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As this is my first story, poorly written and unedited, I debated whether to post this or not. In the end, I decided to go ahead and post it. All criticism is appreciated. Thank you for reading, and, please, try to enjoy. -- I was having serious doubts about this. It went against everything I tried to be. Everything that an independent Little should try to be. Mature, a word that usually described me, was not applicable here. A baby stared back at me from the standing mirror. My costume was infantile. A cutesy, poofy, pumpkin outfit. My legs were bare, as the costume acted more like a onesie. Matching booties adorned my feet. My hair, usually a bob cut, was done up in short pigtails. I looked, for all intents and purposes, like an adopted Little ready to go trick-or-treating with her Mommy. That was the point, though. I wasn't really adopted, and my parents were still related to me by blood. I was ready to go trick-or-treating, however. Eighteen year olds didn't go trick-or-treating, though. Especially not eighteen year old, independent Littles. But, that wasn't to be the case this year. I wanted to do something festive for Halloween. I didn't want to go to some crazy party. I didn't want to watch horror movies at home, with my best friend, for the fourth year in a row. I didn't want to go to the school-sponsored dance. I did like candy, though. When my best friend, Leah, suggested her silly, almost-demeaning idea, I was initially all for it. We couldn't trick-or-treat, because we were too old. Adopted Littles could go trick-or-treating. I was a Little, and Leah was an Amazon. If we went trick-or-treating, acting like an adopted Little and her Amazon, we could definitely get away with a haul of candy. And, we'd be going across town, to make sure that we wouldn't see anyone we knew. It made sense at the time. It made sense, until I put on the costume Leah picked out. A pumpkin. At least it's more festive than a princess costume, or something else. I had been prepared, but it was much more humiliating in person. The costume itself was bad enough. The babyish hairstyle was pushing it too. The worst part was the diaper, that she insisted I wear underneath the costume. I made a fuss about it. Letting my emotions get the better of me was something I didn't let happen often, but a diaper was too much. It had bad connotations to Littles, even in a country as progressive as ours. But, Leah calmed me down. To fool people, she said, the costume had to be really authentic. It did make sense. However, despite my apprehension, I did intend on making use of the costume. Candy was much more important than my pride. "Where's your costume?" I stopped looking in the mirror, and turned to Leah, as she walked into the room. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, normal clothing. "I'm wearing it. I'm a Mommy." "Please. I thought you were supposed to be my babysitter?" "Mommy sounds cuter, though." "Leah, we're like the same age. No one's gonna believe you're my mommy." "There's tons of 'Mommys' and cute Littles, who've fallen in love at our age, Giselle." "I guess." "Plus, no one's gonna care about me. How old I am, or what costume I'm wearing. All they're gonna care about is the cutie in the stroller. Now let's get going, we don't want to keep you up past your bedtime." She winked at me, before swiftly taking me into her arms. "Bedtime? It's only five o'clock. I don't normally go to sleep until eleven." "Cute, babied Littles usually go to bed at eight." I rolled my eyes. This was already too much, and we hadn't even gotten out of the door. I really wanted to back out. I didn't mind her carrying me much, she's picked me up and carried me many times before. I did mind the teasing. The mature thing was not to react, though. I knew she didn't mean anything by it. I stayed silent as we moved towards the front door of her house. "I feel like you're gonna go baby crazy." I said. Leah shook her head. "I'm sorry for teasing you, Giselle. I promise I'm not catching baby fever or anything. Even if I was, I doubt I'd want my best friend." Even if she was, it'd be nonpermanent. It was hard to just snatch an unwilling Little in our country. It'd be embarassing, sure, especially with the position I put myself into, but nonpermanent. I took solace in her words, though. "I slipped your phone into your diaper-bag." It took me a second to register what she said, and another to spit out my question. "Diaper-bag?" "Yes, adopted Littles have diaper-bags, right? If you're gonna pretend to be adopted, you need all the accessories." "Where did you even get one?" "Spare, from when my cousin stays over. Just like everything else." "Everything else?" "Yep. The diaper you're wearing, and the two in the bag, are hers. The stroller, pacifier and bottles too." That was a lot to process. I really hadn't thought about what tonight would entail. My lust of candy blinded me. She must've seen my reaction, as she just stood in the entranceway, waiting for my response. "A stroller?" I finally eaked out. "Yes. You don't espect me to carry you, a diaperbag, and your candy pail all night, do you?" "I didn't expect any of it!" I didn't mean to yell, but I was getting flustered. It was getting too humiliating. Neither of us said anything for a moment. Quietly, I said. "I think I don't wanna go out." "Aw, c'mon Giselle." She said. "I don't wanna force you or anything, but think about this. No one's gonna know it's you. We're going all the way across town. No one we go to school with lives over there. No one will find out. It's going to be embarassing, still, but think of all the candy. Think of how fun it'll be. Way more fun than staying at home watching B-rated horror movies, right?" She was right, but- "Candy. Halloween. Candy." "I guess." "Then it's settled." Leah bent down and picked up the diaperbag, with me in hand, and then left the house. I was worried about this part, due to the high chance of someone we knew seeing us, but I was in the car in seconds. She buckled me into the carseat, that was a permanent fixture of the backseat of her car. It was plain, black, and comfortable. A necessity for all Little passengers, she needed to have one in the car to drive me around. It got a lot of use. She picked me up and drove me home from school every day. She placed the diaperbag on the floor, before getting into the driver's seat. The car started, the radio was turned on to some generic pop station, and we were off. Leah and I talked briefly about class, but her attention was focused on the road. Without a phone, I was got bored quickly. I wanted to worry more about tonight's events, but that wasn't exactly good conversation. For the twenty minutes it took to get across town, I listlessly stared out the window and hummed along to the radio. By the time we were parked in a community center parking lot, my nervousness had increased. Butterflies weren't just fluttering but flinging themselves around in my stomach. Candy. Halloween. Festive. Repeated over and over again in my mind. Leah didn't immediately take me out of the car. Instead, the trunk was opened, and Leah got something out. I guessed that it was the stroller, as I hadn't seen it yet. After a moment, Leah walked to my door and opened it. I was unbuckled, picked up, and deposited in a pink monstrosity. The canopy was bright pink. The tray in front of me was bright pink. The eight point harness was bright pink as well. The cushioning around me was a muted pink. From what I could tell, the rest of the device was the same shade of pink as the cushioning. The seat faced forward, making me unable to see Leah. It did make me visible to everyone we would pass by. Leah moved to the side of the stroller, and leaned down to talk to me. "Are you ready?" "As I'll ever be." "Alright then, let's get trick-or-treating." This neighborhood had a good number of trick-or-treaters. The parking lot was packed with cars, and there seemed to be some tents and booths set up in a section of it. I didn't know what they were for, and there wasn't a lot indicating their purpose. Lots of mothers, probably in their thirties or older, and lots of Littles. Some normal Amazonian children were running around, but not many. Most were probably accompanying their mothers and Little siblings. Leah pushed me towards a two-story, yellow house. Despite it not being dark yet, the porchlight was on. It didn't have much of a porch, with just two steps leading up to the door. She pushed the doorbell, and waited. Only a couple seconds went by before an older woman, probably in her mid-fifties, opened the door. She didn't say anything, but looked at me expectantly. Leah looked down at me. "C'mon sweetie. I know you're shy, but you want some candy, don't you?" It took me a second to register what she meant. I blushed, and said. "Trick-or-treat." "That'sa girl." Leah held out the candy pail, which she must've been holding on to. The woman threw a few Amazon-sized pieces of candy in the bucket. "Now what do we say to the nice lady?" "Thank you, Miss." The lady responded with a "Happy Halloween" and we departed towards the next house. It went much the same way. Eventually, I got into the swing of things, and my candypail increasingly got filled with candy. The embarassment didn't fade, but I managed. We were doing something festive. We were getting candy doing it. I could deal with looking like a baby for a night. When we walked up to the fifteenth house, Leah stopped, which meant I stopped too. "What's wrong, Leah?" I tried to look around, but the harness limited my movement and the canopy restricted my view. She leaned down to whisper to me. "I don't want you to get upset, but I just remembered something that I wanted you to try." That didn't sound good. "Yeah?" "One second." She disappeared momentarily, and then came back into view. Next thing I knew, she was waving a pacifier in front of me. "Oh no. No. What'd even be the point?" I asked. "To make you look cuter? More candy, maybe? Look at it. It matches." She was right. It was a jack-o-lantern styled pacifier. Orange, green, with black eyes and a black mouth. I really didn't want to be sucking on a pacifier, though. "Didn't you say it was your cousins?" "Yep." "Isn't it weird that it matches me?" "Not really. She has a pacifier for every holiday. I picked the pumpkin costume out with this in mind, too." That was a good enough, excuse, but still. "Just try it. Cute Littles get more candy." She was right. "If I didn't know better, I would swear you were easing me into this, trying to really turn me into your baby." I sighed. Another concern popped into my head. "Isn't that unsanitary?" "Don't worry. I washed it. You really think I'm that bad of a Mommy?" She smiled jokingly. I groaned. "Ok, ok. Babysitter." With no good excuses, I reluctantly accepted the pacifier into my mouth. I gave it a test suck, but it was kinda hard and uncomfortable. "Cute. Very authentic. Try to keep it in, ok?" Leah finally rolled me up to the house. It was the same style as the previous nine, but it was a different color. Blue, this time. A man opened the door. "Trick-or-treat." I tried to say, but the pacifier muffled what I said. It came out sounding lispy and babyish. The man dropped a few pieces of candy in the candypail. He smiled at me as I thanked him. "Is she yours?" He asked Leah. "You seem awfully young." It took her a second to respond. Probably deciding what to say. "No, I'm just babysitting her, while her parents stay at home." I was glad she chose that answer, as I absolutely did not want to call my best friend "Mommy." "Well, that's good for them to get some alone time. My wife's out with ours, right now. Anyway, I won't keep you guys. Have a Happy Halloween." We returned the farewell, and then headed towards the next house. This repeated, until we did a full circuit of the block. By this point, the sun was getting low in the sky. We had been trick-or-treating for at least an hour. I wasn't even walking, but even I was getting a bit tired. Tired of being embarassed, but also tired of the repetition. Even Leah seemed to be lagging a little, even if it was barely noticeable. We stopped at the corner of the block. "Do you want to rest for a minute?" I let the pacifier drop from my mouth. "Yeah." "Here." Leah audibly fiddled with the bag behind me. A baby-bottle was hung in front of me. "Something to drink. You have to be thirsty." She was right. I was a bit thirsty. It was a huge bottle, though, and I doubted that I was that thirsty. I took it from Leah. Even both my hands didn't completely wrap around the bottle. I examined the bottle. A clear liquid was contained inside. Water, obviously. I put the nipple into my mouth. It was a struggle to get the water to flow through it. I had to tip my head back, and suck in a certain rythm. Even then, the bottle didn't drain very fast. It felt like an eternity to drink just half of the bottle. I looked at Leah, who had sat down in front of the stroller to rest. I popped my lips from the bottle's nipple. "Are we about done?" "Well, the candypail is only half-full." said Leah. "Only half?" She nodded. We had been around only one block, but it felt like we were getting a lot of candy. I sorta wanted to call it good. We've had some festivity, and we got some candy. Then, I thought for a moment. Half of a pail full of Amazon-sized candy would be more than enough for me. Leah, on the other hand, wouldn't get hardly any candy. She'd be better off buying some at a convenience store. The whole idea was for us both to get a load of candy, and to do it in a festive manner. We'd have to keep going, then. "Alright, let me finish drinking this, and then let's keep trick-or-treating." While I drank the other half of the bottle, Leah stood and grabbed something else out of diaperbag. "Here, another bottle. Just in case you get thirsty later." She placed it next to me in the stroller, and took the other bottle once it had been emptied. We then took off towards the next block. It was much like the first block. Same style of house, and same demographic. The affinity of Amazons for Littles made sure that our candypail was full by the time we visited every house. Embarassment was still a problem, but that might have contributed to our haul. Amazons love humiliated, embarassed Littles, after all. Either that, the Amazons of this neighborhood were just expectionally generous, or I forgot how fast candy accumulates when trick-or-treating. Despite taking only another hour, the moon replaced the sun by the time we had finished. The bottle that Leah had left with me was empty. I had suckled on it inbetween houses. It was a lot of water, but it kept my mind focused on something other than the situation and candy. I was definitely not thirsty now. I had a slight urge to pee, but it could wait until I got back to Leah's house and out of this costume. We had been out here two hours, though, meaning it was probably around seven o'clock. Leah and I both normally ate around this time. We would probably be leaving soon, as there wasn't a whole lot of real food here. "Do you want to visit the booths in the parking lot?" Leah asked. "I was wondering what those were for?" "The community center here holds a fair on Halloween, as well as other holidays." She said. "Do you want to go?" "Not really. I was hoping we could get some food." "They have food at the fair." "Well-" My stomach audibly growled. Hunger was winning out over my other need. "That settles it, then. Unless you really want to go somewhere else?" I didn't. I didn't want to go to the fair either, but I could handle being humiliated for some food. There was no argument from me, as Leah pushed us towards the booths and tents. The small area of parking lot that made up the fairgrounds was packed with people. I could hardly see the booths and tents through the crowd. Leah seemed to know where to go, however. We eventually stopped at the end of a line. A delicious smell wafted through the air. The pressure on my bladder was increasing, but the idea of food took my mind off it. I definitely wanted whatever this booth was selling before we left. By the time we got to the front of the line, I was starving. Even if it was, as I discovered, just generic fair-food. Leah ordered for both of us. A Little-sized corndog and some home-made chips in a basket for me, and an Amazon-sized version of the same thing for herself. She handed me both baskets to carry. Hers dwarfed mine. Holding on tight to both baskets, I felt Leah begin to push the stroller again. We moved towards the edge of the parking lot, and away from the fair. Leah stopped us in a grassy area by the road. The food was delicious, as fair food usually is. It was greasy, hot, and filling. I scarfed mine down quickly. Leah was only half-way through her corndog and chips by the time my basket was empty. While basking in the afterglow of fullness, I remembered my other need. I had to pee, and I had to pee really bad. Littles have never been renowned for their bladder control, and I was no exception. When I had to pee bad, I had to go right then. I'd already held it for a few hours, which was a pretty big feat. "Leah." "Yeah?" She popped a chip into her mouth. "I need to go to the bathroom." She raised one of her eyebrows questioningly. "Why not just use your diaper? That's what it's there for." "Leah!" I fidgeted. "This isn't a joke. I'm not a baby, I need a restroom." Despite being best friends for most of our lives, I don't think Leah had ever seen me this desparate. I was usually very careful about my toilet needs. "And I'm not joking either. Wouldn't it be weird to see a Little, just seconds ago diapered, using the toilet?" "No one would know! Please, Leah, take me to the restroom." I was getting really desparate. "I'm sure someone would hear the tapes being ripped off. It's a crowded event, with one bathroom." I thought about it, and I guess she wasn't wrong. "It'd kinda defeat the whole point of this, if someone found out that you aren't an adopted Little." I don't know if it was just that I agreed with her, or if my bladder just gave out. A warm, wet sensation spread across my privates and my butt. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my face turned to a deep shade of red. That was the most embarassing thing that had ever happened to me. Wearing a diaper already had bad enough connotations to most independent Littles, but basically being forced to use it too? I wanted to curl up and die. I wanted to be changed more, though. "Leah," My voice was soft, and waivering. "I want out of this diaper, please." "Alright, just one second." She popped the last of her food into her mouth, before grabbing my basket and putting it in hers. She held onto it, as she started to push the stroller towards the community center. The whole way there, I could feel the wet, slick feeling of my piss-filled diaper. I felt like everyone was staring at me. They knew what I'd done. They knew what I was, and what I felt like. A puny, dumb, babied Little. The curling up and dying almost sounded nicer than a change. Leah deposited our trash in the trashcan outside of the community center's restrooms. She wheeled me into the restroom. I had expected it to be very crowded, but it seemed to be empty. I almost protested to her about earlier, but decided against it. There was no way she could've known, and, with the amount of people mulling around, even I assumed it was going to be crowded. Three stalls occupied the rightside of the room, while the left wall had two changing stations. Seemingly unconcerned for my wants, we headed towards the changing stations. "Leah." I whined. "Take me to one of the stalls." "No." I knew she already had some reason lined up to deny me privacy. I sighed. "Why not?" "If someone came in, it'd be suspicious." "Of course. Fine." I acquiesced. She unbuckled me and lifted me out of the stroller, before placing me on the changing table. In just seconds, she had me out of my pumpkin costume. I was now naked, except for my wet diaper and an undershirt, that I luckily decided to wear under the costume. While this bothered me, I didn't care too much. All I wanted was to be out of this diaper, and if I had to be nearly naked, then so be it. She placed the costume off to the side, before gently pushing me onto my back. Leah untaped the diaper, exposing my crotch to cold air. I wasn't particularly upset at Leah seeing me naked. We'd been nude around eachother before. The diaper was slide out from under me, and Leah quickly got to work cleaning me up. I felt a lot better because of that. I did not feel any better, when the door to the restroom opened. A woman walked in, carrying a Little girl about my age and a diaperbag in her arms. The girl was dressed in a witch's costume. I was not very pleased that both of them were getting a great view of my naked bottom. My face turned the same shade of red from earlier. The woman carried her Little to the next changing table, and got to work. I couldn't see anything, unlike them, but I could hear her working. Leah began to get a new diaper out for me, when the woman spoke. "Is she new?" "I'm sorry?" Leah froze, leaving me with nothing on still. "Was she just adopted?" The woman motioned towards me. "Oh, uh, yes. She was just adopted a couple of weeks ago." "I could tell. They're always so blushy when they're new." Leah nodded, still ignoring my bare form. "My Elodie was the same way at first. Is she yours?" "No. I'm just babysitting." Leah started paying attention to me again, and a new diaper was slipped under me. I was quite thankful. "That's awfully nice of you. Taking her out Trick-or-Treating, and letting Mommy and Daddy get some rest." Leah smiled in response, while she finished up. The woman must've noticed that Leah was done, as she then said. "Sorry to bother you two, dears. Happy Halloween, have a nice night." I was placed back into the stroller, and we left the restroom. It was late now. By my guess, it was around seven thirty. The crowds were dissipating, and the parking lot was much emptier. "Ready to go home?" "Of course." It wasn't long before we were back at Leah's house, and I was out of that pumpkin costume. I was back in normal clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans. A dumb, b-rated, horror movie played on the the television, as I unwound from the rather unpleasant night. The candpail was sat between me and Leah, and we both picked at it for the occasional piece of candy. Being in a constant state of embarassment was much more tiring than I would've though. As I popped an over-sized piece of candy into my mouth, I wondered if tonight was worth it. The candy was good, but we could've just bought some at the store. Then, we could've been watching a silly horror movie three hours earlier. It was festive, though. In the end, I decided it didn't matter. I was duped into doing it, by both Leah and myself, but I got some free candy in a festive manner. It was as happy of a Halloween as I could hope for.

Consider this a Halloween treat. I also created a Deviant Art Page, InkuHime, with some new art on it. Here is the next part of the story The Duke of Threes’ office was designed to project power. In the Mundane World, Kristine had seen a few offices like that, College Deans, CEOs, one or two judges. Everything about the offices seemed to be saying, ‘I am powerful and dangerous.’ Then there was the Duke himself. Almost beautiful, tall and slim, dangerous and powerful. As she stood in front of his desk, guard behind her, Kristine looked at this man who had upturned her life, at least twice. She wanted to be angry, well, she was angry, of course. She wanted to show that anger, to rail against him, to perhaps even pull out her mace and lay about the office. She enjoyed the fantasy for the moment, but buried it immediately and damped down her anger. As a lawyer, she might be passionate, but never overemotional. The dangerous man was observing her as she was observing him. Kristine wanted to pull down at the hem of her ridiculously short dress’ skirt, to make sure it covered her diaper. She wanted to, but she did not. He spoke first, and Kristine could not be certain if that meant he won or she did. “You invaded my castle, abducted a guest and attacked my subjects.” Trespassing, maybe breaking and entering, kidnapping, not abduction, and assault with a deadly weapon, perhaps manslaughter. It sounded pretty bad. Kristine wondered if Gorgeous had the Magical World equivalent of a warrant? Well, she was not in court, she had not been sworn in, and she was not going to argue her actions. “I’m here to see the other Nursery Knighth,” she said, almost getting it out lisp free. He might have looked surprised for a moment. Because of what she asked? Because she had not reacted to his accusations? Or maybe he was not surprised at all. “If you had accompanied my agents who came for you in the Mundane World you would have already met them.” His tone was Patronizing. Kristine tried not to react, but she felt her fist clenched tight as she answered, “They did not make their intent clear.” He nodded after a moment. “Well, you are here now, and I can understand your confusion and I am willing to forgive you your actions.” “I am not theeking your forgiveness. I am here to see the Nurthery Knights.” Behind her, the guards shifted about, perhaps nervous. The Duke did not react, at all. A good poker face that showed nothing, Kristine thought, but the very fact he was maintaining such a deadpan look told Kristine she had surprised him. It was an advantage if she could find a way to use it. The blank countenance was gone, and the Duke of Threes smiled. “Well, you are of course Welcome to meet with the Nursery Knights, you are one, after all, they are like your sisters.” And you are supposed to be our daddy? She did not voice that question. “While you are in my land you will be confined to the Garden I have prepared for people from the Mundane Realm.” There was no room for refusal in that statement. It was either accept it or leave. “Of courthe,” Kristine replied. “Very well.” The Duke stood. Even before her transformation, the Duke would have towered over her, at least by two heads. He moved with a smoothness that Kristine associated with great cats or high-performance sports cars. It was inhuman. “Please,” he said in a manner that made it clear it was not a word he often uttered, “come with me.” The guards were nervous and uncertain as they parted, letting the Duke pass. Kristine followed after him, having to run to keep up. Behind them, the guards formed up and followed. “I will be going down to the Garden,” the Duke told the clerks in the outer office, not slowing to acknowledge them as they all jumped to their feet. Kristine had been escorted under armed guard to the office, and then the guards had taken her through what Kristine assumed were servant corridors. The way that the Duke led her was through grand hallways, filled with artwork and light. As they passed people, they would turn and bow their heads to the Duke, calling him, ‘Your Grace.’ Following as she was, Kristine was the focus for those peoples’ attention. In her rustling diapers, with the slight waddle, she knew she looked ridiculous. Especially in the Duke's wake as he was anything but ridiculous. He did not moderate his pace for her but instead stopped so she could catch up. It made her feel ridiculous, and like a little girl. She assumed he was doing it on purpose but could not discount it was simply an unconscious action by someone who was a master at manipulating people. When she caught up to him the sixth time, he did not continue, but stood, a window at his back. “You know Kristine, I don’t want you to think of me as an enemy.” She looked up at him. “I’m not thure how I could not.” He looked down at her. “I could not know that Derrypiz would take my musings and do something with them.” Entirely true, but he would have believed, would have hoped. If she had him on the stand proving his guilt would be a matter of two or three questions demanding 'yes' or 'no' answers. She imagined saying to the judge, ‘Permission to treat the Duke as a hostile witness’. She also imagined doing so while in a thick diaper, so the fantasy was ruined. Kristine nodded and said nothing. “But while I am not at fault, I am responsible, don’t you think?” Kristine did not answer right away, considering the Duke's statement. “I think you are right.” “That is why I have brought the Nursery Knights here Kristine. They are incapable of taking care of themselves, and would be trapped in a world that would not understand them.” “Motht Magical Girlth are living in a world that would not understand them.” “And are they happy?” Telling, Kristine thought, remembering the night she had met Tac. Magical Parfait on the TV. Kristine remembered calling her a joke. She did not want to answer, but silence would be taken as agreement. “I can’t say.” He nodded as if she said exactly what he wanted to hear. “I brought the Nursery Knights here so they could be happy, taken care of, and not looked at as if they were freaks.” Freak. A strong word. But not an unfair way to describe the oversized toddlers that the Nursery Knights were created to be. “Mr Bear could take care of me,” Kristine said. “Mr Bear?” “My Plushie animal,” Kristine said and regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. The Duke smiled. “Yes, the toy golems. I think you would find out soon enough that the golems are more suited to fighting than taking care of special little girls like the Nursery Knights.” Special. There was another strong word. But she did not believe what the Duke was saying. Mr Bear had changed her, cleaned her, mended her clothing, treated her wounds, and held her. As annoying as Mr Bear’s presence was, Kristine was quite confident in the plushie’s child care skills. Maybe the other Knight’s toy golems were not as good at it, but Kristine doubted it. The Duke was full of shit. An unfortunate train of thought though, as it made her aware that her diaper was probably a little messy. The Duke turned and started walking. Kristine had to run once more to keep up. “I want you to keep in mind that I am looking out for your interests and the interests of the Other Nursery Knights, Kristine. And keep in mind that the magic that has transformed you will continue to do so. You are going to need someone to take care of you.” He looked over his shoulder and smiled. Kristine ignored the smile, for her attention was on his eyes and the strange hunger within them. What did he want? What was the reason for that hunger? “You’ll excuthe me if I would rather it not be you.” “I think you’ll change your mind.” He looked away from her. He sounded confident. Kristine wanted to kick him in the back. They reached a steep stairway. He offered her his hand. She did not bat it away, though she wanted to, but ignored it and started up the stairs. The high stairs were difficult for her smaller legs, and she knew the Duke, who followed her, was possibly looking up her short skirt at her diapered bottom. Thankfully the stairway was not too long, and she stepped out onto a flat rooftop. A strange chariot sat upon the roof, a set of empty traces laid out in front of it. The duke stepped around her and walked over to the chariot. He stepped up on the deck of the carriage. “Come along,” he said. After a moment Kristine walked over and stepped up into the chariot beside him. Taking up the reins the Duke of Threes made a flicking motion. Three winged tigers formed in the traces and leapt into the sky. Kristine grabbed the railing and just managed not to scream. Smiling the Duke of Threes directed the team out of the city. Kristine looked over the sides of the chariot, at the city that rose up on either side of a valley. “Quite the sight is it not?” Denying it would be churlish. Kristine nodded. “It’th beautiful.” “Everything in my land is beautiful Kristine. You would be happy here, I promise.” “But I could not leave the garden you made.” “I might make an exception.” “Don’t bother. I don’t plan on thtaying.” He did not answer immediately. “You should at least give it a chance.” She did not answer that. No point in arguing it. “What does the Mundane World offer you?” The question surprised Kristine. And no answer came to her immediately. What did it offer her? She could live comfortable enough, make herself useful through magic, but what else? “I have not decided yet,” she answered. He smiled as if he had suspected such an answer. It made her angry, but she said nothing, ignoring him as they flew down the mountainside. The stretches of wild forest and bare rock of the mountain were broken by the appearance of buildings and tended gardens, all surrounded by a wall. The Duke of Threes directed the chariot towards the ground, touching down near an open gate. He stepped down from the chariot, offered her his hand. She could not decide how to not take the hand without seeming childish, so she let him help her down. “This way Kristine,” he said, indicating the open gate.” It was on Kristine’s tongue to ask that he call her Miss St. James but she held back, knowing her lisp would make that demand ridiculous. Beyond the gate were manicured grounds and elegant buildings in pastel colours. It was like something out of a dream, which Kristine supposed was the point. Then she saw the ogre. Alarm faded as soon as she saw the giant wore a long dress, like some 19th-century maid. A female ogre? Or was that creature no different than the ones that she had fought in the station not that long ago? Perhaps they took off their armour and put on dresses? Her attention was drawn away from the ogre, who was walking away, to a woman who stood awaiting the Duke. She wore a dark blue dress, with a blue band around her eyes. She looked pretty, with long, black hair and delicate features. She dipped into a low curtsey. “Your Grace.” “Colleen, this is Kristine. She is the sixth Nursery Knight.” Perhaps she was surprised, it was hard to tell with her eyes covered. “It is as you said, Your Grace.” Kristine frowned when the woman said that. As if her actions count be predicted. “She is here as a guest,” The Duke said. “A guest?” “An honoured guest, but a guest none the less. Keep that in mind.” “Of course your Grace.” Kristine was certain more was being said than she was aware of. She guessed it was the equivalent of ‘keep her on the outside of things’. The outside of what was, of course, the question. Kristine did not know if it was a question she wanted to ask. She shifted from foot to foot for a moment under Colleen’s gaze. She made herself stop. Her diaper felt damp, heavy. She hoped she had not messed it very much. “Where are the girls?” the Duke asked. “They are in the rose garden, resting up.” “Then let us go and introduce Kristine to the Nursery Knights.” The Duke sounded quite happy. Kristine was not sure what she felt. “This way,” Colleen said and set off deeper into the garden. For a blindfolded woman, she seemed confident in her steps, leading Kristine and the Duke past buildings, through a small hedge maze, and out into a spacious glade surrounded by roses, with a tall oak in the centre of the clearing. There were several of the ogre nannies there, tall and broad-shouldered in their blue dresses. The Nursery Knights were seated on small cushions, though one in the lap of an ogre, being bottle fed, and another on her back, having a diaper changed. A messy diaper. Kristine recalled squatting on a roof, in a messy diaper, bringing herself to orgasm. Of course, it was not her, but the magic. She hoped. Still, a small thrill ran through her as she imagined herself on her back, an ogre holding her legs up as her messy bottom was cleaned. It is just the magic, she told herself again, looking away, fixing her attention on the other Nursery Knights. They were dressed similarly to how she was. Dresses, with hems high enough that their diapers were visible. In different colours than her blue. The Nursery Knights noted the Duke of Threes first. Four of them sprung to their feet and rushed at him. The one having her diaper changed had to be held down by the ogre as a new diaper was taped on. The twelve foot tall, muscle-bound nanny looked as if she was being challenged. Good to see the other Nursery Knights were strong, Kristine thought. Probably explained the choice of a nanny. Soon the Duke was surrounded by a group of girls, all crowding around him and begging for attention. They all looked a little younger than Kristine currently looked. If you put them in regular clothing and had them walking along a street back in her world, she would probably put a guess of seven or eight, maybe nine to the ages. The Duke appeared a gentle, doting uncle type of person, patting them on their heads and having kind words for them all. And the Nursery Knights obviously adored him. Not just the Knights. The nanny ogres looked on respectfully, and Colleen gazed on the Duke with naked love and lust, so much so Kristine grew slightly uncomfortable being in the presence of that raw emotion. “Now girls, quiet down for a moment. I have a guest I want you to meet.” Kristine was reminded of the scene from the Sound of Music when the von Trapp family lined up in an orderly manner to meet their new governess. The Duke started off by introducing the other Nursery Knights, all of whom who were now regarding Kristine with open curiosity. Mandy, with long brown hair held back from her face by a green Alice band the same colour as her dress. Betty, with a pixie cut of fine blonde hair that was like a halo around her elfin face. She was dressed in bright red. Annie, the tallest (though still a bit shorter than Kristine) with black hair cut tomboy short and wearing bright yellow as her primary colour. Fiona, who had been having her diaper changed, with light brown skin and black hair in pigtails, was dressed in a dark blue that was almost purple. Vicky, auburn hair, long and braided, dressed in a pale pink that was almost white. Once they had all been introduced the Duke of Threes presented Kristine to them. “Girls, this is Kristine, she was supposed to be a Nursery Knight and fight the Nightmare King with you. She only recently became a Magical Girl, like you, and she has come looking for you.” “Why didn’t ya help us fight the Nightmare King,” Annie demanded. “Becauthe my Liaison wath late,” Kristine told Annie. “Late?” “Drunk apparently.” That actually got some giggles from the girls. “We didn’t need your help anyways,” Vicky said, standing up straight. Kristine could not help but notice the way Vicky’s diaper sagged. She wondered how the girl could look so proud standing there in a sodden diaper. “Why did you come looking for us?” Betty asked. Betty had only the slightest of lisps, and that pissed Kristine off a little. The answer was that she had needed to find out who one lived as a Magical Girl like a Nursery Knight, but seeing how the girls lived, in this nursery garden, she did not want to voice that. “I wanted to make thure you were alright,” she told them. “Of course we’re alright,” Mandy said. The other Nursery Knights all nodded and agreed. Betty had bent at the knees a little, almost squatting, and Kristine realised she was filling the back of her diaper. In front of them all. While professing that she was all right. Chronologically she had to be in her mid-twenties, and there she was, messing her diaper without thought. Kristine felt a shiver that she hoped was fear when she pictured herself in Betty’s place. “Now girls,” the Duke said, “Kristine is here as a guest, and I want you to be on your best with guest behaviour with her.” “Yes Duke,” the girls chorused. Kristine knew there was more to that statement, but she did not know what it was. “I will leave you in the company of your fellow Magic Girls and the staff,” the Duke of Threes told Kristine. The other Nursery Knights sounded their disappointment that he was leaving. “You are of course welcome to leave the garden whenever you want Kristine, but you will leave my lands when you do so. Understood?” Kristine nodded. “Understood.” He nodded, and then said, “On your best, guest behaviour girls.” Then he left. Everyone was silent for a few seconds before questions started. “Where were you?” “What did you do?” “How long have you been a Magical Girl?” “Why do you have a lisp?” “Do you like tag?” “Do you like dolls?” And more questions. Then Colleen stopped them with, “Girls, be quiet for a moment.” They did as told. “Kristine just got here and needs a little time to get used to the garden. Now I want you to all run off and play in the orchard and give Kristine some time to herself. There will be plenty of times for questions and games later.” “Yes Colleen,” the girls chorused out almost as one. They were led away with a series of 'bye byes'. Their nannies directed them from the glade, leaving Kristine with Colleen and another of the ogres. “Is there anything you need? Something to eat or drink or a rest?” Colleen asked her. “I would like a toilet,” Kristine said, aware of the pressure in her bottom. She half expected the woman to say something like ‘you are wearing your toilet’ or ‘just use your diaper like a good little baby’, but all Colleen said was, “Please show her to the bathroom.” She actually made a strange sound before saying that. Kristine assumed the odd noise was the ogre’s name. “Of course, come this way,” the ogre said. Her voice was deep and flat, the big teeth in her mouth giving her an odd inflection of speech. The ogre led Kristine through the maze, back out towards the gates. The nanny opened the doors in one of the buildings, pointing to a passage and stairway far too narrow for her broad shoulders, and said, “It is at the top of the stairs.” The narrow stairway smelt of stale air and piss, the stairs were thick with dust, the walls looked grimy. It was dark, hard to see, no windows. It was like something out a slasher flick. At the top of those stairs was a small door. It opened into a windowless closet that turned out to be a bathroom lit by a dim, flickering mage light. It looked like Kristine assumed a toilet on a construction site might look, and smell. She was not certain she wanted to put her naked bottom on the seat. If there were more room, she might summon Mr Bear to clean the bathroom, though, in all honesty, she felt it would be cruel to make Mr Bear clean such a mess. In the end, she removed her very wet and slightly messy diaper and sat down on the seat. Gross, she thought. There was, to her amazement, toilet paper. A roll of it, the paper looked old. It was a little brittle and not the softest thing with which she had ever wiped herself. That done she went through the complicated process of putting on a new diaper. Difficult in the small bathroom. As she walked down the stairs, carrying her wrapped up, used diaper, feeling as if there were a layer of grime on her, the ill-fitting diaper loose around her hips, Kristine wondered if it would not be simpler just to mess her diaper freely and change it. She supposed it was the point of such an unpleasant toilet. Had the other Nursery Knights tried using it when they had first got there, before giving it up and just using their diapers? She stepped out of the building, feeling better to be in the bright sun and fresh air. It made her feel as if that coating of grunge evaporated. “Let me take that for you,” the ogre said, holding out her hand. It took Kristine a moment to realise she was talking about the diaper. She knew she was blushing as she held out the used diaper for the ogre. As the ogre disposed of it, Kristine took a moment to pull up her skirt a little and refasten her diaper. She had not taped herself up as well as Mr Bear might, but it no longer felt as if the diaper was going to slide down her narrow hips to her knees. The ogre came back, smiled with those large, pointed teeth, and asked, “Would you like to see where the girls live?” “Thank you, yeth,” Kristine said, curious. There were several buildings there, some redundant, all dedicated to the Nursery Knights. They were all bright and clean, and if there was a faint scent of messy diapers, Kristine did not really notice it over scents of baby powder and soap. The Largest building was an airy, two-story structure, all pastel colours. On the second floor, a room that took up nearly half the building was where the Nursery Knight’s slept. There were six cribs, each almost the size of a queen sized bed, with high railings of polished woods. Gauzy drapes hung around each crib, and within them were a small collection of toys and blankets. One crib stood empty, the curtains tied back, the mattress bare of sheets. “This is your crib,” the ogre said. “Thurely there must be a bed or thomething I can sleep in?” The ogre shook her head. “No, I am sorry. The Nursery Knights must be in their cribs, for safety, when they sleep. It is a rule.” Kristine could leave, the Duke had said as much, but she would have to leave his lands. So if she wished to stay, to find out what was going on, she was going to have to live by the rules here. “I underthtand,” Kristine told her. “Would you like a nap?” Kristine shook her head, wanting to put off sleeping in that crib for as long as possible. The Ogre smiled again. “Let me put some sheets on the mattress for later then.” Kristine did not seem to have a choice but watch as the ogre made up the crib. She put a rubber sheet on the mattress first, smiling at Kristine as she did it, then what looked like flannel sheets in light blue and yellow. She finished it off by putting a few toys in. “You can have your favourite toys in your crib, once you have picked some.” Kristine tried to smile even though she felt as if her stomach was turning over. The ogre continued to tour, pointing out the room where the Nursery Knights took most of their meals, with large highchairs waiting. She pointed out a few potties, perfect sized for Kristine, near the changing tables. None of the Nursery Knights used them, the ogre informed her, but she was welcome to. Kristine wondered if it would be better to continue to use that dirty toilet or if she would prefer the humiliation of using a swan-shaped potty that sat out in the open. Finally, she was brought to the orchard. There she found the Nursery Knights laid out on blankets, napping. One of the ogres was changing Fiona’s diaper, holding the girl's legs up as she wiped her messy bottom. Fiona looked as she might be asleep. Kristine again flashed on an image of herself in Fiona’s position. “They will be napping for a while,” the ogre told Kristine. “Would you like a nap as well?” It looked peaceful, under those trees, among the brightly clothed nursery knights who slept peacefully. “No, I’m fine,” she said. There was a bench nearby, too big for her, but she climbed onto it and sat, her legs dangling. How soon after the Nightmare King had been defeated did the Duke of Threes bring the Nursery Knights to his lands? He probably waited until the liaisons had moved on to their next job. And he would have gotten away with it had it not been for Tac’s laziness. Kristine almost laughed as she thought that, and she did smile. As she sat there, she got a feeling that someone was watching her. She looked around. Colleen appeared to be staring at her, and Kristine felt she could feel that pointed gaze even through the blindfold around the woman's eyes. Kristine jumped down from the bench and walked to where Colleen stood. “How long have they been here?” She looked around that the Nursery Knights. Colleen did not reply immediately, her gaze seeming to take Kristine in, from her feet to her head. “Close to eighteen years.” Kristine almost swore, but she felt as if such language had no place there. “That’s a long time.” Colleen shook her head. “It is not, not really.” Kristine was about to ask Colleen how long she had been there, but the question died on her tongue. She did not want to know the answer. Instead, she asked, “What about their families?” “Their families,” Colleen paused, “they have forgotten about them. And they have all been well compensated.” “Forgotten but compensated?” The lawyer in Kristine wanted to understand that. You did not compensate people who did not know they needed to be compensated. “It is to make sure things are fair and right. The families might not remember, but the Duke of Threes does.” Like he was some kind of Saint, but Kristine doubted it. Something about the man seemed off. “What if the Nursery Knights want to leave?” “Why would they? The girls are happy here.” She sounded so certain, so confident. Perhaps she was right. “Maybe I’ll convince them to leave.” Colleen smiled in a patronising way. “You can try.” Her tone was insulting, and Kristine nearly ground her teeth at it and the unvoiced ‘baby girl’ that she believed was implied. “You should realise that the Duke of Threes only wants what is best for you. Right now you have a mind full of big girl ideas, but those will fade.” Kristine bristled at the term ‘big girl’ being applied to her adult life. “And when they fade you’ll need to be taken care of. You are a Magical Girl, and you could really hurt someone when your way of thinking gets simpler. Do you really think you are safe in the Mundane World?” “Of course I am thafe.” “Safe for other people to be around?” What a stupid question, Kristine thought, but after a moment she thought about the fight on the mountain and the man on the train. What sort of damage might she do in the Mundane World if her emotional maturity were to regress even a little? What might happen if she got mad? “I see you understand,” Colleen said, apparently taking Kristine’s silence as agreement. “I am not a danger to anyone,” Kristine said. Colleen gave her a doubtful look. “What if you are and you just do not realise it yet?” Again Kristine was at a loss for words. “Be very certain before you leave here Kristine. Think about what might happen if you are overestimating your maturity.” Colleen walked off to speak to one of the ogre nurses, giving Kristine no opportunity for a rebuttal. The question bothered her. What if she was dangerous? It preyed on her mind, and she was so focused on that she did not notice the other Nursery Knights waking from their naps. It was only when Annie grabbed Kristine's hands did she realise. “We’re going for our music lessons,” Annie said with a smile. “Come on.” Kristine let Annie lead her along a garden path, just behind the rest of the waddling girls, until they reached a small amphitheatre near the wall. There Colleen had the girls take their places on the stage. Kristine took a seat close, watching. All five the girls were examining her, in between taking instruction from Colleen. Then, her instructions delivered, she had them sing. It was beautiful, their voices, high and pure, weaving around each other with a resonance one usually only heard with siblings. They sang in a strange language that Kristine did not recognise, but it pulled at her. Looking at the smiling, singing girls she wished, for a moment, she might be part of that group. After a time, perhaps half an hour the Nursery Knights paused. Then Annie opened her mouth as if she was going to start again, but her gaze shifted towards Kristine and she suddenly shut her mouth and an audible ‘click’ of teeth coming together. The Nursery Knights looked a little, well, nervous. Colleen clapped her hands. “Good enough girls.” The Music lesson ended, and Kristine was certain something was being hidden from her. After the music lesson, there was dance, which seemed equal part performance and martial art. Dance led into active running about and roughhousing, with the girls climbing trees and dashing around an area near the gates. Then Colleen read the girls a story, an adventure that Kristine found herself interested in spite of herself. Bettie took a seat close to Kristine and whispered that they always heard the best stories. Kristine watched as the girls calmed down after all the physical activity while listening to the story. Apparently, there was a method to that, as when Colleen closed the book she was reading from she announced it was time for dinner. Calmer and obviously hungry the Nursery Knights went obediently to their home and the dining room. There each of the Nursery Knights was picked up by one of the ogre nannies and placed in a highchair. Kristine was worried that she would be treated the same and was not quite certain to do if she was, but instead, a place was set for her at a table. The food looked like something an elementary student might be served, but the baby bottle set next to the plate and bowl was another matter entirely. The utensils were strange, seeming far too large. Then she saw while the handles were scaled for the ogres the fork tines and spoon bowls were sized for people her size. The handles were clumsy in her hands, and it was something of a pain to use them. It would be easier to eat with her hands, or even easier still to let one of the ogres feed her. She did her best to make do with the utensils but ended up a messy eater in spite of herself. "Would you like a bib?" Colleen asked, watching as Kristine dabbed another spill from the front of her dress. "No, thank you," Kristine said in a tight tone. Deciding not to play along with things any longer she grabbed the bottle and tried to twist the top off. However, it turned out the bottle was all one piece, and her action caused the entire thing to shatter, spilling milk all over the place. She sat there, with some broken shards of a plastic-like material in her hands, milk all over her and the table in front of her, stunned for a moment. If the Colleen or the ogre nannies had snapped at her, had been angry at her, that would have been for the best. If they had called her stupid and told her just to drink from the bottle, she could have easily dealt with that. However, when one of the nannies was at her side, keeling, cleaning up the mess and asking if she was okay, all Kristine could feel was guilty. Guilt was not easy to deal with. Guilt made her feel like crap, and she desperately wanted to do something so she would not feel like crap. She tried telling herself that it was all a setup, and it probably was, but looking at the ogre kneeling there, cleaning things up, it was hard to think that way. So when the mess was all cleaned up and a bib placed around her neck, she did not object. When a fresh bottle was put on her table, Kristine picked it up and drank from it, sucking on the nipple. It pissed her off. The meal was exhausting, and she supposed if she remained there long enough then she might simply let the nannies take over feeding her. It looked easier for everyone involved. She hoped that she would not be there that long. Various activities had kept her busy after dinner, and when Kristine climbed into the crib, she was exhausted. “Damn,” she said softly, “this mattress is so soft.” She did not object when one of the nannies pulled the side of the crib up, locking the door into place. She almost drifted off to sleep. From the sound of things, the rest of the Nursery Knights were already asleep. Kristine stood and carefully climbed out of the crib, her thick nighttime diaper making her feel clumsy. Gently she lowered herself to the floor, feet touching down silently. She was no more than two steps from the crib when one of the ogre nannies was suddenly close. “Did you fall out of your crib?” she asked in a soft tone. As that would have been even possible, Kristine thought, but she said, “I need to use the bathroom.” “Come on then.” Kristine did have to use the bathroom, though it was not an immediate thing. Not quite yet. She had hoped to look around, but apparently, she was being watched. By the time they got to the washroom Kristine actually had to use it and climbed the narrow, dirty stairs quickly. Once she was finished and back down with the nanny, she decided that she would get some rest, but starting tomorrow, she would do her best to find out what was happening here.

Baby Luvs is a remake of an incomplete story from 2004 by seventyeyez: "Jackie and Leona". It left a lasting impression on @daddyeric91, who commissioned us to write this new version while offering ideas along the way. It took a lot of time, a lot of work, but we finally finished it! Like and Comment! Also, a full PDF and ePub of Baby Luvs is available on our Patreon. Please consider supporting us! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Baby Luvs By Sophie & Pudding Chapter One: “Alright Baby, now do ‘I Want This!’ crossed with ‘I know I Was Bad’.” Which, to anybody else, was a pretty weird thing to say. When it came to working with Baby Luvs - known by Leona Whittaker on her days off - it was just the norm to hear. Leona pulled the perfect face, tugging up on the hem of her dress, flashing a little of the top hem of her diaper as though it were exotic lingerie. And I guess in a lot of ways, and to a lot of people, it might as well have been. I didn't get it, but my wallet sure did. My manager barked orders and I did as I was told. This job had kept me afloat. There was a new face behind the camera, but I didn't have time to wonder about that. People came and went all the time around here. I sat squarely on my padded butt and bunched the dress up in my arms, so I could show off my pouty lips and the front of the diaper at the same time. “Baby's a natural, a natural I tell you!” I nodded, as though I was paying attention to Abe Scott’s gushing, and snapped a few more photos. He chewed on his cigar butt the way that Leona chewed on her pacifier, the way I chewed on pen lids when developing photos. “Alright that's just about the roll filled, I have one or two more shots before the film's in the dead-zone - anything specific?” “Already? Already, that can't be right, that can't be right at all. Look at Baby Luvs here, she's still adorable, still in top form!” “Look, Mr. Scott,” “Abe, call me Abe, nobody but Captain Kirk says Mr. Scott,” he corrected me, probably trying to be funny. He wasn't. “Alright Abe, I can do a new roll, but it'll be another charge.” “You know you should be excited about the job, Jackie, about the job and the love and the passion. Photographers in it for the money are a diamond dozen.” “Oh, I'm sorry Abe, I didn't take you for such a philanthropist.” I narrowed my eyes, “In God we trust, everybody else pays.” “Fine fine, wind it up, I don't care, MELISSA! Pay the woman, make sure she's paid.” The light in the corner turned off and I climbed up to my feet, brushing off the front of my dress and looking down at the nursery set I'd grown very familiar with. I'd been doing this for almost two years, but I'd amassed a huge following online. My website - or "our website" as Abe liked to say - got thousands of hits every hour. All in all, it wasn't a bad job. And if I didn't have the body for it... “Baby,” Abe hollered from across the room. “My office, five minutes!” ~~~ “Baby Luvs, you're a star, a sensation, you're who every college co-ed wants to be and who every overly paid businessman wants to be responsible for. You're hot, hot in the way that burners are hot on the stove, hot in a you can't touch it, but it's useful all the same, way.” He swung about in his chair, pulled some paperwork out from the desk, and set it down on the rich mahogany surface. “But Baby Luvs, it's not enough, it's an illusion Baby, an illusion, and we're going to change that, Baby Luvs, yes we are, you and me sweetheart.” Abe always called me Baby rather than Leona. I'd gotten used to it. And I knew what this was about. “I'm not pissing myself, Abe. I'm not actually into any of this stuff, you know that.” But I had the aesthetic. I had the body. I had the fans. And damn if it didn't make me good money. “Baby please, you're missing the bigger picture here, you're not seeing the forest through the bees!” Abe Scott was notoriously loose when it came to the rules of language. He pulled the flask from his coat and took a long sip, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “Baby Luvs is a fiction. Like you said you're not into this, you're an actress, a doll, a model of a fantasy, but a fantasy,” Which had always been the understanding. “It's not enough, Baby, we're losing Johns, signups are down, activity is down, there's a hundred thousand girls out there blobbing up a storm on their bumblers and hipstergrams, living the life, and we're missing the gravyboat, Baby, we're missing it as it sails by.” The gist: we could be doing better. Honestly, no one could follow Abe sometimes when he babbled like that. But I'd learned the trick: pay attention to the last thing he says. We're missing the boat. “What are you suggesting?” We'd had this argument a thousand times, but he wasn't the one that had to wet a diaper on camera! “We're going to one-up them, Baby, one-up them like a horny Italian plumber bashing bricks with his little head, that's what we're going to do.” Smugly, he sucked on the tip of his cigar and tossed a file across the table with the words The Real Baby Luvs printed on it. “A documentary, Baby, a week in the life of The Real Baby Luvs, a real life adult baby, in the flesh, that's what we're gonna do.” A film? We'd done shorts for the website, but an entire week-long movie? There's no way I could keep it together for that long. And there was always the bigger problem: I wasn't an actual adult baby. “I told you, Abe. I'm not into it.” “But you sure can act.” I crossed my arms over the little dolly dress, still wearing only a diaper beneath my waist. I'd become so used to them on-set I never bothered to change until I went home. “And I have to wet, is what you're saying?” The answer was already no. “Baby of course you do but that's not important, that's not the bigger picture.” The bigger picture was this: “You name your price. 168 hours of full time Baby Luvs, you'll have a film crew and a minder. Nothing private Baby, nothing private. You name your price. Because I know you have one, everybody does.” I shifted nervously, crinkling as I moved, and looked down at my little cotton booties. Hm... I picked up the pen on his desk and clicked it, then wrote something down on a scrap of paper. I handed it to him with a blush on my cheeks and he smiled up at me bright and wide. “Then we got ourselves a deal.” Well, I thought, at least I'd be experiencing something new. The figure was large but the payoff was larger; a documentary, sold in a seven parts, and then exclusive access to behind the scenes clips, photos taken during the time, little sound clips; the outfits she wore during the time and the residual notion that she wasn't just an actress: the number was large, but Abe knew he'd make back an order of magnitude more. “Wait outside, Baby, I'll be out in a moment.” I went over to the water cooler and poured myself a small paper cup of water. I took one sip and looked down into the tiny cup. The water rippled and bounced where I'd moved it with my lips. I never understood what a luxury it was to use the bathroom - it's one of those things people overlook. But sooner or later - probably sooner - anything I drank would be soaked up by the diaper between my legs. Suddenly, I wasn't so thirsty anymore… “Is he always like that?” I hazarded to ask Leona while I waited for my check, although she seemed lost in thought for a moment - staring into the water like it was a mirror and she was admiring herself. I was admiring her, too - not really the diaper or baby getup, that was just a workplace hazard, but she was very attractive! Not a smidgen over 5'1, her hair was short and blonde and her eyes were the color of emeralds. God that body, though. Damn! “Huh?” Who was she? A new girl? Oh, the one that was taking the pictures earlier; I recognized her off-red hair color. Gosh, she looked taller up close... “You mean Abe? Yeah, he's got a few screws loose, if you want my opinion. But far be it from me to question him. He's got good business sense.” My tone and my words were are all so contrary to my attire, but I barely even noticed. Wow it was weird to hear her talking like an adult! During the shoot, she'd just been coy and playful, barely spoke a word, it honestly caught me off-guard a little bit. “Yeah he pays well - my last gig paid like a tenth of what I get here. He's talked about this other project, too? Something about a documentary, he wants me to take photos freestyle or something.” Honestly it was hard to follow what he said, but I did follow just how much he'd offered to pay me. “You like it here, Leona?” “It's a job.” Did I like dressing up in diapers every day and crawling around the floor, playing with my toes? Not really. And I knew I'd like this diaper-wetting thing even less. But hey, work was work. “That's always how Abe gets newbies. If this job didn't pay well, we'd have a lot of perverts on set.” So far, no one had been caught masturbating behind a curtain or anything while I was performing. “Anyway, welcome to the team. Enjoy the view of my diapered ass as I walk away.” I threw away the paper cup - full of water - and waved goodbye to the new camera girl. Oh, I didn't even catch her name... I wanted to be smooth about it, tell her that her ass was nice, even with the diaper. Even with? Despite? Hmm. By the time I went over it in my head, I’d missed the chance, so instead I just awkwardly tripped on my words and shouted: “I'm Jacqueline, by the way! But nobody calls me anything but Jackie. So I guess we both have two names.” Yeah, alright, that was lame. Why did I care if she liked me or not, why was I trying so hard? She was just inherently charming in a way I couldn't put my finger on. The next day, Abe called and gave me the day off. I plopped down in front of my television and turned on some stupid horror show I had fallen behind on. Days like this, alone in my apartment, I almost missed the thickness of the diapers between my legs. It felt strange wearing such normal clothes... it felt strange being normal. Baby Luvs had taken over so much of my life in these past few years, I was forgetting who Leona Whittaker was. But I had to push the thought from my head: tomorrow, I'd be Baby Luvs for a full week, and I could have my existential crisis afterward. Until then, Leona Whittaker didn't exist. I liked to develop photos in house - I had a dark room, and I did a better job than any of the commercially available places did nowadays; it was like a zen meditation experience for me, usually. Usually. A girl in diapers, with a pacifier, with a bonnet and a bib, an adult girl in the guise of a child, her eighteen different smiles each unique and beautiful, and shining back even in the dark red hue of the lighting. This was why I liked photographing furniture; the chairs never made my stomach sink into the soles of my feet. Get it together, Jackie; it's just a job. Little did I know, that job that would change dramatically, come tomorrow.

I started to put this story up before but it was removed for some reason but no one knows why. I have been advised to try again Baby Dick I’m sitting in the doctor’s office stripped down to my underwear awaiting his arrival and I’m feeling cold and vulnerable. The thin cream nylon curtain that separates me and the plastic padded bed I’m sitting on from his surgery still allows me to hear him whispering to a nurse, whilst tapping away at his computer keyboard. I wish he’d hurry up and start his examination as I’m bored of looking at the blue, hygienic paper sheet that covers the bed and the rather large, scary-looking chrome implement that I can just see through the crack in the flimsy drape. Even though I’m expecting it, the sudden noise as he pulls back the curtain makes me jump. “Don’t be scared Michael, I’m only going to examine you.” His words are gentle but I’m still on edge as he places a stethoscope against my chest and begins. He weighs, measures, taps, pokes, and peers into every part of my anatomy though it’s a worry when he shuffles down my underwear and cups my genitals. I look over at mum and dad who are sitting on plastic chairs only a few feet away watching this process. The doctor addresses them rather than me whenever he has a question or makes a comment. “He’s very undeveloped for a thirteen year old.” He continues the examination by feeling my penis and searching for my balls. He looks over at my parents and tells them I may be suffering from something, but he says it in doctor-speak so I have no idea what he means. However, the word ‘micropenis’ is in there somewhere and I understand that. Eventually he stops his prodding and poking and pulls up my underwear, which is a thick fabric nappy and tells me that I should relax. I lay out on the paper covered padded bed and he pops in a large dummy that has suddenly appeared on a ribbon around my neck. He then pulls a soft, fleecy baby blue blanket up over me and tells me again to relax whilst he speaks to my parents. “Is there anything that can be done for him?” I hear mother say. “An operation or drugs?” Dad adds. “Look…. Mr and Mrs Smith… it’s perfectly simple… your boy doesn’t want to grow up. His tiny baby sized penis is him trying to tell you… he wants to stay a baby.” “Really?” Both my parent’s chorus. “It’s perfectly normal for a boy his age. What with the pressures of becoming a teenager… it’s too much stress, so he wants to go back to being looked after… not have to make decisions… to be without responsibilities. His baby sized penis, lack of pubic hair and his soft babyish features… well; it’s his way of telling you this.” I’m shocked by what the doctor is saying but my nappy is hugging me tightly, the fleecy blanket is very comforting and so is sucking on my dummy. I feel myself drift off as my parents continue their discussion with my GP. # I wake up and I’m back in my own bedroom. It’s the smallest room in the house and whilst my older brother Paul and sister Helen have larger rooms, this one suits me as it’s mine… and it’s very, very cosy. I’ve made it my fortress; with all my favourite popstar posters pinned up on the wall. My white closet and chest of drawers keep my clothes nicely stored away, whilst the shelf that runs around three of the walls hold a few books but also my favoured toys and stuffed animals (I have quite a menagerie) who look on and keep me company. It must be getting near morning as I can see a glow around the window frame but checking the clock shows it’s not time to get up for school yet. I sigh in relief although know that this Monday is going to be a bit of a trial for me. I lay there warm and cosy under my covers, though a sudden thought made me check myself. Thankfully, I hadn’t had an accident and my PJs were dry so I wriggled, wondering why, for the second night in a row, I’d had such a similar weird dream. # Actually, I guess I know why - the Friday before I was walking home from school when Cuddy Cudthorpe and his gang of bullies ambushed me near the local park, bundled me through some bushes and stripped me naked. Well, not completely naked, they left me wearing a thick disposable with ‘Baby Dick’ written in thick black letters across the white material, front and back. I tried to fight them off but five burly fifteen year olds had the upper hand, especially as I’m thirteen and a bit of a wimp, physically and mentally. Ever since it became public knowledge, well amongst the school, that I was under endowed, he’d made it his job to terrify and belittle me at every opportunity. Of course, like most bullies, he does his nasty deeds when only he or he and his friends are present, so it’s difficult to prove any of my allegations. But it is true that I have a smaller than perhaps normal penis, certainly a great deal smaller than my older brother, unfortunately, mine had been noticed in the showers after gym and swimming lessons by my class. I got a load of ribbing from my class mates but then it got to the ears of Cuddy and since then he seemed to take great delight in never missing an opportunity of referring to me as ‘Baby Dick’. He’s gone out of his way to leave those two words emblazoned on my locker, my books and on the walls of the toilet. Now loads of the school refer to me by that name, which has pleased him no end. However, being embarrassed at school obviously just wasn’t enough for him so he decided to go public. That’s why the attack; he wanted to publicly humiliate me, which he did. I had to walk home wearing a loose fitting, soaked diaper (I was crying and scared) and it must have made his day as he held me down and in fear began to pee myself. He and his mates took photos, cheered about the ‘fun’ we were all having but left me crying in a heap and I still had to find my way the mile and a half home wearing what I had on and looking like I did. It was a warm afternoon but it didn’t seem to faze anyone that a boy my age should be crying and wearing a sagging nappy; although, at that time of day it was mostly school children on their way home and not many grown-ups. No one stopped to offer me help. Even other pupils from the school crossed over the road or giggled at my distress, no doubt knowing it was Cuddy’s doing and not wanting to be the next in line for his ‘practical jokes’. When I arrived home my school uniform was strewn around the garden, everything that is apart from my underpants. I got the message - they thought I was a baby and didn’t need ‘big boy’ pants. Cuddy’d whispered this at school and also while he bundled me into my current disposable that, with a dick like mine, I should always wear nappies. # Although more than a little traumatised there was no one else at home when I arrived so didn’t have to explain anything to anybody. I picked up my clothes and let myself in and waddled up to my room, the wet disposable sagging dangerously low as I climbed the stairs. I stood in front of the mirror and surveyed myself. My eyes were dark rings, tearstains ran down my cheeks and yet, those two words ‘Baby Dick’ emblazoned on the now pitifully full disposable didn’t hold any horror for me. In fact, since my situation had become common knowledge, the taunting and comments had strangely made me more popular… well, perhaps what I mean is, more people knew who I was - ‘Baby Dick’. I’d never been popular at school, not that I didn’t have friends but to be popular you had to be someone, or have done something, and that just wasn’t me. I excelled in being the very opposite of astounding. However, back to my mirror image - I haven’t worn a nappy since I was three years old, and, although my penis hadn’t grown a great deal since, the doctors said that my small penis is just nature – some people have massive ones, others small, whilst most are just normal. Its size had never really bothered me because until the comments at school, it wasn’t an issue. However, with all the name calling and references to me being a baby I began to think more and more about what it would be like being a toddler again and not have to put up with all this aggravation… and surprise, surprise, I didn’t mind the idea. This was probably why, in my dreams, the doctor was telling my parents my small penis was my way of saying I wanted to be a baby – that dream (and the hundred or so times a day ‘Baby Dick’ was shouted at me across the school yard) had a strange effect on me. It sort of instilled that idea deep in my conscious and subconscious. However and here’s the strange part, I’d had similar dreams before the Cuddy incident. These last two nights hadn’t been the only ones where I was a toddler. The difference was, in the current dreams it was me insisting on being treated as a little kid. Before, in fact way before, I’d had thoughts and dreams where I was a baby, and it wasn’t just my family insisting that’s what I should be, it was everyone. These mental images would just swamp in and for a few seconds it would be like... real... but then I’d come to my senses and just get on with whatever it was I was doing... and more or less tried to ignore it all. # I was standing still looking at myself in the mirror when I peed a little more. The full disposable warming slightly but under the extra weight finally gave up hanging on and collapsed to the floor leaving me staring at my mini penis. To me it didn’t look that small, except in comparison to my brother Paul; who has quite a large one. I know he’s sixteen and more developed than me but he and my sister take after my father’s side of the family, whilst I take after mum. So, whereas dad is tall and strong, mum is blonde and petite and that’s who I get my slim physique and blue eyes from. I suppose in other ways I haven’t kept up to my classmates in maturity- for instance, I still haven’t sprouted much in the way of pubic hair, my voice doesn’t appear to have broken and the things I like on TV are more likely stuff that a seven or eight year old might prefer. Oh yes, you know the menagerie I spoke about, I take it in turns sleeping with them all. I love cuddling my stuffed animals and have never once thought it odd doing so even at my age. Mum has had me at the doctors on several occasions and tests have indicated that there is no growth problem, it will all sort itself out and that I’m quite normal, just developing at a different rate to everyone else. Being the youngest in the family has always meant that I’m treated as the baby, someone who needs looking after. Both my brother and sister have always been very supportive and loving. As a tot I was always hopping from my bed and creeping into theirs if I got scared or had a bad dream. I was never thrown out. I remember Paul once saying he enjoyed these times because he could protect his little brother. Helen remarked that she loved it because I was like a warm, wriggly little teddy bear. Even as I’ve gotten older they seem to still think of me in this way – I’m still their baby brother. Both they and my parents are highly protective of me and I’m so glad to live in such a loving household. # Monday and another school day; I arrived and everyone was laughing and pointing at ‘Baby Dick’. Even my close friends were smiling and nodding as if they were in on some fantastic secret. I was soon to find out what they all knew and I didn’t. Posters of me wearing the disposable, with a very yellow front, which I’m sure had been photo-shopped, had been erected around the school yard as well as on some noticeboards in school. It took the teachers sometime to collect them all and then the inquest started. Of course I accused Cudthorpe but he and his friends denied everything, even saying that I’d been spreading lies about them and that they wouldn’t be surprised if I hadn’t done it myself to gain some kind of notoriety. Of course no teacher believed this accusation but, without evidence one way or the other, they couldn’t go any further with mine. However, come break time I was surprised how many people were sympathetic to my situation and thought how brave I was to remain in school. Of course there were still those who were glorying in my embarrassment but because of those who were more supportive I didn’t let them bother me as much. There was a school full of kids now aware that I’d been wearing a nappy, whether they thought it was voluntary or not I don’t think mattered to them. So, as each passed they patted my bum to see if ‘Baby Dick’ was wearing one to school. It got pretty annoying but I was powerless to stop it. I think they were very disappointed when they couldn’t feel any padding. “Baby Dick, why aren’t you wearing your nappy?” Some accused as if they’d been cheated of the opportunity to see for themselves this baby in their midst. “Baby Dick should be in a nappy” was whispered when some people passed by, other times it was hollered across the playground so ignoring it was more difficult. # However, one boy in particular was very sympathetic; his name Quentin, Quentin Timothy Farron to be exact, who was the butt of everybody’s nastiness. He was around the same age and size as me, except where I was blond he was dark, but he’d accrued the accolade of being the school’s BIG SISSY. “Sissy” was spat at him at every opportunity but he didn’t appear to mind, if he did he hid it well. He was gently spoken, unassuming and impeccably dressed... three points that made him definitely, as far as the rest of the school was concerned, a huge certified sissy. Although I knew him as we were in the same class, we weren’t particular friends even though we did have quite a bit in common. Neither of us were good at sport, we couldn’t throw a ball to save our lives, and gym was a constant torture. We were scared of swimming and clung to the floats as if I lives depended on it, which as far as we were concerned it did. We were both unhappy about appearing naked (apart from swimming trunks) in public and always wrapped a towel around us when we changed. We preferred our own company but were frequently disturbed by other kids and older bullies venting their hostilities on us. Quentin had a good way of scaring his adversaries off... he just screamed as loudly as he could until, a teacher came. Usually by then his aggressors would have run off so he was left to explain himself to the grown-ups. He would just shrug and go about his business. When I was in a similar position I usually got verbally and physically abused... often punched by these macho bullying kids... but I stayed painfully silent and intimidated. Although few people laid a finger on Quentin, I don’t know if that was because his dad was a cop or what, but even though he was constantly being picked on, he didn’t suffer the bruises I often came away with. Quentin Timothy Farron (or Quite The Fuckup as it said on his monogrammed school bag once) saw the wounded look on my face as everyone around was laughing at the poster-sized images of me in a disposable. “This is awful,” he whispered as he nervously approached. “I hope those bullying cunts die.” I was shocked by his language (it was a word I’d heard but never used and in fact I wasn’t sure what it meant). His mother was well known in the church group and his father was high up in the police force, so it came as a bit of a surprise he even knew such an expression. He patted my shoulder. “I hope you’ll be okay...” And that was it as he drifted off to class. For a bullied sissy he certainly carried himself well; no cowering, trying to hide away. He had a certain elegance; from his pristine school uniform and well-polished shoes, right through to his quiet but determined personality. He was the only one who actually seemed genuinely upset on my behalf and I appreciated his bravery in even speaking to me at that point. # That night I wasn’t sure if word about the incident would get to my parents so I decided to get it out in the open and tell them what had happened. They were suitably angry with the victimization and the cruel ‘prank’ that had been played on me. They wanted to make a big deal about it, threatening to complain to the school and taking issue with Cuddy but I begged them to let it drop. Paul wanted to beat Cuddy up but as much as I love my big brother, I don’t think even he would come off better between Cuddy and his gang. Cuddy was a bully but he was also an out and out thug. All I could see was things getting worse and Cuddy being pleased with himself for thinking he was making my life a misery. He was the type of person, from that type of family, who revelled in their own controversial reputation. No one liked them, and everyone gave them a wide berth, they delighted in their notoriety. The following day and my locker and desk were stuffed full of disposables and an assortment of baby gear. It seemed that a few ‘jokers’ had stolen their baby brother’s and sister’s trappings and loaded it on me. I nearly threw up when I discovered a shitty and soaked disposable shoved in my locker but I didn’t want to give the audience that had gathered the satisfaction. Once again what was meant as humiliation had a very strange effect. I gathered up all the baby products (except the soiled nappy) and piled them into my locker with every intention of sorting through them at home because an idea was fermenting in my brain. I was desperately trying to look hurt and hard done by. I attempted to appear careworn and upset by it all but the truth was, all these things had given me an opportunity; it was an opportunity I was keen to exploit. Once I got home (I walked with friends now) I let myself in and, armed with a backpack full of baby stuff, headed up to my room. I knew it would be an hour or so before anyone else got in so I spread out the contents to examine precisely what my ‘school mates’ had left by way of a ‘joke’. Four Disposables One thick terry nappy One pair of see thru plastic pants 2 Dummies 1 Rattle Set of four large safety pins A toy duck And lastly a bib that had ‘Mummy’s messy girl’ written in white on a pink background (it still had the remains of some child’s meal crusted into it). What a witty lot my fellow students were. #tbc# Part 2 I stood pondering for a little while, wondering if at thirteen what I was planning on doing was a good or bad idea. There was no doubt about it, certain things had been buzzing around in my head for some time now. Whether this was made more apparent because of the ‘Cuddy incident’, or because that merely seemed to confirm something else, I wasn’t too sure. What I did know was that the last few dreams I’d been having all pointed to me wanting to wear a nappy... to be a baby. Oddly, this desire didn’t seem to be that much of a ‘big deal’ to me. Although I hadn’t worn a nappy since I’d been potty trained, my dreams indicated that I wasn’t averse to the idea. Indeed, it could be argued (possibly) that I’d simply been putting off the inevitable. I stripped out of my school clothes and stood for a few moments naked in front of the mirror. I ran my hands over my soft juvenile body and cupped my balls. I have small hands so my genitals felt the right size; warm, smooth and soft resting in my palm. I ran my other hand over my bottom and turned slightly to see what I looked like. It was as if I was looking at myself for the first time with any degree of judgement. In the past it was simply my body and though I lived with it, I had never either inspected it or given it much thought... but now? When I mentally conjured up thoughts of my friends at school I could see the difference in our developments, or rather, my lack of such. Kevin, my best mate, although the same age as me was hairy, well-developed and very much a boy; I, on the other hand, was very much an underdeveloped version of myself and still maintained the supple outline of a child. Perhaps surprisingly, my small, immature physique didn’t worry me… it was just the way I’m made but, nagging away in some dark recess, was an urge… and an urge I was about to explore. # I reached for the terry towel square and folded it like I thought was appropriate. I had never done this before so it was only through having seen such things done on TV that I thought I had an idea about how these things worked. I lay it out on my bed and grabbed a couple of the pins. Pulling it up between my legs I thought the material felt quite rough and couldn’t really imagine a baby liking such a thing pinned around its bits and bobs. I suddenly thought how much more comfy the one I was forced to wear by Cuddy just a few days earlier had been. Despite the trauma at the time I was now comparing that scary and forced incident onto what I was doing myself. It felt really odd, even briefly, to be thinking in such a way but the forced disposable felt a lot softer than the fabric one I was trying to fit into. Eventually, after several unsuccessful attempts, I finally managed to pin it into place. The material felt coarse but, as I lay on the bed, my reflection looked fine. I sat up and slowly waddled over to the mirror for a better inspection. There was no huge bulkiness to it, although I thought the big pins made it look suitably childish, but was very loose and immediately sagged around my hairless knees. I bent down and shimmied it back up my thighs, grasping tightly to the material and wondering how to make it stay up. “The plastic pants help hold it in place.” It was Helen my sister at my bedroom door. Obviously I’d been daydreaming for longer than I’d thought and time had simply slipped by without noticing. I was a little stunned to hear her words, and although I was slightly anxious at what she might be thinking, I really wasn’t that worried about her discovering what I was doing. “I’m not sure I want that…” I said as I ran my hands over the fabric, “these feel really rough.” She came up behind me and looked at all the items laid out on the bed. “More stuff left by the school jokers...” I tried to explain. She nodded and examined the plastic pants. “Not sure if these will fit but…” She picked them up and stretched them as wide as they’d go and spread them out for me to attempt to climb into. They were tight but she shuffled them up my legs and the nappy was gripped firmly and held in place. It was as if she thought a nappy wasn’t a strange thing to see me dressed in. She stood back and inspected her handiwork. “Mmmm, not sure…” she smoothed them out and pushed any of the exposed material behind the plastic cover. “Well, are they comfortable?” # It didn’t even occur to me that Helen had not found any of this process strange. She had seen I needed help and simply pitched in as she’d always done if I was in difficulties or needed a problem solved. She stood behind me and we saw each other in the mirror. Even though she was only a couple of years older than me, she looked so much more mature. I was smaller than her and, with her youthful breasts more than adequately filling the front of her school blouse she looked like a girl bursting into womanhood. On the other hand, the image that stared back at me was that of an immature boy who didn’t look out of place wearing a nappy. The thing was, at that moment, and with my big sister in charge, I wasn’t unhappy about my situation. “I guess all this has something to do with last Friday?” She whispered in my ear. I nodded but added. “Yes but, erm, well, it’s something more… I mean…” I shrugged suddenly unable to voice my concerns. “What is it Mikey… you know you can talk to me about anything.” It’s true I could. In fact, our family didn’t like secrets and more especially didn’t like to see anyone suffer if they could help. My head was a jumble of things to say, though I’m not certain if I could have put it into any semblance of thought. Was I trying to reclaim my independence by showing ‘them’ that they couldn’t intimidate me? Was I using ‘their’ joke back against them by wearing it to prove their little japes had no effect? What was the reason...? “Well,” I pointed to my reflection again, “what do you see?” Helen smiled, “Just my favourite little brother.” She hugged me. “Exactly… little… L.I.T.T.L.E. I’m not growing up…” “But you will Mikey; we all grow at different speeds and…” I know she was trying to be sympathetic but that wasn’t what I wanted to say to her. “Helen, that’s not it. I… I… erm… I… ummm…” She waited patiently whilst I got my thoughts into some kind of order. “Erm… when Cuddy and his friends forced me into that disposable… umm… although I was terrified by it all…errr… when I thought about it… ummm… it wasn’t so... bad.” I was watching Helen in the mirror to see how she reacted to what I was saying. She sighed and then ran her hand over my plastic pants. “Are you saying that you think you might like… this?” “I don’t know. What I do know is that for quite some time now I’ve… I’ve felt like Peter Pan… you know… never gonna grow up.” “Has it been worrying you?” “Well, erm, what has been worrying me is that I’m thinking about it all the time.” As I was saying this I could hear “Baby Dick”, “Baby Dick”, “Baby Dick” being chanted in my head. “I don’t know what to say Mikey.” Nor did I. All I really knew was that Cuddy making me wear what he did seemed somehow to make sense. Although I cried all the way home and was embarrassed by the event… it wasn’t the actual nappy that caused it. It may have been the realisation about me. I looked down at my feet in shame at what I’d just told my sister and I could see my toes awkwardly curling up in the carpet. The dreams I’d been having recently also filled my head and all I could think about were the doctor’s words “He wants to be a baby.” At that same moment, and totally unannounced, I felt a spurt of pee shoot into the front of my nappy. # Where that action came from I have no idea although seconds later remembered that I’d peed in the disposable last Friday without giving it much thought. I felt my nappy grow warm and there was no disputing what I’d done as the front of the coarse fabric began to absorb the liquid and turn a slight off-yellow colour. Helen looked on astonished. “Oh Mikey… have you just wet yourself?” With a shiver of recognition I just sadly nodded. “Did you realise…” I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. Ever practical, my sister was immediately on the ball. “Look, you can’t stay wearing this…” Again she stroked the front of my slippery plastic pants. “You aren’t wearing any nappy rash cream and if you stay in it too long it will begin to irritate.” Those nights of babysitting the neighbour’s kids were really paying off. She was already pulling the tight-fitting plastic pants down and with them came my soaked nappy. I was like a statue – I just let it happen. I was too stunned to say or do anything but Helen eased me out of the wet things and grabbed a towel from on top of my drawers. She wiped me down and sent me off to the bathroom to sponge myself clean. When I arrived back Helen had found some cream and powder and had a disposable unfurled and ready for me. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I said in a quiet voice as I peered out from behind the thick towel I was drying myself on. As usual my sister was determined and matter-of-fact. “Mikey,” she raised her eyebrows so I knew she meant business. “You appear to be going through some strange shi… er… problems at the moment and if you don’t even realise when you piss your pants, you need to take some precautions until you can work out…” “No, no I’ll be okay it’s just…” “You’re not okay Mikey. Something is happening in your head and until you… or we… can work out what it is… you need to stay protected.” By this time she’d taken me by the arm and led me over to the bed where everything was laid out. “So, for the time being at least let’s get you sorted so we have some degree of control...” # She didn’t finish what she was saying as a look of determination came over her face and started rubbing cream into my tiny penis and balls. This was followed by a blanket of powder (which had me giggling there was so much of it) and finally she taped the disposable into position. Feeling the soft thick disposable being pulled up between my legs reminded me of when Cubby and his mates had done the same – thankfully, there were no slaps or punches. Helen was much gentler. However, the fit was a lot tighter and I could get up off the bed without feeling it was going to fall down at any moment… also I wasn’t crying. She tossed me my pyjamas and indicated I should put them on and even though it wasn’t yet 6pm, I did as suggested. Luckily my pjs were fairly loose and the bottoms easily pulled over the slightly more bulky underwear. However, there was no denying the bulge that now occupied that area. Whereas my usual small genitals hardly produced a tiny lump, now with the padding I’d gained a profile of some distinction. Yep, the baby padding had given me a bulge where I hadn’t had much of one before; I snickered to myself at this apparent contradictory revelation. # Meanwhile she was ploughing through the rest of the items I’d brought home. She tossed aside one of the disposables and the dirty bib. “These will be way too small.” She shrugged as she checked the toys and dummies but after looking at the array of stuffed animals surrounding the room tossed them back on the bed. She picked up the wet nappy and plastic pants and said: “These will need washing and you’ll need a bit more padding so that it doesn’t feel so rough.” I shrugged and nodded, I wasn’t sure what to think but I quite liked my reflection – standing in just my pjs with the obvious lump at my crotch. I ran my hand over it and it felt so smooth; I was grateful for that soft, yet flattering, large bulge. Helen watched as I teased the fabric under my pjs and in all honesty I was enjoying the surprising comfort it offered. I stroked my padded backside and loved the squashy cushion that now made up my rear. “Helen, is it wrong… you know… to… ermmm… like…” “Mikey, we all like different things… I can’t say how mum and dad will react but…” I pulled my pyjama bottoms down and looked more closely at the way Helen had fastened the disposable. I liked the way the tapes dragged the material in tightly over my tummy, I liked the smoothness of the white, shiny, plastic-looking fabric holding me in such a comfortable embrace. My head was full of strange thoughts. Was all this baby stuff from school planned? Was I being led into a state of mind I had no control over? Was I letting my imagination run away with itself? There was no denying liking what I was seeing in my reflection. My small frame seemed to compliment the disposable and a sense of the inevitable shuddered through my body. Why was I so happy about all this? # The nappy and plastic pants had looked good to me but this looked better. I wondered if plastic pants would improve the look but as Helen had them in her hand, and they were on their way to be washed, I didn’t get a chance to check. However, I was very pleased with what I was wearing and couldn’t stop stroking myself and watching my mirror image. The expression on my face was one of wonder and pleasure. Helen watched my reaction for a few seconds before adding. “When everyone is home you need to tell them your thoughts and what’s happening to you.” I looked her in disbelief. “Can’t I just…?” “Look Mikey, this…” and she indicated not only my padded outline but the rest of my room, “is who and what you are now” She paused before she went on. “But, you might feel different in a week, maybe a month or so… and I think you’ll appreciate the family being with you on whatever you decide.” My sister speaks so much better than my mind works. I’d never be able to find the correct words. I’m hopeless at getting my point of view over even in class. I just tend to go along with what everyone else decides but, this was about me and I’d never got anything less than total support from my family. Of course I wasn’t going to argue with Helen; I didn’t argue with anybody, I’d do as I’m told. “I’m off to start making dinner… mum and dad will be home in half an hour,” She heard the door slam downstairs. “Sounds like Paul’s home … I’ll put these on to wash as well” She said as she exited the room waving my wet nappy. I was alone with my reflection. I saw the rattle on the bed and was drawn to it. I’m not sure why a baby should find such entertainment in the noisy thing but after a couple of shakes I grew board. I picked up a dummy and wondered about trying that out. It looked clean enough but I had no idea where it had been so passed on that for the time being. However, surprisingly I found as I was looking around and thinking I was sucking my thumb. I lay out on my bed and found it incredibly easy to relax; there was definitely something about wearing a nappy that made me feel ‘different’. I sucked my thumb more, closed my eyes and just let go. Without any effort on my part I filled the front with a slow warming pee before I drifted off to sleep. # Mum was home first and Helen had a quick chat explaining what she’d discovered with Michael. “I think that incident last week with the school bullies has had more of an effect than he’s letting on.” “Really dear, why do you say that?” She replied whilst taking off her coat and hanging it up in the hallway. She told her about the conversation and what Mikey had said then beckoned her upstairs to see for herself. She was surprised to see her youngest, fast asleep, with his thumb slick between his lips and wearing what was obviously a disposable peaking over the top of his jammy bottoms. After what she’d just been told she was shocked but her heart went out to him. “Poor little mite… he looks so vulnerable.” “Yes,” Helen slipped her finger under his waistband, “and he’s wet again.” #tbc#

A Fox in the Snow I almost missed her. There was a rustle on the path, off to my right, a flash of orange. A whimper. The crisp white crumpled beneath my feet, a cacophony with each step as I wandered away from the path. It couldn't have been. They were too rare. But that orange, that color, that sound... you couldn't track them, they left no prints. No one understood exactly what they were, but they were beautiful and sweet and gentle - and had been creatures of myth until just a couple of years ago. The first one captured had made worldwide headlines - real, live fox girl. The kitsune, they called her. A few more had turned up after that, once the owner of the first girl shared some details about what they eat, where they live, what they like. But they were so rare - they left no trace, they left no track, they left no scent... I sighed, my breath a steaming cloud as I looked around - the path was no longer in sight, I had wandered well into the woods and the trees were so much thicker here. I shivered, bringing my fingers to my mouth as I breathed into my cupped hands. I didn't live too far from here, this was my "summer home"... I did it kind of backwards from most people though. I fled the warm weather of the summer to go someplace cold. I had built my own place not far from the Canadian border in northern Alaska and I liked it here. My nearest neighbor was three miles away and it was just me and nature. The perfect place to write. And that's all this chase was, most likely. Just a silly fantasy, wishing for a kitsune of my very own - as if I'd find one in the wilds of Alaska. Rubbing my hands together, I turned and began the trek back to the trail, to my cabin that I had designed and commissioned myself. I got the land for a song, no oil, no resources - just a chunk of tundra to hide from the blazing heat of south Texas where I wintered. My mind turned back toward my story, wondering where my characters would take me next... When I spotted her. Just the tip of her tail, a touch of orange and a tuft of white poking out from the brush. I'm not even sure HOW I spotted it, I had almost missed it... but there she was. I parted the branches of the shrub, my heart racing as I hoped against hope that it was real, that this was real life... And I saw her green eyes close as my own brown ones fell upon her. Her breathing was shallow. Her face was pained. My heart clenched as I leaned closer... and saw the blood, and the bone poking out from her shin. A compound fracture. Kitsune supposedly healed very quickly but without treatment, she would never run again - if she could even heal that break on her own. I pulled out my satphone and dialed the emergency line even as I crawled into the brush to crouch next to her. "Northway Dispatch, what's the emergency?" the voice asked on the other end. "Compound fracture of the tibia," I said matter-of-factly. "I need medical assistance." I rattled off what passed for the address of my cabin as the dispatcher promised that assistance would arrive soon. I bundled her up in my arms, wishing I could feel that soft down right now as I did - she was breathtakingly beautiful. Pale, creamy skin and long, red hair.. I averted my eyes from her mound, glimpsing the fiery patch there unintentionally. Other than being bare ass naked in the tundra, there was little that would reveal her as non-human... except for those ears and that tail. A perfect match in color for with her hair, her tail was bushy and looked incredibly soft, and fox ears poked up from the top of her head, white tipped and twitching. She cried out, the softest, smallest cry as I lifted her from the brush. "Shh," I soothed. "You're hurt. I just want to help you." They couldn't talk, of course - not at first. The oh-so-cleverly-named Vixen, the first kitsune, had learned some words eventually but initially they were little more than wild animals. She would likely bite me if she could, but the heat radiated from her body - she was feverish, not even for her kind. I could feel her warmth through my own layers as I carried her, my feet breaking through the rough packed snow as I trudged back to the cabin. We didn't have to wait long for the Doc. I put a kettle on and fetched as many towels as I could muster. I laid the kitsune on my bed, managing to lose only a bare few moments to staring at her breathtaking, haunting beauty. Those green eyes had caught me - they were impossibly deep. Emeralds in the snow of her flesh. Her lips were an equally deep red, parted with her ragged breaths. They were sentient, kitsune, but animalistic. Feral. Untamed. But there was no intelligence in her eyes now. Only pain. The fever, the aches, must have been agony, and I found myself stroking her hair, running my fingers along the impossibly soft tufts of her ears, even as I laid the cool, damp cloth across her forehead. I wanted nothing more in the entire world than to kiss this girl - not girl... kitsune. It hit me like a truck when I realized that there was a real, actual kitsune in my bed. My hand trembled, my own lips quivering as my heart hurt for the beautiful creature. I was saved by a knock at the door. Doc Murphy was young, dashing - living the life of the frontier medic, dreaming of a wilder time when the world itself wasn't so tame. Days long, long before cellphone towers sprouted across the landscape and supplies could be ordered from Amazon in Anchorage. The wilds out here might have been secluded, but they weren't the frontier days gone by. "Liv," he called as he opened my door. I was unreasonably shocked at the intrusion and it took a moment for me to realize he probably thought I was laid up with a broken leg. "Doc," I responded, stepping out of the bedroom and into the living area where he was knocking the snow off his boots, a heavy black medical bag in one hand. "She's in here." "She?" Doc echoed - I knew his name, Justin Murphy, but he was always Doc to me. "Who's visitin.. " His voice trailed off as he rounded the corner of my room, witnessing my kitsune in all her glory, crumpled on my bed and panting softly. I didn't miss the sudden point in the front of his trousers, either. Kitsune had that effect on many - I certainly wasn't immune, my thoughts still turned toward kissing the creature. "I found her near Moose Creek," I offered, pulling back the cooling towel I had soaked with hot water and laid over her wound. Doc, to his credit, didn't even draw a sharp breath through his teeth the way I had expected - but the protruding bone broke the kitsune's lure on him, and he set to work. It was a tough evening - the cries of the kitsune were horrible as he worked the bone back inside her, as he manipulated her flesh until the inside parts were back inside. She screamed and cried and I had to lash her to the bedposts with belts and blankets so he could work. I sat by her, stroking her cheek, petting her soft ears and promising that it would be over soon, that we didn't want to hurt her even as Doc did just that. I hoped she was intelligent enough to see that we had her best interests at heart. Even with the morphine he had given her, the pain must have been incredible to draw out those animal wails - her metabolism burned through the medicine too quickly, he had pondered aloud. He told me he was afraid of giving her too much - he was no expert on kitsune. But who was? She survived. By the end, my bed was covered in blood and piss and my poor kitsune was passed out - from the pain or the drugs, I'd never know, but she slept while he wrapped her leg in the cast. I'd have to take her to the city at some point, but that was a ways off. I needed to get her stable - fed, cleaned, healed some - before we made that seven hour drive. And I had to figure out what I needed to do to legally claim her before I did that. Taking a real, live kitsune into town without some proof that she was mine was asking for her to be snatched right from under me and there was no guarantee the local lawmen would have her best interests at heart at all. They'd probably sell her off to some rich oil asshole before I could blink. I had some research to do. * * * It had been two days since Doc Murphy had left. He had sworn himself to secrecy while I figured everything out - he was a good guy, a good friend. I was lucky to know him. I did my best to get water and medicine - antibiotics and painkillers - into her but Kit... and yes, I realized what an impossibly stupid name I had given her but it was how I thought of her already, so it stuck... didn't make it easy. She wasn't awake for long and when she was it was whimpers, whines, and cries. The supplies I needed had come in and while it wasn't easy to thread an unconscious fox-girl's tail through a small hole in the back of a diaper, I managed. There was something sexy about the puffy plastic-covered underwear on the girl... I couldn't quite put my finger on it, though. Maybe it was just because that was what they always wore on TV. The only other thing she wore was a solid steel collar - seamless - with a single, round, dangling tag. Kit Olivia Lewis Northway 726-555-8762 The tag wouldn't come off easily, and neither would the collar. It wasn't enough to make a legal claim, but it would certainly help. I was still working on that part. In fact, I was still working on that very conundrum when I heard her rustling around in the bedroom. I rose from my seat and tried my best not to rush to her, walking calmly through my cabin to my bedroom. I had made her a bedroll on the floor after I had cleaned up my bedding - but the pillows and blankets were everywhere when I entered the room. It was impossible that she had made such a mess without making a noise... but quiet came naturally to them. She was sitting on the floor, her red tail whipping back and forth wildly as she tugged fiercely on the leash that kept her tied to the leg of the bed. She whimpered with effort, a wince coming to her face as she shifted wrong and her leg hurt her. She was trying with everything she had to pull free, but I had chosen the reinforced leash I had for a reason. "Hey there, Kit," I called softly from the doorway. Her head whipped around, leveling those breathtaking eyes upon me as her brows arched together. She scooted away, her back pressed against the nightstand as she whimpered. She looked so human, but at the same time... not. There was a fire in her eyes, an inner light that shone around that slit pupil - no human had eyes like that, not naturally. She looked like she had eyeliner on, but I knew that was just part of her natural coloring. I stepped cautiously toward her, moving slowly and holding my hands up, palms up, in what I hoped would be a nonthreatening gesture. After three steps, she tried to dart away, dropping low until her breasts were almost touching the floor and attempting to crawl away with what I was sure would have been incredible speed... but the leash held fast. She turned and tugged again, grunting in frustration as she looked at me and whined. "I can't let you go," I explained, as though she could understand me. "Your leg is hurt... " And you're mine now. I couldn't seem to voice that last thought even though I knew in my heart that I would never release her. She would never be wild again, she would be mine forever... "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I want to help you." Reaching the foot of the bed, I pulled a small container of jerky from the bag of supplies, drawing out a piece and holding it up so she could see it. "Here you go, Kit," I said soothingly, holding out the fragrant meat. Her back was against the nightstand again, the leash pulled taut as she still tried to escape. I set the jerky down between us and backed away, kneeling and waiting. "Go on," I nodded at the food. "You must be hungry. You haven't eaten in two days." The plastic of her diaper rustled as she leaned forward gracefully, snatching the jerky from the floor with shocking swiftness and holding it to her mouth, sniffing it before biting into it with her sharp teeth. So human... and yet so very not. I took another piece from the bag, setting it a little closer to me before I sat down on the ground and waited. She stared it it, and me, for many long moments, motionless. I wouldn't believe she was real if I hadn't carried her here myself. She was surprisingly light - I wondered how tall she stood at her full height. I wasn't exactly big and I had carried her back to the cabin - quite a hike - easily. She stared but didn't move for the longest, but from everything I had read, patience was the key with kitsune. I watched passively, not pushing the jerky closer, not calling her, not enticing her... just waiting. I had time, she wasn't going anywhere. And eventually, she scooted forward slightly and snatched the small piece and stuffed it into her mouth, drawing a soft laugh from me which sent her scrambling backward and cowering. I cursed myself silently as I set out another small piece, just very slightly closer to me, and waited. It took no fewer than twenty-six small tidbits of jerky, but eventually... I got her to take one from my hand. "Liv," I said softly as I pointed to myself. She wasn't retreating all the way back to the nightstand now, she hadn't for the past several pieces. I offered a much larger piece, one that would take her a while to gnaw, as I pointed to her and said, "Kit." She reached for the larger piece tentatively, carefully, and I ran my fingers along hers as she took the jerky - she was soft. Very soft. Impossibly soft. My fingertips tingled ever so slightly where I had caressed her hands. The energy between us was electric... and she was crawling toward me. Her eyes looked different now, hungry in a new way, those deep green jewels staring deep into my own eyes... I jolted at her touch, finding myself rearing back as her face came so close to mine. And she sniffed me! Her nostrils flaring as she apparently took in my scent. Just before she snapped at me, those sharp teeth snapping closed uncomfortably close to my face, her neck and shoulders straining at the end of the leash. Without even thinking, before the shock of how bad that almost was kicked in, I reached up and smacked my hand in a downward motion, right across her nose. The kitsune yelped and collapsed to the floor, covering her nose with her very human hands - but those quite inhuman teeth had almost taken a chunk of my face. "Bad girl," I scolded, my hand shaking with adrenaline as I reached forward, threatening. I had worked with dogs enough to know not to cower in front of one - I had let myself forget that she was a wild animal. No matter how much like a beautiful girl she appeared to be, she was a feral creature, wounded and trapped in a place that was not her habitat. She whined and scooted away from me, her diapered rear in the air, her tail drooping between her legs as she tried to make herself seem smaller. It was only then that the gravity of the near miss caught up with me. I stood quickly and left the room without a backwards glance - that would be showing weakness. Once I got to the kitchen, I unsteadily moved through the motions of making myself a coffee. She almost bit me, my mind reeled. She could have taken off my nose with one bite! That wasn't a thing they ever showed on the shows - kitsune were always shown as docile, obedient, loving... but the creatures paraded on the talk shows were owned, broken in. Would Kit ever reach that point? Should I keep her? I wanted to. She was gorgeous - and kitsune supposedly made amazing companions. I was beyond lucky at having found her - and she was lucky I had been the one to do so. I wanted to keep her out of a desire to help her heal, to love her, for her to be my companion. Another person might have wanted her to sell her, to study her, to dissect her. I barely knew her but I knew that I wanted to love her, and earn her love. I was startled from my reverie by a ripping sound, the sound of tapes... "Oh hell," I grumbled, heading back into the bedroom. Sure enough, Kit had torn off the diaper and thrown it across the room. "Kit!" I cried, grabbing a fresh one from the pack. "Bad girl!" My heart broke as she withered, shrinking away from me and whimpering. She curled up on the floor, her ears flat back against her hair, that bushy tail wrapped around her knees as she shook. I leaned down cautiously - ready to jerk my hand back and away from those teeth - and stroked her nose gently, sliding my fingertips smoothly along her skin. She winced and tensed at first, but relaxed quickly. I set the diaper on the bed and reached for another piece of jerky, a big one, and guided her up onto the bed, grazing my fingers along her taut stomach. I held up the treat for her, which was quickly taken - and I praised her while I began the task of rediapering her. "Good girl Kit," I cooed as I slid the unfolded diaper underneath her, lifting her hips and guiding them. "Good girl," I soothed as she whimpered, gnawing on the large piece of dried meat. I carefully guided her tail through the hole and powdered her once again as I drew it closed and taped it shut. And not a moment too soon. Not more than a few seconds later, a soft hiss came from the diaper, which grew swollen and yellowed as she went. She had taken off the diaper to avoid this... I was really glad I had caught it in time. Grabbing another piece of jerky, I handed it to her, stroking her stomach for a moment before sliding my hand to the front of her diaper. Positive reinforcement was important at this stage, and associating a wet diaper with pleasant feelings, food, and soothing sounds would keep her from wanting to take it off next time. It was surprising that she had reacted to a verbal scolding so quickly, so thoroughly - but I wasn't going to complain either. Hitting her, even a gentle strike on the nose the way I had, was not something I enjoyed. The jerky gone, she sat up slowly, looking sadly down at her leg in the cast. She scratched at it, her nails scraping along the hardened shell, a soft whimper coming from her throat. It probably hurt. "I know," I agreed with her unspoken complaint, carefully and tenderly stroking her fiery hair. It was softer than I had expected. She flinched at first, but relaxed as I continued. "I know it hurts, and I'm sorry. It's healing. Hopefully Doc got it in time and the bone will set right. You're not exactly well understood, you know? But I don't think you were going to make it out there in the snow with that leg the way it was. I am sorry." I was - Doc had implied that if it wasn't perfect, she might walk with a limp forever, and that was generally a bad thing for a wild animal. I was keeping her, but a lame leg would soothe my conscience. It was a terrible thing to hope for, I felt bad thinking it. The purr she let out caught me by surprise. The meat was gone and her eyes were closed, her hands resting on her stomach, her chin tilted up in the air, her throat bared, her chest heaving... and her hips grinding into my hand. I blushed fiercely as I realized what she was doing - but I didn't pull away, I didn't scold her. She was bonding with me... not quite the way I had intended, but she was being vulnerable in a way I hadn't expected. Her tail thrashed back and forth as she rocked, a low moan coming from her throat. The tip of that fluffy tail brushed against my arm over and over as she bucked, panting against me. I pressed my hand in harder, dragging my nails gently across her side, across her stomach as she moaned a very human-like moan. She shuddered, her tongue lolling as she arched, her moans a crescendo that matched her body. "Good girl," I told her, rubbing the diaper between her legs, encouraging her to savor that afterglow... if a kitsune had such a thing. "Good girl. Kit is a good girl." I wouldn't want her humping my hand all the time, but this was vastly preferable to her trying to bite me, for sure. As she slipped off to sleep, I slipped from the room, blinking with disbelief at the events that had just occurred. There was a kitsune in my bed. And she was mine. In ways I hadn't expected.

This set of backhanded puns is really pushing me to a breaking point.

As a Female Sissy i would have to say HYPER girly Girly girl , dress Uber girly, Submissive and generally just LOVE every aspect of Girly lifestyle & Sissy life (except Sissy slave ) & of course dare to actually stand up and be proud as female Sissy (yes we actually do exist ya know not al is born men ? although yes the majority is BUT we do exist as well ) Sissy is what YOU feel that you are youre self and is used widely in both genders so you can be ANY girl /Man ,MANY TG `s / TS MTF are also drawn to Sissy. Sissies ~ Sissy is an umbrella word that originally means young sister. It can be used for affection and friendship for girls. Sissy is used so persuasively it can replace any given name. The actress Sissy Spacek, whose name is actually Mary Elizabeth, is a well known person known as Sissy. Others that thought in a pretty sexist way started using it on guys who they thought were weak because they thought being effeminate is somehow weak but transgender women who love being effeminate turned that around and use it as a compliment for what it should be used as. Like gay people did with queer. Both Transgender women and Non-Transgender women can use it for its original meaning or to say they love being very girly fem or baby girly fem. They take the word sissy as a compliment because lovely feminity is a wonderful thing if thats how someone loves to express themselves as! Adult Baby Girls ~ Adult Baby Girls can be any girls that love to be in touch with their inner babygirl. Which can also be called AB or infantilism. Sissy Baby Girls ~ Sissy Baby Girls can be any Adult Baby Girls that like to wear uber fem baby outfits. Sissy Baby Boys ~ Sissy Baby Boys are almost the simular to Sissy Baby Girls except they identify as males. Sissy Baby Boys often like to express themselves in wonderfully creative outfits spanning both genders, but almost always in childlike styles. They mostly appreciate outfits that are as pretty and feminine as possible while still retaining a "boy" quality, as well as ballet costumes. Trangender ~ Transgender It is an umbrella word too that can include anybody with a various gender identity. Like transvestites, transsexuals, etc. Transsexual people are people with a different gender identity that is written on their original birth certificate. Recently scientists have found they are literally born with the brain of the opposite sex (in various ways depending on each individual) that people saw them as before. Adult Little Girls ~ Adult Little Girls love to be young girls that are a few years past babies. AB Fem ~ AB Fem is a mixture of the love of Adult Babies (AB) and Feminization (Fem) Lolita Fashion ~ Lolita Fashion is another word for adults that like to dress as little girls. Especially styles inspired by the Victorian and Rococo period. This meaning is distinctive because it originated from a fashion style in Japan. ○ Sissy Baby Girls ~ Adult Baby Girls are women that love to be in touch with their inner baby girl. Which can also be called AB or infantilism. So sissy baby girls are people who love being a sissy, and an AB girl. ○ Sissy Little's ~ Sissy little's inner child can also be some years past being a baby, but they can also be AB girls. They also have these acronyms: / Little Girl), / Very little girl Someone under the age of 7 but still in diapers ) And there are also sissy maids, Sissy secretary's Sissy schoolgirls Sissy ,slaves and many more! The list goes on, and on because it can be different with each individual. And some Sissy's like the humiliating /Forced aspects and some dont

Thank you for reposting this. It is one of my favorite stories. I don't believe it is finished; so hopefully one day the OP will return to finish it.

That was simply Awesome! I don’t care if you are into infantilism or not. Reading this it’s impossible to not establish a connection with John. Thank you so much for your efforts and then for sharing it with us.

My Girlfriend is Untamable So this is a fast wild story loosely set in the keeperverse because I had a lewd thought and decide to jump on the bandwagon… Once again shout to Sophie’s generator for brainstorming. So yeah NC17 content a head. It’s pouring rain from a leaden sky in the human city of Liánhuā on the planet Shinaria. One century after contact and this world was a rare bright spot in interstellar relations. Shortly after landfall, Marissa Alveus leader of the first contact survey encountered on the mysterious fox like people. Both we’re surprised that a human instantly formed the kind of empathic link that only Shinari could normally form with each other. The Shinari’s playful, emotive creativity and psy-talents led to quick integration. Although there were quite a few cultural hurdles to overcome…. All of this is not even close to being on the mind of twenty-three-year-old Jennix as she get’s off the mag tram from work. Working as a ships design engineer/areo-architect for One Galactic Gov is extremely rewarding but getting home with her freshly styled red hair soaked after a ten-hour day is not exactly her idea of fun. Still only a few more days like these tops, before they hit overtime regs… Unless there’s a war… Jennix shudders at the thought. At least there’s Numa…. She had been so shocked when it happened. Fresh out of Uni and just arrived for her first civ. posting. There she was a Shinari on the mag tram. A moment of eye lock was all it took. Like someone had choke slammed her soul. The wave of love, fear, panic, joy; she almost passed out. The next thirty minutes were spent on the platform as the medics examined both of them. They could’ve rejected the bond but after some counseling they decided to go for it. That was how Numa became not just her third girlfriend but something so much more…. And speaking of Numa. As she steps through her apartment she is greeted by 1.8m of naked very overexcited Shinari and promptly bowled over. “Hey sweet girl!” Jennix laughs her exhaustion and sour mood forgotten as Numa excitedly licks and kisses her. “Miss me?” In this state all Numa can do is whine an excited “Yesss!” Before going to nuzzle her neck and breasts. Her bright blue eyes, sharp facial features and larger pointed ears are crystal clear however… As are the waves of love, adoration and yes… arousal coming over their link. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating as Jennix can feel her own sex dampening in response causing her whole body to flush and go deep red in places. The Shinari feel everything deeply… and right now she is getting the full force of a randy shinari girl that she loves deeply and mutually. Neither of them stand a chance. And apparently neither does her smart skirt as Numa let’s out a little pee. “Damn it Numa!” Numa whines nervously but can tell Jennix is really mad. “Your just extra wild today huh? Not even fully house broken?” Numa just makes whining noises and nuzzles. “Oh shit!” Jennix gaps as Numa begins to hump her leg. Shinari have very human looking vulvas. The retractable phallus however… She still hasn’t gotten used to how her girlfriend has three knotted ridges on her equipment. It’s all too much and Jennix finds herself rolling onto all fours, signaling submission to Numa who whines excitedly rucking up her skirt and sniffing at her pantie and tights covered mound. There is a loud rip as Jennix lets out a surprised yelp, squealing and moaning as Numa tears the offending garments away with her teeth and begins to lick. Jennix is by this point a panting mess, dripping onto her girls face and the entry hall rug. One small orgasm later and Jennix call feel her girlfriend’s climbing on top of her. At 1.5m she is basically buried. Breathing hard and tensing she knows what’s next. “Oh shi’fu NUma!!!” Jennix screams into the rug as she is mounted in one hard go. Both are basically insensate as Numa’s instincts take over and she fucks her bonded, her love, hard. For Jennix there is only the bond feedback and the three large knots pulling and tugging at her clenching bag with each movement. Numa whining and panting as she nips at her bonded’s neck leaving a trail of love bites. There is a building pressure behind her forehead and everything explodes into stars. Neither caring about how loud they are. As they jointly ride the explosion echoing reverberating over there bond before collapsing in exhaustion Minutes later….. An exhausted Jennix cries as she feels her bladder let go. To exhausted to move all she can do as ley there as she floods the rug the puddle even soaking the back of her shirt. Numa wines and nuzzles her before adding her own puddle to mix. As if to say “See? No big deal…” and just like that the fear and embarrassment vanishes. She finds herself laughing and crying in relief as she holds Numa tight the two of them fading out.

6. New Determinations “Yeah, so it turns out I have this form of epilepsy.” We’re at lunch again, and my friends are desperate to know what happened yesterday. I fill them on on the fun I had in the nurse’s office and then on the tests, and the fact that now I’m on this medication for the MTS. “Jesus,” says Sarah. “That sucks.” “Yeah it does,” says Janelle. “My cousin is epileptic. He has these grand mal seizures where he suddenly falls to the floor and shakes and is unaware of anything. You have to help him so he doesn’t swallow his tongue or something. I saw it happen once; it scared the shit out of me.” “That’s not what I have,” I say. “MTS is pretty mild. The seizure I had is called a partial one; I just sort of zoned out.” “But you hallucinated?” It’s Madison this time. I nod. “That’s what they tell me. Unless the demon was real, then yes I had a hallucination.” She shudders. “Scary.” Marina agrees. “No duh.” “Well, I wouldn’t trade places with me,” I say. Sarah looks really upset. “How is this at all fair? I mean you’ve already got to deal with the divorce and the diaper thing, and now this? Who are you anyway, Job?” Madison and Janelle both look puzzled. She explains. “Job, from the Bible?” Still blank. “God made a bet with Satan that his most devoted subject would still love him no matter what, so he took away everything Job had, caused everyone he loved to die, and caused him to suffer from great illnesses and poverty. But Job stayed true.” Marina shakes her head. “Every time I hear that story I can’t help thinking that God comes off as a real shit.” Sarah laughs. “Well, whatever, it just seems like maybe he could spread the dark stuff around a bit better, you know?” “You won’t hear any arguments from me,” I say. “So who wants what?” They laugh, but a bit uneasily, I think. “So does the medicine work?” Janelle asks. I shrug. “Well, I haven’t seen anything weird yet today. But it’s still early; there’s plenty of time for the jello to start oozing off my plate.” Madison laughs. “That’s not weird. That’s Tuesday.” We all join her. “But seriously, Carly,” Sarah asks, “the doctor says you’ll be fine with these meds?” “Yeah,” I say. “She said it’s really common, actually. So I guess in a way I’m lucky.” Marina sort of snorts. “Right. With your kind of fucked-up luck, don’t ever go to Vegas.” Everyone at the table is laughing again, and I almost fail to notice the two girls walking by who are also laughing. But it’s hard not to pick up on the fact that they are staring in my direction as they walk, and when I look back I see that they are in fact Tall Girl and Short Girl from outside Mrs. Feathers’ office. When they catch my eye, instead of hastening away like any decent person might do, they stop in their tracks. “Hey, hey, Carly,” says Tall Girl. “I assume from the fact that these girls can stand to be at the same table as you that you aren’t quite as stinky as yesterday?” “Beat it, Melody,” Janelle says. “We really don’t need your brand of ‘humor’ here.” “Aw, that’s sad,” says Melody. “McKenna and I happen to quite enjoy it. Don’t we?” Short girl giggles her response. “Yeah,” says Janelle, “but McKenna still laughs at knock-knock jokes.” “Only the really good ones,” McKenna says, and the girls start to walk away. As they leave, though, we hear Melody say, “Knock knock.” McKenna asks who’s there, and Melody responds “Carly.” “Carly who?” says McKenna, and just before they are out of earshot, where Melody clearly intended this final line to be spoken, she says, “Carly needs a diaper change!” And both of them crack up. “Ignore them,” Madison says. “They’re assholes.” “I am,” I say, and it’s as true as I can make it. They are nasty, but not anywhere as bad as Tricia. “Melody and McKenna, eh?” “We call them M&M,” says Sarah. “They’re always together,” adds Marina. “It’s basically ridiculous.” “Well,” I say, “I infinitely prefer my own M&M.” “What?” asks Sarah. “Madison and Marina! And I could add you and we’d have M&Ms!” “Not fair!” says Janelle. “What about me?” Marina comes up with the solution: “Combine with Carly! We can be CJM&Ms!” Everyone agrees that works fine, even though it’s the world’s most meaningless and cumbersome acronym, and our group name is official. Now all that remains is to figure out how to keep them all alive if he comes. If he even exists. ### We’re sitting in the living room of our new apartment. It’s actually a pretty comfortable room, larger than the one we had in Illinois, and Mom bought us a 60” TV when we got here—keeping the promise she made to me in exchange for taking me across the country (along with letting me help pick the town). And I do have to admit that I’m finding it pretty cool that we have a view of palm trees out the window; we didn’t even have trees out the window in Elmdale, and if we did they’d have been oaks or something. Palms are so much cooler. Mom is working on her second glass of white wine. She rarely has more than two glasses, in fact I have standing permission to comment if she does, but I’ve noticed that, since all of this started, she also rarely goes a night without at least one. I don’t know if that’s good or not. I don’t think she drank regularly when Dad still lived with us, but I can’t be sure: so much has happened since then that it’s all jumbling together in my mind. And besides, I was pretty young. As for me, I’m nursing a Diet Coke. The caffeine never bothers me, so it doesn’t really matter that I’m drinking it after dinner as far as that’s concerned; I just try to limit my fluids in the evening so I’m less likely to overflow at night. Even if it did keep me up it wouldn’t be a problem since it’s Friday and I get to sleep in tomorrow, so whatever. It’s been a crazy couple of days with the seizure and the doctor visit and all. And now we can’t even be sure if any of this has been real. Do I actually have any objective proof? “I guess I’m just not sure anymore, Mom,” I say. “I don’t know what to think.” She places her glass carefully onto a coaster on the table in front of us and reaches across the couch to take my hand. She folds one hand over and the other under mine and looks directly into my eyes, which is always a little bit disconcerting. “Honey,” she asks me, “would it worry you more if the demon is real or if he isn’t?” I shake my head. “That’s just it: I don’t know. We’ve both been assuming he is for so long now. And it was before Elmdale, wasn’t it? Or is that all in my mind too?” “You know it was before Elmdale, Honey. Portents, anyway. For a lot of years.” I find myself silent for a minute or two, trying to puzzle this through. Yes, there were portents for a long time. We noticed the first of them when I was maybe twelve or thirteen, but it was only later that we started thinking that the odd runic graffiti was anything more than gang tags. Then in Indiana, in eighth grade, I started seeing the eyes: dark figures in my dreams would have these frightening green eyes that often scared me awake. Later, I began seeing them during the day as well, momentarily appearing on the faces of classmates and even teachers. The first time that happened, I was in the lunch line and the lady who was serving the pasta suddenly was staring at me with those eyes. I shrieked and leapt back so swiftly that I not only spilled my own tray but those of two kids in back of me. I won’t say I ever got used to it, but I learned how to see it without being shocked by its sudden appearance. There were other portents too: storms that seemed to be centered where we lived while other places enjoyed sunny afternoons were my favorites. How can that be natural? But he only started appearing when we got to Elmdale, right after school started back up in January. “Is that why you believe, Mom?” She smiles. “We ran across three states because I believed, Carly. You know that. Once we realized that the first runes were your name and the next meant death my most important job in the world became keeping you alive.” “Good thing you’re good at your job.” “Yes, well, you’d be surprised how few really strong and creative IT people are out there, given the overabundance of folks working in the field. I always come with glowing recommendations. And I’m a woman, so that makes me a diversity hire.” “I meant the keeping me alive job, Mom. Still, the lack of diversity thing sucks.” “Oh, sorry,” she says with a small blushing smile, “but anyway, yeah, you do take the good with the bad. About employment I mean. Besides, I can always design websites on my own if I need to. Now, about him: I haven’t needed to see the demon myself to believe it’s been stalking us. And I’m not convinced just because you have this epilepsy thing that you imagined him in Elmdale. Or in your nurse’s office this week.” “But I might have,” I protest. She nods. “Sure. And I might win the lottery. Honey, you were chasing someone across that campus. Someone was with you and Melissa when the pillars came down and everything collapsed. And no one was there when it all was cleared. Given everything else about all of this, I’d say Occam’s Razor points to demon.” My turn to smile. “Might be the only time in history that’s ever happened,” I say. “So where does all of this leave us?” “I think,” she says,” we need to keep on assuming he, or it, is coming. Or is already here. And we need to figure out what to do.” ### The wine bottle is empty. I didn’t say anything when she poured her third glass; it’s been a really hard week for her too. I thought about commenting on glass #4, but when I saw how little was left in the bottle (it only partially filled the glass) I didn’t bother. She’s entitled. And the conversation we’ve been having hasn’t been particularly helpful on her emotions either, since it’s pretty much revealed how utterly helpless we are against him (or it, as she keeps trying to make me say). She doesn’t want to acknowledge him. Doesn’t want to know, I think: one layer too far to believe. There have been times I know she has, but then she’s pulled back again, and the epilepsy totally helps her denial. In the end, though, I think we both know that, if he is real, this thing will come down to him and me. God, that sounds egocentric. But isn’t it where he wants it? “What do you really think you can do, Carly?” Mom’s voice is ragged. We’ve talked about this entirely too much. We’ve talked about it all night. We’ve talked about it again and again for years. We talked about it before the attack on Elmdale. I didn’t really know then and I don’t know now. “All I know is I have to try to do something. Especially if he thinks I’m important.” Her eyes are tired, bloodshot. The wine isn’t helping, and I don’t think she’s sleeping any more than I am. Is she having the dreams too? “Maybe you’re important because he needs you in order to succeed. Isn’t that just as likely? Why would he tell you how important you are if you were destined to be able to stop him?” I’ve wondered the same thing ever since the vision, or hallucination, or whatever it was. “I was there in Elmdale and he didn’t succeed.” She nods. “I know. I’m operating in the dark here as much as you are.” We sit in silence for a long time. It’s a frightening, familiar silence flavored by exhaustion. He...it...whatever….chased us through at least three moves before finally catching up to us and eventually revealing himself—if that’s what happened—in Elmdale. Before that final day, though, when we knew we’d been found, we might have run again, but we just couldn’t. I couldn’t. “Mom, we can’t just keep running away.” She takes my hands in hers. “What choice do we have, Carly? It’s powerful. And it wants us.” I don’t understand. I’ve never understood. Why does it want us? What is it? All I ever glimpse are those terrifying green eyes, which are enough to tell me I don’t want to see the rest, but I don’t even know what the rest is. Yet it’s followed us at least since Columbus. And that means through two towns in Indiana and now two in Illinois. What does it want? All I say is, “It can’t have us.” Mom agrees. “No, Honey. It can’t. Not if we’re careful.” “That’s just it, Mom. I think being so careful is exactly what it wants from us. I think it’s growing from our fear.” “You watch too much Buffy.” “I’m serious,” I protest, “and the fact that I may have gotten the idea from Buffy doesn’t make it any less worthwhile. Think about it: doesn’t it seem stronger in every town? Isn’t it finding us faster each time?” She only needs to consider for a moment. She knows I’m right. “But we aren’t going to stop being afraid of it. How can we?” I smile, maybe for the first time ever while talking about the demon. “We kill it.” Mom looks at me sadly. “If it’s here,” she says, “then clearly you didn’t succeed in killing it in Elmdale, and you ended up dropping several tons of bricks on it and were damn lucky to have walked away.” I shrug. “So?” “So maybe it just can’t be killed.” I feel a warm pressure in the rear of my diaper and realize that some remarkable (or perhaps ironic) Fate has caused my bowels to release just as Mom made that dramatic statement, perfectly punctuating the depressing thought. As much as I hate messy diapers, I have to admit that there are times when they at least make comments on life that are as powerful as their smell. “That can’t be the case,” I tell her. “It just can’t. I refuse to believe it. I think he’s frightened of me for some reason and wants me to be frightened too. He knows I wasn’t in Elmdale and he’s trying to make me now.” Mom looks at me so intensely that I can read the question on her face before she even asks it. “Yes,” I tell her. “It’s working. But I have to fight it. As much as I believed it before, I’m even more convinced now that I’m the key to killing him and stopping whatever he wants to do.” She pauses for a moment, taking it all in. She sighs. “You’re going to need a magic tutor then,” she says. I smile. “Exactly what I’ve been thinking. Do you have any clue where to find one?” “I’ll bet we could get a clue on the Venice Beach Boardwalk. There are some very...interesting...people down there if you know where to look for them.” “And you do?” She nods. “We’ll find you what you need to face a demon, if there’s a demon to be faced. But right now, you have a more pressing need: a diaper change.” I shake my head, smiling. “Way to ruin a great heroic moment, Mom.” Both of us laugh, and we head off to my room to get me out of the horrible mess I’m in so I can spend more time thinking about the horrible mess I’m in.

Here are the final 2 chapters, as well as my final thoughts. Don't forget that this is available on Amazon Kindle. I've only had 2 reviews there, but they were both good. I hope you enjoy the conclusion of the John Morrow story. Chapter 29 Before our session ended, Dr. Venello told me that it’d be okay. The plan was that with each session, we’d keep working (with my consent, of course) towards getting me to accept myself. In all honesty, when I left that particular session, I simultaneously felt down and calm. The combination of releasing all of the negativity I had associated with my infantilism and exposing some of my greatest weaknesses definitely took its toll. I don’t think I had ever wanted to time-travel one week into the future so badly before. If Dr. Venello was good enough to talk me through some of my darkest thoughts, then she had to be good enough to help me overcome all of this. That night, Jill immediately knew something had happened, but she wasn’t sure what. As soon as I got in the door, Jill kissed me, saw the weariness in my eyes and said, “John, you look so tired! Are you okay?” “Well, we made a lot of progress, but it took a lot out of me.” I admitted. “Wanna talk about it?” As I mentioned earlier, Jill was never (and still is never) the type to pry; she’s an extremely patient woman, and I usually didn’t disclose in great detail what happened at my therapy sessions. Still, I wanted her to know some of what Dr. Venello and I had uncovered, so I nodded my head. “We can snuggle in bed while we talk.” Jill said with a smile. “Sounds good to me!” Maybe it’s just me, but there’s something about being in bed with someone you really care about that makes spilling the beans a lot easier. We were under the blankets with Jill’s head nestled in my chest in no time. “So babe,” Jill said as she caressed my stomach with her left hand, “what’s going on?” “I had a sudden realization today during therapy.” “Oh?” Even though I had just talked about it a few hours before with Dr. Venello, I found myself stumbling for the right words, until I slowly and calmly said, “I’ve been running scared my entire life.” From that point, I explained everything that I had discovered at my session. I didn’t feel as upset talking about it the second time around, but Jill must have sensed my sadness, because she gently scratched my arms to soothe me throughout our conversation (although I imagine anyone on the receiving end of that conversation would’ve thought of it more as a monologue than anything else). I’ve heard somewhere before that sometimes when a person needs to talk to you, the best thing to do is stay quiet; no expression of opinions or thoughts, no interjections. Just whole-hearted listening. Sometimes that’s all someone wants. That’s what I wanted, and that’s what Jill did for me until I was nearly finished. “I really let this thing get the best of me, and I’ve been blaming myself for hiding it the way I did. And this might sound weird, but even though I feel so relaxed and happy with what we do, there are times when I feel guilty about it. It’s like I imagine what people might say and do if they find out, or that maybe they’ll think of me as less of a man.” “John,” Jill said as she placed her hand on the side of my face and looked at me with the utmost sincerity, “you are more of a man than anyone I’ve ever met. This did not, does not, and will not ever make you any less of a man. If other people think any less of you because of who you are, then they don’t matter. I mean, yeah, there is always a chance that someone could find out things about you that you’re not comfortable with them knowing, but the most important thing is that I know, and I love you.” “I never doubted that for a second, Jill. And I love you, too. But keeping this a secret for so long has made me feel so afraid, even though I realized today that I shouldn’t be.” “Exactly, babe!” “It’ll take some time, I’m sure. I guess I wish I’d have gone through this earlier in my life. Maybe dad would’ve reacted differently, or never even found out at all.” Jill didn’t even have to look at me to know the expression on my face. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but you know what happened with your dad isn’t your fault, right?” Things got quiet for a moment, and I swallowed hard. Every time Jill or my mom talked to me about my father, I’d clam up and nod, as if to tell them to leave me alone. It had been a touchy subject, and with every occurrence of it being brought up, intense feelings of pain and guilt would sweep over me. However, this time was different. The pain was still present, but it wasn’t enough to render me speechless. “That’s another thing I need to work on.” I felt Jill hold me just a little tighter at that moment, and she went from scratching my arm to caressing the side of my face. “I know you’ve told me how your dad could get at times and that you two didn’t get to make peace with each other, but from the times I met him and from the other things you’ve told me, he loved you very much, and I think he still does.” “Maybe,” I sighed, “but everything’s still fresh in my mind. I don’t see my father for his good qualities yet; I only see him for those last few months that he was alive. It’s going to take a lot of time for me to get over that.” “I used to feel that way when I first had my miscarriage. I blamed myself for the longest time, and Nick only made it feel worse. It took a while for me to really feel like what happened wasn’t because of anything I did. So in a way, I understand. Take as much time as you need.” Jill looked over at me and smiled before kissing me on the forehead. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Jill.” I lovingly whispered. We stayed in bed for the rest of that afternoon. Just like when a person needs to rest while recovering from an illness, so did I after having such an emotionally-driven (and taxing) day. Chapter 30 My senior year of college started and ended before I knew it! It was pretty hectic at times, considering I had to balance classes, capstone projects, Jill, and therapy all at once. Still, it kept me busy enough that it felt like it was just a blur, which brings us to the present! Like I said before, I’m still working as a bouncer, but with my Bachelor’s degree, I’m thinking something good will open up soon. My boss tells me he knows someone who could use an electrical engineer for their business, so I’m keeping my hopes up! Now you’re probably dying to know how I turned out with months of therapy and a very loving and supporting girlfriend through what can best be described as one hell of a ride. To tell you the truth, I’m getting better, but I’m still not quite where I want to be. There will always be a little part of me that will question why I am drawn to being an infantilist, and why things with my father happened the way they did. However, that small part of me seems to be getting smaller and weaker as the months move on. I’m not sure if I’ll ever truly get to the point where I’m completely satisfied with who I am, but I’m getting pretty darn close! After years upon years of struggling through being part of this lifestyle and the increasingly difficult obstacles I’ve had to overcome, I’ve come to realize some things. First, this one preference that most people seem to perceive as odd or unacceptable isn’t causing the world to stop spinning. People will still have their preferences, and their struggles, and their need for both self-acceptance and the acceptance from those close to them, all while living their lives. Second and most importantly, I’m still me. Despite the possibility of any negative associations that come with me being an infantilist, I am a human being, just like everyone else. I live. I love. I enjoy spending time with family and friends. I was a student. I make one of the most important women in my life as happy as I can. I am now, and for the rest of my natural life will be, Jonathon Morrow, and nothing, no matter how odd it might be, will ever change that. Afterword (Author's Final Thoughts) This truly has been a long time coming. I started writing “What It Is to Be John Morrow” in 2008, but spent a few years before that integrating myself into the various communities and hearing others’ experiences with this lifestyle. And quite honestly, I think I’ve found the most important thing about both myself and others like me: we’re human. We have struggles, we (sometimes at the risk of being hurt) long for acceptance from our loved ones, and wouldn’t you know it? We work, and we go to college, and we raise families. I quietly did my research and tactfully brought up the subject in various conversations with people from all different backgrounds, and the most prevalent response I received was, “That’s sick! Those people need help!” Says who? Society? Like all cultures and subcultures, they throw every single infantilist under a general description without truly getting down to the psychology or the heart of the situation. And just as with every culture, there are those who make everyone else look bad. They paint a picture so distorted that it’s the only thing people can see; the image is “easy” to critique in that light and thus there seems to be no need or desire to look at other pictures that have been painted. That’s one of the many reasons why I wrote this book: to paint that clearer picture and to bring about change in the way people look at those who are into this lifestyle or other lifestyles that might be considered taboo. I’ve seen and felt the hatred and disgust towards this lifestyle, and while it has left a bitter taste in my mouth, something tells me that there is hope, and that while all of society will never understand this lifestyle, hopefully enough of it will to lessen the feelings of self-hate and fear that so many of us experience. This isn’t something that just goes away or that medicine or a psychiatrist can “cure.” At times, it can be a grueling, torturous secret that keeps an individual from forming healthy relationships with other people. There are so many people who participate in this lifestyle that truly want to come clean, but cannot because they’re gripped by the fear that they will be ridiculed and possibly disowned. If you do your research, you’ll find that this has been the case with some people, ranging from people who have been divorced to teenagers who have to move out of their home because they don’t receive the support from their families. It’s tragic and can lead to some severe emotional scarring. Like many others, I come with scars as well; scars from someone I loved who told me to confide in her and then turned me away when I told her about the things I held onto for so long. Again, all a result of the preconceived depiction of the “image” that infantilism and other lifestyles like it have painted on society. The aforementioned observations are some of what inspired me to write this book. I want to relate to those who are experiencing the hardships of keeping this lifestyle (and many others like it) a secret while simultaneously shedding light to society on what some people really go through. Unfortunately, some would go as far as to ending their own lives because they’re not sure who to turn to or how to cope with it. Some people keep it a secret from their significant others, and their fiancés, and even their spouses, in part because it’s difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t have an open mind, and in part because some people hold it so close to them for so long that they don’t know how to let it out. It’s my hope that this book broadens the perspective and compassion towards those who happen to be carrying such a heavy weight with them wherever they go. And again, I’m not just talking about infantilism, but about other lifestyles as well. A lot of people have asked me if the events that take place in this book are true. While some of it is inspired by personal experiences, a lot of it is fiction. After all, “fiction is truer,” right? Truth be told, if you can’t tell what’s true and what’s not, then I’ve achieved my goal. Yes, to some, certain scenes will appear far-fetched, but a majority of this is drawn off of “what if” scenarios that could very well happen. Additionally, I didn’t make the lifestyle of infantilism the sole focus of this story; I merely used it as a driving force to lead the reader along John Morrow’s conflict and journey to find himself. My hope is that you’ve connected with the protagonist, and that you can connect with his struggles, and perhaps one day suggest this to someone who you may wish to discuss your preference with, so that they may get a greater understanding of the real struggles that some people face when discovering certain aspects of their lives.

Part 17 Saturday and my birthday arrived. Officially I was now a twelve year old and had cards with that printed on to prove it. I’d received a couple of presents – to my great surprise Joe had managed to find another Barnaby Blue annual in a second hand book store. It was a little tatty but I was quite overwhelmed he’d gone to so much trouble. Meanwhile, Geoff’s attitude had softened and I was surprised to find a badly wrapped globe as his gift. I’m not sure where he’d got it from but I loved it. It was another thoughtful present that I couldn’t believe came from my brothers. Mum and dad looked equally shocked and said they’d give me their gift later… I think it was a late delivery and were still waiting to collect it from the shop. Not surprisingly it was auntie who’d organised the restaurant and the entire family dressed up for the event. Of course, I wore my new suit. It was the first time the family had seen me in it and I was wearing a well-padded nappy and thick plastic pants just to be sure. I checked myself in the mirror and flattened the bulge down a little bit. At first I wasn’t too sure; the red braces, red tie, red and black checked socks… I knew from past experience that the longer shorts hid my protection to a degree but I was still nervous as I emerged from the bedroom for everyone to see me in all my ‘Italian style’ glory. # I knew I looked smart because of the comments from auntie’s friends but my family made me a little uneasy, thankfully Joe said I looked just like Barnaby, which pleased me no end. Meanwhile, mum and dad just whistled their approval and Geoff nodded his. My Italian styling hadn’t set everyone off into giggles, there were no snide comments, just positive remarks and any trepidation I’d had quickly disappeared. Auntie of course just beamed with pride as the birthday boy took up his position as the centre of attention. I loved it. There was no doubt about it; I was still very much the baby of the family. I was still growing into the shorts and jacket but despite this; it was something of mine, and mine alone, so felt quite proud of that. Now I’d worn it a couple of times I did feel ‘different’ than when I wore anything else… even my school uniform. That little boy in the original advert was all smiles and happiness as he trundled around Venice with his mother and, I got a similar feeling wearing my suit. So, despite all my worries about how I looked, I did feel pretty confident when out wearing it. Compared with what everyone else my age was wearing… I knew it was special. # I don’t think I looked anywhere near a twelve year old. Even when the waiters brought the celebratory cake and sang Happy Birthday, I think they thought they’d put too many candles on it. Anyway, we had a good time, the restaurant and food were both fun as the waiters kept us (and the other customers) entertained throughout the evening. They couldn’t see the thick nappy under my stylishly longer shorts and now Geoff had stopped his ribbing everything passed off really well. Mum and dad had got me a baseball cap that had a LED light in the rim, which lit up. This was completely unlike my parents, normally they’d be far more practical but I loved it. I’d never seen such a thing before so thought I’d be unique on the estate - trendy at last. To my surprise both Joe and Geoff were envious of my new acquisition and wanted to try it on. The cap didn’t go with my suit but I didn’t care, this was something different and I thought how wonderful my family was to have given me such nice presents. Auntie had bought me a very special looking fountain pen for school. I felt, for a few moments at least, quite grown-up, that is until I realised my nappy was soaked and I hadn’t known I’d done it. Well, I knew how I’d done it I just didn’t feel it happening, which was a worry. The fact that I now changed myself made me wriggle in the seat, nervous of going to the men’s room, in case it made for a bit of a downer on this special event. I also wasn’t sure if mum had brought spares because I hadn’t. Also, I didn’t want to give Geoff any further ammo and, as it was all going so well, didn’t want to draw attention to myself. So, I swished around in a very mushy nappy until we got home. Strangely, because my trendy long blue shorts were hiding my ‘accident’ so well, I felt really at ease. No one but me knew and the thickening material between my legs, although damp, was quite a comfort. I sneakily ran my hand over the front of my shorts and felt the slippery vinyl bulge beneath. I sighed in grateful relief that my wetness was so well contained. As mum would say: “Thank God for plastic pants.” # Before the party came to an end, auntie handed me yet another wrapped present and said she hoped it was just what I wanted but told me not to open it until I got home. I couldn’t wait. The package was soft so I gathered that it might be some more new clothes, perhaps something else the clever Mrs Goodall had concocted, but, after what auntie had bought me over the last few weeks, I was hoping she hadn’t gone to too much expense. All in all it had been a fantastic night. Despite the fact I knew Joe and Geoff thought a ‘fun’ restaurant was a bit uncool for them, they joined in with all the merriment. I don’t know if mum and dad had said anything (I hoped not) but I was just pleased it had gone off so well. As auntie left in a taxi I promised her I’d go and visit her again in a couple of weeks, which she was pleased about. She was also pleased when mum told her about the positive comments she was getting from the school even after only a week. They nodded knowingly to each other. My continued wetting wasn’t mentioned once, for which I was grateful though I’m not sure if either mum or auntie had guessed I was soaked. # When I got home I opened auntie’s second present, I’d expected some new colourful Mrs Goodall pyjama creation, or something similar, what it was were my first pair of long trousers. I slowly pulled them from the wrapping and was excited to see that they matched the shorts of my suit and clearly what I’d hoped for from the very beginning. My birthday was getting better and better and, typical of auntie; she’d got me something she knew meant a great deal to me. At last, when I wore my suit, I would no longer feel like a little kid. I was so excited. I eased down my suit shorts over my swollen nappy and kicked them onto my bed. I wasn’t sure if I should change first but I was just too eager and quickly slipped the special item up my legs. They were a little long and I found it difficult to fasten the catch at the waist. I realised that I’d only be able to wear them if I wasn’t wearing thick padding. Auntie had given me what I wanted but, in giving them to me, there was an encouragement to try and stop wetting. Mum was standing at the bedroom door as I tried them on. “Oh sweetheart… you’ll look terrific in them.” She came over and tried to fasten me in. “Ahh, I see what auntie planned here… do you?” I nodded. Actually, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I thought I’d be grown-up about it but I felt disappointed, as if wetting was something I could stop. If I could, don’t they think I would have by now? # She poked a finger up the leg-hole of my plastic pants. “C’mon mister, birthday boy or not, we’d better get you out of this wet nappy and into something drier.” I was about to do it myself but mum took charge, slowly stripping me out of my best clothes (and hanging them up) and easing down my plastic pants. The thick fabric was well waterlogged so she got a towel and dried me down. Although mum had given me the independence to change myself, and it was something I was proud to do, I really liked it when mum did this and I felt quite relaxed as she powdered and tightly pinned everything in place. A new pair of blue vinyl pants was pulled up and over the padding and she asked if I wanted to come down and watch TV for a bit. It was well past my normal bedtime but was suggested as a bit of a treat because of my birthday. I’m not a late night person so I told her I was quite tired and that I’d like to go straight to bed. She kissed my forehead, said she hoped I’d had a terrific birthday (which I had) and bid me goodnight as she closed the bedroom door. After a couple of moments I got up and went to the closet. I reached in and pulled out the onesie and the matching shorts Mrs Goodall had made and put them on. I struggled in what little light there was to fasten the snaps between my legs but once they were closed my protection felt tight and safe pulled up against my crotch. I fed the shorts up and over the bulky material and crawled back into bed in fleecy luxury. My thoughts then went to my family and how well my twelfth birthday had gone and how brilliant they’d all been. Then I thought of auntie and how she could still surprise me with her kind-heartedness. Over the last couple of weeks she’d supplied me with so many wonderful things and, with the long trousers; she’d once again made me happy… and given me a target. I snuggled down under my blankets and felt fantastic. I was clean and cosy but before I fell asleep completely, I pushed my hand beneath the shorts and stroked the fleecy front of my slippery bulge and had to admit it was the best feeling ever. # Sunday morning I awoke having slept the best in a long time. My dreams had been fun; at one point Joe, Geoff and I were in the same football team and we all scored, which was something strange for me as I didn’t play for any team. My two brothers are both excellent players and in their school’s first team line-up. How I managed to get involved I’ve no idea but nonetheless I also scored. I was wearing a nappy (and I believe so did Geoff) but we still won with everyone cheering our success. Even with my nappy obviously visible as I ran around the field making some excellent tackles and passes of the ball, no one said anything. It gave me a feeling of belonging, which I don’t think I always felt. I also woke up and didn’t feel wet, which was another plus, so I wandered down to breakfast wearing what I’d slept in. Mum and dad were at the table but neither of the other two had yet surfaced. “Morning sweetheart.” Mum smiled, whilst dad smiled and nodded. I half expected the usual question of “Are you wet?” but it never came up. I suppose now I was twelve I should know when I’m wet and able to change myself if warranted. Mum asked if I wanted a cooked breakfast but I was still relatively full from the meal the previous evening so settled for a slice of toast and a cup of tea. I felt quite at ease with the way I was dressed and wriggled in the thick, padded comfort between me and the chair. I even quite liked the soft rustling of the plastic pants as I made myself even snugger. # Now I had a pair of long trousers I tried them on again, this time without the padding. Like the rest of my suit there was ample room for growth and I’d need to turn-up the legs when I wore them. I was very pleased I had them but realised that I was happy wearing the shorts version and this understanding sent a shiver through my body. I’d had this feeling before, where wearing shorts and protection made me feel okay, even if I looked the part of a much younger kid. This became even more apparent on Monday when at school because there was now only Graham Greenwood and myself in class who were still in shorts. Graham’s family were Jehovah’s Witnesses, I’m not sure why that made a difference but everyone thought that was the reason he was still in shorts, whilst mine was because of the nappy. It was also at this time that one of the other shorts wearers from another class came up and wanted to be friends. He was of the opinion that we shorts wearers should stick together to avoid any trouble from those who’d pick on us. As we were a small vulnerable group it did seem a good idea. We very rarely got comments from kids our own age but some boys, two, three and four year’s older thought it fun to take the mickey. We weren’t bullied, the school would never stand for such a thing, but the occasional baby talk and suggestions to ‘go back to primary school’ did surface. We didn’t have a ‘gang’ name as such but at break times we did tend to stick close together so any name calling wasn’t aimed at one boy. Daley was a tall boy and looked frankly ridiculous in shorts but his mum had said that whilst his shorts still fitted and were in good order, she wasn’t made of money so refused to buy him anything else. However, Daley was also good at football so was used to wearing his sports kit and it seemed very little bothered him. I asked him fairly early on how he coped with wearing shorts and being so tall where he’d obviously stand out in a crowd. He said that there was just him and his mum and he wouldn’t do anything that he knew his mum couldn’t control. Money was thin on the ground but she’d been so proud of him gaining admission to the school, he wouldn’t say or do anything that might upset her. They were a tight family… just the two of them. # I was asked by the group about my nappy-wearing so told them when it started but that I had no idea why. However, I confessed that most mornings since it had started I woke up soaked and because of the ‘accident’ in class, the headmaster insisted I wear protection whilst on school property. That is, until I could prove I don’t need them… and that was proving quite difficult. I’d had a few minor accidents at school but nothing that would have drawn the attention of matron or the teachers, I’d happily let my damp nappy and plastic pants take the strain. However, at home, night time things had gotten worse and waking up in very wet protection had become the norm. But now it was up to me to sort myself out, so I wasn’t bothering anyone else with my problem. I’d happily change myself and put the stuff on to soak and wash. The garden may well have been festooned with my drying white fabric nappies and fluttering plastic pants but despite wet mornings I felt I was in some kind of control. There seemed some sympathy for my plight but in general, as my bulky bottom and smoothly shaped crotch only occasionally became the centre of attention, it was forgotten about by the troop of shorts wearers. Money was the real reason the few of us were still in shorts. Our families simply didn’t have the funds for new clothes until what we had was worn out… and even then it might not happen. With my shorts still riding up over my thighs the plastic pants were regularly seen by everyone and although there were a few giggles and comments, most people had got past caring. I hadn’t told any of my friends about Barnaby Blue just in case they thought I was childish, although I was quite happy when I got home, and after all my homework was finished, to read another fascinating chapter about this nine year old’s powers of deduction. As the weeks transpired I was getting pretty good grades, nothing that would put me into the dizzying world of the clever Aziz, but enough for mum and dad to feel proud of me again. They may not have said that they weren’t proud of me but I could tell that although they believed a change of school was to stop me feeling pressure, they were a little disappointed I hadn’t adapted to senior academic life very well. However, they now saw that despite still wetting at night, the nappy I had to wear was no barrier to me getting on so it had become less of an issue to them and my brothers. #tbc#

In the first Diaper Dimension story technology that decreases physical (if not mental) age features pretty heavily, implying that people in the Diaper Dimension have the capability to stay young indefinitely. Hypothetically someone could be in there 80s and be the physical equivalent of a 20 year old.

I woke up quite a bit later, feeling much better. JoJo was still here. Her arm was draped over me, her leather-encased paw on my chest. I could feel her naked breasts on my back. Her diaper was pressed into mine. "You awake?” I asked quietly. “Yes.” She shuffled a little bit. “Thank you.” “For what?” “For being here. For your comfort. We’ve talked so many times, and I thought I understood what you were going through. But from here, it seems so different. Having you here helps a lot.” She lifted her head and leaned. I realized my muzzle was still on as I felt her lips on my cheek. “Pets get to have the best sex, you know. And whatever you can do within the restraints you’re placed in must be OK, right? And Angie put the two of us together. And I bet you haven’t been conditioned to not be able to open diaper tapes yet like I have… so…. how nimble are your teeth?” “They put some kind of cage on me. It hurts when I get excited. They said it was going to stay there until I was neutered!” JoJo pulled back in surprise, then pulled me back in to hold me closer. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! It must be because you are a mixed gender Bond… that’s unusual. I wonder how that works?” “It doesn’t work so well for me, apparently.” “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” We lay there, in silence, smelling each other and finding comfort in each other, for quite a while. ** I saw my Keeper and her family walking towards my cage, and I sat up, almost jabbing JoJo with my elbow by accident. I tried to apologize, but I was so excited to see my Keeper that I almost sat on her head with my diapered butt instead. I tried to calm down. My Keeper was laughing, along with Angie and the rest of her family. They seemed relaxed and happy. That was good. Seeing my Keeper happy made me feel happy. My Keeper attached my leash and opened the cage door, and I followed the leash’s gentle guidance out of the cage. I felt Jennifer reach down, and I realized she was checking my diaper. Jennifer stated the obvious. “He's not all that wet yet, but we need to change his diaper before the flight, right?” Angie nodded. "Yeah, definitely. Let’s go back to the room and get him changed and crated." I followed the guidance of my leash back to Room 3, where a disposable pad was waiting on the floor. My Keeper guided me onto the mat, where I rolled onto my back. Jennifer demonstrated her diaper changing skills, meeting with Angie’s approval on the second diaper she had ever changed. When she was done, I rolled back on all fours. Angie knelt down. She took my muzzled face in her hands. “I’m glad I got to know you as a human, and I’m glad I got to guide you through your first steps into Pet-hood. I truly hope you find peace in your new life, OK? And I really I hope your Keeper brings you to visit someday soon!” Leaning over, she kissed me on the forehead. “Thanks. Thanks for… well, thanks.” Was all I could muster. Angie nodded, and my Keeper led my by my leash over to the travel crate that she and her Sister had purchased earlier in the day. Only a little larger than the exam cage, it was mostly a blue plastic shell, with some air holes high on the sides and mesh doors on either end. The brand "Air Kennel" was embossed into the plastic on the side. Stickers reading "Live Animal This Side Up" were plastered on the side. As I was led to the open door of the crate, I saw that an absorbent pad had been placed on the floor. I got to the door, not wanting to go in. Angie handed my Keeper something red, and she bent down and clipped whatever it was to the muzzle, over my ears. “There’s a little video player in there. These headphones will let you hear the audio, OK?” Well that didn’t sound so bad. At least I’d be able to watch a movie or something on the flight. She took another object off the top of the crate and… oh. It was the silencer part of the muzzle. No more speaking. I heard “Kennel Up” from my Keeper, and Angie nodded approvingly that Jenn had remembered the command. I was almost all the way into the crate when I heard, “Stop”, so I did. I heard Jenn talking to Angie. “Should we loosen the leg restraints, at least? He’s going to be in there a long time, and I can’t imagine it will be comfortable for him.” Angie seemed to hesitate. “Well… I guess.. but be careful…” I felt something happening at my ankle, and then I realized that I could stretch out my leg for the first time in hours. Oh, it felt so good. And then the second ankle was free. I was free. I could be free. Without a conscious thought I pushed back with my arms, kicking back with my feet. They hit something soft that went ‘ooph’, but that meant I had more room behind me. As I moved back out of the cage as quickly as I could my head cleared the cage, and I saw the door of the room open just as Karen walked in. Seeing my chance, I jumped up, ready to run for the door. I was almost free! I would make it this time! I lunged forward. And then my leash went taut. I pulled at it, but whoever was holding it held firm. Then I heard an airy, “Stop. Stop JayJay, Stop.” It was my Keeper, but something was wrong. I stopped, and turned around. She was holding her ribs. I wanted to ask what had happened, but the gag prevented it. “Kennel up. Now. Kennel up.” The command was firm. I followed the pull of the leash back to the door of the crate, and went in. The door closed behind me. I heard Angie’s voice. “OK, he’s secure. Are you OK, Jenn?” “Ouch. I think so. He kicked me right in the gut. I don’t think anything is broken, though.” “Ow. I was nervous about releasing his legs… and that was why. It wasn’t his fault, you know. That’s why we need to keep Pets in restraints, especially when they’re newly Bound. It’s not for play. When you go to get him out, attach his leash to this clip here so he can’t get out of the crate until his legs are done back up.” I had hurt my Keeper? That was my fault? I started to panic. Hurting your Keeper was really, really bad! I didn’t need Pets*R*Us courses, or a college degree to figure that out. Obviously I had done it when I tried to run. I tried to apologize, but the silencer in the muzzle kept me silent. Worried, I tried to look around, but the solid blue plastic of the crate’s shell blocked most of my view. I could only see the open room door through the mesh in the front of the crate. There wasn’t enough room to turn around. Nothing else to do, I waited. I hoped my Keeper was OK. I tried to shift around, and found a position that wasn’t that uncomfortable. I heard voices talking, including my Keeper, but couldn’t make them out. This sucked. After a few minutes, a pair of legs, and then a face, appeared in front. It was my Keeper! “It’s OK, JayJay. I know it was a Pet instinct, and you didn't mean to hurt me. We’ll work on that in training, OK? You’re a Good Boy, and I’m glad I have such a Good Boy as a Pet. Now, I’m going to open the feeding door here, and take your leash, OK? Will you be a Good Boy?” The warm glow of knowing that my Keeper was OK, and that my Keeper thought I was a Good Boy was intense, and I just nodded. She produced a key, and used it to unlock a hatch at the bottom of the mesh door in front of me. Reaching in carefully, she unsnapped the leash and removed it, re-locking the hatch when she was done. I watched her legs walk away. ** A few minutes later, the crate began moving. I couldn’t see who was pushing me, but through the front mesh I could see as I was moved through the store, and back out the front door I had entered only a few hours before. I saw the shopping Keepers and their Pets, some glancing at me to see what a Pet had done to deserve being in a crate, rather than on a leash like a Pet should be. I saw JoJo, now in her regular position in the display cage at the front, but her back was to me and I lost sight of her before I could make eye contact. There was a taxi van waiting, flashers on, and the back doors open. My crate was lifted, and I was placed in the back. “Hold on a sec.” It was Angie’s voice. “Jenn, is that your suitcase?” “Yes, the small roller there.” “Do you have any dirty laundry?” “Uh… yes… why?” “If you take some things that have a strong scent of you, and place them in his crate, it will both calm him and help with the imprinting and Bonding.” “OK, sure. Just a second.” A pause, as I guessed she opened her suitcase and pulled out some clothes. “How about these?” Angie laughed. “Perfect. Exactly what I would have suggested.” There was some fumbling and then my crate was turned, so that Jenn could get to the front hatch again. The hatch was opened, and I tried to laugh as two pairs of Jenn’s panties, a t-shirt, and a bra were stuffed in and the hatch re-locked. A few hours ago the idea of having panties and a bra thrown at me would have had an entirely different meaning and outcome, but as I inhaled I could tell that Angie was right. The scent of my Keeper was like catnip. I could feel myself relax. I lay my head on the clothes and inhaled deeply. “Well, looks like he likes it.” My crate was turned back around so that the front of the crate was up against the back seat, and I couldn’t see anything. There were a bunch of noises as luggage was piled on top of my cage. I could hear my Keeper talking to her sister, mother, and father up front, doors closed, and then the van started moving. As I breathed in my Keeper’s scent, I realized how skilled Angie was with Pets, and how lucky JoJo was to have her. I also realized there was a good chance I might never see them again. If I ever got the chance, though, I’d have to find a way to show her my gratitude for what she had done today. I couldn’t image what would happen if the Bonding happened when there weren’t those around who could make sure that the Pet was handled safely and lovingly.

Yeah, that's my job

...I mean, that's kind of what I did with Breaking the Girl, which I think is my favorite story of mine at this point. If you leave me alone with a character too long, their life will turn into a trainwreck. That's why I refused to do a Seth+Jess focused spinoff story.

I know this chapter a little short compared to the other side but I swear the next chapter should be worth the wait. After you read this next chapter I would like to hear from you guys as to what you think will happen next or what you would like to happen next. I’m just interested to hear your insights. Chapter 7 Once again the uncomfortable padding of a diaper sat between his legs and despite how happy it seemed to make make Becky, Levi still hated everything about the padded garment. “Becky can’t I do anything else for you? Does it have to be a...” Levi couldn’t bring himself to say the word “diaper.” “Oh honey,” she reached down and grabbed his diapered crotch, which caused him to stiffen, “Like I said you belong in diapers little one. And just look at that cute little bottom.” She swatted his butt and he yelped. “And you had better get used to the word Levi because you will be hearing it a lot. Now, stop complaining and come watch some TV with me.” She walked over to the couch and grabbed the TV remote, turning it on. Levi hesitated, then slowly walked over to join her. Levi was at least glad her curtains were closed; as to hid the fact that he was naked except for the diaper between his legs. Levi made to sit down next to her, but she instead grabbed his arm and pulled him down onto her lap and wrapped her arms around him, cupping his crotch with both of her hands. Levi blushed at the position but he couldn’t deny it was nice cuddling with her. “I hope you like The Lion King because we can’t be friends if you don’t.” Becky put on the movie in question and gave Levi a peck on the cheek. Levi, in fact, loved The Lion King and was soon singing along with the movie. “You have a good voice little one. I think I may have to take you out to karaoke some time.” “I’m always up for karaoke, though honesty I’ve never been.” “Really? Well we must fix that!” The two’s conversation went on like this for about twenty minutes before the first cramp hit. Levi’s stomach growled loudly and he felt a twinge or pain deep in his belly. He instantly remembered the feeling of something being put in his butt during the last diaper change and he suddenly had a good idea as to what it might have been. Levi turned around to see Becky’s huge smile and he felt his suspicions were true. “Can I please...” “I’m going to tell you now,” she cut him off, “I gave you a chance to use the potty but you obviously don’t want to be a big boy. You are much more appropriately dressed now baby boy and the potty is off limits to babies.” “But,” Levi started to say, but at that moment a larger cramp hit and he doubled over in pain. “No buts little mister. Now hush and watch the movie.” Levi tried to focus on the movie, but every time he was able to focus even a little, another cramp hit and with it came a fresh bout of pain. Within ten minutes he felt himself start to shake as he tried to hold back the inevitable, and sweat started dripping down his forehead as well. Levi could have held it longer, if at that moment, Becky hadn’t started bouncing her leg. Once the bouncing had commenced Levi’s attempts were instantly thwarted. He felt the pressure release all at once and felt warm mush spread out beneath him, as he groaned loudly. At the same moment Levi’s bladder let go and the front of his diaper grew warm as he messed himself from both ends. Becky’s hands, which were still on his crotch, began to rub Levi’s wet diaper, and Levi heard a large intake a breath emanate from her. Even as he continued to wet and mess himself, Levi felt himself growing harder as her hands continued to tease the outside of his diaper. However, when it was all done and Levi felt like there was nothing left inside of him, Becky stopped rubbing and pushed him to his feet. Catching him off guard, Becky grabbed the back of Levi’s waistband and pulled out the back of his diaper. “Oh my! Did you really just poop yourself?” Levi knew well enough that she was the cause of his accident, but that didn’t stop him growing even more embarrassed. “I made the right choice in diapering you didn’t I? I never would have thought your potty training would be this bad.” Levi tried not to gag as he started to smell his own waste. “I think I may need to re-potty train you myself.” Levi looked down at his feet, unwilling to look up into her eyes. At that moment, he did in fact feel like an un-potty trained little toddler and all he wanted right now was to be clean and out of his, now sagging, diaper. “It will be a long process, but I promise we will get you potty trained Levi.” She put a finger under his chin and forced his face up to look at hers then, without a word, she kissed him full on the mouth. The kissed lasted, what felt like thirty seconds, and when they pulled apart, he felt a lot better. “Now I believe my stinky baby needs a diaper change.” “Wow I really do have a stinky baby,” Becky said as she opened up his diaper and revealed the mess within. She wasn’t wrong. As soon as the diaper was opened, the strong smell of poop hit his nostrils and he wanted nothing more than to take a shower and rid himself of the smell and the diaper. Levi looked away as she started wiping him down. It was a long process and it took another five minutes before she announced he was clean. Levi went to stand up but Becky put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. “I never said you could get up little one.” “But I...” Levi’s words caught in his throat as she pulled out another diaper and started unfolding it. “Your stomach still has remnants of that suppository in it and I don’t want you making a mess on my floor.” She lifted his legs up to his chest and slipped the diaper underneath him. “So you will be in diapers for a next few hours at least.” She powdered his bottom again and then pulled he diaper up between his legs, taping it shut. “Or longer if I deem it necessary.” The rest of the day was uneventful compared to the events earlier. They finished the movie and during that time Levi, did in fact, have to deal with the the lasting effects of the suppository. Along with small messy accidents, Becky wouldn’t let him use the bathroom and he was forced to wet his diaper instead. By the time night came, he required another diaper change, and despite his protests, he was once again diapered for bed. “You have been such a good boy for your babysitter,” Becky said as she pulled the blanket over him. “Now I have some things to do before I join you, but I want you to try and get some sleep.” He opened his mouth to ask what kind of things she needed to do, but she pushed the pacifier in his open mouth and she just said “Shhhh.” Levi knew better than to speak once she brought out the pacifier and he did his best to obey and just fall asleep.

My horse ate my bedding. I got him to puke up the pillow and blankets but I had to beat the sheet out of him