surprise to Geneva. The NYC solo had gone to a sophomore girl she hardly knew, and most of the orphans were, as she’d figured, freshmen and sophomores. Grace Farrell was a junior, Megan McNamara, who had been in the musical each year in chorus roles. And Miss Hannigan’s sleazy boyfriend Rooster was a senior boy who had never even tried out before. It was one of the most interesting cast lists she’d ever seen: practically no one where you’d expect them. Except Lara. Part of her really wished that Lara had not gotten Miss Hannigan, but she’d heard the audition from backstage: she owned it. Damn. “What more is there to talk about?” she asked Naomi. Naomi rolled her eyes. “You, silly. This is a huge month for you. Annie onstage and Baby G on youtube. You’re getting everything you want!” “Yep,” Geneva said with a forced half-smile. “I get my choice of being like 10 or 3. Good thing I don’t have any boobs.” “Your body is about to become your biggest asset,” Naomi said. “Remind me of that when I’m sitting in a crib.” “I won’t need to. The song is dynamite and you’re going to hit it out of the park.” “Oooo,” said Geneva. “Sports metaphors. Since when do we use sports metaphors?” “We always have,” Naomi said, mock-serious. “I think you’re way off base.” Geneva’s smile grew bigger. “Oh, that was hitting below the belt.” “Nope,” said Naomi. “I think it was par for the course.” Geneva laughed. “Now we’re running neck and neck.” “This could be a split decision.” “He shoots, he scores!” Naomi looked puzzled. “What’s that got to do with anything?” Geneva, still laughing quietly, said, “Absolutely nothing. I’ve just always wanted to say it.” Naomi shook her head. “Game, set and match,” she said and joined the laughter. Geneva just laughed harder. “Bingo!” she said. “Shhh!” Naomi said through her own laughter. “They’re gonna throw us out.” “Well then,” Geneva said, “that would be a third ‘first’ for me this month.” To herself, she added, and I don’t know which of the three I’m going to regret most.

How dare you to insult a wall like that Sad that there's truth in the comparison though. Around here, littering gets you a fine and community service time which will be given as you picking up trash along the roadside in an orange jumpsuit along with all the work-release prisoners where everyone can see who you are That last part is rather effective as a deterrent most of the time. It should be universal. Bettypooh

Thanks for all the feedback. I'm honored that some of my favorite writers are reading my little story. I see this as taking place some time after the FAFOP stories, by the way... in that the Pet phenomenon is accepted and normalized in society, and there is a robust infrastructure in place to support it. I am intentionally staying away from 'How did it happen', but I think in my mind some evil government research lab created a virus that was intending to either make their own population more subservient, or to make another country's society fall apart... depending on which conspiracy theory you believe... and it was released accidentally and spread... and everyone adapted. At the point this story takes place, it's just a fact of life, to the point where an advertising point for a major airline is, "Pets Fly Free!" I have a lot of chapters written that do address the flight, doctor visit, training, and so on. Just need to finish editing and get them out! ----------------- My Keeper led me through the door and to the front of the room. The cage was there, still open, but someone had been by to clean it up. My clothes were gone, and there was a fresh clean disposable pad at the bottom. I started to climb the ramp, but I stopped when Angie laughed. "It's OK, JayJay, you're not going in a cage. Let's all sit down over here at the desk." She grabbed two chairs, and brought them over to the desk where a stack of pamphlets and binders waited. "You can just clip his leash to the ring here, and let him sit beside you." Taking the cue, I sat next to Jenn's chair as I heard the click of my leash being secured to the desk. I felt warm and cozy as she scratched my head. "Good boy." Oh, I loved to hear that. I put my head on the side of her leg, feeling her warmth on the side of my face. "OK, so we have a few hours now. Since we couldn't get you into that course tomorrow, I'm going to give you the personal, express version, OK? The good news is that I know Je...JayJay has taken these classes several times... since I get paid by the attendee, I got them to attend whenever the class seemed small. Now, I know that most people who take the class Unbound... not a Keeper or a Pet yet... assume that they are learning the Keeper role. Right JayJay?" I didn't move, as I didn't want her to stop petting me, but I replied, "Well, yeah." "So you'll be... looking at it from a different perspective today, but you can still help your Keeper, right JayJay?” I nodded, moving my heard against my Keeper’s hand. "OK, so first class. We call this class, 'So, you have a new Pet. What now?'. It's intended to be a two hour class for new Keepers and their Pets, but we're going to do it in..." She glanced at her watch... "One hour. While I know it might be fast, JayJay knows the material, Karen knows the material, and most of the class is actually available as video on the web. But it has some critical things to set you both up for success, and that's what I want to focus on. OK?" Jenn nodded. I nodded. "Let's get started then. JayJay, what's the Keeper's job number one? JayJay?" "A Keeper's first job is to keep the Pet safe," I responded confidently. "Right. Jenn, say it with me. A Keeper's first job is to keep the Pet safe. Again. A Keeper's first job is to keep the Pet safe. Good." Angie looked Jenn in the eyes. "If you remember this, the rest is easy. Normally we go over the history of why there are Pets and Keepers, but we don't have time. If you're not familiar, you can read about it later. But the important thing to remember is that Pets will make bad decisions, that could cause harm to themselves or others. It's not like they want to hurt others, but something in their brain has changed that makes them often not consider, or disregard, the consequences of actions. Therefore, as a Keeper, it's your job to keep them safe. If we didn’t have the Pet/Keeper dynamic, we’d have a significant portion of the population that we’d need to institutionalize… and we as a society have decided that this is a better, more loving, and ultimately more humane way of handling it. So, your ethical, and legal, responsibility is to keep him safe. How do we do that, JayJay?" I sighed. "Physical restraint, psychological control, and training." Angie smiled. "You're a good student." Looking back at Jenn, she continued, "Physical restraint is used to make sure that they cannot make a choice that will cause harm to themselves or others. We use leashes, cages, muzzles, paws, and so on, particularly in the early phases, to remove the opportunity to make a bad decision. It's important that you realize that restraints are not a punishment. We don't use them because he did something wrong. We use them as a tool, to help keep him from doing something wrong. OK?" Jenn nodded. "We'll go into the use of restraints a little bit later. They're very important, especially in these early phases where the second two controls are not as well established yet." "The second is psychological control. You and he are Bound. You're linked in a way that is very, very powerful. You feel it as a need to control him, and he feels it as an intense need to be controlled, to do what pleases you, and a joy and a warmth when he feels your approval. As you learn how to control it, and how to use it as part of the training, which is the third part, your Bond will increase in strength and it will make you both feel warm and happy. Most of the classes that you really need to take are for you, as Keeper, to learn how to effectively wield this psychological control in a safe, caring, and effective way. We'll get a good introduction to this today, but you should take more advanced classes as soon as you can. Karen is also really knowledgable here, by the way." "And then training, which I mentioned was the third part. This is longer term, and is based on the psychological control part. You can train him to stay in safe areas of the house, or help out with chores, or other things that will both reduce the need for the restraints, as well as make the day to day living together easier. We will just touch on this today… it’s a big topic. OK?" "OK, the last part of keeping your Pet safe is keeping him healthy." Angie spread out a disposable pad on the floor near me. "JayJay, would you lay down on your back on here for me?" I looked at my Keeper, and when she smiled and nodded I lay down and rolled over on my back on the pad. The jingle of registration tags on my collar, the leash jingling against the desk and floor, and the crinkle of my wet diaper all echoed in my ears in the quiet room. "So, changing diapers..." I became aware of the thick mass between my legs. I hadn't noticed before, but now that I was laying on my back and the wet diaper was on top of me I was clearly wet. Very wet. "OK, we put this one on him when he was in the cage, so the tapes are under him. So..." She pulled a pair of scissors from the drawer, and sliced both sides of the diaper. "Now, take this new diaper, and ask him to lift up. This is one of those trust things by the way... while he won't hurt you on purpose, he might not think about the implications of flopping back down on your hands if you tickle him accidentally, for instance. You should look him in the eyes, and gently talk to him, reminding him keep his bottom up." Jenn slid the new diaper under, and then at the same time pulled the wet diaper off. Suddenly, I felt a cold draft down below, and I jumped, dropping back down and curling up. At the same time, I felt a warm rush, and relaxed. Jenn jumped back in surprise, and Angie laughed, pulling the front of the new diaper up between my legs to contain the yellow fountain. "That's a pretty common male reaction. If he gets cold down there, I think they think it would help to warm things back up. You should be ready to get him covered quickly. After a few seconds, Angie cautiously lifted the front of my diaper. "Now you can clean him up a little. Take one of these wipes, and try to get in all the cracks and such... good..." "Should we get a dry diaper?" "Nah, it's going to be wet in a few minutes anyway, so why waste it." Great, I was going from a wet diaper to a wet diaper. Well, probably not the right thing to argue about. I stayed silent. Jenn pulled the front up, and fastened the tapes with some guidance from Angie about how to position them so that the diaper would stay tight and leak-free. "Good enough for now. Karen can help you here as well. For that matter, they were both pretty good at changing JoJo’s diapers. Now, every once in a while, if your Pet has a little funky smell, it doesn't hurt to wash him down with a warm cloth... but we'll skip that for now." She checked her class agenda. "OK, we can sit back in the chairs again and get off this floor." They got up and sat back in the chairs, while I rolled to my... well.. paws, and moved back to my spot next to my Keeper. "Feeding. Also important, of course. A Pet has a much higher metabolism, and will have different dietary needs. Most of them still prefer the taste and variety of human food, but that should be a very rare treat, as it often disagrees with their digestion and... well, the diaper changes after will keep you from feeding them too much human food, if you know what I mean. So, I suggest staying with one of the various Pet food options... I use Pet Chow with JoJo." She continued on about how much to feed me, based on weight, and so on. She checked her agenda. "OK... introduction, check. Health and diapering, check. Feeding, check." She looked at me. "JayJay, am I missing anything?" I thought about it. "Clothing?" "Ah, right. Pets don't need clothes. You know that, right?" Jenn frowned. "Well, I hadn't really thought about it... I mean, sometimes I see Pets wearing clothes and sometimes not." "So, the metabolism of a Pet changes quickly. His body is much warmer now. Unless it's below 35 degrees or so, you don't need to give him any clothes for warmth reasons. And if you do give him clothes, you need to make sure they are Pet-appropriate, and won't cause him to overheat. The biggest reason that Pets wear clothes is for sun protection outside, or if it's really, really cold, like freezing. Occasionally if you go to someplace like a fancy restaurant, they may want the Pets clothed so that everyone doesn’t have to stare at a naked body in a diaper while they eat… depends on the place. Also, some female Pets are more comfortable wearing a bra-like harness to support their breasts, but that's not a problem for you. And of course some Keepers just like the look of a clothed Pet better. So whatever you want is fine, but just be careful of what you put on him and make sure he's not overheating. Especially if he’s gagged he might not be able to tell you." Jenn nodded. "OK, makes sense." "Anything else before we move to restraints?" Jenn shook her head. Angie looked at me, and I shook my head. "OK then." She pulled out a class pamphlet. "So, as I said, the purpose of restraints is to keep him from doing something that you, as Keeper, don't want him to do. Restraints shouldn't be used as a punishment, partly because you want him to be cooperative in the use of the restraints as something in his own best interest, and also because... well, I think it's just wrong." "Makes sense." "So, the kinds of restraints he's wearing now... the Paws, which just a specific brand of the generic term of mittens, are a big part of keeping him out of trouble. Many Pets grow out of them in time, but often a Pet never gets to the point that you can let them go without the mitts. As an example, it took a year of the hypnotic training before I could trust that JoJo didn’t need to wear the mitts, and I still have her wear them occasionally. There is a lining inside, so when he’s in his cage you can remove the mitts and wash the lining. That’s an every few days thing, more often if he’s sweating a lot. Questions?” Jenn shook her head. “The leash and collar. The collar both marks him as a Pet, and provides a powerful control point. The leash keeps him from going where he shouldn't. You need to be very careful about pulling hard on the leash… his throat is not as strong as, say, a dogs, so the use of the leash should be firm, but never yanking. OK?” Another nod. “I know we’re going fast, but we have a lot to cover. Alright, the muzzle. The muzzle keeps him from getting into trouble with his mouth. The obvious thing is biting, but it also keeps him from eating things he shouldn’t. If he’s sexually excited, in particular, the muzzle will keep him from putting his nose and mouth where it doesn’t belong, if you know what I mean…” Jenn smiled. The sexual energy of a Pet was well know, of course. “The gag is… well, frankly the gag is a convenience for us. Sometimes Pets just want to talk, or yell, or generally make a nuisance of themselves. The gags just help keep the racket down. It’s the only restraint item that I can think of offhand that isn’t about keeping a Pet safe, it’s just for our benefit.” Angie laughed a little. "They’re also highly recommended during sexual activity if there is anyone living within, say, ten miles. I feel a little bad when I use it on JoJo, but, well, as a Keeper sometimes you need to do what you need to do.” "The paws on his legs keep him down, where there is less ability for him to get himself into trouble in the first place, and makes the other restraints more effective. None of these are to punish you, right JayJay? They're there to keep you from doing something that would cause harm to yourself or others. Same philosophy on the diaper, by the way. Many new Pets find having to wear a diaper humiliating, or think it's a punishment. It's not a punishment... they can't control themselves, so we use this to help them." "OK, so you have all these. Let me go over some other restraints that might be helpful. If you want, we can order these now, and I can have a local store deliver them to you today, so that they're waiting for you tonight. First, a cage. Almost all Pets have a cage at home, and you should get one quickly." "Isn't that a cage?" Jenn, asked, gesturing at what she and Karen had bought previously. "No, that's a crate. It's much smaller, and is designed for travel. You can see that there are only a few wire mesh areas where he can see out, and he won't be really comfortable in there for extended periods of time. But, it meets the airline size requirements, and provides these food and water feeders that are designed to work with the muzzle he's wearing." "OK, so we need another cage too? Like the cage on the platform there?" "No, that's an exam cage. It's designed to keep the Pet from being able to move around much, while providing lots of access so you can work on him. What you want is something like this." She showed Jenn something on the table, but I couldn't see. "This is like the cage I have for JoJo. Ideally you want one large enough for the Pet to turn around in, and even stretch out in, so that you can leave them there when you go to work, for example. A bored Pet wandering around the house can get into a lot of trouble." "OK, is that a good one? Should I just order that?" Angie thought. "Hold on a minute." She left, and my Keeper leaned over and looked at me, rubbing the back of my neck. "How are you doing? We haven't really gotten to talk yet, just us. I've never really even talked to a Pet before, you know. I...well, this is all new for me." I laughed a little. "Well, I have to say it's new for me too. We'll figure it out. It's not going to be easy for me, but... well... you should talk to Karen. She knows me well... I guess you could say... and she's also very good with JoJo. I hope that she'll be good to me." I looked up at her. "I'm worried that Karen will feel betrayed by me, or jealousy towards you... I don't know. I don't know what she's thinking. But I hope you talk to her." She scratched me a little harder, and I put my head on her lap, turning my neck into the scratch. The touch from my Keeper was, well awesome. I couldn’t get enough of it. "We talked at lunch, a lot. She's OK. She knows it was not a choice, and she still loves you and wants you to be happy, and she's my sister of course, so...it will be different now, but I think she'll be OK. And yes, I think she'll be a very helpful." Angie came back in, with JoJo on a leash, which she clipped to the same ring as my leash was attached to. JoJo smiled at me, giving me a little peck on the cheek, around the muzzle straps. "I didn't get to do that before." I tried to reciprocate, but the muzzle got in the way. "I brought JoJo here because she often helps customers pick out products, based on her experience. Since JayJay isn't as directly familiar yet, I though JoJo could help. JoJo, tell Jenn about cages." JoJo gave a quick rundown of what she liked, and didn't like about cages. Ease of getting in and out. Visibility to know what's going on outside the cage. Feeding options. The comfort of the floor. Someone who wasn't a Pet, who hadn't spend a significant part of their recent lives in a cage, would probably not have thought of these things. Jenn looked at the options, and showed JoJo one of the cages. "Does this look good?" JoJo looked at it and smiled. "That's a good one. I can't say you'll love it, JayJay, but it's at least the best of a bunch of bad options, from the point of view of this end of the leash." Angie marked it down. "OK, next. Transport Harness. These will allow you to easily bring him in a car, when there isn't room for a crate. JoJo?" JoJo frowned. "They're all horrible, especially for those of us with breasts. Not your problem, I know, but there is a strap that runs through your crotch that I bet will more than make up for it. Get the PetCare SoftHarness. You can also use it when you're out for a walk, out on the pet run." Angie looked at Jenn, who marked it down. “Since JoJo brought it up, Pet runs. I heard from your Dad that the house in California has a pretty good size yard. A Pet run is an overhead wire with a little sliding thing, so that you can give him access to a bigger part of the yard and let him get some exercise without you having to jog alongside holding his leash. JoJo is right... since it's overhead we suggest clipping the leash on the run to a harness, so if the Pet gets hung up they don't choke. These are pretty cheap, and there's not a lot of difference. I'll add one. She glanced down at the desk. "That's kind of the important stuff, although there are all sorts of changing tables, outdoor Pet houses, chair harnesses, and so on, but you can figure that out later. Just remember... what's the purpose of a restraint?" "To keep the Pet from harming themselves or others." JoJo, Jenn, and I all said it at the same time. "Do we use restraints to punish?" Angie followed on. "No!" "What is the Keeper's first job?" "To keep a Pet safe." "Good job, all." Just then the door slammed. JoJo and I both jumped up and tried to run. JoJo, being more practiced, made it to the end of her leash before she was stopped short. I, on the other hand, was not used to wearing the Paws, and tried to stand up. Instead I managed to turn head over heels, rolling around and trying to get away. I was panicking. I had to get away. I rolled onto my paws, and continued to try to scramble away, the leash now holding me back. I heard my Keeper's voice, loud and commanding. "Stop." I stopped. "Come here." I turned back, and slowly made my way be to her chair. "Sit." I arranged myself as I'd seen JoJo do in the past, kneeling, my head my Keeper's lap. My heart was still pounding, but my Keeper was right here, and I'd be OK. She stroked my head. I could feel myself relaxing. I could feel a significant warmth in the front of my diaper. Yuk. Angie was doing similar with JoJo. JoJo had recovered much faster, but wasn't one to pass up using the opportunity to get some attention from her Keeper. "And the cleaning folks have just given us an opportunity to illustrate why the proper use of restraints is important. As you can see, they sometimes lose control. Until they are brought back under control, they are acting on instinct, and that is usually a bad thing. The restraints are there to keep bad things from happening until you, as Keeper, can get their mind straight again. Ok?" Jenn nodded, still stroking my head. I was relaxed now. Jenn's scent was strong, and I got strength from it. "Also, notice that the leash really took a pull there. I see some people just loop a leash over a chair, or put the Pet in a cage and don't fully latch it. When the leash is really needed, for instance, you had better be holding it properly, or have it attached to something that will at least slow them down a lot. If they're in a cage, make sure they can't just force the door open. If a restraint is designed to be locked, lock it. If you take the role of restraints as to keep them from harm, then the best restraints are those that are well applied, correctly used, and inescapable. Right, JoJo." JoJo nodded, and looked at me. "As a Pet, it actually helps a lot when you know the restraints are firm and inescapable. When you know that you are physically prevented from doing anything wrong, and that your Keeper cares enough to make sure you can't do something harmful or bad, then it's a warm, relaxing, comfortable feeling. I don't necessarily LIKE being restrained all the time, but... well, not being in restraints isn't all that good either." My Keeper nodded. "Makes sense, and also makes sense why we're keeping JayJay here in all these restraints, especially while he gets used to this." She looked at JoJo. "Can I trust a Pet to know when more or less restraint is OK? When they need more restraint, or when they can be trusted with less?" JoJo's cute laugh gave the answer. "If a Pet wants more restraint, then yes, you should listen to them. Often, it will make them more comfortable, if they are feeling anxious or uncertain. On the other hand, sometimes I will ask for less restraint because I think I might be able to get away with something." She smiled up at Angie. "My Keeper is very good at knowing what I'm up to, though. She almost never listens to me if I ask for less restraints." "Thanks for being honest!" Jenn replied with a grin. "That makes a lot of sense." "So that's the quick summary of restraints." She went to the door, and waved over another sales associate. Gesturing at the paper she handed them, then us, she thanked the associate and returned. "Sheila will get those things ordered, and we'll have them delivered to your California house today. They should be waiting when you arrive. Believe me, JayJay, you'll welcome that cage after spending the flight in the crate." "Yay." was all I could muster. "The introductory course is done. We're going to make the most of the time we have remaining by introducing you to as much of the psychological aspect as I can. This is not something that is an hour class and done, though... this is something you will need to sign up for other courses. As a Keeper, understanding how to be the best Keeper you can is one of the best things you can give your Pet. OK? OK." Angie started to give the same speech I'd heard several times while attending classes. How the Pet's brain was primed to respond to their Keeper's words. How the commands went to the base instincts, so they should be the "Four C's: Concise, Clear, Calm, and Consistent". How to put the Pet in a trance to receive more complex and longer lasting instruction, which Angie had my Keeper try a few times until she was comfortable with it. There wasn’t much for me to do while Angie instructed Jenn, and I didn’t remember anything while I was in the trance, so mostly I sat there and thought about what was happening, and tried to come to terms with the new direction my life was taking. It wasn't that long, though, before I was starting to feel the drain of the day, and I was noticeably tired. Angie and Jenn agreed that everyone’s brain was full and they had covered enough. My Keeper unhooked my leash, and I was led back to the cage in the store. I didn't even care at this point, though; I just wanted to sleep. I went straight to the cage, waited for my Keeper to open the door, climbed in, and lay down. Angie started to put JoJo in the cage next to me, but then paused. "Jenn, do you mind if JoJo and JayJay are in the same cage? Store policy prohibits it without explicit consent from both Keepers, so if it's OK I need you to say you agree to it." "Urm, if you think they'll be OK... then... sure. I agree." JoJo immediately hopped out of her cage, and into mine. As tired as I was, I just enjoyed the feeling as she cuddled up, spooning me with her diaper pressed into mine, and her scent, familiar but stronger than I remembered, comforting me as I drifted off.

And lazy.

Well, while working in Customer service for over a year I have answer to your question. People are Fucking Idiots. Plan and simple.

Rugrats comes to mind.

No problem. I can pee and poop no matter what I'm doing. I just let it happen because I'm so used to it. However, I am not incontinent so I can control when I do it as well.

Move out and get a apartment and wear diapers when you want to.

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.

I think that is the Jackie's Play Date https://pastebin.com/a9RZACuU

Cassidy's mom had never shared that tidbit about Cassidy not being allowed back in the house after she pushed her out the door in the morning. No wonder she had wet herself. It used to be when I felt the urge to urinate I had lots of time. Not anymore, when I feel the urge to pee I had better find a toilet. I don't know how many damned times of late I am standing at the toilet trying to get my equipment out of my pants and start dribbling because my body knows its time to go. It's just forgotten that my penis needs to be out of my pants before I start peeing! The pains of getting old. Then you have a poor girl like Cassidy who already has a weak bladder, with no toilets to use. That's a recipe for disaster. I used to pity the mother. I should have been pitying Cassidy! Whatever sympathy I had for her mom was now with her daughter. I contacted Mrs. Parker, Cassidy's mom and l told her that "Cassidy would be staying with Yvette for the next couple of days." She sounded almost pleased, she told me to "Keep her as long as we wanted, then she got nasty and said keep her if you want." I had to think to myself, that's the fastest I've ever seen anybody go from 0 to Bitch in .5 seconds. I couldn't believe it if I hadn't been on the phone with her myself. I went downstairs I heard laughing again only this time it was more joyful. I knocked and was told to "Come in!" again. This time I asked "Are you decent?" I was told "Yes!" both said in chorus. I entered and I guess my face showed my feelings. Yvette asked what's wrong Uncle Eddy. I didn't know how to tell Cassidy her mom really didn't want her. "Cassidy, I began I called your mom and told her you would be spending a couple of days with us." "Did she tell you to keep me?" Right?" "Yeah, I said, Sorry." "Don't be. My mom and I haven't got along in years! I was just going to wait until I was 18 then she would have kicked me to the curb anyway." 'Your welcome to stay here with Yvette if you would like!" I said. "I would like that very much Cassidy said if I have to I will get a job to pay my way here!" "You don't have to do that I said, I think Yvette needs a friend as well. You both have mothers that could care less about you for the same reason." "Cassidy said yeah I know we've been comparing notes. Yvette asked how come some parents have kids then don't want them when they aren't perfect?" "I wish I knew I said, my own daughter, Rachel, has three kids the middle daughter is Autistic she treats her different than the other two. When they go anywhere as a family she is left behind. It's like she is ashamed of her. She usually drops her off here. I would much rather have her than with a stranger. When she is here I try and do quite a few things with her. Last time we went to the State Fair. Looks like I will be taking you two as well now. If I had an answer I would use it on my daughter as well."

Chapter 18 Alex had almost forgotten about the nappy and plastic pants, but as soon as he saw it he once more began to think why; why did his mum pack it; did she know what he really felt deep down; had she seen his computer. But all that thinking would have to wait for now, Val was about to get him ready for bed and that meant putting the nappy on him. “Now you be a good little one” said Val, “lay down on you back for me on the bed and let aunty Val take care of everything for you, then I have a little surprise for you”. While Alex lay down on the bed, Val put on plastic disposable apron to protect her clothes. With one hand she held Alex’s legs up, rocking him onto his back, while gently sliding the thick cloth nappy under his body. She then rubbed some nappy rash ointment onto his soft pale skin, making sure that he was covered all over, Val not wanting little Alex to get any nappy rash. This was followed by copious amounts of baby powder, covering Alex in a little white cloud, Val even allowing herself to tickle his tummy. “I am so pleased with you Alex, you are being such a good little one” said Val as she leaned over and kissed Alex on his head. Then came the moment of finality for Alex, Val pulled the soft terry cloth up between Alex’s legs, then folded over the sides, securing it all with some pink headed safety pins. He was finally back into a proper nappy once more, something he had thought about for a long time but never expecting. Val then took the clear plastic pants and slid them up Alex’s legs, the soft plastic making him tingle with anticipation. Val then slid them over the nappy making sure the cloth was all tuck in; leaving nothing exposed giving chance for a leak. Alex wondered if he would be sleeping in just that but Val then produced a white garment from one of the drawers, something which Alex recognised as a bodysuit. She unfastened the poppers at the crotch, and then fed it down over him, feeding his arms through it, finally pulling it down and securing it between his legs. “There we go; all snug as a bug” said Val, “you look absolutely adorable”. Val pulled him in close, hugging him softly, rubbing his back and running her hand through his hair. “Now I think I mentioned a surprise for you” said Val pulling her phone from her pocket and pressing the call button. She gave it to Alex while the call was still ringing, Alex wondering who it was calling. “Hello” said Alex when it was answered “Hi sweetheart” came the reply, Alex immediately recognising the other person as his mum. “Mum!” said Alex slightly shocked, “it’s so nice to hear you”. “It’s so good to hear you too sweetie, I hope you are having a good time, I hope you like Val and Wendy” replied Leslie, his mum. “Yes mum, they have been really nice and have made me feel so welcome” replied Alex not wanting to tell her everything. Little did Alex know, but his mum had been getting regular updates as to his conduct and behaviour from both Val and Wendy, Leslie just hoped that Alex could forgive all the deception and understand why she did it. “I am so glad sweetheart” said Leslie, “I gather you have found the extras I packed for you, but I hope you are not mad and are enjoying them. It’s ok Alex I understand and will explain all when I join you at the end of the week”. Alex listened to his mum and realised that she knew more than he thought, but was excited more than worried. “I did find them mum” replied Alex, “I wore the pants today and Val has just got me ready for bed, I don’t think there will be any leaks tonight”. “The nappy is so soft and comfy mum, thank you” said Alex nervously, not believing he had finally come out and said it, his secret was coming out; he had finally told his mum. “I am so glad, I hoped you would like it” replied Leslie, “now you be good for your two aunts, they love you just as much as me, very soon you will have mummy back and mummy will have you”. “Yes mummy” replied Alex, with a small tear forming in his eye, “I love you too”. Alex handed the phone back to Val, where she said her goodbyes to Leslie before hanging up. “You are going to be the most loved little one around” said Val, “now let’s get you tucked into bed for the night, then you can get some much deserved sleep”. Val pulled back the covers on the bed, letting Alex slide in down under the covers before pulling them up to cover him. Alex felt strange sliding into bed, the thick padding between his legs stopping him closing them properly, all the cloth and plastic tucked into the bodysuit. But with all these strange feelings he now felt loved and safe, more than he had ever before in his life, waiting for the moment he would see his mum again. “Night night little one” said Val, kissing his head and then his nose, “sweet dreams and I will be next door if you need anything”. “Night night Aunty Val” replied Alex, “thank you”.