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Hey, folks. Sorry for those following my other stories. I've been snowed in with work lately, and I'll get back to them soon, but I had to churn this out. A sort of a therapy session, I guess. Hope you get something out of it. * * * * Michael flew up the stairs of the apartment complex like a prey animal scurrying for shelter. The building was cold and concrete - a far cry from the colorful playrooms prescribed to ‘adopted’ littles - and that was exactly how they liked it. Well, most littles at any rate. For Michael it was only a place to sleep, and at that moment a refuge. He fumbled for his keys, hoping that he hadn’t lost them during the encounter. That was when the neighboring door opened to reveal Donny, a bearded recluse who reeked of booze and smoke. The aesthetic served him well, and deflected the attention of all Amazons so far; yet he still carried the weight of seeing littles who didn’t share his luck. “My dude,” he said, resting a hand on Michael’s trembling arm. “You look like you could use a drink.” Donny was right. Nothing short of high proof spirits could soothe his nerves. He entered the apartment, ignored the dank smell that saturated it, and collapsed on the sofa - the half without the spring sticking out of it. On any other day Michael appeared the consummate professional, insofar as a little could pass for one. He wore crisp, gray suits with padded shoulders to give him larger stature. Since he was a teenager he did everything he could to cultivate the healthy beard he’d achieved, and at twenty five dyed his hair silver to appear older still. A touch of makeup helped as well; a dab here and there to make his features sharper, less soft, less cute. Yet at present he was disheveled, covered in soil with his shirt hanging out, stains on his trousers, and tie lost to the ether. He leaned back to catch his breath, and happily accepted the glass of a liquid that could strip paint. Donny sat and leaned in, eager for a story. “What happened, man? Was it Amazons?” Michael nodded. “Shit, man. They didn’t follow you, did they?” He shook his head. “So how’d you get away?” Donny asked. It was little more than a whisper. Such was sacred knowledge among littles. The story Michael offered was sparse with details. To speak the whole truth was to shame himself, and all other littles. Nobody knew just where he went on his lunch breaks; to a carefully selected bench in the park with a view of the water, and something else. Past the trees on the other side of the square was a single story building painted in pastel pink. The sign above read in thin cursive letters ‘The Gender Clinic’. Horror stories passed between littles about the goings on in that place, of men made children with their masculinity stripped away. Yet Michael, though he’d never admit it, was fascinated. For half an hour a day he would quietly observe, and turn away when an Amazon dragged a crying ‘sissy’ out in a satin dress and frilly socks. It wasn’t for them that Michael watched. But every so often an event occured that made his heart leap. He’d look to the clinic, and emerging from the entrance would be a little girl clinging to her Mommy or Daddy wearing the biggest smile. Sometimes they cried - not because they were sad, but because the joy was too much for their little bodies. Michael smiled, but it didn’t last. What little would want that? It was shameful. Besides, women, no matter what they were born as, were four times as likely to be ‘adopted’ than men. If only he could stop the nagging in his chest. The story he told Donny started on that park bench where he was minding his own business, eating a tuna melt sandwich, when he caught the eye of a blond haired Amazon with glossy pink lips and breasts spilling out of her tank top. Not Michael’s thing, but they were impossible to avoid. She leaned down to him emphasise them all the more. “You know that make-up is very convincing,” she cooed, “and your hair almost had me fooled. Is that a padded suit? I bet you’re a tiny little thing under all those layers.” Michael did his best to ignore her, and chewed his sandwich with as much aggression as one could muster. Maybe she didn’t get the picture, but he didn’t want to be ‘adopted’. Few littles did. But underneath the veneer of maturity he was sweating bullets. He’d never been noticed before! “You’ve sparked my curiosity,” the Amazon said. “I just have to see what’s underneath!” Before he had the sense to flee the great Amazon arm was around him, and scooped Michael to her side with no effort whatsoever. He struggled, but her grip was like iron. No amount of resistance would free him, at least at this stage. “Please, I don’t want this,” he said, but there was no heart to it. Amazons by nature did not listen to the pleas of littles. Their need to impose ‘care’ was not one based in reason. “You’re a good boy for not swearing,” she cooed. “I know this is hard, but trust me, you’ll be happy and safe in no time at all.” Happy, she said, as though diapers and feedings and wettings and being made helpless wasn’t the most humiliating thing in the world. Other littles told stories to scare one another. Most had nightmares about it, Michael included. It was no use fighting. Even if he could free himself he was claimed. She could go to the authorities and better equipped Amazons would bring him in. She had power over him now, simply because she willed it. She carried him to the park amenities, which like all bathrooms were fitted with a changing station and a diaper dispensary. The Amazon set Michael down on the table, and pulled a strap across his arms and his chest. It didn’t constrict his breathing, but it was secure enough that he couldn’t break free. “Now, let’s get you in a nice, clean diaper,” she sang. The Amazon flicked off his shoes and pulled down his trousers. She stopped to drink in the sight of him, and tickled his nose. “You’re going to be my sweet baby boy. My cute little man!” The world turned ill in his stomach, for more reasons than one. “Wait,” Michael pleaded. “Uh uh uh. Babies don’t speak,” she said, and reached into her carry bag for an inflatable pacifier. It seemed the Amazon had left the house that morning determined to adopt someone. “Just one thing,” Michael said, “and then you can do whatever you want. I promise.” The Amazon huffed, but gave him the chance to speak. “Alright. Then it’s binky in. Okay?” He nodded, and fought against the knot in his stomach. He was about to be sick, but pushed through anyway. “If I’m going to be a baby,” he said, “can I at least… be a baby... girl?” Of all the things she expected a little to say, this the Amazon expected least. She blinked, revisiting the words in her mind to make sure that she heard them correctly. The assuredness in her voice faded. “Why would you want to be a little girl?” Michael winced in shame. “Because… I’m not a man. Not in my heart of hearts. I avoided being a woman so I wouldn’t get adopted but now… now there’s no reason to hold back.” Both Amazon and little shared a pained gaze, both disappointed in the outcome. The large woman frowned more deeply than Michael would have liked, as though she were ready to dole out a spanking. “But I wanted a little boy,” she whined. Michael faced away. “I’m sorry.” She considered the situation for a long moment, not at all liking her options. Michael tensed. His fate was in her hands. Worst case scenario, she would confine him to a life of little boyhood, which for him was the ultimate misery. Finally, and after painstaking thought, the Amazon released the strap and turned her back on him. She made no effort to stop him as Michael pulled up his trousers and reclaimed his shoes. “Go,” she said, daring not face the little, lest he saw her tears. He opened his mouth to say something comforting but thought better of it. This was a rare opportunity - to be victim of an adoption, and then be released. Michael sprinted as fast as his legs could carry, away from the park, and away from a life of babyhood. What feelings of disappointment welled in his chest he never spoke aloud. “So you just… ran!” Donny laughed. “Just like that! While her back was turned!” “Guess I have to trim the beard and recolor my hair,” Michael said, taking a deep swig. He smiled as though victorious, and hoped the alcohol would still what lingered inside.

The Woes of Maddison Page Chapter 11 – There’s no distraction from a dirty diaper in an MRI… ‘I don’t mind wearing these diapers anymore. Besides, momma is convinced that I shouldn’t worry about the stuff I can’t change. So, I’ll just have to take her advice. I can’t change my situation, so I’m not going to worry about them. Not right now anyway. Still, I really don’t want to have a bowel movement in this thing. Better than the bedpan though! A bed pan sounds even more degrading, and I’m positive it would be more painful. Rock meet fucking hard place!’ I whined internally. I was snarling at the unfairness of my reality while poking at the soggy front of my diaper. ‘Taking a shit should not be this complicated for a seventeen year old!’ I worked on mom’s computer for the next few hours while she flittered in and out of my hospital room doing god-only-knows what. I’m not even sure she stayed inside the hospital. She could have been running around town or something for all I knew. She didn’t tell, and I didn’t ask. Suspiciously, she kept carrying a plastic bag from one store or the other while crinkling everywhere she went. Merry napped on and off playing on her phone occasionally. She kept texting me while laying the hospital bed with me. I was really zoned out. I was still stuck in the same position I had been in since I was admitted. My legs laid open gently like a butterfly while my diaper was on display. But, I rested with my legs propped on a new stack of pillows. <M> gawd I’m sooooo board! <D> I’m working. Essays don’t write themselves. <M> But… I’m board. <M> Do you love me? O yes or no I blushed like a… well, like a schoolgirl. <D> O YES! <D> Now let me work. <M> But I’m board. <D> I still know. I needed to redirect her or I’d never get anything done. <D> How’s my diaper doing? (*^_^*) <M> On it capin… She poked and tugged at my crotch, and then she ran a finger under my leg gathers. Her finger traveled under the plastic all the way up the side of my ass. Suddenly, she wiped her finger on her shorts and typed. <M> She canna take much more ciptin <D> K… will you change me then? (*^_^*)!!! <M> Eye I was pretty sure that wasn’t the way to type that, but it caused me to giggle anyway. Why she was an Irish starship engineer on text, I’d never know, but it was fun. I couldn’t remember Kirk well enough to type him back though. I’ve only seen the original Star Trek a few times. Opportunities missed I guess, but she boldly accomplished her mission of making me smile. We continued the unspoken silence rule for a while continuing to type back and forth on our phones. I failed my concentrate check on my admittance essay that I was outlining, but I did make some progress. Like a professional, Merry kept me distracted. A very young doctor came in with some cast setting equipment. Before I knew it, Merry picked out a dark purple color that she decided would look ok on me. Apparently, it wouldn’t show dirt as much either. Mom cut down the monster sock I was wearing on my now casted foot. She left a bit of material longer than my toes, and Merry weaseled it under my cast covering my little piggies. “Purple cast! Purple monster claws. Classes that shit right up!” Merry smiled down at their handy work. “Merry Selvage!” My mom piped up out of reflex, but with no real conviction. Then we all laughed. It looked goofy and cool as hell at the same time. It wasn’t long before mom was gone again leaving Merry and I alone. The day just continued on with us texting and mom bouncing in and out of my room. The only time I got any work done was the rare moments that Merry drifted off in a catnap being too board to stay awake. Of course, boredom only ruled when mom was out of the room. Merry changed me several more times that afternoon including right after four pm, just before mom came back from her latest run. She stayed put after that waiting on my MRI. Merry was trying to have me in a dry diaper right before the MRI was due. It was a sweet thought. I had continued wetting the whole day, but had opted not to worry over it anymore. After all, it was out of my hands at the time. It seemed like I’d have a heavy wetting an hour or so after I drank something, but the only info I got on the situation was from my skin when it grew warm and wet. That wasn’t anything new at that point, so status quo maintained! I didn’t mind Merry changing my wet diapers, but I just couldn’t stomach the thought of her changing a messy one. Frankly, I’d rather never mess my diapers again no matter how long I was stuck in them. Toilets were just fine for messes thank you very much! Unfortunately, I could feel my baconator from lunch getting ready to make the rounds. Food in. Food out. Dirty diapers were an inevitable part of my near future. ‘Surely I can hold out for another hour or so. I held it for like six hours last night. I’ll be fine.’ I thought selling myself swamp land in New Mexico. I didn’t really need to go yet, and I wasn’t “holding” anything back either. I just felt sort of full low in my abdomen. It was my body’s early warning system firing off. Used to, I’d have had hours to take care of it. If I went now, I’d have to push and I wasn’t doing that for damn sure! So, I decided to wait and thread that perfect needle between pressure and push. It wasn’t long after mom got back that the orderlies were wheeling me to the MRI room. Our anxiety levels ratcheted up in synchronization. It seemed like I’d been hovering in an eternal dream world waiting on this test, and suddenly everything was moving in a hurry. It was more than a little disorienting. I was instantly afraid to find out if I needed surgery. ‘Thursdays suck!’ I decided in a huff. After a long hallway ride in terrible pain laying on my back with my fucking diapers exposed, we made it to the MRI room. Mom was a wreck and even the ever bubbly unflappable Merry was beginning to show signs of stress. They tried to recreate my hospital bed setup on the MRI table, but the table wasn’t wide enough and they didn’t have enough pillows. The whole castle of pillows was super unstable. It left me holding on for dear life while trying not to teeter off the table. I had to flex my core muscles to keep from rolling off it’s sides! Of course that hurt like a bitch. They stripped me of my Power Puff nightgown and splints leaving me in a freshly laundered hospital gown and that nasty looking green hospital diaper. The MRI Tech ended up strapping me down so I wasn’t hurting myself trying to stay on the exam table. Who likes to be strapped down? Well, not me either!!! I wasn’t as comfortable as I had been in my hospital bed, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been with the straps doing the work for me. I’d endure. “Ok, so I have some head phones here for you, and we get all the local radio stations. You need to be as still as possible for the duration of this test. If you move to much we may have to start over. You’ll be in there around forty-five minutes to an hour for this study, if you stay still.” The MRI tech told me. I told him my favorite hits station, while mom continued to wring her hands nervously. They were making her and Merry stay in the testing waiting area after the study started. That certainly didn’t lower their stress levels! “This thing is super loud and protocal has us empty this room. So you ladies will have to wait out in the waiting area. Maddison, we can hear you clearly in the control room so just speak up if something goes wrong or if your pain increases over a six on a scale of ten.” He concluded his instructions. Mom exited as the terrifying tube began to suck me in. ‘I think I might be a bit claustrophobic.’ I decided as the machine swallowwed me. ‘Wow this kind of hurts. I don’t think my legs are up as high as they were in my bed.’ I squirmed a bit trying to get my legs closer to a ninety degree angle. “Maddison, we are going to need you to stop wiggling ok?” Came the technician’s voice over the headphones. *clunk* The table landed in the start position inside the MRI. I was strapped in around the waist and above my chest under my armpits. The interior walls of the MRI were so close I could reach out and touch everything. It felt like the tube was slowly constricting on me. Logically, I knew I could simply exit from the ends of the machine, should I have to, but logic wasn’t fully in control. After all, phobia can be defined as irrational fear. It doesn’t need a cause. It just is. ‘Breathe ya pussy! You aren’t strapped in where you can’t get free. It’s just Velcro for God’s sake. Your hands aren’t tied down. Good. Now, flatten out your spine as best you can.’ I told myself trying to maintain control and not freak the fuck out. “Just a second please. I need to get a little more comfortable.” I spoke louder and more hysterical than the situation called for. “Alright. Please let me know when you are ready to start.” He asked. I tucked my hands each under my butt cheeks. I wanted to stabilize my center and make it easier on my core to hold still. It also gave me something to do with my hands. Once I wiggled to as much comfort as I could find, I gave him the go ahead while playing with the backside of my diaper with my fingers. ‘Yep definitely claustrophobic. OMG!’ I start to panic. Then familiar music began pumping through my headphones calming me down. I closed my eyes as Maroon 5 began howling like an animal. The music was almost uncomfortably loud, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for long! Even with that direct input, I could still hear the MRI once it started. ‘I don’t know how this machine works, but it sounds like being inside of a washing machine that’s tumbling inside of a gigantic dryer. Mental Note: Look up MRIs.’ I thought. The noise was so loud that I could physically feel it thudding through my chest like a heavy base beat. I was getting sensation overload from the tight space, noise, vibration, being strapped in, and all the emotions raging through me. I tensed up so much that my chest was pushing against the fabric of my hospital gown while my fingers dug into the padding covering my ass. My teeth ground tightly while I sucked fear filled air through my clenched teeth. I was coiled up like a spring ready to blow. Eventually, the sound faded into a sort of white noise. I’d endured it long enough that it wasn’t a direct source of stress like all my emotions were. I still heard it, you couldn’t help that, but it wasn’t an overwhelming force like it had been. I can’t even imagine how loud it would have been without the headphones and music! My hands went numb from sitting on them and clenching at my diaper so hard. My back was hurting from trying to stay still. All the sudden, I was worried I had punctured the diaper’s shell with my fingernails. What would happen when I filled it like I had been? Would it leak? Plus, I was afraid I’d end up with a foot cramp because I couldn’t quit curling my toes. Time slowed down to the intense pain filled breaths and the thudding noise of the machinery. I wasn’t going to move though! I wouldn’t chance it. I’d endure. I never wanted to do this again! I wasn’t positive they could get me back in this machine without knocking me out. I had to deal with this torture. I had to have the results. This wasn’t going to just go away. I would be strong! Pain filled moments passed, and eventually fatigue took over. I started to slump against the pillows despite the increasing pain, and my arms sagged to the sides only held by my body weight. Under strain, my legs started to lose their ninety degree angle as my muscles fatigued. That hurt, a lot. As my legs tried to lower and fully support their weight on the pillows, everything escalated. I was in a painful catch twenty-two. So, I tried to pull my feet back to my core and find some purchase on the pillows to hold my legs in place. “Maddison, please keep still. We only have about eighteen more minutes to go here.” The tech pleaded. He probably hated it when people moved this late in the test. “Fine.” I huffed out with tears beginning to form. I took a slow deep breath and flexed my abs. That was a mistake. I flexed and it took some of the tension off my butt which allowed the stool softener to do its duty. My diaper began to fill with a mushy excrement about the consistency of cake batter. “Sorry, I’m hurting.” I told them honestly trying my best to remain still as I continued to dirty my diaper. The problem with trying to be still is it makes you want to move. My back was killing me. Then, my fucking nose started itching, cause why the fuck not? The angrier I got, the more that damn noise irritated me, and the easier tears flowed. It was all so much the worse with the dirty diaper that I was diligently trying to ignore. In the end, it didn’t work. I began to cry. Tiny sniffles escaped as tears rolled down my face. ‘I can’t tell if I’m crying over a dirty diaper, the fucking pain, or that damn noise!’ I thought incredulously. I decided it was all three. I couldn’t deal with the pain so I just let things happen in my diaper, and cried about it in the observed privacy of the MRI chamber. I could feel the waste escaping into the seat of my diaper spreading across my ass. Once it started, there was no holding it back. I pushed gently instead of trying to hold it back. Just playing with those muscles was excruciating. I slowly soiled myself with nothing to do but think and antagonize over every damn moment of my humiliation. There is no distraction from a dirty diaper in an MRI… By the time the MRI tray started back toward its original position, large tears were streaming from my eyes. I’d thoroughly cussed everything I could think of for the horrible time I’d had stuck in that MRI machine in a dirty diaper. My back was in excruciating pain, and the smell was just the icing on the suck-ass cake! “I understand your situation Maddison. The orderlies will get you to your room and the nurses will get that taken care of right away.” The tech told me coming into the room to remove the straps immediately comprehending the dirty diaper. How could he not. I smelled like an outhouse! We wheeled past the waiting room in route to my room and picked up my girls. Merry immediately tried to fluff my legs and wipe my tears. She didn’t like seeing me in this kind of pain, or this humiliated. She managed not to say anything about the state of my dirty diaper, but mom did not. Good ole mom… “Oh baby, we’ll get that diaper taken care of as soon as we get back to your room. No need to cry dear.” Mom reassured me patting me on the leg in concern. It felt like condescension though, and I admit to it pissing me off. “I’ll run ahead and grab the nurse Dee.” Merry told me bounding off ahead of us. ‘I fucking love you M!’ I sent my girlfriend telepathically. Merry turned and jogged backwards throwing me a kiss. ‘Do a cartwheel.’ I sent. She didn’t. ‘Meh. was worth a try.’ I chuckled at my thoughts. Strange how the right person can change your mood so fast. We got to my room and the nurse I hadn’t caught the name of was working the B shift this evening. She was waiting in the room as they transferred me to the hospital bed. “I’m Sam. I’ll help you out with that Maddie. Dr. Hadi will be by in about ten minutes, he’s trying to get out of here.” She told me with a board detachment. Sam didn’t tickle my admiration like Peggy had, but she wasn’t mean either. She made fast efficient work of my mess. I was cleaned back up and re-braced before Dr. Hadi made it in. I had avoided another full on diaper change from mom, and I was glad of it. But, I knew it was coming, and I was dreading it. “Evening ladies.” Dr. Hadi greeted us. “Howdy Doc.” Merry chimed on reflex. Merry and I shared a giggle because sometimes it’s laugh or cry, and I chose laugh. He still didn’t look right speaking with his southern accent. “MRI’s in the bag. Did it give you much trouble?” He asked me. “I’m in a lot of pain. They had to strap me down to hold me still. Then a number two happened. All in all, it was shitty.” I admitted huffing out a pain filled smile at my own pun. “Ha! I imagine was. I’ll come by tomorrow mid-day and have some results for ya, but that puts us firmly on the Friday footing, and maybe Saturday early worst case. You’d be surprised how much paperwork and bureaucratic stuff it takes to get discharged! Most likely we’ll send you home tomorrow evening though. Everyone recovers better in their own space ya know! I only want to keep you to make sure you aren’t going to paralyze yourself. I want you two home and happy as much as you do.” He chuckled and looked over at mom. I couldn’t find any humor in me to join him in laughing though. I wanted the hell out of the hospital. One or two more days were fucking terrible news, and I was sort of crushed. My soft tears had returned. I was tired and exhausted emotionally. Then pain meds Peggy had hit me with before the MRI started overcoming all of my waking aggravation and pressing me to rest. Dr. Hadi smiled at me patting my non-caste bound foot. He turned to speak to mom standing close to the door. I let the tears ramp up on their own, and shot some desperate give-me hands at Merry. “Baby girl. I think your mom has it bad for that good lookin doctor.” She said motioning toward the door. Mom’s right leg was off the ground playing with her left calf. She definitely had it bad. Then she laughed and put her hand on his chest. “What the hell is Mrs. P wearing? Her ass is huge.” I laughed a soft exhausted laugh, but I still needed a cuddle and a good sleep in the worst way. She could handle that for me, I was confident. I needed out of this place, but we had nowhere to go. It’s not like the hotel would be any more familiar. I don’t know why, but I had a sort of break down as Merry climbed in bed next to me. I couldn’t roll over and curl up with her like I had at the hotel, and I needed that closeness severely. I’m going to call it a medication induced random cry. Mom would probably call it a hissy fit. You know, whichever… Merry cuddled me like a pro. Every piece of her that she could find a way to snuggle up was pressed against me. It was almost like she was adhered to me. Her head was on my chest, and I had my face in her hair. I smelled her hair. She smelt like home. Then I just threw my arm around her and cried into her hair. Merry just held me shushing me like a toddler. “It’s over now baby girl. I’ve got you. Just breathe baby. Breathe and sleep for me ok? Shhh. Off you go now…” She cooed over and over. I finally gave up my hold on consciousness and passed smooth the fuck out. I told you Thursday’s suck!

I watched from my front room window as the delivery men unloaded their removal lorry and transported the various objects into next door. I could not see who the new owner was, just the amount of furniture and boxes that were being taken into the house. Several days passed before I noticed her as I pulled up onto my driveway, my new neighbour was collecting a newspaper from her postbox. She was in her mid to late forties bobbed brown hair and was wearing a silver silk dressing gown, not leaving much to the imagination. “Hi nice to meet you, my names PJ,” I said introducing myself. My new neighbour replied with a smile. “Hi there PJ, I’m Cathy,” she said holding out her hand. I lightly shook her hand to greet her. From that point we started to chat regularly whenever we bumped into each other. I established that Cathy was now single and maybe been through some kind of breakup, but I didn’t push the issue and enjoyed the fact that I had not inherited a nightmare neighbour, but a friendly one. As the weeks went by I didn’t really speak with Cathy a great deal. I did however get a strange feeling that I was being watched by her (I didn’t have any proof and never saw her.) But, whenever I went to go out or returned I just had a funny feelings he was watching me. Cathy had moved to the area for a fresh start. She had not long broken up with someone that she had been seeing, but that was not the reason, Cathy was in fact the one that had called the relationship off. No, Cathy had moved to a new area so that she could initiate a life long dream. It was no coincidence that she had moved in next door to PJ, she had been stalking him for months. After purchasing the property she had ensured that all the necessary improvements had been completed before moving in, now the time had come to commence. BANG! BANG! BANG! My front door echoed. I had just got out of the shower and dried myself. Pulling on a pair of shorts I hurried downstairs to open the door. Stood in front of me was a frantic and slightly upset Cathy dressed in her silver silk dressing gown. “Oh PJ, please come quick something’s happening in my basement, please help me!” Cathy said while wiping a tear with a tissue. Unsure of what to expect I slipped on my trainers and grabbed a baseball bat and followed Cathy. “What is it?” I asked as we hurried to Cathy’s house. Once inside the front door Cathy shut it behind me, “I need you to look downstairs for me, please?” Cathy pleaded as she pointed to a wooden staircase. “Ok!” I responded as I gripped my bat and proceeded to head down the stairs towards a dark door at the bottom. Cathy was following me in close proximity. Upon reaching the lower floor I put my had to the door handle and pushed it down, simultaneously pushing the door open into the dark filled room. I edged in with Cathy still close behind me. Suddenly lights above my head were on and I was momentarily blinded by there brightness. Cathy’s plan had gone well this far and had managed to get her potential victim into position. After flicking on the light switch she grabbed a sealed see through bag from the side cabinet next to the doorway and opened it. She retrieved the thick white paper handkerchiefs that she had prepared earlier that were laced with her special chloroform concoction. I was stunned when my eyes adjusted to the light and I could see what was before me. The bright white tiled walled room was full to the brim with equipment. My brain was struggling to process what was laid before me. An adult sized cot, a changing table, large rocking horse, shower, glasses front cabinets upon cabinets full of items. I just didn’t understand why this would be here. I turned to ask Cathy what was going on. However at this point With the thick paper hankies firmly in her right hand Cathy circled my neck and applied them over my mouth and nose. “Mmmmmmppppppphhhffff,” I cried as the thick white crisp tissues formed a gag around my face. I was obviously in shock and dropped the baseball bat as Cathy expertly clamped the paper hankies over my mouth and nose. I inhaled almost instantly and was hit by the chemical smell that was held within. “Mmmmpppphhhhhfff” I cried again as I grabbed hold of Cathy’s hand holding the paper hankies in place. Cathy was well prepared for my attempt of escape and quickly used her knee to push into the small of my back to knock me off balance. As I found myself falling backwards into my assailant I inhaled again. This time the chemical within the tissues had Cathy’s desired effects and caused my head start to spin. I desperately started to struggle now, as I lay collapsed on the floor with Cathy directly behind me supporting my head and holding my hands away with one hand, whilst holding the thick paper hankies over my face with her other. “Mmmmppppppjhhhfff,” I complained as Cathy looked into my eyes. “Sssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh! Baby it’s ok, mummy is going to take good care of you. Just relax and breathe in mummy’s special medicine Cathy responded as the drug started to really take effect. My head was spinning, my eyes were starting to blur, why would Cathy do this to me? I don’t have a lot of money and definitely do not have anyone who would pay a ransom. But what I didn’t know is Cathy know exactly who I was, she had done her homework and I was ‘her choice’ candidate. Drugged and confused I continued to struggle against my abductress, but this was in vain. Cathy now had me exactly where she wanted me. On the floor, the drug laced tissues in place and going nowhere! “Mmmppphhff” I cried again trying to question why, but Cathy was not moved. “It’s ok precious, mummy has planned this for a long time, you just need to be a good boy and go night nights! I know you don’t want too, but mummy knows best sweetheart, just relax baby and everything will be just fine, I promise!” Cathy stated as my eyes were now glasses over and I was falling into a drugged slumber. “Gooooood booooooy!”Cathy said as I drifted off into la la land.

Chapter 1: The Potion Long after Voldemort’s fall there was always one thing that stuck with Harry Potter. One event, one period of time that would startle him out of sleep long after the trauma had faded, long after he’d learned to live with all he’d experienced. It was something he couldn’t speak to anyone about, and something he couldn’t forget. It happened during that last year, while they were on the run from the Ministry’s forces. Camping in the Weasley’s tent, carrying with them the Horcrux pendant. Harry and Ron had just had their argument, and Ron had disappeared, and Hermione and him had been forced to move on, disapparating, leaving behind any hope of Ron’s return. Hermione was angry with Harry, and he was angry with himself. They camped on a windswept rocky outcropping, and it was as cold as Harry felt. He went looking for more blankets, hoping he could shore up some heat loss, and maybe soften Hermione’s mood. He found some in a large chest, that like the Tent, and like Hermione’s bag of holding, was larger inside than out. Inside the chest was more like a shed, with shelves of supplies, and what Harry was sure was the Weasley’s other tent. Crawling in, he found blankets easily enough, but as he rummaged through them he stumbled upon some things — there were old soup cans, boxes of dry detergent, an old crate of muggle things (an electric drill, and some old board games), dusty looking candies, and a basket of toiletries. He almost didn’t give it a second look, but he saw that they were girl’s things — tampons, a packet of hair ties, flowery shampoos, and nestled down beneath everything, a packet of nappies. Well not nappies, Harry decided as he looked closer, they were Pullups. nighttime pullups, DryNites✫ brand to be exact. Harry stared at them for a long while, partly because he knew to whom these things must belong, and partly because it was a welcome distraction from everything else going on. The last time either tent had been used, had been for the Quidditch World Cup, and the Girls tent was where Hermione and Ginny stayed. These were Ginny’s things. Ginny’s nappies. The thought somehow made him feel closer to Ginny. He knew he should be embarrassed for her, but he saw her in his imagination, clearer than he’d done in months. Going to bed in the tent, slipping on the humiliating thing. Why? She must have a problem, a bed-wetting problem? Or else, an all-the-time problem? Regardless, this secret was his now. Something he shared with her. A bit of intimacy. He imagined her in them, as he slipped one out of the package. And he saw her body, mostly naked, as she pulled one up her legs. And then he saw her in the morning, somehow waking up beside him, and he’s reaching down, and saying: “Looks like you’re wet again, Ginny.” And she replies, her cheeks blushing to match her hair: “I’m sorry.” But he’d have none of it. He’d help her, tearing the yellowed nappy at the seams, and cleaning her most sensitive bits with a wipe. She’d lean into him, feeling safe, and happy, and taken care of. He wanted that most: to hold her, and take care of her. Without realizing it he’d developed an erection, and embarrassed with himself, he quickly returned the pull-ups and things to the shelves. With one last look he grabbed the blankets climbed out of the Chest, trying to make sure everything looked as he’d found it. As his feet touched the floor of the tent, he turned to Hermione, her nose in a book as always. “Did you know that chest is bloody huge inside?” He asked, but she only looked at him. Eyes bloodshot with tears, and her look answered for her. “Of course I know that Harry,” it said. “You’re an idiot.” If the blankets, left folded upon her bunk, had any effect on her mood at all it might have made things worse. Over the next day she hardly said a word, and left Harry almost entirely on his own. All there was to do was to look at books, and listen to the wind howling outside. Hermione would cry, sometimes, but she didn’t let him see it. She missed Ron. He knew she hoped, wished, prayed, that Ron would return and Harry wanted nothing more than for her to get what she wanted. And as if it had heard him (which should have been an enormous red flag) the answer appeared before him: in a book of potions. It all but fell open to the perfect spell, the perfect way to undo the damage he’d done, and bring Ron back; and looking at the ingredients it didn’t even look all that difficult, and it was topical, meaning all he’d have to do is put her in contact with it (It would have been a real difficulty to get her to drink a potion). They had a cauldron they’d mostly been using for heating soups, and nearly all the ingredients were food-like enough. He was also willing to bet that Hermione was so engrossed in both her book and her concerted effort to ignore him that she wouldn’t notice even if the recipe require a Bog’s Heart; she’d ignore even the worst smells or loudest bubbles, he was sure. Maybe it was the influence of the horcrux, or something else, but the whole time he was assembling the potion he couldn’t imagine what would go wrong. Through his bitter feelings and thoughts he couldn’t see his friend Hermione, and he couldn’t believe she’d want anything else than Ron. The worst that would happen is it would banish him, replace Harry with Ron, which was what he felt he deserved. Walking with the potion, holding it in a tea cup, as he moved toward her he knew what he wanted. It had hurt her so much to choose Harry over Ron — to choose the mission over... whatever those two were. He wanted to help her make a different choice, or remove that choice from the table completely. As he approached he made like he’d slipped, and “spilled” the tea on her lap. “Harry!” she yelped, jumping up, and all her anger welled in her. She looked at him, and he waited for it. Bracing himself for banishment, or punishment. She seethed, and shook, “Honestly, I wish you’d just...” she began, and he closed his eyes, almost afraid of what would happen next. But a moment passed, and when he opened them again she’d deflated. She looked at him sweetly, with all the warmth and pity pouring out on her face. She looked cute, and like she needed a hug. Normally he didn’t let himself think of her that way, but she also looked very pretty. He watched her, still half-hoping she’d say the right thing, or at least think it in her head. But then his eyes wandered down, past her house-coat to her soaked crotch, and without thinking he thought of Ginny’s Pull-ups. It did look like she’d had an accident, she did look like... “I just wish you’d get what you want.” Hermione completed her sentence and panic rose in Harry. He sat frozen, but after a long few seconds nothing happened. He’d mucked up the potion. They were safe. ✫DryNites is the brand in the UK, and debuted in 1994 (the same year as the quidditch world cup) at this point they would be plain white with just a DryNites/GoodNites tag on the back. Some notes on this... I did try to match JK's voice, and generally be british-y as much as possible so that it wouldn't be jarring, but I'm american, and I'm not going to kill myself to be perfect in that regard. Also, I'd prefer to use the word Diaper, but it just makes no sense. I tried to be as accurate to the books as I could as well, and I'm pretty sure my nerdy obsession with HP has helped there. I reread the relevant chapters, and I'm pretty sure I got it fairly close, and the timeline does (and will) make sense. And then as far as the tent I'm purposely going with the tent as represented in the books and the Goblet of Fire film. In Deathly Hollows the filmmakers decided to make the tent much more spartan, which I get, it fits with the mood, but would make it really hard for any of this to work. It also makes no sense. This is a good illustration of what I'm working with: https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=cjG7QP5IL8c Thank you so much for reading! I have more chapters in the pipeline I'll be posting on Friday!

Just made my biggest diaper score ever.I got a packing pallet full of diaper packs for free from the people next door,someone in their family passed away and the diapers where in there flat.The people know I wear but not the reason I wear so they phoned me and asked if I wanted them,I went to see what size they are and to my suprise I saw they are in the size I wear.I have scored diapers before but never this amount I will not have to buy at least for the next 2 yrs.I just finished counting them 30 pack each with 30 inside a mix of Molicare Maximum protection and Molicare super plus.I am so happy about this score

Chapter 3: Accidents When Harry woke up he heard her immediately. She was sniffling, sitting up in her bunk, looking down at herself. He was confused at first, but then the smell hit him. “Oh Herminone...,” he said. She looked up at him, innocent tears in her eyes, and he went to her. He pulled back the covers to be sure, and she hid her face. Sure enough she was soaked, he could see those pink knickers clearly through her PJs. He pulled her to him and hugged her tight. “It’s okay, it was just an accident.” He helped her stand, and looked at her, she seemed frozen, staring at the wet spot on her bed, her sodden pants clung to her. Harry felt the strong need to make it better so he said: “Go, shower. I’ll take care of it.” She went to the drawer to grab clean clothes, moving as though she’d do anything to not feel her wet panties, and her soaked PJ bottoms. He took her hand, and looked in her eyes. “Go. I’ll get you something.” She looked at him thankfully and rushed off. The bed was easy. He used a spell to dry it, and was glad to see it took care of whatever “staining” there normally would be; no unpleasant scents remained. At her drawer he found a pair of warm flannel pants, and a plain white t-shirt for her, but staring down at her panties and bra he somehow felt it a step too far. It was as if the situation was bleeding into what he’d normally feel was appropriate. He just couldn’t bring himself to touch those things. Searching for options he considered just bringing her a towel, letting her sort it out, but he’d promised he’d take care of her. He wanted to take care of her. Whether the logic was convoluting itself towards an end, or if Harry was, he wasn’t sure; Regardless he knew what he needed to do. He dove down into the Chest and retrieved the DryNites. He took one and placed it in the pile with the other clothes, along with a fresh towel and left it for her on the sink, just inside the curtain. He also fished out her PJs from the floor, and used the same drying spell. He thought he sensed a long void between the shower turning off and her coming out of bathroom, but she did emerge eventually, and Harry saw the consequence of not wanting to touch her under things first hand. The white t-shirt did nothing to hide her nipples, which poked through the thin cotton, were clearly visible. She crossed her arms over her chest and sat at the table. He felt his heart rate rise as he saw her, but it wasn’t seeing it that got him feeling warm, it was her response — the innocence, but also the willingness to not argue with him. Walking past he glanced down at her back, he saw the white of the pullup sticking up over the hem of her pants and he felt a surge of pride. Maybe she hadn’t done everything he’d asked yet, but at least she didn’t fight him on that. Besides, it was a practical solution to her accident wasn’t it? As the day wore on Harry felt refreshed. He dove into their research with an energy he hadn’t felt in months, and he almost forgot about the Horcrux tied around his neck. They ate lunch, finishing off the last of the sliced bread, and sipped tea together in silence. The only sounds for a long time were the sounds of each other’s breathing, the turning of pages, and the wind howling outside. The only sounds that is until Hermione shifted in her seat, and Harry heard a little toot escape her. It was so quiet in the tent that there was no ignoring it. “Brilliant,” Harry said with a smile. “Oh shut up,” she said blushing, but also smiling herself. More time passed and again she farted, Harry only glanced up but he saw she was red with embarrassment. He almost asked her if she needed the toilet, but thought better of it. This time it was only seconds before yet another puff escaped her, and Harry could hear her belly gurgle in the quiet of the tent. “Herminone, do you need to go...?” He asked, leaning over the table, and touching her hand. She peeked over her book, and stared at him for a long time, the anger and worry clearly passed behind her eyes. “No.” She said simply, and then dove back into reading. But nearly a minute later one last sound escaped her, it was a wet fart and much louder than the others. Hermione made a gasping sound, and Harry watched as her knuckles went white clinging to her book. But it seemed to pass and she relaxed, though somehow, despite not being able to see her face, he knew she was no longer really reading. Finally she slammed the book down, and looking down at it with all the intensity she could muster, she whispered something. “What?” She repeated it, but Harry couldn’t hear her. “I can’t hear you...” “I said: I need to go to the loo,” she said, this time audible, but just barely. “Ok,” he said, he stood and held out his hand for her. “Do you still want to...?” “Yes. I’ll help you clean up,” he said. She hesitated, but then she took his hand and he helped her stand. She seemed to be afraid; afraid of going on the way there if she didn’t rush, and afraid of what would happen after even if she did make it. She went in the bathroom, and with him still standing right there, closed the curtain behind herself. As soon as she sat down Harry heard it coming out. It was loud, wet, and very embarrassing. Already he could smell her poo, and as the louder sounds stopped, he heard the plops of more solid stuff into the toilet water, and along with that the hissing sound of her peeing. When all her sounds were through, he waited. He half expect to hear the toilet paper be torn, the sound of it on skin, and the sound of flushing, but those never came. She just sat there, waiting for him. He wanted to give her time, but the seconds wore on, and he was sure she felt him waiting. He decided to just do it, and he pulled the curtain back. Harry was afraid she’d fall right off the loo, but she sat there frozen, looking at him, her pants down around her ankles, naked from the waist down. Tears were in her eyes, but she just waited patiently. He went to work immediately: grabbing toilet paper, he guided her up onto her feet, lifting her bottom up and off the seat. He reached back and wiped her, checking to make sure he was getting some on the paper, and with each touch he could feel her shaking. He tried to be fast, but he found there was some extra liquid on her cheeks, and thighs so he had to use a few extra wads of paper. He then let her sit back down and moved onto her front, he didn’t look as he reached between her legs, but the thin paper gave him a good idea of what exactly he was touching. Her whole body tensed as he brushed her clitoris, and he felt her fingers dig into his shoulder and the back of his neck. Finally clean he helped her stand up all the way. He knelt down and helped her pull up the DryNite but as he did he paused. On the seat of it, he saw a light brown stain, spread out across nearly the whole thing. “Hermione...,” He said, hearing his voice turn reproachful. It didn’t escape him that he was staring right at her vagina, right at the fuzz of her trimmed hairs. Realizing he was fast approaching an awkward moment, he stood up and looked at her. “Did you have another accident?” he asked. “No!” She said adamantly but following his eyes she looked down and saw what had done to the Pullup. In the Pullup. “I just...I mean it wasn’t an accident it was just. I just...” “It’s okay,” Harry said, taking her hand. “But I did ask you if you need to go, didn’t I?” “Yes.” “And did you listen?” She shook her head no, hanging her head in shame. “I need you to listen. Don’t I?” “Yes.” “And what has happened now that you didn’t listen?” She focused on the wall, and he saw her jaw tremble as she hesitated. He watched her fight with herself, nearly gaging on the words as they came out: “I…I had an accident.” “Where, Hermione?” “In… in the Nappy.” She was biting back tears now, and he pulled her close, she had to stumble forward with her pants down, but as he wrapped his arms around her one hand found the small of her back, the other her hair, and she relaxed into him. “It’s okay, I’m not mad just disappointed,” Harry said. Hearing in his voice the voices of Hogwarts teachers, and his friend's parents. “Do you think you deserve another punishment?” She pulled away and her eyes snapped up, searching his, and she opened her mouth to argue, but no arguments seemed to come to her. Finally, resigned, and biting back tears, she nodded ‘yes’. “I’m not going to spank you again, neither of us want that,” Harry said. “I think you should wear your dirty nappy as a reminder.” She looked at him, and at the pullup, and nodded. Obviously feeling she’d avoided the worst, but not all of it. He knelt back down and pulled it up. He started to put her pants back as well, but she stopped him. “These are quite warm...” “Do you want lighter slacks?” Harry asked, but she shook her head again. “Do you just want to leave them off?” She shrugged and nodded. “Okay. That’s fine.” She shuffled back towards the table, and Harry watched her. The PullUps were stained lightly around her bottom, and she seemed to be trying to avoid the feeling of them as she walked. When she got to the chair she hesitated for a long moment, but then, eventually, she sat down. A shudder ran through her and all too quickly she grabbed a book to distract herself. He returned to the table, and watched her for awhile, his feelings were conflicting in a hundred ways, but mostly, seeing her sitting there, in white T-shirt, and white pullup, he felt connected to her. She glanced up at him, and with raised eyebrows asked what was up. “Nothing,” he said, and he too returned to their research.

Wow, that is awesome. And, I’m not sure they are making the plastic backed Super Plus anymore, so enjoy those! They are super soft!

For me it’s just when I feel the need for my little time and in general these days it doing a double diaper to sleep in. Its nice to sleep in one knowing I don’t have to get up to pee, and then in the morning I’m still wearing till after breakfast. Sometimes I will get a little regressed before I finally take it off

Hehe I like you rewards list on that chart!

Chapter 2: Punishments Trigger warning: non-consensual punishments in this chapter Somehow the potion had an effect, but not the one listed on the page. Hermione’s mood had softened, a bit; she was less spiteful, and had settled into a quiet comfortable disdain. Maybe she felt bad for yelling at him, but she was speaking to him, though only in short bursts, and usually only to point out something he’d done wrong. Still, for the first time in days they were able to sit across the kitchen table from each other without her anger radiating like a roaring fire. They went through books, looking for the same answers that had eluded them for months. A few hours after they awoke she abruptly stood from the table, and headed towards the loo (a full bathroom, the only thing tent-like about it is that it didn’t have a door, just a thick velvet curtain). “Where you going?” Harry heard himself say, she stopped and looked at him, confused at first. “To have a pee Harry,” she said, spite returning to her voice. “Okay, let me know when you’re done and I’ll help you clean up.” She stared at him. And he knew they were both having the same thought: just what in the bloody hell had he just said? Harry had rarely seen her at a loss for words, but she clearly was, and a long moment passed before she seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it. She stormed off into the loo and snapped the curtain shut behind her. It was surely justified, but to Harry it felt very insolent. He stood and went near the curtain. He could hear her, the hiss of her pee hitting the toilet water. Then he heard her rip off some toilet paper, and heard the toilet flush. And as he the sound of the sink running reached his ears he grabbed a chair from the table and set it down outside the bathroom. As she pulled the curtain open she saw him standing there. A number of questions went across her face, and he saw each one make her more and more angry. “Hermione, I asked you to tell me when you were done peeing,” he said. “Yes Harry. You did,” she spat back. “And did you!?” He shouted over her. “What!? No Harry. Ofcourse I didn’t!” “That was very naughty,” he heard himself say, and she slapped him hard. His glasses nearly fell off. He grabbed her, and sat down in one motion. He pinned her legs with one of his, and held the hand she’d slapped him with behind her back. And with his other hand he smacked her bottom. Again and again. Until his palm felt like her jeans had been permanently imprinted on it. She shook and writhed, and when he let her stand there were real tears in her eyes. He looked at her. “Next time, you’ll let me know.” He said simply, and returned the chair to the table. “You’ve gone crazy,” she muttered to herself as she put on her coat, and boots, but at the door it was as though she couldn’t bring herself to leave. Instead she stomped off to her bunk and climbed in still wearing her jacket, and cried for a long time. Harry *did* feel bad. He wondered if it was the horcrux, somehow distorting the potion, or some other magic, but he found he didn’t care. What was the point? He spent the afternoon and evening listlessly staring out the windows at the rocks outside. Well after dark Hermione stirred for the first time, and again she tried to make it out the door, but again it was as though she couldn’t leave. Instead she grabbed Harry’s wand, and took it with her to the bathroom. “Hermione,” he called after her. “Remember...” But she snapped the curtain closed, and again he heard her peeing, and again he heard the toilet paper, and already he was grabbing the chair. *Why Doesn’t she want to be taken care of*, he thought, as the toilet flushed. She opened the curtain, and saw him again. But this time she pointed the wand at him. “Stay back,” she said. “Hermione, what did I ask?” but she didn’t answer. “Petrificus Totalus!” She shouted, but barely a spark emitted from his wand. She tried the spell again, and again it fizzled. The color seemed to drain from her, and he reached out and took her hand. She almost seemed to relax into it, perhaps hoping he was taking pity on her. But he reached up and with one finger unhooked the button her jeans, and as his fingers brushed her lower belly and the hem of her panties she bucked. Her back arched away from him, but with the other hand he pulled her jeans down past her bum, revealing her pink undies. He spanked her hard this time, alternating between cheeks. He didn’t count the strokes, but it must have been ten or twenty before he slowed, and by the time he was finished she had melted. He pulled her upright, and she stood before him, her pants fallen to around her knees and her knickers on full display before him. She was shaking, sobbing. He pulled her back down onto his lap and held her there. Holding her as she cried. He found he could lift her so he took her to the sofa, and rocked her back and forth. It wasn’t like the other times, this time she was crying with no reservation, letting it all out. She held him tight and cried for a long long time, whispering Ron’s name, about horcruxes, and he heard the word “daddy” multiple times. Harry cried too as he thought about all she’d been through. She’d been forced to choose him instead of Ron, to choose the magical world over her parents. They didn’t even remember her, and Harry knew all too well the damage memory spells could do, they might never remember her. And when it came down to it he was still just a kid missing his parents, and she was the same. And now this, whatever this was. It was late and she fell asleep like that in his arms. He laid her down on the sofa, and got a blanket for her. Both to keep her warm, and cover her partial nudity. A few hours later she awoke, and he went to her. She blinked at him through puffy eyes, obviously confused, but looking at each other feeling like a weight had lifted. Ron leaving still hurt, they were still afraid, but that crying session had somehow lightened them. “Can I have some water?” she asked, smacking her lips. He got her some and when he brought it to her she stared at it like it might poison her. Harry knew what she was thinking: drinking led to peeing, eventually. But she’d dehydrated herself so much with all the crying that she gulped down the whole glass in one go. Under the covers she bashfully pulled her jeans back up, and standing she busied herself straightening up the tent. “Hermione. Are you ok?” It took a lot of courage to speak. She paused with a book in her hand, and looked at him. Again she was at a loss for words, but eventually she seemed to decide to answer him honestly: “I am,” she said, “I just don’t like...” Her hand seemed to want to touch her bottom, but she winced and thought better of it. “I don’t either,” Harry blurted out. “I really don’t.” “Then why?” She asked. She came and stood before him, but he didn’t have an answer, instead he said: “Let’s just make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?” And the moment expanded. Harry remembered kissing Cho for the first time, and how the whole world seemed to recede away, but this was something different. It was just them in this place now. She understood, he knew she did. He felt the urge to be more explicit, but whatever was left of his unaffected mind held it back. She got it: don’t make me spank you again. “Ok,” she said, nodding as her cheeks flushed. She went back to tidying, or pretending to be busy. She’d slept awhile so it was a couple hours before they headed to bed. She got on her Pajamas, and was brushing her teeth when he went to the bathroom to stand with her. “Do you need to before sleep?” He asked, and at first she didn’t seem to understand. She turned to him eyes wide, and opened her mouth to say something, toothbrush still in it, but then, thinking, she shook her head no. “Ok... you sure?” “I’m sure,” she muttered, but she didn’t sound sure to Harry. She went to bed, and when Harry went to the bunks a few minutes after her she was fast asleep, already snoring lightly. She looked peaceful.

Scene #5 Our honeymoon was ... interesting. We were at a resort in Florida, and we’d been out on the beach since just after breakfast. I’m more of a water person, while Mary is more of a sun person. She tucked into a book, and I got onto a raft with a mimosa in hand and Mary’s explicit instruction not to go too far out. She worries about me, and I get it. I’m a better swimmer than she is, and left to my own, I’ll go out further than she will. Well, I fell asleep on the raft. Not for long. Maybe just five minutes. But enough to get pulled out to where even I didn’t want to be. I wasn’t in danger - there was a sandbar out there that I bumped against - that’s what woke me up - so I was only in ankle deep water, but I was on the wrong side of the breakers and had a long swim. I stood up and saw Mary waving. Not in a happy how’s-it-going-out-there way. More of a get-your-ass-back-here wave. It was an effort, and it was tiring. Hard enough to swim against the current, but to do it on a raft is just a pain in the butt. I considered abandoning the thing but started to think of it as a flotation device. When I got to where Mary could stand, she came out and towed me the rest of the way. I was pretty pooped. “What on earth were you thinking,” she asked as she toweled me off in front of our chairs. “It was an accident. I fell asleep.” “You scared me!” She put the towel down and wrapped her arms around me. “Do you hear me? You scared me.” The look in her eyes was so sweet, so earnest, so caring. I sighed, feeling inconsiderate and guilty. “I’m sorry.” Sometimes I have sad puppy dog eyes without meaning to, like right then. I thought of her scared, and it made me sad. Then I thought of the vows we’d just taken, and it made me feel guilty. Hence the sad I’m-sorry-I-peed-on-the-rug-please-don’t-stop-loving-me puppy dog eyes. She hugged me again and gave me a kiss before parting. “I know you are, but …” “But you don’t have to,” I whined. Like I didn’t know what she was going to say next. “I know I did wrong. I’m sorry.” What’s the point of spanking when the person about to be spanked already knows what they shouldn’t have done and promised not to do it again? I’ve thought about this philosophical question a lot while over Mary’s knee, sometimes for things I’ve been spanked for before, but I had my reasons so those don’t count and … “Little girl …” “Urgh!” “Okay,” she said oh so condescendingly, “Little Miss Bratty Buns, then, you know the rule.” She sat back with a very satisfied look on her face. “In fact, you tell me the rule.” “One strike,” I grumbled. “That’s right. No warnings, no two strikes, no three strikes.” “Can we at least wait until later? It’s nice out and I don’t wanna miss it.” “Funny. I was thinking the same thing.” “Nooo!” “Mhmm.” “Not out here!” “Mhmm,” she said more slowly still, nodding her head as she did. “We’ll get thrown out!” “Here we’ll get thrown out. But behind those dunes we should be alone.” They weren’t that far from the bathing area. “People could walk back there!” “And you could have gotten caught in a riptide, so be grateful the only thing I’m going to rip into is your bottom!” She reached out and gave me a swat that mostly caught the outside of my thigh. I gasped as my hands went to my butt and I looked around at who might have seen. “But I’m willing to bet the manager would see things my way once I explained it all, so start marching or I’ll just drop your bottoms right here.” “Humph!” “Pouting isn’t gonna help,” Mary said as she took my upper arm, turned me sideways, and gave me a spank on each butt cheek. I wanted the sand to swallow me as I made eye contact with a woman about my age, or maybe a little younger, just a few chairs over. Mary’s hand was poised on the air. “Well?” “I’ll go!” I tried to pull away and start walking away from there as fast as I could, but Mary held on. “Okay, then.” I kept my eyes down but could feel that woman staring at us as we walked right by her. Swat Smack Spank! “And you can drop the sass right now!” Mary loves to spank-march me on the way to wherever I’m to be punished. On the way to the corner. On the way back from the corner. On the way to the bedroom. On the way to the kitchen. On the way to the back porch. On the way to the car, dressing room, lady’s room. I think you get the picture. Once we were behind the line of chairs and a little ways away from people, I got swatted every step of the way. Mary kept a firm grip on my arm as I twisted left and right trying and failing to move my butt out of her reach. “You naughty (smack) little (swat) girl (smack)! I specifically told you (spank) not (spank) to (spank) go (spank) too (SPANK) far (SPANK)!” It was like an exercise to see how far fifty yards can be made to feel, and the whole time I was doing my best to dodge while not struggling so much that we attracted any attention. And I don’t know if we attracted attention or not. I was dead set on keeping my eyes to the front to at least not see if anybody saw. “Can you – ow! – at least wait – ouch! – until I’m over your – ow! – knee,” I growled. “Oh, don’t you worry, little girl. I won’t run out (smack smack smack).” We ignored the sign that said “No walking on the dunes” and Mary immediately sat down as soon as we were out of sight, tugging me down with her and right over her outstretched legs. She sighed and put her hand on my back, rubbing it a little. “Do you have any idea how scary it was watching you struggle to get back and knowing I couldn’t help you?” And cue my weeping. Well, I thought, now you really feel like an inconsiderate shit. “I’m sorry.” “And I’m sorry I need to do this, but it’s for both our sake’s.” I nodded and turned by weepy eyes forward, folding my arms under my chin. Mary wasted no time in spanking my butt full force. No warm up. My cheeks wobbled under her assault and went from white to pink almost instantly. Instead of pulling my bottoms down, she stopped and pulled them up between my cheeks and kept going. I buried my head in my arms and cried. I kept picturing Mary panicking as I got too tired and drifted back to the sand bar. It didn’t happen, but it conceivably could have. I’d have been fine, but that wasn’t the point. The point was how awful I’d have made her feel. I didn’t struggle or squirm or move my legs. I laid there and let Mary take out her frustrations and anxiety and fear on my ass, teaching me a lesson in the process because she loved me and I loved her and because, ultimately, I wanted and needed this. Sure, it was an accident, but an irresponsible one. I’d been inconsiderate, and now I was paying through my bare bottom, which if nothing else would expiate the guilt. The spanking stopped, and Mary moved, and then the spanking started again with a thwock sound. A flip flop on a pair of naked buns tends to make that sound. I wanted to plead. I wanted to say I was sorry and had learned my lesson. I wanted to say stop. I didn’t. At last, Mary was done. I scrambled up and put my arms around her neck. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” I cried. “Shh,” she cooed while stroking my hair and kissing my neck. “All is forgiven. You misbehaved, got spanked, and now it’s over.” I sobbed in response. That was why I loved her. That was why I wanted her – not someone else, her – to be the woman who disciplines me. That was why I’d married her, among many other reasons. She makes me feel, I don’t know how to say it, accepted. Even when I’m naughty. “You’re my good girl again,” she said as she kissed my forehead when I’d calmed down. We stood up together, and I straightened out my suit. She took a peek at me from the side. “Yep, you are showing off a well-spanked bottom there.” “Oh my god, I have to walk past all those people like this!” She put an arm around me, and we started walking back like that, with me leaning on her. “If they knew you, they’d understand it’s just something you need from time to time. Like twice a week or so.” “Can I go put upstairs and put on my suit with the skirt?” “Actually,” my wife said with a voice full of mirth, “I took that out of your bag before we left.” “What? Why,” I whined. “So you couldn’t hide this butt,” she said as she squeezed it hard. “You are so mean!” SMACK! Sigh, melt, love. “Too late now.” That same woman was apparently waiting for us and dropped her jaw when we walked past. Mary is my defender in all things, and I think she especially likes that role when it embarrasses the ever loving shit out of me. “She needed a spanking, and you do, too, if you can’t mind your own business.” I’m not often a speechless person, but I had nothing to say to that – to either of them – in response.

I absolutely agree that the total length is critical. I think it has to be right to within no more than 2mm of error or else the stent will be very uncomfortable. One easy way I've found to find the right length is to take a catheter, or stent you know is too long and insert it. Then, clench and unclench your sphincter (try to "stop the flow" of pee) and you should be able to feel the movement of the sphincter with your finger. Move your finger along while doing this, and you can basically map out exactly where your outer sphincter starts and ends. Then, make your stent such that it reaches about 3 mm further than the end of your sphincter, and it should be perfect. A good test at this point is to try clenching again. If the stent is too short, you will feel discomfort when you clench, as the sphincter tightens around the sudden end of the stent. If, however, the stent clears the sphincter completely, then you should not really feel anything different than if the stent were not there. @Strangedude9990 I recommend you give this method a try, in order to get the length of your stent right in one go. Also, I'm not there to see it in person, but from the pictures you've posted, it seems to me like the ending of your stent is sticking/flaring out a bit, and will eventually cause irritation. Maybe try to get it smooth and in line with the rest of the stent? @Millerlite: It should ideally not be painful. However, for beginners it usually is lol. This is mostly because inexperienced ones do something wrong, such as inserting too fast, without enough lube, too large, or their cath just came with sharp eyelets that they didn't soften first, or they did everything right, but tried to insert into an already sore urethra that needed time to recover. As for myself, there's no pain at all when inserting, and I would hesitate to even classify the feeling as uncomfortable at this point. But that's because I have experience, and my urethra has gotten used to having stuff inserted. The takeaway though, should be this: it will start out uncomfortable, but should not be painful. It will get much better with time, so long as you listen to your body. Also, mini stent 3.0 update: I had had it in last week, when it became uncomfortable after only a few hours. This was very strange, especially since the discomfort was in front of the stent, where there was no stent at all! Well, it turns out I messed up with the retrieval line again. Learn from my mistakes guys: don't used #69 industrial grade bonded nylon thread. It's rough. Duh. Today, I switched back to floss, which I washed the mint off of this time, and in just the few hours I've had it in, I've already noticed a big difference. We'll see how it goes this time

Confucius say, "Man who go around with hands in pockets feel cocky"

Chapter Four: “Hello?” Elma poked her head in the front door. She had been knocking for five minutes and no one answered. It was late in the afternoon - maybe they were out? But when she turned the handle, the door was unlocked. Elma had been trying to bring Lady Tohru home to the dragon world for months, with little success. Tohru’s weird fixation with humans - specifically Miss Kobayashi - had led Elma and Tohru into combat more than once. But today she wasn’t looking to start trouble. She was just wondering if she could come over for dinner… “Hello?” she said again, taking her first step into the foyer. Down the hall, she could already see the weird metallic shine of the machine. But Elma didn’t understand the true situation until she saw the scene in front of her. The living room was sectioned off with large bars, from floor to ceiling. Behind them, sleeping on colorful foam tiles, was Kanna Kamui, the child dragon. Beside her, her friends from school: Saikawa and Shouta. But all three children were dressed strangely. Shouta - a boy, by admission - was wearing a frilly pink dress. And all three of them had thick diapers on display, with yellow discoloration between their legs. “What’s going on here?” Elma said softly to herself. Why would these three be dressed like babies? Then something else caught her eye. Along the back wall, nearly naked and suspended in the air, was Lady Tohru herself. Though she wasn’t asleep, she had a glossy far-away look in her eyes and the skin between her thighs was glistening wet. Elma stared blankly at Tohru, then at Lucoa, who was in the same situation. Why would two powerful creatures like them stay tied up? Why didn’t they break free? Then a thought struck Elma: maybe Tohru couldn’t break free! Maybe that tape around her was magical or something. And if Tohru couldn’t fight back… Elma could finally bring her back to the dragon world! Elma excitedly searched for the door into the large playpen, but she couldn’t seem to find one. She tried to squeeze through the bars, but even Kanna couldn’t make it through. With irritation, Elma turned her attention to the machine. She pushed a button and the screen turned on. “Okay, so this thing can probably get me inside, right? There must be a way…” Elma fumbled with the buttons, but she had even less experience with technology than Tohru. Soon, it brought her to a totally different screen and she couldn’t figure out how to get back to the start. In a panic, she hit all the buttons at once. With a loud clank, the door into the machine opened and the conveyer belt started to move. The clank was loud enough to wake up all five prisoners: the two milk maids and the three babies. Kanna rubbed her eyes sleepily and Lucoa pouted in annoyance. But Tohru was the first one to see what had happened. Elma stood on the other side of the bars, staring at her. “What do you think you’re doing here?” Tohru asked angrily. “I’m coming to take you back to the dragon world!” Elma shot back. “And you’re tied up, you can’t fight back.” Suddenly, it dawned on Tohru exactly what Elma was planning. If she went into that machine, she’d be trapped just like the rest of them! “Elma, no! Don’t go in there!” But Elma’s decision had been made. With resolve, she climbed onto the conveyer belt and disappeared into the machine. Tohru’s stomach sank, as all hope for her escape swirled down the drain. Miss Kobayashi would come home and find her like this, nearly naked, with tender nipples… Tohru felt something she hadn’t felt in a long while: embarrassment. Given Elma’s ample breast size, everyone expected her to be strung up with Tohru and Lucoa. But after a few minutes, the conveyer belt dropped her on the floor wearing nothing but a thick white diaper and a bib tied around her neck. The bib barely covered her Elma’s breasts, and the diaper itself was so much bigger than the ones Kanna, Saikawa, and Shouta were wearing. It was surreal, seeing someone so mature and adult dressed as a helpless baby. Tohru shook her head in disbelief. “Elma,” Tohru said sharply, trying to draw her attention. But when Elma looked over at the bound dragon, her eyes seemed… different. Dizzy. Far-away. Elma fished between her legs, until she found a large pacifier on the floor, and popped it in her mouth with a happy giggle. Tohru and Lucoa watched, mortified, as their friend crawled across to Kanna and the other children. Elma sat down, picked up one of the dolls, and started to play with it. She didn’t argue. She didn’t protest. Then, from a distance, Tohru saw a light yellow spot spread on the diaper between her thighs. “It’s like she became a real baby,” Tohru said in horror. “But how?” “I don’t know,” Lucoa admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” Then, suddenly, the suction cups on Lucoa’s breasts fell off. She let out a sigh of relief as the cold air brushed against her sensitive nipples. But her relief was short-lived. The hook that held her to the wall slid back toward the machine, setting Lucoa on the conveyer belt next to the machine. The door into the machine opened and the conveyer belt started to move in reverse, taking her inside. “Lucoa!” Tohru shouted after her. “Tohr—“ The door to the machine slammed shut. Tohru stared at the door with panic in her chest. Even the pleasurable feelings of the suction cups couldn’t distract Tohru from her anxiety. “Kanna,” Tohru said sternly. “Turn into your dragon form right now! Break out of this place and save us!” Unfortunately, Tohru still couldn’t turn into a dragon. Whatever they had done to her in that machine was preventing her transformation. Kanna looked up at Tohru with a pout and shook her head. “I’m a baby, Lady Tohru. Not a dragon.” “Kanna, this isn’t funny! That machine did something to Elma and it might do the same thing to—“ The door to the machine opened with a loud clank. Maybe Lucoa had escaped. Maybe she got out the other side and she could turn this machine off. But all Tohru’s hopes were dashed when the conveyer belt ushered Lucoa into the playpen, dressed just the same as Elma, with a pacifier in her mouth. “No…” Tohru whispered in shock. Lucoa looked up at her with those same dizzy, far-away eyes and giggled behind her pacifier. Tohru watched in horror as the front of Lucoa’s diaper started to change color. Fresh tears appeared in Tohru’s eyes, shaking her head back and forth. “No, no, no, no! Kanna! Kanna, please! You have to save us!” Saikawa looked nervously up at Tohru and addressed her best friend. “Kanna, maybe we should break out…” “I dunno,” Shouta called from the other end of the playpen. He took Lucoa’s pacifier from her lips and she started to cry. “I kinda like them like this.” Saikawa puffed out her cheeks in annoyance. “But we have to do something!” “No we don’t,” Kanna said simply. “We’re babies.” Saikawa and Shouta looked at their cute loli friend, then at the two grown women in wet diapers. They had to make a decision. Suddenly, the hook suspending Tohru in the air started to move toward the machine. “Kanna! You’re not a baby! You can’t keep pretending!” The hook set Tohru down on the conveyer belt. Tears dripped down her cheeks in panic. “KANNA!” Kanna looked up at Lady Tohru, the woman she had looked up to for so many years. She was crying and begging for Kanna’s help. To help Lady Tohru in her time of need was always a dream of Kanna’s, but now… now… “I want this,” Kanna said quietly. “I’m not a baby, but I wanna be. I want it more than anything…” Saikawa sat down next to Kanna and wrapped her arm around her best friend. “Then you can have it. You can have anything you want and I’ll always be here for you.” “Yeah,” Shouta spoke up. “Me too. Even if it’s weird, and I don’t really want it, I’m your friend and I’ll always be here for you.” Tohru looked at Kanna with tear-filled eyes, astonished. Kanna wanted this more than Kanna wanted anything. Maybe it wasn’t fair for Tohru to stand in the way of that. The conveyer belt pulled Tohru out of Kanna’s line of sight, and then the door closed behind her, leaving her trapped in the machine. The screen on the wall turned on and a swirl of color started to spin. Tohru’s eyes were drawn to it. She couldn’t look away. “Maybe Kanna’s right,” Tohru said to herself, as she watched the swirling color. “Maybe responsibility just isn’t worth it. I’m supposed to be Miss Kobayashi’s maid. I’m supposed to clean her apartment and wash her clothes. But it’s been months, and she doesn’t seem to care about me the same way I care about her.” The swirl of color turned and spun the other way. Tohru’s eyes started to droop. “Maybe… maybe if I were her baby, she would love me. If I was just a little, helpless girl… she would take care of me.” New colors appeared in the swirl. “I dun wanna be a big girl… I dun wan’ ‘sponsibility. I wanna be a baby…” The screen shut off and Tohru had one final thought. “I am a baby.” Epilogue: Miss Kobayashi stood in front of the machine with her arms crossed over her chest. On the other side of the playpen bars, three grown women were sitting in very full diapers and an awful odor filled the air. Even as Miss Kobayashi stared at them, they didn’t seem to notice or care. Whatever had happened, those three were lost causes. Kobayashi looked down at the three kids. Shouta hid shyly behind Saikawa, wearing a frilly pink dress with a diaper sagging between his legs. Saikawa scratched her head nervously, looking down at her yellow diaper in embarrassment. But Kanna stood alert and attentive, greeting Kobayashi with a smile. “Welcome home!” But Kobayashi wasn’t in a very smily mood. She let out a long, deep sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Kanna,” she said slowly. “What happened here?” “I’m a baby now,” Kanna explained, in a simple way only a child could. Then, as if saying it wasn’t enough, she balled her hands at her sides and bent over. She squeezed her eyes tight and grunted. Miss Kobayashi watched in disbelief as Kanna pushed the mess into the seat of her diaper, which expanded out to absurd proportions. It was a miracle the thing stayed taped on her hips! Maybe dragons just go more, Kobayashi thought. When Kanna was done, and the aroma of her infantile act filled the room, she smiled happily. Relieved. Finally, she was a real baby! “Okay then,” Kobayashi told her. “Being a baby is clearly very important to you, and I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your happiness. If you want to be a baby, then you can be.” Kanna’s eyes lit up, bright and happy. She ran to the playpen bars to hug her caregiver, but there was no way out. Rolling her eyes, Miss Kobayashi went to the machine and input a few codes until a gate opened. Kanna bolted out and jumped into Kobayashi’s arms, who just barely caught her. “Woah, hey! Slow down!” “I’m just so happy,” Kanna said into Kobayashi’s shirt, hugging her as tight as her little body would allow. Kobayashi smiled and patted the little girl on the head. Then she looked into the playpen once more at the other five babies. “Well… I sure do have a big mess to clean up.” [End.] ~~~~~~~ Thank you for reading! 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Risk of sending child protective services after someone living out a fantasy versus risk of not sending child protective services after someone abusing a kid? REPORT THE PERSON!!! This is not a difficult moral conundrum!!!

It's funny to think of the adult parallels here. AB sippy cup; Adult version, hot beverage travel cup AB pacifier; a pipe or cigar For my own purposes, I'll stick to wearing diapers at home in private.

Just joined. Also in Indy here.

Yep im just north of speedway on the NW side of Indianapolis.

West side of indy should be like near the speedway or the like. West side of indianapolis is what I think they meant We are south of Indy, about 25 min.

Diaper Montana

I think you might be over analyzing and not understanding the context. Referring to women as females is a way of referring to the opposite sex including both young girls as well as woman. If I were to use the word woman in my conversation in this particular context, then I would leave out young girls. Female is a way to describe both young and older. Insert into a female is an indirect way of refraining from saying: Stick my penis into woman, on a forum where young members might also be reading my post. No matter how you look at it, female, woman, and girl all mean the opposite sex. To say humans don't talk like that is ludicrous. I just did and I'm human. Insert simply means to put something into something. In the context of our conversation, I'm referring to a man's privets in an indirect way. People today are getting way too sensitive. Since when did people become so perfect? The counselor made no comment about what I said as being bad because it was in the right context of our discussion. Who are you to be a judge on the method of right or wrong? Who is to say a counselor can't address an issue by observing a client role playing their inner thoughts? And to tell me to not see this person until I can see her how (you think I should see her) Is opinionated on your end. Maybe my perspective of her is an inlet to a problem that she might find useful to observe, and even more reason for me to see her so she can evaluate these emotions. People are different where I live in CA then the particular town where I was from 2000 miles away. Night and day. People where I was from were very personal, and friends were more like family then just friends that you could be personal with. They were open minded and not sensitive. People in California are sensitive, they brake easy, and are over judging and not as friendly. People in CA get very offended if you say anything about their state, where is people where I was from could care less. There is a difference in cultures in different places simple as that. Humans? ...What about them? Call it/label it what ever color you want - and it will still look the same.