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I'm glad you guys seem to like it. To answer a few questions Ashley is a boy and they are on earth guarding an Amazonian embassy. Also if anyone has ideas or suggestions on ways you'd like the story to go please let me know. Here is part 2. _________________ God. I never knew how fast or terribly an assignment could change. One little slip up and I have found my whole squad under the thumb of that asshole Ambassador. It was all Ford’s fault that the three of us are in this mess. He almost started an international shit storm too. The whole thing started like a normal event. Ambassador Pool was met at the gigantic door entrance to the Amazon embassy by my two specialists for the day for the normal coffee and cookie run. Watching them walk back was the oddest thing I’d experienced up to that point. Pool was walking while firming holding on the hand of Fields. The full grown human male looked like a preschooler holding onto the giant’s hand like that and his expression was one of absolute mortification. He looked like he wanted to die and turned his head away as soon as he saw me. Ford was in a much worse situation. He was being carried with his head buried into Pool’s shoulder and Pool’s hand firmly under his ass. He had his arms around the Ambassador’s neck holding tight to the man. “What is going on here?” I asked trying not the shout at a diplomat. “Well little Ashley I hate to say this, but one of your little boys got very out of line today. I don’t like the idea of a boy acting out and something has to be done when one does. Hopefully this little lesson can help you and little Joey as well. You can see what happens to little boys that act out. I’ll set this one down inside for you and little Joey can tell you about our instance at the cookie shop.” Pool answered. The whole statement was given in a serious tone that was unusual for the Ambassador. Once done he released Fields’ hand from his and brought Ford to his small tent. As the Ambassador walked away with him I got a look at Ford’s face over the Amazon’s shoulder. His face was covered in tear and he had snot running from his nose. He was sniffling and obviously trying to regain some composure. “Now wait just a da…” I started at him only to find myself grabbed and spun around by an erratic looking Field’s. He shook his head as if me not talking was the most vital thing in the world so I shut up and complied till the Ambassador had left Ford in his tent and returned inside. “Field you better have a damn good reason that you grabbed me or you’ll be choosing between an official reprimand or a boot to your guts.” I yelled at him. “Trust me sir you wouldn’t have liked the outcome if you had finished that sentence. Shit when crazy today. Ford really messed up.” Fields responded. “You have 5 minutes to explain.” I said. He got it all explained in 3 mins flat and then I made him tell me the whole thing again a few times. Apparently Ford really had messed up. While they 3 of them were waiting for the cookies to be bagged he went to the can in the restaurant. Ambassador Pool had grabbed the shoulder of a man coming out of the bathroom and asked him why he was always there right before they showed up and in the bathroom right before Ford entered it The man laughed, but then he bolted out the door like mad man. The Ambassador now knew something was up and grabbed Ford’s pack as soon as he came out. He tossed the contents on a table and found a small bag of cocaine and a notebook with info about the embassy. Ford tried to bolt too, but the Ambassador was ready this time and in the middle of the restaurant he relived Ford of his pants and “interrogated” him. He sat the man over his knee and spanked the devil out of his bare bottom. Fields had tried to interject, but was threatened with a spanking himself. In no time Ford was a blubbering mess and confessing everything about trading info about the embassy for a little coke left in the bathroom each day. The man that left earlier was a little from their world and part of some resistance of some kind. “Worst of all was that I got I trouble too. He made me hold his hand the whole time back and everyone in the town was laughing at us.” Fields said, now seeming to be tired out from talking. “Well thanks for explaining. You did everything right given the situation soldier. I better get on the coms and talk about this with the higher ups.” I said. “Well before we do that I have to tell you the bad part.” Fields said. “Wait… drugs and espionage isn’t the bad part?!”

Scene #3 The only thing worse than going to an office party is going to an office party at someone else’s office. That, and a few fatal diseases. That’s just medical science. I had zero desire to go to Mary’s office event – some anniversary something or other – Mary knew that, so when I told her I wasn’t feeling well and asked if I could stay home, she said yes knowing I felt just fine. Unless you count a case of the I-don’t-wannas as being sick, in which case I was on my deathbed. Or maybe that’s a little dramatic. Anyway, Mary’s response was typical. I was changing from my lazy-day-around-the-house clothes into my lazy-evening-around-the-house clothes as Mary got ready, and she stuck her head back out from the bathroom and said, “I know. Why don’t I call Sandy and see if she’ll come hang out with you. She was complaining earlier this week she didn’t have anything to do this weekend.” I don’t know what it is about watching a woman get dressed for an evening out, but I surmised I couldn’t both pretend to not feel well and get frisky with her. That was more on my mind than Sandy, but since Mary brought her up, it certainly redirected my attention. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I said, “I’ll just watch Netflix for a while and probably go to bed early.” Mary and I went to a monthly play party once upon a time, and we found Sandy. She was new to the scene at the time, but over her knee was a man a foot taller than her, twice her weight and twice her age, and she had him in tears. Not just tears – absolutely bawling, snot running down his face, begging her to stop. Naturally, she and Mary bonded while he was on display in a corner. We were shocked to learn Sandy was only 19. That was two years ago, and though Mary always, always denies it, she basically uses Sandy as a babysitter for me. Imagine a teenager who doesn’t think she needs a babysitter and a mom who doesn’t want to get into that fight, so she has an older teen “friend” come hang out while she’s gone. That’s basically the game Mary likes to play, and she told me that Sandy was officially on the list of surrogate disciplinarians for me. It’s not a long list, but the gist is if they think I’ve earned a spanking, I’d better take it or Mary will make my bottom wish it had. “Don’t be silly. She’s not a babysitter. She’s just a friend. Do you really wanna sit home alone all night?” “She’s bossy,” I whined. “Well, sometimes you need bossing around. Besides, I hate to think of you alone all evening and not feeling well. What if you need someone to take care of you?” The ear to ear grin Mary was wearing told me she knew damn well I felt fine, and now that I’d told that fib I was gonna have to live with it. Why hadn’t I just said I didn’t wanna go to her stupid office party? Even she didn’t wanna go. I pouted on the couch in my pajamas wishing Mary would stay home and keep that black dress on while I put my head under it for an hour and reminded her why I’m so much more fun than an office party. Barring that, I just wished she hadn’t called Sandy. I mean, I like her; I just like her more after she’s, well, it’s obvious where this is going, isn’t it? Anyway, Mary was closest to the door, so she answered it when the doorbell rang. “Hey,” she said, “so glad you could come over.” “Happily,” Sandy replied. “I was hoping something fun would turn up tonight.” “I gotta run, but you know the drill. We haven’t had dinner yet, and like I said on the phone, she says she’s not feeling very well.” “Aw. Poor thing,” Sandy said. They both knew I could hear them from the living room. “I’ll take good care of her.” I heard their footsteps coming down the hall. “I’m leaving, Daphne,” Mary said. “I’ll see you when I get home tonight if you’re still up.” “Have a good time,” I said. “Be safe.” “You, too.” Sandy interrupted with, “And don’t worry, Mary. The two of us have everything under control here.” Sandy winks about as subtly as an arctic icebreaker. She put her purse down and sat next to me on the sofa as the door closed behind Mary in the kitchen. “So what do you want to do tonight,” she asked me. “Order a pizza and watch a movie, if that’s alright with you,” I replied. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to that?” “Um, yeah.” “I don’t know. Maybe you should have some soup instead. Or maybe just some saltines and ginger ale.” “My stomach feels fine.” “It does? Well, still better safe than sorry. When a little girl doesn’t feel well, better to play it safe.” “I’m not a little girl! I’m almost ten years older than you!” “Don’t get upset. I’m just thinking about how to make you feel better.” She leveled her eyes with mine. “Unless you were fibbing about not feeling well so you didn’t have to go out this evening. You’re not fibbing, are you, Daphne?” If I’d been wearing a watch, I’d have checked it and registered the time from when Sandy came in to when she found a pretext to spank me at about 70 seconds. Maybe not even that; she probably figured it out one the phone with Mary. It was just after six, but I figured my best bet for my butt was to dig into the lie. “No,” I said, “In fact, I think I just wanna go to bed. I don’t need dinner tonight.” “Hmm,” Sandy said. “That’s pretty convincing. Alright. Why don’t you head up, and I’ll bring you a glass of water in a few minutes.” “Okay. Sorry to ruin your evening with, uh, me not being able to hang out.” “Oh, don’t worry about that, sweety pie.” I went up to our bedroom, and I was about half certain I had avoided trouble, but that’s the same as half uncertain. If I were more honest with myself, I’d just accept the fact that Mary and Sandy and a few other people are usually two steps ahead of me. I should’ve just put myself in the corner and bared my own bottom as soon as Mary said she was calling Sandy. I believe they call that accepting the things we cannot change. Anyway, I was in bed when Sandy came in with her purse and a glass of water. “Here you go,” she said. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “You need anything else?” “No.” “Hmmm.” “’Hmmm’ what?” “Oh, I was just thinking that there’s another girl I babysit for, and when she’s sick her mom has her wear these,” Sandy said as she took a pink pull-up from her purse. “First, you’re not my babysitter. Mary said,” I answered petulantly, “And second, I don’t need those.” “Of course you don’t! I was just musing. And I know I’m not your babysitter.” Her lips curled up to the left, following her eyes as she play-acted having an innocent thought. “But I still feel sorta responsible for you, and I think I should find out just how sick you are.” “I’m not sick. I just don’t feel well.” “Well, you could be coming down with something. So why don’t you just hop out of bed, and I’ll give you a quick once over. I am a nursing student, ya know.” Yeah, remind me how young you are. That’ll really make me feel better about this. “Fine,” I said, admitting defeat. I enjoy a game of kinky mental cat and mouse, but as the mouse, sometimes I get tired of running when I know the most likely outcome. All that work to get eaten anyway. I threw the covers back. “Whadduya wanna check?” “Your temperature.” “Okay.” “So stand up.” “Why?” “Because I can’t use the thermometer with you sitting down, silly.” Ever step on a rake and get whacked in the face? That’s what it felt like, something that stupidly obvious in retrospect. “No way!” “Yes way, little girl. Unless you want me to give Mary a bad report.” I knew what that would mean. “But …” “Nope. Just be a good girl, and it’ll be over soon.” She reached into a purse and came up with a ziploc bag whose contents I tried not to look at. “What do I do,” I said, the exasperation in my voice obvious. “Why don’t you just flip over onto your tummy for me? That’ll be more comfortable for you than bending over the bed.” I did. “Hips up,” she said as she took the waistband of my pajamas in her hands. She yanked them down to my knees when I lifted up. “You’ve done this before, right? I’m not your guinea pig,” I asked. “Of course I have.” “And you clean your toys?” “Of course. You’re sure you’re good with this?” “I’m naked, aren’t I.” I couldn’t see what she was doing. I just listened to the sound of a glove snapping. “The trick is to use plenty of lubricant, and to get make sure it gets where it needs to go.” I shuddered when her hand touched by bottom. She giggled. “See? You don’t hate this.” “Yet,” I said. “Just relax.” She narrated as she went. “I’m going to spread your bottom cheeks now.” I sighed. “And you’re going to feel some petroleum jelly on your button.” It was cold. “And then my finger inside of you. Just relax … don’t clench … there.” She slowly but firmly pressed her finger into me, and I could feel each knuckle pass my sphincter. “We want to make sure we get that everywhere the thermometer might go.” I bit my lip. “And a little further, just to be safe.” “Mmmmm,” I moaned. “What a good girl you can be when you want to.” She kept fingering me for another thirty seconds. “I’m taking my finger out now.” “Mmm.” “And now here comes the thermometer.” I felt the cold, thin glass slip gently in. “That needs to stay there for about two minutes. You comfortable?” “Yes,” I squeaked. “Good.” Her finger tips were massaging and tickling my bottom cheeks, and I couldn’t help but squirm under them. She twisted and flicked the thermometer every few seconds, or pushed it in a little further and drew it back out. “Ya know, there’s good news and bad news if you're temp is normal?” “What’s the bad news?” “I’ll have to spank you for fibbing.” “And the good news?” “I’ll get to spank you for fibbing, and we can order pizza.” She kept tickling my butt, letting her fingernails run gently down my thighs. Mary and I agreed I could get sensual with other women that she approved of, which – what a coincidence! – is a list that overlaps with my disciplinarian one, but I couldn’t cum with them, a rule they all respected. Sandy took that rule to mean she had license to make me writhe under her hands, which neither I nor Mary ever disabused her of. I think Mary actually likes to see me revved up by her, getting my body hypersensitive, because there’s nothing at all sensual about her Sandy’s hands once she’s ready to mete out discipline. “Out it comes,” she said as she withdrew the thermometer. I sighed. It was fun while it lasted. “Hmmm. Looks like some little girl is a fibber.” She put her things away and slapped my butt hard after. “Sit up.” I did, and there was no mirth in her face. Playtime was over. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You usually are, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get the spanking you deserve, does it?” I’ve always wondered what kind of household she grew up in, because even when she was 19, Sandy could lecture and scold like puritan. “No,” I said. “’No’ what?” “No, Miss.” “Am I boring you?” I guess I sounded less than rapt, maybe because I’d heard I don’t know how many variations on this lecture since I told Mary I wanted a full time domestic discipline relationship. “No, Miss,” I said in a more crisp voice. “You know better than to lie,” she told me. “Mary has taught you better than that.” “It was just a little lie.” It wasn’t even really a lie. Mary knew I didn’t mean it. “Daphne! There is no such thing as a little lie. We need to know when you’re telling the truth, and we can’t do that when you tell lies. How will we know when you’re really sick?” “I … sorry.” “We care about you, and we want to keep you healthy and safe.” “I know,” I said softly. “And Mary wanted to be with you tonight. She’s proud of you and wanted to show you off to her colleagues. Would that have been so hard for one evening when she does so much for you?” I’m pretty sure Mary didn’t care if I went or not; even she didn’t want to go. But I’m a soft touch, and Sandy has a way of eliciting guilt where there’s no reason for any. My response was to sniff. “You know you need to be punished, don’t you?” “Yes, Miss.” “And you know that punishment needs to be a spanking.” “Yes, Miss.” “Show me how you know.” Sandy positioned herself with her left leg on the bed and her right on the floor. With my pajamas still just above my knees, I got up and then laid myself across her left thigh. I took a pillow and put it under my head, knowing in a few minutes I’d be burying my face in it. “I don’t like having to spank your bottom,” Sandy lied like the world’s biggest liar, ironic under the circumstances, but she and I both love the little roleplay touches that bring us both into the right headspace. But then I wasn’t sure how much we were roleplaying or not. I had fibbed, and every time I get caught doing that, I get my butt spanked. So maybe this was reality+, or roleplay lite. Her hand brought my philosophical thoughts to an immediate end. I’ve been spanked by people much bigger than Sandy. I don’t know how she does it. She has the softest skin, but whatever is under it is like ironwood. It’s like whatever boxers do to toughen their knuckles, she does to her palm. Mary is a fast, ferocious spanker. Sandy is a steady, methodical spanker. There’s no clear line between her warm ups and the aching fire she really ignites when she gets going. I grunted and oomphed and ahhed and oofed with each spank, and each spank overlapped with the one before it as she worked her way up and down, sparing no flesh all the way down to halfway between my sit spots and knees. I passed from tears escaping shut-tight eyes to sobbing, and Sandy took that as her cue to begin to lay in her heavy spanks, now focusing on one spot for three four five spanks in a row before moving on, targeting my tender sit spots and thwacking the backs of my thighs with her fingers to make it really sting. I buried my face in my pillow but still heard her say, “And you think you’re a big girl,” as she assaulted my butt. I’d had enough. “Please! I learned my lesson! I learned my lesson!” “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Sandy replied as her hand bounced off me again and again. “But this naughty caboose of yours isn’t done yet.” “I’ll be good! Waahhh! I p-promise – ah! – I’ll be good! Ah! Waah-ahh!” Bawling. That’s the word for it. It’s like it sets a timer in Sandy’s head, because she never spanks long past bawling, not with me. I laid limp over her lap and bawled into my pillow. After so many hard swats, I didn’t even fully feel Sandy’s hand rubbing gentle circles across my butt. I color easily but don’t bruise easily. I’m sure I was close to purple in spots, but I knew when I was done crying, I’d bounce back quickly. But first I had to cry it out. I always do after a spanking like that. “Shhh. It’s all over, and it’s all forgiven,” Sandy cooed. She bent down to place a soft kiss on my hair. I’ve seen Sandy head to toe in leather lingerie laugh and push away bottoms when she was done, and I’ve seen her cry real tears when she accidentally broke skin without meaning to. With me, she’s always very gentle when she’s done. I think she likes the babysitter role. “Up we go,” she said as she helped me back to my feet. She bent down and pulled my pajamas back up for me and gave me a hug. “Why don’t you go wash your face, and I’ll order that pizza, and then we can have a nice evening together.” “Pepperoni,” I asked and sniffled again. She laughed. “Sure.” She sent me on my way with a soft swat that made me jump. After I washed my face, and cleaned the vaseline from between my cheeks, I decided to change my sob-stained top, too. When I got downstairs, she was leaning against the arm of the sofa. “C’mere,” she said. “Why,” I asked warily. “Just c’mere.” I shuffled over, each step reminding me what a good spanker she is as each step hurt. I could feel my skin growing taut as my cheeks swelled. Sandy held out her arms. “Come sit.” I dropped down to the sofa, that dull throb sending a wave of pleasure through me. I felt glowy, that wonderful whole-body sensation of peace that makes every bit of pain worth it. Endorphins are fucking awesome. “Just lie back.” Mary and I snuggle all the time, whether it’s aftercare or not. That was a first with Sandy. I laid back against her, and she stroked my hair. “Thank you,” she whispered in my ear. “My butt hurts,” I said with a giggle. “It’s reminding you good girls don’t fib.” She kissed my hair and my ear and my neck, and then crossed her arms over me. “You’re a good babysitter.” I dreaded her coming, but like always, I was glad she had. Way better evening than Netflix. “I’m not your babysitter,” she said lightheartedly. “I’m just a friend. That’s all.” We got back into that position after our pizza, and I dozed off. I woke up when Mary got home and pretended to still be asleep. “How was she,” Mary whispered. “Just like this after our little talk about fibbing.” Mary touched my hair. “Ooh. Did she cooperate?” “She always does.” “I wish you’d let me pay you for babysitting.” It dawned on me. We’d all been telling little white fibs all evening, and I was the only one who got her bare bottom spanked for it.

Chapter 16. Kate “Jordan, I want to apologize for the other day,” Angie began. “I misunderstood the relationship between the two of you, and I should have gotten consent directly from you for the way I spoke to you and treated you.” Angie meant the apology. She’d gotten carried away, and she knew better having been involved in the lifestyle for thirty years. “I accept your apology,” Jordan said in return. “Good,” I replied. “I’m sorry to both of you for not being more clear with you, Angie. I guess I should have made it clear Jordy isn’t an adult baby.” “So what can I do to help,” Angie asked. “Well,” I said, “we’re both still new to living these 24/7 lifestyles. Jordy asked to be in diapers 24/7 about a month ago, and then I said I wanted a female-led relationship. So a lot of change for both of us.” “What does that entail? The FLR part of your relationship, I mean.” “Mostly discipline. I’ve been making sure Jordy takes better care of himself, and he keeps the house clean. Any laziness, and he gets punished.” I saw Jordy blushing from the corner of my eye. He’s really got no excuse for being that cute when he’s embarrassed. “Does he need much punishment?” “Not very much. He’s fairly well behaved overall.” I paused in thought for a moment. “Though I do think he’s starting to slack off in his chores a little more.” “Hmm.” Jordy spoke up, “I am not. I clean every day.” “I know you do, sweetheart, but sometimes more thoroughly than others.” “Hmm,” Angie said again. “Anything else?” There were a few things I had let go for a while, and now that we were talking about them, I figured I might as well get it all out at once. “I’m still disappointed about Jordy’s diaper rash. It concerns me that he didn’t manage to take care of that before it got as bad as it did, and it bothers me that I told Jordy he needed to be sure he stayed healthy down there, and he obviously didn’t.” “How is his diaper rash, by the way?” “It’s, better,” Jordy said. “All healed now,” I said as though we couldn’t hear him. “His health generally is something I worry about. That’s why I put us on a diet and exercise regimen.” “And how is that going?” “Good ...” “Is there something more you want to say?” “... I ... I think he’s cheating on his diet some.” “Jordan,” Angie said, turning to him. “I’m not,” Jordan said. “R-r-really.” “Fibbing is a big deal, Jordan,” Angie warned. “B-but it’s n-n-nothing. Just a snack here and there.” “What kind of snacks?” “Sweets ...” “Anything else.” “S-s-sometimes I go out to lunch while Katie is at work.” “Jordan,” I said, upset with him. “We go shopping together and get things for your lunches every Sunday!” It’s not cheap trying to eat right, but the money wasn’t the point. “Healthy things,” Angie said knowingly. “But let’s put that aside for now.” “Hold on,” I said. “What would I find if I check your debit card receipts for the past month?” “Really,” Angie said, “This is good, but we shouldn’t get hung up on this right now.” I sat back in my chair. It was definitely a topic we’d be returning to. “I want you to give him a full workup, Angie. I’ll call and make an appointment for him.” I saw Jordy begin to roll his eyes and think better of it. I wasn’t convinced he was as healthy as he looked. The exercise was no doubt helping, but what about his bloodwork? What about the amount of junk he ate, or more specifically, the junk he ate and hid from me? “Jordan,” Angie said calmly, “tell me how you feel about all this?” “Um ...” “Just tell the truth, sweetheart,” Angie coaxed him. “Well, I’m really glad Katie is okay with me wearing full time.” “It makes you happier,” Angie asked. “Oh, he’s much happier,” I said. Angie turned her attention to me. “Thank you, Kate. I find it’s best when addressing a question directly to a boy like Jordy that he answers for himself. They don’t get to speak very much, so I like to make sure they have those special moments.” “Oh, sorry,” I said. I wonder what Jordy thought of that, mixed message that it was. “It’s okay. Jordy?” “Uh, yes,” he said, “Much happier.” “What about the rest of your new lifestyle? And no more fibbing. Just tell me what you feel.” “I ... Cleaning every day is a bit much. It’s just the two of us, and it can still take an hour or almost two.” “Mhmm.” “I mean, I don’t mind doing it some, but I am still trying to write and sell articles, and that takes a lot of time, too.” “Are you getting enough of that time?” “Most days.” “But not every day?” “No.” “How about cleaning twice a week?” “That would work.” “What else?” “I s-still feel like I hide my d-d-diapers a little.” “You do? Tell me more about that.” “I keep them in the bathroom.” “And you don’t like seeing the potty?” “N-n-n-n-no. It’s not that. I just want to keep them in my dresser like r-regular underwear.” “Kate,” Angie asked me, “how do you feel about that?” “I didn’t ask him to do that. I don’t mind if he keeps them in his dresser, but I don’t ... I guess now that you mention it, I don’t want a diaper pail in our bedroom. I don’t want it to smell like a nursery in there.” “Hmm,” Angie mused. “Would your guest bedroom be a good compromise? You could keep some in your dresser, and the rest in your guest bedroom, and Jordy can change in there, or at least keep the diaper pail in there.” “That might actually work better,” I said. “Our kitchen trash can does smell pretty ammonia-y.” “S-Sorry,” Jordy stammered. “I guess I got a little lazy taking them straight to the garage trash.” “So that’s settled,” Angie said. “What else, Jordy?” “I get tired of not getting to eat my favorite things.” “Ya know,” Angie said, “Why don’t we save that until after your check up?” “O-o-okay.” “Anything else,” Angie asked. “I g-guess I wasn’t exactly thrilled that Katie told you about us without asking me first.” “Aww, you’re safe with me, buddy, but that is something we should talk about. Kate, why did you tell me?” “Because I figured it would be less embarrassing to tell you the truth than another doctor, and if we told Jordy’s regular doctor he was incontinent, that would have just led to a much longer discussion. And I wanted to get him in right away; he looked so pathetic.” I hate seeing my guy hurt or sick. “Hehe. Yeah, he did,” Angie said. “Have you told anyone else about your relationship changes?” “We told my mom and sisters and brother-in-law Jordy is incontinent for the time being. That way we don’t have to hide it from them, one less stressor.” “Jordy, how did you feel about that,” Angie asked. “I guess I was okay with that. It makes sense; I mean, having people know, people we see all the time, just ... I guess there won’t be any surprises then.” “Mhmm,” Angie agreed, “And does anyone know you’re a disciplined hubby now?” “N-not unless Kate t-t-told someone.” “And I haven’t,” I said. “Other than you.” I’d considered, mainly because I wanted to brag to Kiley, but there was no real reason to tell anyone, and even if there was, I’d never do that without Jordan’s consent. “Are you planning on it?” “Well,” I said, “I really want to take Jordy to play parties. I’ve always wanted to. I want him to be a part of that part of my life ... and I wanna show him off.” “Aww. You’re proud of your little guy.” Jordy was blushing again, about which comment I wasn’t sure. “I am. And I like the idea of being watched. It’s a turn on.” “Watched doing w-what,” Jordan asked. “Paddling your butt,” I said. “Plus a little humiliation is a good punishment.” “It definitely is, especially for someone as shy as Jordy.” “And,” I continued, “I like the realism of it not being a secret Jordy is subject to discipline, at least in front of people in the scene.” “So,” Angie asked, “if he were naughty in front of me, for instance, you’re discipline in front of me?” “Exactly.” And now that she mentioned it, we did have a discipline issue to address. “How do you feel about that Jordan?” “I d-d-don’t want that,” Jordy stuttered. “Well, the question isn’t really whether you want that,” Angie explained. “Of course you don’t want to have you bottom spanked even if that’s exactly what you need, but the question is whether you accept your wife’s authority to punish you where and when she believes you need it.” Jordan studied his shoes, not saying anything. “I think you might find you like it,” Angie continued. “And tell me if I’m wrong, but is your pee pee excited right now? And no fibbing.” “A little,” Jordan whispered. “You are just too cute! Isn’t he,” Angie asked me. “Too cute,” I agreed. “So,” I asked, “do you accept my authority to do that?” “Y-y-yes.” “Ya know,” Angie said, “I have my sub call me ‘ma’am.’” I personally didn’t like that, not with my husband. Too formal. I’m his wife, not his domme. “I like Jordy to call me by my name.” “To each their own. Well, we’ve been talking for an hour. I bet Jordy’s diaper is wet. Jordy, are your pants wet?” “Yes.” “Good for you for knowing! I think you liked getting your diaper changed by me.” “I did,” Jordy said. “That’s something else you can do, Kate, have someone else change him if you don’t want to. Might be a little embarrassing for him, but also a treat. Jordy, how would you feel about that?” “I ... s-s-sounds f-f-fun.” “I don’t mind other people doing that,” I said. “I just don’t want to be in charge of his diapers.” “Well, how about Jordy goes and puts his diapers in the guest bedroom while you and I chat woman to woman, and I’ll go change him in a little bit.” “Good idea. Off you go, Jordy.” “And you stay there until I come get you,” Angie warned him. “One more thing,” I said. The thought just came into my mind, and I liked it and so I said it. “Do you accept my authority to have others discipline you?” Jordan froze and looked at me, then Angie. He turned back to me, and he just nodded. I sat back in my chair and pictured him over Angie’s knee and smiled. “Better do as she says then.” When he was upstairs and out of ear shot, Angie leaned over toward me and put her hand on my arm. “Congratulations! He’s just terrific for this lifestyle.” “Well,” I said, “he’s naturally submissive. It’s one of the things that attracted me to him. He’s just also painfully shy, so we never got very far with it.” “You have now. I think he’s probably much more into sexual submission than he knows.” “What makes you say that?” “Because no one agrees to be spanked by their wife, let alone strangers, if they’re not.” “He hasn’t been hard during a spanking yet.” “So maybe he doesn’t like spanking, but I think he does like humiliation. I bet he’s quite excited right now thinking about getting his pants changed.” Angie had a devilish look in her eye. “I didn’t know you were into diapers.” “I’m not into diaper per se, but I like how they make men submissive. I’ve made Benjamin wear them as punishment. Or even just making him ask permission to go potty in the bathroom.” “Mmmm. I like that idea.” “See? You like diapers more than you think.” “Maybe, but probably more for the humiliation part of it.” “You don’t want to be his mommy?” “Ha! Not really.” “Mind if I say something honest,” Angie asked. “Kinda why we wanted you to come over.” “You have a submissive boy in diapers whose bottom you spank. Maybe you don’t want to be his mommy, but you’re pulling down his diaper to spank him, you’re playing that role.” “But he’s not an adult baby or a little. He doesn’t see me that way, either.” “I want you to imagine something for me …” “Okay.” “Jordan comes inside, and his pants are wet because his diaper leaked because he waited too long to change. You’ve had this conversation before. You make him stand on the doormat and take off his pants, scold him, and then swat his wet diapered butt all the way to your guest bedroom where you take that wet diaper off and put him over your knee. He’s in tears when you think he’s finally learned his lesson, and you order him to lay on the bed. You tell him since he can’t be trusted, you’re going to diaper him until further notice, and maybe that means leaving him in a wet diaper when he wants to be changed since clearly it doesn’t bother him that much. In fact, you tell him he’s not allowed to ask for a change, and if he does he’ll be spanked on the spot.” “Mmmm.” I put that scene on a loop in my head. “How do you feel right now?” “Turned on,” I admitted. Angie sat back in her chair and smiled at me like the Cheshire Cat. “See? It’s just another way of being dominant. At some point, it’s gonna happen naturally. Plus, if he’s really not a spanko, then he’s doing something for you he doesn’t like, so changing a wet diaper every once in a while won’t kill you.” “Fair point.” I thought on that for a moment. “How do you think we’re doing otherwise?” “I think you guys are doing great. I do think you need to ease up on the demands a little bit, like him cleaning twice a week instead of every day, but at the same time, you should be more strict in return. These first few months are really important to setting the tone and boundaries of the dynamic. You should really get a handle on that now so it’s normal later.” “He really doesn’t do anything he shouldn’t.” “Make stuff up.” “Like what?” “Does he ever get in a bad mood? Use a tone of voice he shouldn’t?” “Of course.” “So adjust his attitude for him. Remind him not to take that tone with you. The more you can make him feel like a child, the more he’ll go along with your authority. And before you say it, I know neither of you is supposedly into ageplay, but you have an adult who’s subject to spanking when he misbehaves. Doesn’t get much more childish than that.” “He gets timeouts, too.” “See?” “He’s definitely earned himself a spanking today if he’s been eating junk food while I’m at work.” “That really concerns you, doesn’t it?” “I’m worried about his health. He doesn’t take especially good care of himself, and it’s not like we’re getting younger. I think freelancing has been very healthy for him, but I still want to know everything else is okay.” “I’ll check him over. Just call and make an appointment.” “Any other suggestions?” “Just one more: after he’s gotten used to being spanked and really starts to see himself as a spanked husband, sometimes when he earns one, don’t.” “Why?” “Just tell him how disappointed you are, and say things like, ‘I thought you knew better by now.’ If he really feels like you’re in charge, he’ll feel so guilty he’ll end up asking you to spank him. That’s when you’ll be done training him. And after that, just sometimes be arbitrary with it. If he doesn’t always know what will and won’t get him punished, that just keeps him off balance and feeling not in control, because you’re in control.” “Heh. I like that. I bet he’s waiting for you,” I said. “You wanna come watch? I bet I can make him turn three shades of red for you?”

Chapter 2 “Hi, Stacy.” Stacy wasn’t expecting her friend and Department of Little Services employee at her office. It wasn’t as a friend but as the latter that the sight of him made her nervous. They rarely saw each other except at mutual friends’ events, and it was through one of those friends that Ben had approached Stacy eight years ago about adopting Ella. That he was here and unannounced surely meant nothing good. “Ben! What’s going on,” she replied unsteadily. “Sorry to interrupt you at work, but I thought you’d want to know this right away and would want to hear it from me.” Not comforting words. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” “Someone in our office screwed up a records request, and Ella’s human family knows she’s here.” When she was rescued, eight Itali years and almost twelve Earth years after she went missing, Ella had made the choice not to notify her family. She had never been able to fully articulate why, even to herself. But she made peace with herself and what had happened to her, and she regarded that life as over and gone. She hoped her family had healed, and so she decided she was loathe to disrupt that healing, or even the careful image she had crafted in her own mind of her family happy again years after what she knew was the most traumatic experience they could have gone through, worse even than her death, for they had not the comfort of finality but the constant, faded but ever faint hope that one day she might reppear. Now, sixteen years later, more than two decades on Earth, all that was wiped away, and somewhere, Stacy didn’t know exactly, some father and mother were likely tied up inside with euphoria, relief, fear, and anger in an as yet intractable knot, maybe equally uncertain as to what this meant as Stacy, but likely as intent on at least seeing Ella as Stacy was on protecting Ella, even or especially if that meant keeping them away from her. What Stacy said, she said as unadorned fact from within within much conscious thought: “They can’t have her back.” “No one is talking about that yet,” Ben calmly replied, anticipating that response. “There is no ‘yet!’” She’s mine, I’m hers! Period. They can’t have her back!” “Stacy, I know this is hard, but please know this isn’t unprecedented. It’s a little more complicated because Ella is a rescue - that’s never happened before - but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” “What ...” Stacy sighed. She wasn’t sure what question to ask or whether she wanted to know the answer. Ben let the silence hang there. He wasn’t a lawyer, and his concern was not the law anyway, but for Ella’s wellbeing. “What do we do now,” Stacy asked. “Right now, I think you need to think about when to tell Ella, and how to tell her.” “Do I have to? Is there any way this could blow over without her finding out?” Stacy couldn’t game out Ella’s reaction, but she knew that Ella had never voiced any regret about her decision to remain a ghost, as it were, and she rarely made even passing reference to her home or family. Stacy knew little about them and had never had a reason to ask Ella about anything she didn’t volunteer, which was almost nothing. “I doubt it,” Ben answered. “They may or may not try to come here or contact her. There’s no legal basis for us preventing that.” “Couldn’t a judge prevent that,” Stacy asked. Her voice carried weak-willed hope, the conflicting instinct to protect Ella and yet be honest with her. “We’d need to convince the judge it was in her best interest, but that might mean Ella having to tell the judge as much.” “I thought littles couldn’t testify.” “That’s not exactly true. A judge decides whether their testimony is admissible on a case by case basis based on how regressed they are,” Ben explained. “Ella isn’t regressed at all.” “I know.” Stacy stood up from her desk and walked to the window, looking down on the street below at all the people whose lives had not changed in the past five minutes, who would go home to their families and look at them the same way they had when they’d left for work in the morning. The sun cut through a blue sky, shining as it always has on the happy, the mundane, the dramatic, the tragic, and now the foreshadowing of whatever outcome was in Stacy and Ella’s future. All Stacy knew was that it was their future together, and she was even then in process of resolving that their future would be together. “I wanna talk to a lawyer,” Stacy said at her own weak reflection in the glass. “I think that’s smart, as a precaution, and I think you should talk to a little’s psychologist. The department has one who works with rescues.” “Neal. I remember him,” Stacy said, recalling the man who had helped craft Ella’s transition to Itali eight years ago. “He retired. The new one is Kunis. Margaret Kunis. I’ll arrange a meeting for you. She can help you figure out what to tell Ella and when, and where to go from there.” “I can’t believe this is happening.” “Nothing is happening yet. All we know right now is the family knows.” “What will they do next?” “Probably contact their consulate.” “How did this even happen,” Stacy asked. “We’re looking into that.” Stacy turned and fell back into her chair. Stacy glanced at the time. “I gotta go get her soon. For PT. How do I put on a brave face?” “You’ll manage because that’s what’s best for her.” “Ya know,” Stacy said quietly, “I don’t even remember what her name used to be.”

After normal potty training age...I potty trained late so I can remember tidbits about being trained, having accidents and being trained. I remember much more vividly being a couple years older, 7, 8, 9 years old being very shy about pooping anywhere but home and, even there, being quite resistant to it. I remember completely filling my pants while playing outside, I remember squatting behind my bed, and I remember waking up wet as usual and pooping my “trainers” and plastic pants...mom has mentioned it went on until age 9, maybe 10. It all started again at about 13...hiding it of course, and has continued for many years. Do any of you have similar stories? Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

This is Volume 2 of a multi-volume story. The first volume, totalling 800 pages, can be found here and a revised, proofed version can be found on Amazon for $2.99. Thank you to all my readers, especially to those who have supported me by purchasing a copy of the first volume. Chapter 1 The three of them were sitting at the dinner table, the dishes already cleared away. “So,” Amanda said, “At the end of the summer, I’ll be moving out.” Jamie had sat glumly through the entire conversation. It wasn’t a total surprise. He’d seen the signs, like catching Amanda looking at furniture online. Her graduation was coming up in a few weeks. While it had never been discussed with Jamie, he knew at some point Amanda would be moving out. She was 24 now and couldn’t live at home forever. It was just an issue they had all put off, Jamie most of all, it seeming from his little’s perspective like everything was farther away than it really was. Becky and Amanda watched his reaction now with trepidation, which only grew when he didn’t immediately speak. Jamie listened without saying anything, and now that Amanda was done, he had nothing to say. Instead, his breathing slowly began to get heavier until it was audible, and the lump in his throat grew, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold in his emotions much longer. He propelled himself out of his chair and began to stomp toward his nursery. Amanda jumped up and got in front of him, bending down to put both her hands on his shoulders. “Hey, talk to me,” she pleaded. “Let me go!” “No, we’ll talk this over together.” “No!” Not thinking or meaning to, Jamie kicked Amanda in the shin, hard enough that she let him go, and resumed his stomp to his room, throwing “I hate you” over his shoulder as he did and slamming his door. Amanda stood there shocked, her shin throbbing and her heart aching much worse. Becky had her hand over her face and a tear in her eye; she exhaled, feeling ineffectual and wondering what she could do. Amanda’s sob brought her out of her trance, and Becky was up and had her arms around her daughter as she began to cry hard. “Baby, I’m sorry. Shhh,” Becky cooed. “He … said ...” Amanda tried to say. “I know. I know. He doesn’t mean it.” It was almost four years since Jamie had arrived, and while Jamie and Amanda had cross words before, they had almost always been the typical things bigs and littles get upset with each other over, boundaries and rules and the occasional bad mood. But even those arguments were rare, almost non-existent between the two of them. She was his favorite person, and he was hers. “I’ll go talk to him in a bit,” Becky assured her. Amanda had stopped crying but was still trying to get her breathing back under control. “C’mon,” Becky urged her. “Why don’t you go get a drink of water and wash your face.” Amanda got her drink and went upstairs, and Becky stood alone in the kitchen trying to think of how to do this better than they had planned. Amanda was his guardian, too, and Becky didn’t want that to change. She’d known it was unrealistic for Amanda to move out like any other sibling; it would hurt Amanda and Jamie too much. They’d decided to share custody, though what that meant specifically, they hadn’t yet decided. They wanted to include Jamie in those conversations, but it was clear he wasn’t ready to do that. Becky took a deep breath and walked down the hall to the nursery. She could hear muffled crying through the door. She debated knocking and decided to just go in. A bunch of Jamie’s toys were on the floor, and there was a dent in the drywall. Jamie was on his tummy, face buried in his well-worn bear, crying. He turned his head to the side with his eyes closed and said, “Get out! I don’t wanna talk to you.” “It’s me, Jamie,” Becky said gently, closing the door behind her. Jamie stood up, dropped his bear, and stumbled head down into Becky’s arms as she knelt down to catch him. His face smothered in her chest, he resumed wailing. “Shhhh,” she tried to calm him, “shhhh. There, there. You’re okay, Baby Bear.” It seemed to have no effect, but after half a minute he resumed his quiet tears and shaking sobs as she held him tight and tried to comfort him by rubbing circles on his back. She picked him up and sat down in the rocker with him. After a few more minutes, he sat up, tear streaks on his face and his nose running freely. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and sobbed again, “I don’t want her to go,” before collapsing back onto Becky’s shirtfront. “I know, Baby Bear. I know,” she cooed. Becky wanted to cry as much as he did for how hurt both her babies were. It was as draining for her as for them, and she’d been thinking about this for over a year. She finally felt him stop sobbing, and he laid limp against her. She stood up and carried him to the changing table, where with one hand she pulled a wipe from the warmer and held it to his nose. “Blow.” He did, and he did so hard she was afraid he’d hurt his ears. She dropped the wipe in the diaper pail and grabbed another to wipe off his face. “How do you feel,” she asked. “I have a headache.” “I bet you do. Wanna just go to bed?” “Yes.” “Okay.” She sat him on the edge of his crib. “I’ll be right back.” She left and came back with a cup of littles’ cold medicine, which she held to his lips and he drank. She hoped the nighttime formula would help him to sleep and make his head feel better. He sat silently while she pulled his clothes off and tossed them into his hamper. He laid himself down, and she turned to pick up his bear. She laid it beside him, checked his diaper, pulled the covers up half way, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Everything will be alright, Baby Bear, I promise,” she tried to reassure him. He wasn’t sure he believed her. “He’s asleep,” Becky said when she went upstairs and found Amanda laying on her own bed clutching a pillow. “I feel awful,” Amanda groaned. “I know. So do I.” “But you’re not the one doing this to him,” Amanda said, so angry with herself. Becky sat on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes, sighing again and shaking her head. “You’re not doing anything to him. This happens to everyone, whether it’s a little or a sibling or even a parent and child.” Becky was purposefully not telling her how hard Amanda’s moving out was for her, too; she didn’t want to pile on. “This is like when Dad left,” Amanda said. “Is it really?” “Sort of. At first.” Amanda had gone through all the normal emotions of a kid whose parents were getting divorced. Only later, when she was older, did she realize she didn’t miss him or even had ever really liked him. “Except this time I’m the asshole who’s leaving.” “Oh, Manda, stop.” It hurt her to hear her daughter being so hard on herself. “You’re just growing up is all, and you’re not even leaving. You’ll see him most days.” Amanda didn’t respond and instead choked on another sob, closing her eyes and setting a few more tears loose when she opened them. “I made him cry. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.” “Oh, baby girl,” Becky cooed as she bent at the waist to lay her head gently on Amanda’s shoulder. “He’ll forgive you. Probably by morning.” “You think so,” Amanda sniffed. “Yes. He loves you more than anything. You know that.” “How are we gonna do this, Mom? It ... it just hurts.” Amanda’s stomach was tied in a bitter knot. “I know, baby girl. I know.” Becky let a few tears of her own go. Her baby girl was moving out, and both her babies’ hearts were wounded, and Becky, too, was sad. In a few months, she’d wake up one morning, one morning when it was Amanda’s turn to have Jamie, and her home would be empty.

(SPOILER WARNING for Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire) Awakening When the dragon queen opened her eyes, she saw neither Jon Snow nor the Iron Throne nor her loyal army before her. Instead, the vivid memory of a fresh nightmare taunted her: first came the gentle touch of her lover, then the sharp pain in her heart, and finally the cold embrace of the infinite nothing. For a time, she wrestled with this impossible revelation: after all, she had given everything for the Seven Kingdoms. Two of the only three children she would ever bear had been murdered in front of her; their scales and wings, resplendent as they had always been, now fed the maggots and the crows. So, too, did the corpse of the man who had loved her the longest, Ser Jorah of House Mormont, as well as the girl who had served her from the youngest age. When she recalled Missandei's face, broken and bloody, as she lifted it from the scorched earth outside King's Landing, she recalled it with a deep melancholy. Those she had lost were gone, and those she had found... Those she had found were the very ones who plotted treason after treason after treason. Those she had found were the ones who had seen fit to throw her beneath the turning wheel of oligarchy. Tyrion Lannister, she remembered, her lips curling into a snarl. Jon Snow - or, I should I say, Aegon Targaryen, my half-blood nephew? Sansa Stark, Brandon Stark, Arya Stark, she remembered wave after wave. Traitors, all of them. So be it. I will teach them the meaning of "Fire and Blood." When at last she had sworn vengeance upon those who betrayed her, the fallen monarch realized her surroundings. Bright sconces burned ferociously against rough granite to illuminate a chamber littered from wall to wall with idols of the fire god R'hllor. Daenerys herself lay prostrate on a raised bed of black stone. She cast a furtive gaze toward her bare bosom in search of the tell-tale wound that should have ended her life. Instead, she found her porcelain skin as smooth and unblemished as the day she was born. "Your Grace," greeted a woman's voice. Daenerys jolted upright at the sudden intrusion. Her gaze flitted to the ruby-robed woman, then down at herself, then at the idols of the red god, then back at the woman. "Jon Snow killed me," she stated as if to confirm her wretched dream. "I watched through Drogon's eyes as he carried me here, and now..." She shuddered. "Now, what have you done to me?" "I have prayed over you," insisted the priestess. "That is all. The rest was done by the Lord of Light. He has plans for you yet." Dany pursed her lips. I don't know if I want to take part in his plans anymore, she wanted to say. Alas, Daenerys Targaryen couldn't be weak-willed, nor could she ruminate on tragedies past. Just so, the woman pushed a rogue lock of silver hair from in front of her face, looked the woman in the eyes, and nodded. "I imagine those plans will keep us rather busy on the road ahead. That's just as well," stated the dragon queen as she donned a defiant grin. "Shall we begin?" The First Meeting "You say this man is the key to bringing peace to the violent streets of Volantis," began the Mother of Dragons as she wrung the bathwater from her hair, "yet he promises me nothing while demanding I conform to the city's newfound traditions. This is no promising start." "Your grace," protested the red priestess as she tied the silk ribbon of Daenerys's sapphire dress behind her back, "the Crown Prince of Volantis -" "You can't be a Crown Prince if there's no crown, no king, and no throne tied to the history of your 'kingdom,'" Dany interrupted. "The Crown Prince of Volantis," continued the patient woman, "is represented quite well by his dress code. After all, who else could tame these vast lands in the vacancy left by the deaths of the triarchs?" "Be that as it may," deflected Daenerys, "I don't see why the smallclothes are so..." When she tried to find the best word to describe the silk-lined garment stuffed with a stupendous amount of some special, locally-grown cotton, she floundered. Luckily enough for the dragon queen, the priestess possessed some capacity for intuition. "The nectar of Asshai'i cactus has become a popular delicacy among the wealthy elite of the city," explained the wise woman, "but something about its juice causes abnormalities of the bladder. The effect presents itself particularly in women, hence the staggering thickness." "So the ladies of Volantis," reiterated the clever woman, "just keep eating the cactus and wetting their smallclothes?" "That is correct, Your Grace." A bemused smile crossed the face of the bereaved queen as she shifted her thighs and considered her bulging silk-and-cotton smallclothes. "Do they work?" "I'm sorry, Your Grace," apologized the red woman as she slid silver slippers onto the feet of the dragon queen. "I'm not sure what you're asking." "If I, ah, made water, so to speak, in these smallclothes..." She chewed her lip for a moment in hopes the priestess would use the power of intuition once more. When no such luck came, she forced herself to continue her shameful line of questioning. "It doesn't all just, you know, go straight through, does it?" The red woman's laugh soothed Daenerys like summer rain. "You haven't seen Volantene cotton at work, have you?" "I can't say I have." "You will," assured the priestess as she stood, took the hand of the dragon queen, and helped her to her feet. With that, the two hurried to meet the renowned Crown Prince of Volantis. Through long, winding halls and dank under-city tunnels they traveled until, after a time, they reached the base of a pyramid. There, Daenerys was led by her hand up several flights of stairs, through hidden alcoves, and around dangerous paths created to ensnare the unwelcome. When at last they arrived in the summit of the pyramid, the relatively cool air of the great open room tickled her bare skin. This tingling pleasure spread from the skin above her slippers to the center of her thigh, where the edge of her sapphire dress just barely hid the peculiar Volantene smallclothes that hugged her hips. At a glance, she found every woman present, save for a few red priestesses, dressed in similar fashion. Apart from the superb quality of the silk and the vivid depth of the dye, the garment of the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was almost disappointingly in line with those so far beneath her station. How fall I have fallen, and so quickly, she realized, to be dressing myself up to plead for aid from upstart aristocrats. I suppose, though, that I would sooner wear the bulky smallclothes of Volantis than bare my breast to all of Qarth. Of course, if the khaleesi had her way of things, she would be garbed in Dothraki leathers. Today, this was not the case. Just so, as self-styled lords and ladies competed to greet the dragon queen with the most zealous of niceties, she plodded along in all her padded glory. Then, with all the confidence of a Targaryen, she stepped up to the dais upon which sat a fair-haired man clothed in the violet velvet of royalty. Where she expected to hear Missandei's melodic voice, silence reigned. Thus, she stood still for a long moment and locked eyes with the ambitious man. A young woman, holding no more than sixteen years to her name, approached and offered the queen a drink. Graciously Daenerys accepted, but for a long moment she was left to wonder whether the girl was a servant or a slave. The difference, she told herself, would mean the difference between a declaration of friendship and a declaration of war. Fortunately enough, as the crown prince began to speak of the goings-on in Volantis, Dany came to realize the freedom and prosperity he intended to offer. If, of course, he could end the fighting and regain control of the city. "I suppose that's where you want me to come in," came the queen's response as, mere minutes after downing her delicious drink, her bladder twinged in a subtle request for release. "Who better to help me end the killings in this city," reasoned the crown prince, "than the woman who ended the killings of Meereen?" A smile crept across Dany's face as she realized how ignorant this man truly was. "I didn't just end the killings of Meereen," she corrected. "I ended Meereen along with the Triarchs of Volantis, the Great Masters of Slaver's Bay, and half the lords in Westeros. If you have the stomach for that sort of thing, then you've summoned the right woman. If not, then I suggest you send a letter to the peacemakers in King's Landing." "Fire and blood has its use as does diplomacy," the man retorted without hesitation, "but I asked you here because you are the master of both: you are living legend, prophecy fulfilled, a dream made into flesh..." As the man stood and continued to monologue at length, Daenerys felt her bladder spasm; a sudden spurt of warmth spread throughout the cotton of her smallclothes, setting her heart to racing in fear of humiliation. She opened her mouth as if to ask what was in her drink, but all at once she realized the meaning of tradition. Tssssssss, hissed the relentless flood of hot fluid as it splashed against the firmly-resistant cotton, pooling and spreading all the way from the padding just below her belly button to the seat of her swelling smallclothes. She felt her face flush crimson as she lost control, but even when the smallclothes sagged underneath the hem of her dress, revealing her sodden state to any and all present, the crown prince continued to wax poetic about the purity of her spirit, the dignity of her name, and the glory of her titles. Naturally, the sudden shift in her attire's appearance beckoned a few glances and even a stare, but all in all it seemed as normal an occurrence for the court as sneezing or coughing. When at last the bladder of Daenerys Targaryen was emptied, not a single drop of that golden river had cascaded down the length of her legs. Instead, it had been drunk thirstily by Volantene cotton, and now it rubbed against her womanhood more tenderly than ever had her life's long procession of suitors. Thus, a rare and unique passion was born in the broken heart of the dragon queen.

Hello~ So here is my next story! It's not going to be as long as Who is Mommy Violet? But, I'm very excited for it and think it's going to be pretty fun I want to thank everyone on DD who has read and enjoyed my stories as well as my Patrons (Matthew, dpballer92, Ryan A., Michael F., Mike S., Rick W., Jacob C., Adam S., Emilie) if you would like to help support me as well as be able to read the 2nd chapter of this story (as well as Patreon exclusive) check out my Patreon here: https://www.patreon.com/mamabug Also commissions are open as well!! $3 per 500 words! Message me here or at redqueen.bdsm@yahoo.com for details Thank you all once again! Here is the first chapter ❤️ Chapter One “I need to make some money!” I said as I fell onto my bed, stretching out my arms. “I’ve applied to almost every job that I could, but nothing is happening. Summer is almost here, and I wanted to save up a bunch for college, but now what am I going to do?” “Become a stripper.” I sat up from the bed and grabbed one of my pillows, tossing it at my best friend, Lucas, who was sitting on the floor, a PS4 controller in his hand. “Oof – hey now! You almost caused me to fall off the cliff!” He said as he gave me a quick glance, narrowing his brown eyes, before turning his attention back to his game. “Good!” I said as I stuck out my tongue at him. “I’m serious! You can’t understand because you can help your dad at his shop fixing cars. You make bank there!” “Not as much as you think,” he replied, “it’s grueling work. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something. College doesn’t start for a few more months.” “You’re no help,” I said with a shake of my head, sitting up from my bed and huffing. I’ve been trying for the past few months to get a job, but it seemed like everywhere I went either wanted experience or couldn’t work with my hours since I’m still in high school. “I don’t know, Kelly,” he sighed, brushing his blonde hair out of his face. “Why don’t you try babysitting or something?” I opened my mouth to say something, but then I paused. I did know a lot of families that had young children that I could probably make some decent money from. One of the girls from her class, Mary, said she made almost 1,000 the previous year from babysitting. “That’s actually a really great idea!” I said as I jumped off my bed, feeling as if I had just been refueled with energy. “Yeah…but…” Lucas said, and I shot him a dirty look. “What?” “You’re an only child, you’ve never babysat before, and you know nothing of kids! You have no experience whatsoever.” “Oh, it can’t be that hard,” I muttered under my breath before saying. “I’ll have to talk to Mary about it.” “I’m telling you, it’s not easy.” Lucas tried to say, but I ignored him. What did he know anyway? He was the baby in the family. He was just as clueless as I was. I stepped between him and his game (of course he shouted at me as I did so) and left my bedroom, closing the door behind me. Lucas and I hung out with each other all the time, so it wasn’t unusual for him to be in there without me. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, how hard can it be to watch a baby?” I said as I took a deep breath and head down the stairs and into the kitchen. My mom is standing by the stove, cooking. I watched her for a few minutes; my mom had long, honey-colored hair and bright blue eyes. I’ve been told that I looked exactly like my mom at her age. “Hmm smells delicious!” I said as I walked over to her, looking over her shoulder as she put some vegetables into a stew. “Thanks! Is Lucas staying for dinner?” “Probably, he’s still in my room,” I told her. “He’s such a nice boy,” my mom started, and I rolled my eyes, knowing what she was about to say, “I don’t know why you don’t date him.” “Ma! He’s been my best friend since we were little. He’s like my brother!” I told her. “That’s gross.” I felt like we couldn’t go a week without my mother or father mentioning the two of us should hook up. Lucas always played it off and said I wasn’t his type, but just the thought gave me chills. I never looked at him that way. He was a sweet guy, but he was also a pain in the ass at the same time. “Aw well,” my mother sighs wiping her hands on her apron before walking over to the fridge, “anyway…any luck finding a job?” “No,” I said stumped, leaning back as I grabbed a piece of carrot and tossed it in my mouth, “but I thought maybe I should do some babysitting gigs? At least until I can find a place that will hire me.” “Babysitting?” My mother asked as she stopped what she as doing and turned around. “Sweetie, that isn’t an easy thing to do. You’ve never been around kids by yourself either…” “You sound like Lucas!” I snapped at her but instantly regretted it. “I wasn’t trying…” My mother started to say, and I took a deep breath. “Sorry, I don’t think…never mind.” I said as I waved my arms and left the kitchen, not wanting to talk about it anymore. I walked back upstairs and to the bathroom, looking myself over in the mirror. How hard could be babysitting? You take care of little kids, change them, feed them, and play with them. I knew that babies cried a lot, but how hard was it to comfort them? I sighed as she ran the water in the sink and splashed my face. “I’ll just have to ask Mary about it tomorrow,” I mumbled to myself as I opened the door to my bedroom. “Dinner is about ready,” I told Lucas, who was still playing his video game. “Yeah, I’m about to finish this level, and I’ll save it.” “Hurry up, loser,” I said as I stuck my tongue out, leaving the room and closing the door as I headed back down the stairs. The following day I met up with Mary at our favorite café. We used to head there after school all the time; we sat outside, drinking our coffee and eating sandwiches and chips. “Babysitting?” Mary asked with a tilt of her head, a strand of her dark hair falling into her face. “It was awful! Did I make good money? I suppose. But it was difficult to work. I thought I knew what I was doing since I have a younger brother…., but watching two or three kids at a time is a pain.” “Is it really that hard?” I asked, feeling my heart sink a bit as I took a bite of my chicken sandwich. I closed my eyes as I chewed; they always had the best food. “Don’t get me wrong,” Mary said holding her hands up, “It’s not that it was impossible and there was plenty of tender moments, but I’m not sure I could go back to it…honestly, Kelly, I think it would be better if you come up with another idea.” I sighed, can’t believe I heard what she said. “Not you too. Everyone thinks I can’ do it, which is driving me crazy.” Mary laughed. “You’ve always been someone to have her mindset on something and don’t let it go. I’m sure no one is saying you can’t do it – but you have no practice!” “Practice!” I said. “That is what I need! Maybe I just need a little practice, and I’ll be able to prove I can do it!” “There you go!” Mary said as she raised her coffee cup like glass, and I raised mine as well. “Good luck! You’re going to need it!” “Thanks,” I said as I stuck out my tongue to her and the both of us laughed. I was glad that Mary and I were such good friends, her Lucas and I used to hang out all the time. I wonder if once summer was over, and college started if that would all change. “Hey, Mrs. Miller! Could you bring Sophie over here today? I wanted to start practicing.....oh really? Well…maybe another day…bye” I hung up the phone and crossed another name off my list. I called three other families that I knew and either they were too busy or a bit hesitant about letting her watch their kid, saying they could be a handful and they weren’t sure if she was up to the task. “Any luck yet?” Lucas asked as the two of them were hanging out at my place, watching TV in the living room as I paced back and forth. “No! How am I going to get any practice, if no one gives me a chance?” I sighed as I plopped down on the couch, feeling like giving up. “You know how in some high schools they give you those dolls to take home that is supposed to simulate real babies?” “Yeah?” I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrow. “What about it?” “Maybe you can practice on a doll or something.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t know…they don’t do anything…and not sure where I can get my hands on one of them.” I replied as I sunk lower. Lucas gave me a look before turning back to the TV, obviously running out of any suggestions for me. I stared at him for a bit. He was on to something. I needed someone to practice on. I couldn’t practice on a real baby, or a fake doll, but what was the next step… Perhaps… “I GOT IT!” I yelled as I shot up from the couch. “Whoa!” Lucas jerked. “What the hell…” I leaned forward, batting my eyes and in the sweetest voice I could muster said, “Lucas…I have a big favor to ask of you.” “W-what?” Lucas asked, giving me a strange-looking, tilting his head slightly. “Maybe I could perhaps,” I said, giving him a wide grin, “practice on you?”

Alex struggled helplessly in his binds. Stuck in a diaper and dress, gagged with an oversized pacifier, and with a bright red ribbon wrapped around, he could do nothing but wait. He supposed that was what he was a Christmas present for someone. The only question was for whom. It was a question that had haunted him since the day he arrived at the training institute. Like everyone, he knew there was someone paying for him. Like most, he had no idea who they were, when he’d see them, or what they intended to use him for. There were several reasons someone could end up in the institute. A scant few were volunteers- people choosing the submissive lifestyle, often for a kink, or out sheer laziness, giving up freedom to be guaranteed food and shelter rather then work their entire lives and risk homelessness. This, in Alex’s opinion, was a poor trade and a worse excuse for a career. Others seemed to think they eventually be guaranteed a place their anyway, and so volunteered. The advantage there was that they could at least pick the manner of their submissiveness, and have some control over who their eventual master was. Had Alex known that would be necessary for him, he’d have taken that route. He shifted uncomfortably in his binds, his arms getting stiff, and his diaper beginning to chaff his spanked bottom. He definitely would have. Alex, for himself, was one of the many who had been chosen against their will. Some of them had obvious reasons for going. They had committed clear crimes, were put on trial, and plea-bargained out of jail or were sentenced directly. They stood out at first in the first days at the institute. Trying to look tough, with tattoos on their arms and glares on their faces, until they realized this just made them all the more ridiculous. Alex was in a final category- those who had no idea at all why he was brought. He had simply went to bed one night after drinking at a bar, blacked out, and woken up already locked and dressed in the institute, with his form of submissiveness and master chosen for him. Many had similar stories, or were dragged from public places kicking and screaming, or got into cabs that went in completely the wrong directions… There was a long list. They were usually given a explanation. Vague allegations of minor crimes, poor behavior, a likeliness of future crimes or failures, internet search histories, having failed some kind of government test- there were plenty. Alex had a mix of these, with the same accusations of brattiness and immaturity that most who ended up in diapers got. They may be true, he knew, but he tended to believe the rumor that the institute simply needed to sell certain number of submissive to operate and did what was necessary to keep going. The government turned a blind eye and the public kept silent less they be chosen- they were fulfilling a needed service, anyway. For Alex, it was hard to argue. They seemed to know everything about him, and his trove of 'secret' stories about similar kinks was brought up time and time again as a reason. Whether they knew about them when they grabbed him or coincidently found out after searching was beyond him. Alex moaned inwardly thinking of it. The struggled slightly, hearing the tissue paper and his diaper rustle, then stopped. He glanced at the paddle beside him. Tauntingly cute looking, but sharp and painful, he had been given a taste of it earlier and threatened with more if he woke anyone up. He was a Christmas present, and just like any other gift supposedly from Santa Clause, he would not be seen until morning. Waking them up would spoil the surprise, and he had been trained to obey. That training itself had been a nightmare. When he first woke up that day long ago, he had no idea what was happening. He had woken up slowly at first, feeling a slight headach, then bolted up when he noticed he was in a strange room surrounded by bars. “No” he had thought, “it can’t be…” IN reality it was obvious- he had long known about the training program, and that the diapered subs were one of options, but like most, he had never thought it would happen to him. When it did, he did everything in his power to deny it to himself. He had quickly glanced down at himself to see he was dressed in bright pink footed pyjamas and a bulky object he later realized was a diaper. He tried to scream out, only to find his mouth full of something he later realized was a pacifier. He tried to remove it, only to find his hands were wrapped in thick, fingerless mittens, leaving them useless. He looked around himself, and confirmed his suspicions. The bars he had once thought were for a cage were in fact part of a crib, and the room was a giant nursery, decorated cutely, with a changing table, high chair, and toys all clearly intended for him. A pit had begun to form in his stomach. A woman, not much older then Alex, came in beaming. He still remembered the first words she said. “Hello, how’s my little baby doing?” She spoke in a sweet, familiar voice, as if he truly was a baby girl and there was nothing strange at all with him being there. The rest of the day had followed suit. He was offered no explanation and given no chance to ask for one. He was carted helplessly from humiliation to humiliation, unable to get out of the arms, baby harnesses and strollers that held him, and unable to speak with the pacifier in his mouth, only leaving it for feedings. That day he wasn’t even treated as a sub, but simply as a baby. Spankings or other punishments weren’t necessary yet- he was too restrained and bewildered to fight, he was simply there to learn his place. He was fed, talked to in baby gibberish or simply ignored, and changed. THAT was a memory that had stuck with him, not because of the teasing or punishment, but because of the lack there of. “Do you smell something?” one has said calmly. “I think the baby has a stinky butt” the other replied with no sign of surprise. “Check him?” Alex was bent over, his onesie undone. “Yep,” then, in the high pitched joking voice used for infants, “has the baby made a stinky? Does she need to get her butt changed? YES SHE HAS! YES SHE DOES!” The lack of mocking and teasing had made it seem all the worse, as if it was something natural that should be expected. The truth was, as he would learn, it soon would be. As Alex was lain on the floor in a main hallway and changed as the pair in front of him talked on as if nothing was wrong, he had even begun to wonder if he really was a baby, and the last few decades of his life were some bizarre dream. It seemed a better option then being a submissive. The real training had started the next day.

Something Familiar By Sophie *Author's Note: This is a short two-part story about something I think most of us go through. It's written so that you can insert yourself as the main character, so please give that a try. That Friday, I had therapy. I had struggled for three months to tell Anna the truth. My lips moved to form the word. My tongue would lightly touch the roof of my mouth, just behind my teeth, ready and waiting. And then my vocal chords would freeze up. Air would pass my lips, but there wouldn’t be any sound. I’d quietly mouth two syllables, and if Anna could read my lips maybe she’d know what I’d been trying to say. I left her office that afternoon with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Why did I even go to therapy? The one thing I wanted to talk about, I couldn’t. And everything else was just tedious. School. College. Stressful, but whatever. How else was I going to make something of myself? Work. A coffee shop off campus. It wasn’t the glamorous TV sitcom life I’d hoped for, but it paid the bills. Friends. Arlo, Millie, and I played board games on the weekends. Trish liked to take me out drinking Friday nights. Dakota kissed me last month. Maybe that was something? But what was the point of dating someone if I couldn’t tell them? We would be doomed from the start, just like my weekly appointments with Anna. I sat alone in my car in Anna’s parking lot for ten minutes, with my forehead against the steering wheel. Once I started the engine, a new week began. Another seven days until I saw Anna again, and another seven days before anything could change. I just wanted to tell someone… With the turn of the key, the engine kicked into gear. * * * * * I checked the thermostat when I walked into the apartment. Sixty-eight degrees. October was on my heels and I’d have to start using the heat sooner or later. But not tonight. Tonight I had two thick comforters and a bright-eyed plan. My apartment wasn’t much bigger than a studio, off campus in a less-than-stellar neighborhood that I could afford on barista wages. But there was a silver lining: I lived alone. That meant more to me than any size or any neighborhood. I drew my blinds and turned on the floor lamp in the corner. The room shined with an early evening glow. The sofa looked more comfortable and the television more inviting. My laptop sat on the coffee table, eager to be opened. But first things first, I reminded myself. Whoever built my apartment hadn’t done a very good job. The shelf in my closet was way too high. That’s why I kept my diapers there. I reached up on my tippy toes and tugged one down with tips of my fingers, like a kid at a cookie jar. The colorful square of plastic fell into my arms and the excitement was conductive on my skin. It washed through me, filling me up. Until a sobering though drained it out. Only seven left. I sulked and sat on the edge of my bed with the diaper in my hands. The plastic backing crinkled when I touched it, ever so slightly. A sound I knew intimately, a sound no one else would understand. I ran my fingers over the prints of cute colorful animals and the tiny blue stars. The stars disappear when wet, I reminded myself. I was filled up with renewed emotion. How infantile. How childish. But of course I was a big kid! I would never do something like that! But those thoughts were just pandering to some stubborn inner child. Deep down, I knew those stars would disappear before I took this diaper off. Maybe it would be an accident. Not a real accident of course, because that stuff only happened in stories. But I could pretend. Or maybe I'd let it happen. I would be busy watching TV. A show I really liked. I didn’t want to miss any of it. And I was already in a diaper, so… My thoughts swam with warm ideas. Then, one idea ice cold. Why did I want to piss myself, anyway? It was disgusting. I shook my head. Not right now. I put the diaper down on the bed and went back to the closet for some baby powder. On the right, the hangers were donned with cute childish outfits. Onesies. Footed pajamas. Even a romper, with overall straps and everything. In a chest of drawers tucked into the corner, I had pacifiers and plastic panties and frilly socks. And of course, they were all in my size. An adult. Adult. The word stung. I took a breath and moved past it. My fingers leafed through the outfits like pages in a book. A simple blue onesie with one designs or anything. Nah. An over the top girly onesie with pink and frills. How embarrassing! Footed pajamas with a yellow ducks all over it. But I wanted to cover myself up with blankets. Then the final onesie - the usual snap crotch design with pumpkins all over. Well, it was almost October. I looked down at my bed with my arms crossed. A diaper. A onesie. Baby powder. And a blue pacifier, with an appropriately sized nipple. Blue didn’t fit the theme. But it was my favorite one, so it was fine. I nodded my head to cement the rationalization. It’s amazing how much power physical actions can have on thoughts. Unfolding the diaper was akin to religious experience. The way the plastic crinkled. The way the wings opened up. The feel of the soft padding inside. The first time I stretched the elastic along the waistband. Knowing, no matter how I try to fold it again, it would never go back the way it was. It had been permanently altered. I had no choice but to put it on. The sensation of padding under my bottom. The sudden fear of doing it wrong. Of wasting something so expensive. Something I bought just to pee in and throw away. A waste of money. But these ones had refasten able tabs. I couldn’t mess it up. And I didn’t. The diaper hugged me around the hips, like someone pulling me close in the middle of the night. It was so thick I couldn’t touch my knees together. The room smelled like baby powder and Heaven. I closed my eyes and smiled. Wasn’t this worth three dollars? The onesie stretched to perfection, though the snaps were hard to do up on my own. If only someone else would do them for me. But no one would… That’s not true. A lot of people online have caregivers. But not me. I shook my head. Not right now. While I was changing into my baby clothes, the sofa waited for me. I plopped down on the soft cushions and pulled my blanket up to my neck. I reached for my laptop, but stopped short. No… TV first. I turned on the television and put the pacifier in my mouth. I was never very good at using pacifiers. Weren’t they bad for your teeth? Or was that just in children? I could never look up quality scientific information on “adult pacifier use”. Some of my friends online used them all the time - they could suck on them while they were asleep and would never spit them out! I chewed on mine instead. That’s because they are better Littles than me. I tried to suck on the pacifier, but it felt unnatural. Like I was trying too hard. I shouldn’t have to try. I sunk into the sofa with a pout. They weren’t better, right? We were just different… * * * * * I only liked baby bottles for the aesthetic. Honestly, they were a pain to drink from. I tried cutting a bigger hole in the nipple, but I would go through the bottle so quickly it wasn’t worth the trouble. But damn, they were cute… I put the bottle on the coffee table, empty but for the few drops of apple juice that stuck to the insides. Note to self: invest in a sippy cup, perhaps. But the bottle had done the trick. My thoughts were filled with a warm, dull fog. Everything was slower. Everything was safe. I curled up in my blanket and watched the television with a dumb smile, seeing colors and hearing sounds in a whole new way. A better way. Why couldn’t things always look like this? Why couldn’t things always sound like this? Why couldn’t things always feel like this? I reached for my laptop and pulled up my favorite page. A story forum. Diapers. Regression. Baby stuff. Littles. Alternate worlds, where it wasn’t so impossible. Where it might even be normal. Gosh, the thought… A new story? Little Locked All Lana was good for was making coffee. Honestly, what’s the point of having a younger sister anyway? I was only 26 and I’d already bought my own house. I had a pre-law job. I had thousands in my savings account. I had a fiancé. And my 22 year old sister lived in my spare bedroom and worked at the Wendy’s on Maple. But she really did make amazing coffee, every morning for over a year. But Lana’s intentions weren’t pure. The coffee had begun changing Marjorie’s body chemistry, preparing her for an experimental product. The Little Lock: a bracelet that could manipulate the age of the wearer. As long as Lana had that remote, Marjorie was hers to control. Hers to regress. Halfway through Chapter 2, I was warm with empathy. Marjorie was three years old and so was I. Wetting myself used to be so difficult. I struggled against the potty training that had been ingrained in every day of my life. But now, after a few years of practice, it was easier. I held the blanket tight over my lap and turned up the volume on the TV. I didn’t like to hear it or smell it. I just liked to feel it. Warm. That’s always the first feeling. Then relief, if I really had to go. The heat poured over my genitals, between my legs, and against the crest of my ass as the diaper struggled to soak up all the wetness. As long as I didn’t think about the specifics, it felt really nice. Wetting my diaper. Each word had power. Wetting. Not peeing or pissing or “going”. Wetting, like ‘the bed’, like ‘my pants’, like a childish moniker of the act. Like what I was doing couldn’t be helped. My. Not the. Not someone else’s. It belonged to me. It was purposefully and indisputably for me. Diaper. A word so innocuous and everyday that anyone could say it. Something that made me blush every time. Something I couldn’t utter in the presence of others, in case the word was somehow tied back to me. I let out a quiet sigh and fell back into the sofa, wet and warm and happy. No more stars, I thought with a smile. My fingers reached between my legs. A dry diaper and a wet diaper were nothing like one another. They might as well be two different things. Dry diapers were soft, comfortable, and safe, like pulling a pillow between your legs as you’re drifting off to sleep. But wet diapers were a constant, shameful, squishing reminder, like a sore bottom in the aftermath of a spanking. I pushed against the plastic and the soaked padding held my handprint. I pushed harder, until I could feel the pressure on my skin, until arousal welled up in my stomach. I moved my fingers to encourage that feeling, until I was quietly breathing through my mouth. Poor baby, I said to myself in someone else’s voice. Maybe a caregiver. A vindictive babysitter. A bratty best friend. I pushed my knees together to fight off my hand, but I was persistent. The voice went on. I thought you were a grown up. The diaper was just a precaution. And now look at you… tsk tsk. I thought you were sexy, you know. I thought we could be together. You know, as adults. But you proved me wrong. I whimpered softly in protest. But my hand pushed firmly against the sodden diaper. It constantly reminded me of the state I was in. That I had no say anymore. I was just a little baby… That’s okay, the voice went on. I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you safe and warm in your diapers. All the time. From now on, you’ll be my little baby. Shhh… let go. Give up your adulthood. The voice whispered in my ear. Prove to me how much you really love this life… prove you really love your diapers. And I did. My toes curled and my body tensed. I shivered and ached. Then, all at once, the tension left me. I filled the diaper in a whole new way, and with it I left my adulthood behind. I was nothing more than a baby in that moment, eager for the life the voice had laid out for me. But when I opened my eyes, there was no one there. I was alone in my apartment, wearing a piss and cum soaked diaper. The waves of orgasm started to pass. I could barely move… I looked up at the ceiling with regret. With disgust. With shame. Not in a good way, not like the narrative I had built for myself. Why did I want to piss myself anyway? Why did I rub myself off through a diaper? I shook my head. Not right now. Yes right now. I tried to shake the thought, but it had built an immunity. It took advantage of my weakened state. Why did I like this stuff, anyway? Why couldn’t I be normal? Had I even tried? Of course I had. I could have tried harder. I could have thrown all this stuff out. I could move on. People try that all the time. It never works. Then I’m a slave to this? Pissing myself and cumming in diapers and dressing like an overgrown baby? Wasting my money on this disgusting hobby? Am I really that pathetic? If I were normal, if I could make it all go away, I would be easier to love. I’d find someone. They wouldn’t snap the crotch on my onesie, but they would hold me at night. They wouldn’t rub my wet diapers, but they’d lavish me in affection. They could be better than this. I could be better than this… My legs wobbled when I stood up. I stripped myself of the onesie and balled up the wet diaper. I packed all my diapers and onesies and pacifiers and footed pajamas into trash bags. Then, when I was sure the neighborhood had gone to sleep, I threw them into the dumpster outside my apartment. My closet was clean, but my heart had never felt so cluttered. [To be continued.]

As promised! Here is chapter 2. I had originally not planned to do much more than a short story so as to set up Norrisview as a setting while I waited for a longform kind of idea to come to me, but Mommy has insisted I keep going, and I always aim to please. I hope things aren't too rough. I'm kinda slowly expanding the setting a bit as I write, and I hope it isn't too dull. Please let me know what you think! I hope folks enjoy it. Chapter 2: Maggie and Marie both sat in the cafeteria, and Maggie took the time to admire everything around her. It reminded her more of her college campus dining hall than some bleak high-school eating area. The tables were neat with gingham tablecloths adorning each one, and the chairs were comfortable. All sorts of different stations littered the cafeteria and behind each one was a different assortment of food, all of which looked appetizing. For her part, Maggie had gone with a fresh chicken and goat cheese salad, while Marie hungrily bit into some an impressively sized burger with few fixings or condiments. Marie had commented that she always enjoyed the purity of her food, and never liked to overly mask things with unnecessary additions. Maggie looked around the hall and saw other nannies who gleefully waved to her or smiled. Everyone seemed so excited to have another new nanny on the team, and Maggie felt proud to be a part of the team, despite the weirdness she had seen and what she now knew would be expected of her. Her cheeks still flushed imagining Becki stuck in her nursery, enduring the relentless pounding of the dildo over and over again. She licked her lips a bit in anticipation of returning to see it again when she noticed Marie was looking at her and smiling. “It’s fun, right?” Marie asked, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “Once you get past the weirdness of it and just...accept it, it’s a total rush, isn’t it?” Maggie grinned despite herself. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Felt like a drug or something was lighting me on fire in the inside. Thought I’d fall over cause my knees were shaking so much,” she said with a bashful laugh. “And that’s why you’ll do well here. Not everyone selected can be a Norrisview Nanny. Applicants need that...special something that people like you and me have, Maggie. I could tell immediately when you started asking questions instead of just freaking out that you were gonna do great,” she said proudly. Maggie felt her cheeks flush slightly with pride at Marie’s words. She still was not sure if she would make as effective a nanny as someone like Marie, but she was eager to learn and get herself ready for her own charge one day. The rest of the meal was mostly spent on idle smalltalk, Maggie learned a bit more about Marie and how she ended up here. Apparently, she had started off initially as a dominatrix at some seedy club on East Turner Street to help pay for college. She became ludicrously knowledgeable in the arts of bondage, domination, and other forms of play, but she had always felt disappointed when the game ended, and had wished for something more permanent...more real. Her opportunity came knocking when the madam of the Club passed her along to the officials at Norrisview to be scouted, and she had been one of their most successful nannies ever since. Maggie could not keep herself from barraging Marie with constant questions of her start at Norrisview, and general ideas and tips for nannies to learn. She wanted to absorb everything that she could, and she found herself more and more hungry for the knowledge needed to become an expert in sissycare. “Oh! Do we have some time before checking back on Becki?” Maggie asked suddenly. Marie looked at her in surprise. “Um...well it’s been over an hour, but I imagine Becki is having lots of fun right now, so we could take a bit longer. Why?” With Marie’s help, Maggie found the nursery where her friend Abigail was working. She straightened her uniform and gently opened the door hoping to surprise her friend. Inside, she found a similarly designed nursery to Becki’s own. She imagined that most of them likely did not vary much in the overall look. What surprised her, however, was the addition of an extra crib. She soon understood why when she saw that there were two sissies currently sitting on the floor together. Both of them were dressed identically in short, poofy yellow dresses adorned with pale-blue lace on the short sleeves, a large pale-blue ribbon tied around their slim waists, and blue bows atop their long, curly blonde hair. The two were practically twins, and Maggie felt herself blush when she saw the two eagerly wrapped in each other’s arms and kissing passionately. Her friend Abigail was standing over the two, arms crossed and nodding her head. “More tongue, girls. This isn’t some kind of awkward first date kind of kiss. Get into it!” she barked in an authoritarian voice. The red-faced sissies jumped and re-doubled their efforts as the passion of their kiss took away Maggie’s breath just seeing it. “Not like you’d know much about kissing past the first date, right Abby?” Maggie asked suddenly. Abigail looked up and gasped, her face beaming into a wide, white smile as she ran across the room and threw her arms around Maggie. “Oh my god! You actually applied! You’re actually here!” she squealed as the two sissies stopped their make-out session to look at the two nannies in confusion. Maggie smiled as she hugged her best friend. “Yup! You could have warned me a bit better about all this, you know,” she said, playfully smacking Abigail’s arm. “Well then you might not have come. I knew you’d be perfect here! You look amazing in the uniform by the way!” she said with a playful grin. “Yeah, but I’m not too big on the pink. Rather have blue like you and Marie,” Maggie replied. “Give it time. You’ll earn the blue in no time! Oh my gosh. I’m so excited to get to work with you here, Mags,” she said again. “Likewise,” Maggie said happily.” So what’s the deal. Why do you get two sissies and everyone else gets one?” “Oh the twins?” Abigail asked plainly. “They both belong to the same client. She decided she wanted twins so lil Krissy and Missy here are trained and do everything together. And I do mean everything...” Abigail said with a wink that made the two adorable creatures look away in shame. Maggie nodded, grinning at the two playfully. “They must be lucky to go without their pacifiers for so long,” she said. Abigail giggled as she stepped forward to admire the two once more. “Oh yes. These two probably get more pacifier-free time than any other sissy in the facility. I’ve always wondered if they’re jealous, but I imagine most wouldn’t enjoy the alternatives that Krissy and Missy often find in their mouths on a pretty regular basis. You know….like each other’s tongues” she said, shooting a fierce stare at the two sissies who both gasped and threw themselves back into their make-out session with gusto. “Krissy. Hands on Missy’s butt. Squeeze her padding, I want to hear her moan,” Abigail said as she circled the two, admiring their performance and offering helpful pointers and hints to further increase the pleasure of their unwitting partner. Soon the two were kissing passionately, heavy petting, groping, and everything else under the sun. “What a couple of lovebirds,” Maggie said with a soft laugh. “Oh you’ve seen nothing yet. The two are due for their milking later. You should come by and help me with it if you want. It’s tough to milk two sissies at once, even if they’re the ones doing most of the work,” Abigail said with a chuckle that made the sissies shiver. “Ohh yes please! I would absolutely love to. I’m trying to get as much on the job training as I possibly can. So if you need help then I’m your gal,” Maggie said excitedly. “For now though. I gotta get back to Marie and help her with Becki. I just couldn’t not come bug you a bit,” “Well come bug me more! We should to the bar tonight to celebrate!” Abigail said as she and Maggie hugged tightly and said their temporary goodbyes. It did not take her too long to make it back to Becki’s nursery and enter to find the poor sissy still strapped to the table, accepting the dildo inch for inch into her tight butt. Maggie was surprised to find that Marie was not yet here, and for now it was just her and Becki in the nursery together. Maggie stood by the door for some time, waiting patiently for Marie as she listened to Becki’s desperate moans and groans. It almost seemed like the dildo was going faster than she remembered, but she did not pay it much thought. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed Becki’s released member constantly dripping into the bowl that Marie had left underneath her atop the padding to protect the carpet. The bowl was surprisingly full, and Maggie wondered just how much semen the poor sissy is expected to produce during her milking. “Does that feel good, Becki? It sounds like it does. You keep making those cute noises,” she heard herself say as she walked over to the restrained sissy. “Mmmrrrpphhh….” Becki replied, jerking a bit as she spurted once more into the waiting bowl. “You’ve been here some time. Gotten use to how things operate...I bet it’s not so bad now, huh?” she asked, tracing a finger gently down Becki’s hairless thigh and making the sissy wriggle in response. “Think about it...no responsibilities...no worries...you just have to be adorable and obedient. You get to enjoy regular treats like this. You must feel so lucky to be here,” “MMM!” Becki retorted. Maggie giggled and continued to gently and slowly trace her fingers against Becki’s bare thighs. It was hypnotic, teasing this adorable creature. More than anything now she wanted a charge of her own. Someone to look after, to train, and to own. She licked her lips and allowed her hand to drift towards Becki’s exposed penis, letting her finger gently trace down along the underside. Becki jerked and gasped into her gag, pulling at her restraints, but Maggie never relented. She never went quickly or changed the pressure. Just very soft, gentle caresses along the length of her sissy member as the milking tool worked her from behind. She breathed heavily. Her face flushed with excitement as she saw the sissy jerk repeatedly and drip more and more into the waiting bowl. “Don’t tease the poor thing, too much now, Maggie” Marie said suddenly, causing Maggie to whirl around in surprise. “Becki has to be extra good to deserve that kind of attention. Don’t spoil her now,” Maggie felt slightly ashamed at being caught, but she was not sure why. The sissies lives seemed based now very heavily on degradation and sexual teasing. So why did she feel like she had messed up? She merely nodded her head as Marie stepped forward to turn off the dildo-machine. “Understand, Marie. Sorry,” “Nothing to be sorry bout, silly! I appreciate the initiative. I think you had the right idea too with the caressing instead of the stroking to try and extend the duration. But for stuff like that, I save them for rewards. Keep the desperation, for sure, even when rewarding, but Becki here hasn’t earned a personal touch today,” Marie said cheerfully as she slowly and carefully removed the dildo from Becki’s bottom. “So do you need me to put away the machine or clean up at all?” Maggie asked, eager to get back on the right track. “Oh I’ll put away the milking machine. Could you throw away the floor pad and collect the bowl for me, please?” Marie said as she pulled Becki’s diapers back into place and gave her several reassuring pats. “Oh sure. Do I just dump the contents in the sink or something?” Maggie asked as she grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the changing table. “Oh no, no. There are some bottles in the fridge. Grab one of the blue ones that isn’t full and use the rest of that bowl to fill it up,” Marie said as she pushed the machine back into the closet. Maggie blinked but went to the nearby fridge and opened it up. She saw the normal bottles, dozens of them, in the fridge that contained Becki’s formula. On the bottom shelf, however, she found several blue-tinged bottles that contained an equally milky substance. She looked at Marie in surprise and confusion. “Nothing goes to waste here if we can help it. Those are useful to have on hand in case Becki decides she wants to be naughty, and I’m not feeling up to administering a spanking at the moment,” Marie said slyly. Maggie laughed to herself and poured the contents of the bowl into a half-full blue bottle, filling it nearly the brim before affixing the teat back into place and closing the fridge. Everything here was so thought out and diabolical. The excited butterflies in her stomach threatened to lift her off the ground at the rate they were going now. “So what’s next? She’s been fed, changed, and now milked. What else needs be done?” Maggie asked, returning to the center of the nursery with Marie. “Becki has class with the other sissies later today. So we’ll need to get her dressed in something pretty. For now we can probably just plop her into her playpen and let her enjoy some free time while we decide on an outfit,” Marie said as she unbuckled Becki finally from the changing table and stood her up. Maggie nodded and together with Marie the two lead the waddling sissy over into a large, adult sized playpen and helped her climb inside. Maggie could not resist squeezing Becki’s padded rear as she worked her way into the pen and sat down amongst her dolls and toys. Becki, for her part, merely sighed and grabbed some nearby blocks and began to spell out different words with the limited combination of letters she had access to. “It varies on what amenities and pleasures that their new owners will allow them once they are in their new homes. Some might allow television, others might not. So playpen time is important for sissies to learn new ways to keep themselves entertained in their new lives. Becki actually loves her dolls, but she’s playing coy right now cause you’re here,” Marie said with a laugh as Becki blushed and continued to absentmindedly fool around with the blocks. “Would it be alright...if I chose her outfit for today,” Maggie asked once she was done admiring Becki’s playtime. “Oh sure! The closet is right over there. You can pick out whatever you like for the day,” Marie said as she stood over the playpen and lovingly laced her fingers gently through Becki’s golden locks. “So many of the owners like their sissies blonde. I almost get bored of it. It’s cute...sure. It’s classic in a stereotypical kind of way. But I wouldn’t mind seeing a cute brunette or even red-headed babygirl. Maybe my next charge will have a more adventurous mommy,” Marie knelt down so that she was eye level with Becki now and admired her adorable, feminine face. She could still see traces of masculinity in her face and chin, but Becki might be feminine enough at this point to genuinely pass out in public with the right makeup and outfit. She smiled to her charge and placed a finger to her lip, she then held up the finger and showed it to Becki. “Look out babygirl. This finger has kisses on it,” she said playfully as she quickly shot out her finger towards Becki’s cheek and then pulled it away, only to yank it in some other direction. Becki blushed and raised her mittened hands to defend herself, but her movements were slow, and clumsy. Marie was able to relentlessly pelt Becki’s cheeks with dozens of finger-kisses, giggling as she did so before finally leaning in and planting a large, wet smooch on Becki’s cheek. “Such a good girl. So cute too. Nanny could just eat you up. Yes she could...yes she could...” Marie’s hands drifted down to gently tickle Becki’s sides, moving around and getting her under her arms whenever Becki lifted her hands to defend herself. Becki’s muffled, helpless giggles filled the room alongside Marie’s laughter as Maggie continued her search for the perfect outfit. “I’m surprised to see you so...playful with her,” Maggie asked as she pulled down an outfit from the rack. “Don’t be. We nannies love our sissies in our special way,” she said with a genuine look of affection. “I’m so proud of Becki. You wouldn’t believe how bad she was when she first arrived. We still have our problems, but my little girl here is one of the best behaved in the whole nursery. Her teacher gave her a gold star last week even. Becki makes her nanny so proud,” she said showering Becki’s face in more kisses. Maggie smiled to herself as she watched the scene. Despite the perverse nature of much of the training, and the questionable morality of keeping them prisoners, this wholesome scene touched her heart, and made everything feel more and more valid and right in her mind. Pride swelled in her as she watched Marie tease Becki with bits of affection as the poor, red-faced sissy squealed in embarrassment. Was it simple justification? That nothing here was done out of some kind of hatred or malice that allowed her to feel that pride? Even when she was admiring the intense training regimen of the sissies, there had been a taboo kind of pleasure to it all, an alluring sense of wrongness that made it so exciting to her. Seeing this scene, however, put things in a different light. She was not sure what it was that had been illuminated but she felt a lightness in her step, as if some weight had been lifted from her that she had not even realized she was carrying. “Alright. How about something like this?” Maggie asked finally, lifting up the outfit to show Marie. Marie looked over and her grin widened. “Yes. Oh emm gee. Very yes,” she said rising up to take the outfit from Maggie. Becki merely groaned her displeasure in response. “Mmmphhh…..” the eloquence of her argument somehow lost on the two nannies who gleefully approached her like she was a new toy ready for it’s newest addition. In no time, Becki was dressed and Maggie admired her work. She had found a light pink and white onesie in the closet that instantly stole her heart as soon as she had seen it. Marie giggled as she button the crotch of the onesie around the monster diaper, and Maggie giggled as well at the sight of Becki’s balloon bottom in the tight onesie. The onesie was frilled along the openings of the legs and arms, and a large, poofy white bunny tail affixed itself to Becki’s considerably huge butt. Marie pulled the thigh high socks into place over Becki’s slender, hairless legs and smoothed them down gently with her hands while Marie finished the outfit with large, pink hairband that came adorned with floppy white bunny ears. The two nannies stood back to admire their work, and Marie felt her heart melt at the sight despite her giggling. Becki truly was adorable. “Mmrrrph...” Becki mumbled in grumpy displeasure. “Alright. Yeah. That outfit is perfect. So freaking cute. Our little pet bunny for the day,” Marie said cheerfully. “Absolutely. I’m so glad I spotted it,” Maggie said proudly. “Well alright. Becki is all set for her day of class. Would you like to lead her there while I stock the nursery?” Marie asked. Maggie positively beamed at the idea. “Absolutely. I would love to!” she said as she scurried over and took Becki’s mittened hand in her own. She gave it a soft squeeze and then tugged the waddling sissy towards the door. Marie smiled to herself, unable to keep her eyes off of Becki’s plump bottom as she waddled out of the room with the new nanny. That lustful pride, however, soon turned into worry some minutes later when she was restocking Becki’s diapers at the changing table. “I...probably should have told her how to get there...uh oh..” she said to herself with concern.

The warmth of the mess as it comes out and spreads in the seat of my diaper. Then the feeling of a squishing over my butt and up between my legs when I sit down in it. It feels awesome to just walk around with the sticky, squishy load moving around back there. I often sit in my messy diaper for hours and enjoy the wonderful feeling. You really need to try it for yourself, at least once.

When I was about 11 I waited just too long before going to the toilet, and ended up popping in my pants, it wasn’t much but I found it hard to clean up and hide the evidence ,I put my underwear in the washing machine but Mum found them, throwing them in the bin rapped in newspapers. Sent from my phone using Tapatalk

I had about 3 weeks of vacation I had to use up or lose. We talked as a family where should we go, what should we do while on vacation. Rachel brought up the fact that since we are a family of bedwetters camping wouldn't be a very good idea. Staying in a hotel so everybody could bathe or shower every morning after wetting the bed would be more practical! We live in Arizona which has a big Indian history so we were going to go up and see things like the 4 corners area along the way we were going to Flagstaff, there was Sunset Crater. A big hole in the ground where a meteor hit something like a million years ago! Also Winslow and the Petrified Forest are right there and the Painted Desert all along I-40 It follows part of the old Route 66! Then we were going to go Northeast through the indian Resevations to Four Corners then from there to Monumrent Valley then accross a high up bridge by Page, Arizona. Then to the Grand Canyon, I hated to admit it but I have lived in Arizona my whole life and never have I been to the Grand Canyon! Then into Utah to Bryce Canyon National Park. Spend a couple of days there then over to Zion National Park then down I-15 to Las Vegas. that was more for mommy and daddy's benifit. Catch Highway 93 back across Hover Dam, to I-40 into Kingman Arizona 93 to Wickenburg, Arizona where we hit Highway 60 back into Phoenix. This was all suposed to take a week and a half 10 days. If we wanted to stop off and see a roadside marker we could. First morning we were supposed to leave at 8 am sharp. Everybody knows that plans on trips are always subject to change! It was 9:45 am before we got on the road. It's about a 3 hour drive to Flagstaff, that day took us 6 hours. When we got about halfway there somebody had thrown a cigarette out their window it hit the dry brush and started a fire. It took The Forest Service a hour and a half to put it out then climbing and climbing in altitude we hit Flagstaff at a about 4pm, we went to a Sizzler Steakhouse, they had shrimp all you could eat, both Rachel and I ordered a Steak and all you can eat Shrimp. The kids got the kiddies bar. Stephanie asked to see what a shrimp tasted like it was popcorn shrimp, she tried maybe 4 total. "Daddy I feel itchy," she was scratching herself, she looked blotchy, she had red welts all over her body! She is allergic to shrimp we could of left Flagstaff by 5:30pm instead we were in the hospital. From 5:45 pm until 10 pm they gave her Benydril the rash was almost gone, Stephanie was out like a light we were told that is a side effect of the medicine that they gave her. We were suppose to of been at Sunset Crater at Sunset. Then drive the few miles back to Flagstaff to sleep the first night. What's that old saying "The best laid plans of mice and men."

I love to take the dog for a walk in a wet and even sometimes, messy diaper. There is a little bit of a waddle, but if you hide it well, with baggy clothes, long shirts, no one will know.

Hi good luck seems it is hard no matter what region, town, city we live in. Hope you have good Luck!

I grew up as a bedwetter, but I am also dyslexic, which was little known about back then, so grew up with a very low opinion of myself. My father was a bedwetter but did little to help me. I was taken out of nappies at about three years old and just had to suffer the clod wet nights and the crinkly plastic sheet. At 12 they sent me to boarding school a hundred miles away where the wetting slowed to once a week, roughly. My bed always had the red rubber sheet on it but I don't remember ever being humiliated or laughed at. After school the wetting continued but by then I was a confirmed AB 50% and DL 50%. That has been tougher to live with than anything, but after more than 50 years of berating myself about it I now accept that it is a part of who I am and I try to make use of it. In essence I have a more 'youthful' outlook than many people of my age. So now I enjoy my nappies 24/7 and have gone from night wetting to wetting whenever I like.

So sorry the length of Chapter 5 was significantly shorter than my Usual Chapter length. Chapter 6 returns to the average Chapter Length! Sorry that Chapter 5 was too short! I wanted to see if shorter chapters more frequently would be well received as opposed to longer chapters slightly less frequently. I learned that lesson! Chapter 6 returns to the usual length. The wait is over Chapter 6 is out! Good guess, is it a correct guess? I guess you'll have to wait and see. Welcome to Chapter 6 hope everyone enjoys it! I'll start working on Chapter 7 tomorrow and hopefully that will be out soon too! I'm very glad everyone is enjoying this story. I feel like I've already learned a lot. I will be making more stories in the future, probably longer with slower regressions and more detail than this one. I will probably be releasing those shortly after this story reaches it's conclusion. I hope everyone enjoys what's to come of this story and also enjoys the other stories I eventually put out! ====Chapter 6 Stacy The Sitter==== I woke up to a baby bottle nipple being gently placed inbetween my lips. "Good morning baby, I hope you had a good sleep! It's time for your milkies!" Emma held up the bottle rocking me in a rocking chair. My penis was at full mast already, forming a little tent in my thick diaper. 'I wonder what's been causing me to be so horny lately' I thought to myself slowly sucking on the bottle that was in my mouth. "Honey I just milked you! I'm sorry but you're just going to have to wait for your next milking. Now just relax and drink you baba." Emma giggled slowly rubbing the front of my diaper with her free hand. 'That would be easier if you weren't such a cock tease.' I frustratingly thought to myself, my whole body squirming a little. "Shhh Shhh, It's okay baby! Mommy is just trying to ease the tension a little bit, just relax and drink your yummy milkies Mmmk?" Emma said with a giggle still rubbing the front of my diaper continuing to force me to suck on the huge baby bottle. I swear these bottles were getting bigger and bigger. The first one I had was only a little larger than a baby bottle and now they're huge. Almost as big as one of Emma's tits. It was getting harder and harder to drink all of them, I was perpetually full and I can't remember the last full hour I went without having a bottle of milk in my mouth. A faint ringing could be heard from the frontroom. 'Is someone at the door?' I thought, still attempting to empty this huge baby bottle. "Oh goody they're here!" Emma giggled. Emma looked down at me quickly before looking forward again. "No no, this wont do. How am I suppose to answer the door if you're not done with your bottle yet? Hmmmmm" Emma thought out loud. "I know!" Emma shouted joyfully. Emma took her breasts out of her shirt and placed them over my face to where the bottle was inbetween them. "There we go now I can hold your bottle for you, hold you and still have a free hand to answer the door. It's perfect!" Emma said obviously very proud of her new discovery. Quickly I noticed my body bouncing up and down, breasts smacking against my face every single time my body fell back down. I couldn't see very well because the tits in my face were obstructing most of my vision except a very small bit of it. I was very lucky I was still able to breath through Emma's massive milk jugs. I could hear the sounds of a doorknob being twisted and the sound of a door opening followed. "Stacy I'm so glad you could make it!" Emma greeted her friend from the hospital. "Hey Emma! Glad to be here. I gotta say, when I said You should let me babysit I wasn't expecting you to call me so soon." Stacy replied with a chuckle. "Unfortunately I still have things to do. I have work and shopping to do, even though I'd absolutely love to spend all my time with my special little man." Emma said moving her freehand to the front of my diaper and giving it a quick rub. "Alright, so give me a quick rundown of what I need to do and I'll let you be on your way." Stacy said ready to start her first day of baby sitting. "First thing's first, he needs a nipple in his mouth at all time, this can be his paci, his bottle or...well you know. He needs to be given his bottle every 30 minutes or so. I've prepared all the bottles you need for the day in the bottom drawer of the fridge. You should give his pee pee frequent stimulation so he doesn't get too sexually frustrated, but if he does end up becoming a little too frustrated, you can milk him. The nursing room is next to the bathroom, all the milking equipment you need should be in there." Emma explained as she handed me off to Stacy. "I better get going I don't want to be late. Be a good boy for Stacy while I'm gone!" Emma said as she quickly put her tits back in her shirt and rushed out the door, in an obvious hurry. "Alright baby, first on the agenda is to get you fed! You're probably really thirsty huh?" Stacy said taking me into the kitchen. 'No I'm not thirsty I haven't even finished this bottle of milk yet!' I yelled internally. It already felt like I was a water balloon ready to burst any second. "Good boy for finishing up your bottle! Now it's time for your feeding." Stacy giggled replacing the now empty bottle with a full bottle. Stacy went to the nearest rocking chair and took a seat, cradling me in her arms. "That's it good boy, Auntie Stacy is here to make you feel all better" Stacy held up my bottle for me and began slowly rubbing the front of my diaper with her free hand. "That's it baby drink your yummy babas! If you're really good maybe Auntie Stacy will milk you! Would you like that?" Stacie pulled me into her breasts, continuing to rub the front of my diaper. 'Wait, I don't have my paci-gag in right now, meaning I can just jump off. Maybe Stacy will prove to be more reasonable than Emma.' I thought to myself, using all my strength to hurl my body off the rocking chair. "Stacy you have to listen to me! I'm not a baby and I'm not consenting to this type of treatment! I've essentially been kidnapped! Please you have to understand where I'm coming from and let me go!" I pleaded. "Is that so? Well I guess I'll just have to help you escape than wont I?" Stacy said as she scooped me up in her arms. "R-Really? I really appreciate that." I began to tear up from excitement. "Ofcourse! Now let's get that diaper off of you so we can get you home A S A P" Stacy said booping my nose quickly. While we were walking over to the changing table I was being bounced up and down over and over again with each step Stacy took. I really needed to use the bathroom and bouncing up and down like that really jostled me, Not like I could help it, I didn't really have a moment where milk wasn't being forced into me since I got here. I tried my best to hold in the poop but just as I was being placed onto the changing table. I pooped myself. "Aww you poor thing!" Stacy said quickly taking off my diaper full of cum pee and now poop and changing me into a new one. "W-Why did you put a new diaper on me? I thought you were going to help me escape?" I said very confused. "Oh and I was sweetheart I really was! But anyone who would just poop in their diapers like that must be wearing them for a reason. Clearly Mommy Emma is doing this for your own good! You're just like a baby who insists they don't need diapers when they aren't potty trained yet. Don't worry baby I'm sure you'll learn to use the big boy potty in no time!" Stacy said before placing my paci-gag in my mouth and attaching it to the back of my head so I couldn't spit it out. I had never done that before, it's like I didn't have any control over it, I felt it coming but I couldn't stop it. Stacy picked me up, cradled me and sat us down in the rocking chair again before unscrewing my Paci-cap and screwing in a baby bottle in it's place. "Now baby I want you to suck your baba like a good boy and use those hands for something productive, otherwise you'll lose your hand privileges!" Stacy scolded as she placed my hands on her breasts. "Now be a good boy and squeeze Auntie's Titties while you drink your Baba." Stacy stated with a very firm tone moving her hand back to where it was holding up the baby bottle. Not wanting to lose my hand privileges and cause I love the feeling of a nice tit, I began squeezing Aunti- I mean Stacy's tits. "That's a good boy! Keep doing what Auntie Stacy tells you and Maybe I wont tell Emma about that nasty lie you told earlier." Stacy said with a giggle as I continued fondling her larger than life breasts. Emma's tits were at least G-cups so Stacy's were at least F-cups, since Stacy's tits were a little smaller than Emma's but not by much at all. 'Alright, it's become clear that Stacy and Emma can't be reasoned with. I'd bet anyone else affiliated with them also can't be reasoned with. I'll have to find a way out of this place and I'll have to do it alone.' I thought to myself still being forced to suck the bottle in my mouth while massaging Stacy's massive mammaries. "Alright baby I can't take this anymore. Auntie is going to do something she thinks you'll really like. But you have to promise to cooperate okay?" Stacy said very sternly. "If you disobey at all, You'll get a bottle shoved into your mouth again and before that I'll be sure to give you the worst spanking you've ever had in your entire life. Do you understand?" Stacy explained further. I nodded in response, essentially the same as scrolling all the way down and clicking the "I have read and agree to the terms and conditions" without actually having even skimmed them. I had absolutely no Idea what was in store for me. Before I knew it the bottle was being unscrewed from my pacifier gag and the gag itself was being detached from my head. "Don't say anything baby. If you speak I'll put it right back in with a bottle that has an even higher flow speed" Stacy threatened me. I don't know if I could handle a bottle with milk that flowed out of it faster, I could barely handle the ones I was already being forced to drink from. Stacy unbuttoned her top, revealing her massive breasts in all their glory. I was still being cradled in her lap as she slowly moved my head towards her giant nipple. "Now you be good and suckle on Aunties heavy milky titties and Auntie will take care of that little pee pee of yours" Stacy forced my face into her fleshy milk flesh and began using her free hand to rub the front of my diaper. Almost immediately milk began to flow into my mouth like Niagara Falls, I couldn't keep up with the amount of milk flowing out of Stacy's breast into my mouth. Milk started to leak out of both sides of my mouth as I tried my best to keep up enough to not drown in breast milk. "Good boy, just suckle on Auntie's titties. I understand it's a lot of milkies all at once, just relax and do the best you can." Stacy moved her hand underneath my diaper and began stroking my cock directly. I moaned causing more milk to spill out of my mouth. "Good boy! You must really like being babied huh? Look at how big your pee pee has gotten. Maybe I'll have to tell Mommy to breastfeed you too. I think it'll be very useful for milking sessions" Stacy giggled, continuing to rub my erect cock with her free hand. 'Wait Emma has breast milk too? Why am I suddenly being treated like a baby by these women? Why am I losing control over my basic bodily functions? I guess I shouldn't think about it too much. Tonight when I get put down to go to sleep I'll break out of here. I just have endure this treatment a little longer.... that shouldn't be too hard.' ====End of Chapter 6==== Hope everyone enjoyed Chapter 6!! I'd love to read what you have to say!

Your pop caught you wearing, and he said, no way! That hypocrite wears 4 diapers a day Man, living at home is such a drag Your mom threw away your favorite diaper bag...... Bust it! You've gotta fight.....for your right....to wear diiiiiiii-apers!!!!!!

Changing Roles Chapter 6 After Jess had left, a slightly merry Sue had found Chris asleep, clutching Teddy and with his pacifier between his lips. Sue smiled. She assumed Jess had seen Chris's teddy and pacifier. That was good, she thought. She opened the drawer to see that the earphones for the tape player were no longer coiled neatly next to it. She wondered if Jess had listened to the tape and for how long. Sue peeled the top of her leotard to her waist and took off her sports bra. She woke Chris gently, and he sleepily suckled her breasts for ten minutes or so before Sue laid his head gently back on the pillow. She checked his diaper. He was wet, but not enough to need a change. Sue put the tape player under Chris's pillow and placed the fluffy earpieces over his ears. The tape fully rewound, and Sue felt a slight thrill. It was a three hour tape and she'd left it an hour in last time she'd used it with Chris. She hoped Jess had listened to it all. Sue turned the tape on, kissed Chris goodnight and went to her own bedroom. After a shower in her ensuite bathroom, Sue put on the cotton granny pants she'd taken to wearing. They were more comfortable than her old bikinis and things, and they felt more suitable for her new role as Chris's, well virtually his mommy, she thought. That was a nice thought, and she smiled about it as she got into bed. Chris woke the next morning after a night of very realistic dreams. He took the warm, fluffy pads from his ears and lay back, trying to remember the dreams. He couldn't remember any detail, but he remembered the pleasurable feelings of happiness and security. His pacifier had fallen out during the night, and he felt anxious as he looked for it. Pleased to have found it among the bedclothes, he put it in his mouth and was rewarded immediately with a feeling that all was well. He turned to get out of bed, and Teddy dropped to the floor, where he lay looking up at Chris. I'm getting up too, thought Chris. He wanted to be up like Teddy, and without thinking he clambered out of bed, putting one leg on the floor, then one arm. Then he was sitting on the floor with Teddy. We're both up now, he thought with a grin. With Teddy in one hand, he decided to call for Sue to see if she was up. He saw the door still ajar, and headed towards it. His diaper was very wet, and sagged between his legs as he crawled, oblivious to the fact that he wasn't walking. He was about to call Sue's name, when he stopped still. He couldn't remember her name. He knew who she was, and he knew she was the most important figure in his life, but he didnt know what to call her. A montage of images of her crossed his mind - kissing him, telling him she loved him, holding him while he suckled and looked up at her, and smiling at him as she changed his diaper. So he knew who she was, just not her name. Chris was quite proud of working that out. He would use her generic name. As he said the word, his pacifier dropped to the floor. 'Mommy!' he called from the doorway of his bedroom. He began wetting again, but didn't notice. In the kitchen now, Sue heard him call, and her heart jumped. She'd been told that the combined effect of being diapered, suckled and treated like an infant, along with the tape, could result in the subject identifying the caregiver as his mother. 'Coming honey!' Sue replied and almost ran to Chris's room. Chris picked up the pacifier and put it in his mouth again. When he heard Sue's voice, he made a happy gurgling sound and clutched Teddy harder. Sue was surprised to find Chris in the floor, but she didn't try to get him to stand. Instead, she thought to prolong the moment, and went to a box in the corner of the room. It contained one items she been recommended to buy for Chris, for 'when they were appropriate'. That time seemed to be now. Sue knelt next to the box and turned to Chris. 'Honey, before I change your diaper and get you breakfast, would you like to have a little play with Teddy?' she asked him. 'Little play' was one of the trigger phrases on the tape, and it seemed to work. Chris's eyes widened and he said.'Yes!' enthusiasticall as he crawled towards her. Sue reached into the box and gave Chris some coloured letter blocks and a bright red plastic train engine. She felt his heavy diaper and left him playing while she returned to the kitchen. After her squash game and shower, Jess had put on her briefs and her usual pad then pulled on her tracksuit. Still bemused about her shaved pubic hair, she drove home. She knew it was a good idea to shave down there. It was only her old fashioned ideas that had prevented her. She vaguely remembered thinking about it, then concluded that she probably had done it herself. In fact, she decided, she had done it, but was just to busy with work to remember. More than that, she was pleased to have done it. Yes, said that odd voice, you're a good little girl. Jess smiled. She knew she wasn't hearing voices in her head. That was just her better self complimenting her. It was the same with the music behind the voice. She'd heard a bit of that on the tape at Sue's and remembered it. It was such pretty music. Pretty, pretty, thought Jess idly as she drove. She liked pretty things. She decided to put a ribbon in her hair when she got home. She hadn't worn a ribbon for years. She spent the remainder of the trip deciding what colour ribbon it should be and how to arrange her hair with it. Arriving home, Jess made herself dinner and settled down in front of the TV. Eating with one hand, she put the other hand between the legs of her tracksuit, and was surprised to find that she was wet. I'd better change, she thought, and putting her dinner aside, went to the bedroom. She wasn't very wet, but there was a significant dark patch between the legs of her tracksuit. Jess wasn't particularly upset. She did get a little wet at times, and anyway it was part of growing up. She remembered that she was twenty one, but that was still not really grown up. Anyway, she wasn't really wet, just a bit. It was more than her pad could cope with, but nothing major. She took off her track pants and briefs, and used some damp toilet paper to wipe her bare crotch. I should get some proper wipes, she thought. That would be sensible. She decided to use a little talc before getting dressed again, then decided to wear a pair of pullups. I'll wear them for bed, anyway, she told herself. She was actually looking forward to the pleasant, secure feeling of the padding around her loins, and felt good as she took a pair from the wardrobe and pulled them up snug around her hips. She looked at herself in the mirror. They actually look nice as well as feeling nice, she thought with a smile. In fact, she thought, they made her grey trackie top look very dowdy, so she searched around her small wardrobe to find something brighter. Just the thing, she thought suddenly. The bright pink Hello Kitty shortalls she'd won on the netball trip to Japan the year before. Some of the Japanese her team members had become friendly with liked dressing in crazy, almost childish clothes, and they were a little miffed that Jess hadn't worn the garment home on the plane. She'd worn it that night, when they'd all had a bit much saki. Jess was glad to have won the prize, and had kept the clothing as a memento, but now, standing in her bra and pullups in front of the mirror and holding up the shortalls, she could see that it was actually kind of fun. It was pretty too. Jess giggled at the big coloured ears of the kitty on the bib which flopped out separate from the garment. She couldn't wait to put it on. Jess stepped happily into the garment, then stopped. She took off her bra. I'm only at home, she thought, and a bra didn't really seem to suit the shortalls. She pulled them up and did up the straps, then arranged the bib over her breasts. She looked at the result in the mirror and grinned. She turned around a couple of times, and waggled the kitty's ears with her fingers. You could see the top of her pullup at the sides of the shortall, but that didn't matter. One more thing, she thought, and found a pink ribbon in her underwear drawer. It didn't take long to tie opit attractively in her hair. 'All done!' she said aloud as she completed the job. She looked again in the mirror. 'Pretty girl!' she said. She knew how pleased some of her babysitting girls were when they were told they looked pretty, and although they were younger, Jess felt that she looked as pretty as any of them. She returned to the television and the rest of her dinner. The police drama that was on didn't interest her, so she switched around until she found a rerun of the Lion King. That movie had good memories for her, and was a good movie anyway. She was settled comfortably watching it when the doorbell rang. Jess thought it was Mike until he heard Sue's voice. She jumped up and went to the door. She liked Sue. 'Well!' said Sue, surprised to see Jess's attire. 'Don't you look pretty!' 'I am pretty,' Jess assured her, and spun around in front of Sue with her arms outstretched. Sue noticed the pullup under the shartalls, as well as the lack of a bra. 'Sorry to bounce in on you,' said Sue, 'But I was going past and I thought I'd pay you last night. I thought you might like the money.' 'Oh yes, thanks,' said Jess. 'Would you like some coffee? I've even got some chocolate too.' 'Thank you,' said Sue. 'That would be lovely.' The pair were soon sitting with their coffee. 'The Lion King,' said Sue as Jess turned off the television. 'That's an old one but a good one.' 'Yes,' said Jess. 'It's actually one of my favorites.' 'Thanks for looking after Chris so well,' said Sue. 'I know he's not, well, the usual babysitting job you get.' 'Oh, he's fine,' said Jess. 'I know he's had some troubles, but he's really sweet. I mean, he's, well, like you said, he is little, well, like someone little, in lots of ways.' 'He is,' said Sue. 'He has had a tough time. He's lost his job, he's, well, he has lost a lot of things in the adult world.' 'But he's gained others,' said Jess. 'Yes, he has, Jess. I think that's a very perceptive comment. He has gained, in different ways,' said Sue. 'Regained, almost,' said Jess. Sue looked at her. 'I think you saw his teddy and pack last night, didn't you?' asked Sue. 'Yes, I did,' replied Jess. 'He likes them. And it sort of fits, I mean he's in diapers. He doesn't seem to mind that.' Sue laughed. 'Oh, he put up a bit of a fuss at first,' she said. Sue paused. 'Actually, I've got some help with him accepting the changes that are happening. Some, well, professional help,' Sue said. She caught another glance at Jess's pullup. 'The doctor?' said Jess. 'Yes,' said Sue, 'But another lady too. A psychologist.' 'Oh,' said Jess. 'That would help.' 'She's been very helpful,' said Sue. 'She's given me some tapes. You know, cassette tapes, and a player.' Jess swallowed. Ever truthful, she looked at Sue. 'Er, Sue, I saw those when I was looking for the nightlight. In the drawer,' she said. 'I wasn't really snooping. I just opened the drawer. I, erm, listened a bit too.' Sue smiled to herself. 'Did you listen to the whole tape?' she asked. 'Actually, I don't know,' said Jess. 'I heard a bit, but then I went to sleep. I woke up just before I saw you. Chris slept the whole time though,' she added. 'It's, erm, lovely music. I hadn't heard anything like that before.' Sue smiled St Jess. 'Did you like what the lady was saying?' she asked. Jess blushed slightly. 'Well, I couldn't understand what she was saying,' Jess said awkwardly. 'It wasn't very clear. Sue, I apologise for looking in the drawer. I shouldn't have played the tape.' Sue put her hand on Jess's arm. 'It's fine, Jess. Honestly. I'm glad you heard it. It is lovely music,' she said. 'That makes me feel better,' said Jess. 'I don't like doing wrong things.' Sue laughed, and put her arm around Jess. 'Don't be silly,' she said. 'It's fine. And we're friends, aren't we?' 'Yes,' said Jess, and Sue saw that her eyes were watering., 'Jess, are you OK?' she asked. 'What's up?' 'Nothing, sorry,' said Jess. 'It's just that, well, I know people at work, and Mike, but I guess I haven't got too many real friends.' 'You've got me,' said Sue. Jess blinked and nodded. 'Jess, is everything OK?' asked Sue with concern. 'Yep,' said Jess. 'Jess, I noticed that you're wearing a pullup. Is that part of any trouble? We are friends, and you can talk about anything to me.' Jess was quiet for a minute. 'Erm, well, I, I always wear a pad, you know, because I sometimes, I dunno, I get a little bit wet, not my period, but because...' she looked away from Sue. 'I understand,' said Sue. 'It's common. Pads are common. But a pullup...' 'I sometimes, well, I used to wet the bed a bit, older than other kids, and it was hard because I was looking after the others...' Sue reassured Jess, who continued after a few moments. 'Then on the way home last night, I wet my pants, you know, properly, and I thought I'd better wear a pullup to bed and I did, and it was wet this morning, and then after squash I wet my tracksuit a bit, and I put, I found this and put it on to cheer up, and I thought, well, I wanted to feel safe so I put on another pullup. I'm sorry you saw it, Sue. It's just...' Jess finished her hurried little speech. 'Now you know,' she said. 'Even a friend would freak, so...' 'I'm not freaking, Jess,' said Sue. 'Far from it. I think you're being a very good little girl about this. And, little miss, I think you look very pretty in those lovely shortalls.' Jess's face was suffused with a mixed expression of relief and happiness that seemed to well from deep within her. She heard snatches of the lovely music in her head again. 'Thank you Sue,' Jess said, impulsively hugging her. 'As I said,' Sue replied, 'That's what friends are for. Now, let's be practical. If you're having problems, I think you need to see someone. You must have some good contacts at work, or if you prefer, you could see Chris's doctor. In the meantime, if pullups make you feel secure while this is going on, I think you should wear them for the time being.' 'You mean, all the time?' asked Jess. 'Yes, I do,' said Sue. 'It shouldn't be a problem at work under your uniform, and a spare or two would fit in your little bag,' Sue added, pointing to the dining table and the small leather bag Jess usually carried. 'OK,' said Jess quietly. It did seem like a sensible idea. 'Now, honey, are you wet now?' asked Sue. Jess looked at her. 'Now?' she repeated. 'Yes, honey. You've just covered a lot of personal stuff, and sometimes...' said Sue as Jess pressed the crotch of her shortalls. 'A little bit, I think. But not a lot,' she said, blushing again. 'Let's see,' said Sue, reaching towards Jess. 'It's OK,' we are friends,' she added as she slid a couple of fingers inside the leg of Jess's shortalls. 'It's definitely time for a change,' Sue said. 'Sue...' began Jess. 'Sshh, honey,' said Sue. 'Relax. Just this time I want you to let me help you. I know you're anxious, but I just want you to relax. Now let's get your pretty shortalls off.' Jess stood silently, blushing again as she let Sue undress her then gently lay her back on the sofa. Sue took off Jess's pullup, and patted her tummy. 'Have you got another pullup, honey? Sue asked. 'In the wardrobe in the bedroom,' replied Jess. Sue smiled, and found the pack of 20 in the wardrobe. It was half empty. Sue smiled again. 'And some talc?' asked Sue, returning to the living room. 'In the bathroom,' said Jess. 'Now just lie still,' said Sue, and efficiently and gently patted Jess's bare crotch with talc and settled a dry pullup around her hips. 'Done,' said Sue. 'We might as well get you ready for bed now,' she added. 'I saw your nightie in the bathroom. I found this. It might make you feel a bit brighter than a boring old nightie. Sue produced a bright yellow, long t shirt. Jess smiled when she saw it. 'Good,' said Sue, and helped Jess put it on, pulling it down over her bare breasts. 'There,' said Sue. Jess stood in front of Sue, feeling quite odd. 'If those pullups aren't enough for evernight, well have to think about something else,' said Sue matter of factly. Jess looked at her. 'Diapers?' she asked. 'In the short term,' said Sue. 'Until you've seen the doctor.' They sat back on the sofa, and ate a few chocolates. Jess was relieved that she didn't feel embarrassed sitting in a t shirt and pullup in front of Sue. Not long after, when Sue was leaving, she told Jess with a laugh that she'd been a good little girl about the whole issue. Jess felt a surge of happiness, and gave Sue a warm hug. 'Sweet dreams, baby,' said Sue as she left. 'Thank you,' said Jess. She slept soundly, with very sweet dreams. She woke wet, with the sheet a little wet too, but was glad that at least she'd broached the problem with an adult. Well, someone older than her, anyway, she corrected herself. It seemed sensible and even normal to put her pullup on under her nursing uniform, and she happily left for work, with a pink ribbon carefully tied in her hair. To be continued.

Walking can bring up some problems when you have diaper sag!! Im more worried about sitting down and leaking on to my pants and seat. Sent from my SAMSUNG-SM-J120A using Tapatalk

* * * * * It worked. I was cured. Finally, everything was falling where it should. I went out drinking that night with Trish. We talked about penguins and parallel universes. I woke up Saturday morning with a splitting hangover and an essay to write for Contemporary Literature. Arlo and Millie showed up around eight, when I could stand the sound of dice clacking against the coffee table. We played two games of Catan and a dirty version of Pictionary. I didn’t win even once. Monday, after school, I asked Dakota out to dinner. We had the same shift at work and a regular customer made his third visit that day. I said something about how coffee can’t replace a good meal and Dakota asked if I had dinner plans. Trash pick-up was Tuesday morning. I slept through it. It worked. I was cured. Until that afternoon. I woke up at 12:15. I checked my phone for notifications. None. No school Tuesdays. No work Tuesdays. No plans Tuesdays. No reason to get out of bed, except to use the bathroom. If only… I shook my head. Not right now. But it was too late. One stupid half-thought and my eyes lingered on the closet door. I knew nothing was in there. I knew, even if there was, it wasn’t good for me. I was fine now. I was normal. I got out of bed to use the bathroom, hoping it would alleviate the thoughts. But it didn’t. I sat on the sofa with my blanket on my lap and my memory filtered back to Friday. The fog. How I felt. The TV was missing colors. The echo off the back wall was all wrong. I needed to preoccupy myself. I had to think about something else. A new TV show. Or I could watch the news. Maybe there was an event at school I could attend. I opened my laptop to check, but the muscle memory in my fingers typed out half the web address for my story forum before I thought any better of it. I hesitated, fingers arced over the keyboard, aching to continue. Slowly, I closed my laptop. Then I called Dakota to ask if we could change shifts. * * * * * I thought work would help, but it didn’t. I wanted to go home. I wanted to change into a soft, comfortable diaper. I wanted to be safe from all this employment crap. Every customer with a baby on their hip, every little kid in cute clothes, with their little socks and their fluffy hair, and… That night, I stared up at my bedroom ceiling. The aching was so constant, I hardly noticed anymore. Was I a pedophile? No, I wasn’t aroused. I was jealous. But diapers were sexy. And regression was sexy. But kids weren’t sexy at all. What fucking sense did that make?! I threw my pillow as hard as I could at my closet door, but the dull thud wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to break something! So I threw my alarm clock. I heard the plastic splinter when it hit. The echo radiated through the bedroom and I settled back into my sheets. I didn’t feel any better. * * * * * I thought school would help, but it didn’t. I wanted to go home. I wanted to cuddle up in a snug onesie and warm blanket. I wanted to escape academia and elitism. Every professor talking about their kids, every second of Developmental Psychology, every pigtail and children’s backpack and pencil with a cartoon character and… That night, I sat in the shower with my head on my knees. The water turned cold after ten minutes. Water dripped down my cheeks. Why did I feel like this? Why was one awful element of my life so powerful? Was this my parents’ fault? Was this because of some traumatic childhood event? Was there medicine for this? Could I turn it off? My mind kept moving, gears turning… If I was anyone else, I could escape it. If I could close my eyes and wake up as somebody else, then I would never think about it again. I dried off with the biggest, fluffiest towel I had. An ounce of baby in a world of big. It would help. But it didn’t. I knew what I could have had, what I threw away… I took a sleeping pill. * * * * * Thursday morning, I watched the clock tick by on my phone. Since Dakota and I switched shifts, I had nothing going on. I had nothing to do but think. I wasn’t happy; it was plain and simple. I missed the Little feelings and the fog and the excitement and the warmth and the safety. I missed my diapers and my onesies and my girly socks. I missed chewing my pacifier instead of sucking on it. I missed all of it… And what did it matter if I wore diapers? I wasn’t hurting anyone! No one even knew about it! Why would I throw all my stuff away over the stupid idealized notion of “being normal”? Trish and I talked all night last week about alternate universes. She wanted to live in a world where everyone was an animal, but she couldn’t decide between whether or not to be a fox or a penguin. She was absolutely not normal. When we played dirty Pictionary, I had to watch Millie draw the most uncomfortable looking sex toys I’d ever seen. And Millie was an excruciatingly vivid artist, too! Arlo’s face was bright red for almost an hour, and I couldn’t stop laughing. They were definitely not normal. And Dakota didn’t like cheese. It wasn’t an allergy or anything, it was just a preference. No pizza. No nachos. No lasagne. It took half of Monday’s shift to decide where to go on our date. Dakota might have been the least normal of any of us. So what? I loved my friends. I loved their weird stuff. It made them cool and unique and interesting. So maybe… maybe my stuff made me interesting too. I didn’t need an excuse to spend three dollars. I didn’t need to understand why wetting myself felt nice. I didn’t need to explain why diapers were sexy. I didn’t need a reason to be the way I am. I didn’t need to rationalize everything or have all the answers. But I needed to be happy. All my baby stuff might make it harder for someone to love me, but hiding away would make it impossible. They could only love the lie I created. And if that lie ever faded away, the love would fade away with it. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with regret. All those outfits… my favorite pacifier… some of that stuff you couldn’t even buy anymore. It felt like a step backward. It felt like I had lost so much. I pulled the covers over my head and curled up into a ball. How long until the cycle of binging and purging continued? Was it worth starting over, just to throw everything in a dumpster? Would I ever stop mourning for the things I threw away? Would I ever move past this regret? But what other options were there? I’m either a slave to my fetish or a slave to its cycle. My journey to happiness was so long and so complicated. The most I could hope for was not to get turned around by all the spinning. Above all else, I had to keep moving forward. In therapy, Anna asked the same things she always did. Instead, I told her: “I like diapers.” [END]

This story is pain. I have lived this, almost every line. The hidden diapers, the expectant feeling, like a rush in your tummy - butterflies, like new love every time you take a diaper out of the package. I could quote every line in this one and share my experience... It hurts because it's so close to home. Every. Line. From looking at the cost of a single diaper, to telling yourself it's worth it, to enjoying it, reveling in it, wondering why the paci doesn't feel the way you imagined. Everything. I've lived every feeling in this story and more, the shameful orgasm... being in the throes of passion and owned by it, and hating yourself when your head is clear again. Wanting more than anything to be normal. Just to be normal. I hope this character never has to see the disgust in a lover's eyes after that fog of passion and need clears. This story hurts. I don't know where you're going with it. But I hope it ends well.