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Baby’s First… "Kiss" By: RambleLamb We thought we could beat the rain, wrapping up our after dinner conversation just as the conversation started to turn more intimate, finally pushing through the barrier of awkwardness that inherently came from years of friendship being transmuted into something new and unexplored. We'd walked the short few blocks to the restaurant since we'd both agree that the weather was more than pleasant enough for walking in. She'd beautifully explained it as something welcoming you to sleep with the window open and nothing but a light sheet to keep you covered, your pajamas saved for another day when the season was just starting to turn. Standing at the edge of the covered area where we'd just had a lovely and decidedly romantic dinner, I looked at her and looked away, a smile pulling at the edges of my lips without any conscious thought from me for it to happen, I felt her looking at me but when I turned she was looking out at the falling rain, her own smile spreading as she stepped out into the rain and turned back to me, her hand reaching out for me to grab it and join her. The rain wasn't heavy enough to be inconvenient, nothing that would bring soggy socks or a cold, just a bit of a drizzle to act as a soundtrack for our journey back to our apartment, the rain pattering softly on awnings of the buildings lining the way back home, the newly formed puddles in a constant state of growth and flux as drops hit them and rippled outward creating a tangible metaphor for our own blossoming new relationship. It struck me just how beautiful she truly was as she stood there in the rain inviting me to join her, willing me to take her hand and cement the status of "couple" that we'd been dancing around for weeks, making plans to go out on a proper date and shrugging nonchalantly when those plans fell through for one reason or another, neither of us wanting to let on how disappointed we really were that the thing we were both ensorceled by wasn't happening as we'd hoped it would. I reached out my hand and put it into hers, wrapping my long fingers around her hand as she did the same with mine, her light tug pulling me to her, the first drops making contact with me bringing out a happy giggle that I struggled to recall making before in my adult life, realizing that she was producing a similar sound in tandem with my own as I gravitated toward her, our bodies briefly connecting, my heart skipping a beat as we parted as quickly as we'd come together, her leading me behind her leisurely. She wasn't dressed for rain, neither of us were, I looked at the faux gemstones on the strap of her flipflops, the purple ones adorned on the inside with a now worn image of Princess Jasmine from Aladdin that she'd bought at Disney World the Summer before last when we'd gone into a little shop for rain ponchos for the coming bad weather and she'd fallen in love with the overpriced shoes, going on and on about them for fifteen minutes after she'd bought them for herself. My gaze went up her long caramel colored legs, stopping at the frayed legs of her jean shorts, the ones she'd been wearing that day at the beach when we'd gotten into a fight over a girl we'd both seen and looked at for too long to be considered anything but a stare, jealousy was the root of the problem, both of us feeling slighted that we weren't looking at each other the same way, both of us failing to admit that we looked at each other that way all the time but never called attention to it for fear that the feelings wouldn't be reciprocated. The white peasant top she wore was soaked now, clinging to her torso and leaving nothing to the imagination, her pale pink bra showing underneath, her smallish but absolutely perfect breasts beneath calling me to them with the faint scent of her perfume lingering on them as the rain degraded the scent with each passing moment. I thought of seeing them in locker rooms and in passing when she left the shower but didn't care to close the door completely as she stepped out and casually covered herself with a towel, wondering how I could have platonically seen them dozens or more times in our life but only now noticed them the same way I was now noticing her. We were nearly home now, the rain in the light of the street lamps making everything feel like an old movie, the film aged and heavily used giving those scuffs across the frames that made me think of quiet afternoons at my Grandparent's house sitting on the couch with my Grandma and Grandpa watching old movies while they reminisced silently about the life they'd lived together. The light caught the rain drops in her curly hair making them glint like little diamonds on the night sky shading of her hair. I heard music from a car at the light ahead of us, something melodic and sincere that sent my emotions careening off into a place filled with visions of lazy mornings with her in bed beside me, neither of us sleeping but neither of us in a rush to get up, content with just being together beneath the covers. I saw the distant days where we'd upgraded to a house and gardened together, her comically outdated and unfashionable sunhat making her look so beautiful in spite of all its flaws. I never saw a wedding or kids, but that might have just been the realist in me barring hopeful thoughts of real commitment from my mind, keeping me from believing I could domesticate her fully. Up the stairs we walked, her still leading the way with my hand in hers as we reached our front door and faced the very real decision of where we went from here. A moth struck the mason jar light cover of our porch light, its shadow erratically casting itself over us making her eyes look like they were sparkling as she looked up at me, my eyes meeting hers in a moment that seemed to be over in an instant but also stretch on for the entire span of human history. She was thinking about it too, and I could tell she knew I was thinking about it but neither of us were moving, just standing face to face like we were at a junior high dance and didn't understand what real dancing should look like, scared that closing the distance would somehow lead to pregnancy or marriage when we weren't even through puberty yet. Her smile was growing, the real kind that shows teeth rarely seen, not the upturning of the edges of your lips to give the appearance of a smile, those were reserved for disappointing birthday presents and picture day at school. Her smile was affecting her eyes, her top lids lowering just enough to let me know that she was content in the moment but going further was what would be best. ************************************************************************ I watched her standing beneath the awning of the restaurant, the quiet little wallflower afraid to play in the rain. She was worried about her hair getting wet and flattening, afraid that I wouldn't still be attracted to the drowned rat look she was so sure she embodied. I reached my hand out to her, knowing what it would do to her, playing off of her need to please the people she looked up to. She took it, as I knew she would, and joined me in the rain, giggling that sweet giggle of hers that she saved for when we were alone and I joined her with a giggle of my own, something that I too saved only for when we were alone. We brushed against each other and she might have gasped, but the rain devoured the sound with it's calming white noise serenade, and I began leading her as I always ended up doing. I remembered our trip to Disney World, leading her everywhere as she desperately tried to come to terms with the fact that she was publicly engaging in her kink for the first time, worried that everyone that saw her would instantly know that she was hiding a pink Tinkerbell Pull-Up beneath her shorts. I'd joined her in a show of solidarity by wearing one of my own blue Toy Story ones beneath my skirt, trying to get her to come out of her shell by buying the cutesy and childish Jasmine flipflops, giving her a peek at my absorbent underpants as I sat to switch my shoes for them, savoring the flush her cheeks took on as she hurriedly looked away. This night was much the same underwear wise as our trip though with me in shorts and her in a skirt this time. I knew she was wet already, the brief vacant expression on her face as she emptied her iced tea, the straw sucking air and smatterings of liquid for a moment as she let herself go. I knew without looking that her legs would start swinging beneath her chair soon, the regressive feeling of wetting herself bringing her down to the blissful and carefree mannerisms of her youth. It struck me just how perfect a couple we really were as I stopped beneath the street light to look at her while I wet my own Pull-Up, much more discreetly that she had. I looked at her pale, unathletic legs, the perfect porcelain complexion of them ruined by the dotting of mosquito bites. Her skirt wasn't short enough to reveal her secret attire, though I did get a giddy thrill thinking about her waddling beside me in a proper diaper, the bulbous crotch peeking out beneath the skirt I picked out for her. The light from the street lamp reflected in her glasses, the round, too old a style for a girl that spent too many weekends on her stomach on blanket on the living room floor watching cartoons in her diapers, tortoise shell relics making her look like a librarian. Her fiery red hair was drooping now, but I knew it would spring back to life once we got it dry and she'd go back to looking like a frazzled little nerd that liked to read with her head hanging off the end of her bed because she was convinced it made her retain the information better. I was in love with her and she was in love with me, we both pretended like we had no idea that was the case, never being intimate with one another before, but facts were facts. We'd grown up together, we'd had sleepovers and hours long phone calls, we'd confided in one another that we were freaks that liked to wear diapers for whatever reason, moving in to an apartment together to spend every free minute with our best friend and playmate. I loved the way she hid vegetables in her napkin and believed that she was so slick that I had no idea she was doing it. I loved the way she yawned when it was way past her bedtime but she was stubborn and intent on not missing any of the fun by sleeping. I loved that she used baby shampoo and deodorant that smelled like baby powder but tried to argue that she wasn't a baby when she needed to be downgraded from Pull-Ups to diapers for having an accident. I loved that she knew everything about me, good and bad, and still wanted to be with me every moment she could. I loved that she would both pee and fart when she really got to laughing about something, the years melting off of her as her womanly laughter devolved into high, childish giggles in the span of a fart. Standing outside our front door I looked at her green eyes as they shimmered in the porch light behind her glasses, the lenses starting to fog up in the confined area of the porch causing her to remove them and smile awkwardly at me. She was a goofy girl, and I wanted her to be my goofy girl, everyday for the rest of our lives. I could feel myself smiling, trying to pull it back but failing because of how happy I was embarking on this journey with her. I let go of her hand, realizing that I'd been holding it in one way or another since the restaurant and moved closer to her, my arms moving through the space between her hips and arms so I was loosely holding her, my hold tightening as I pulled her closer. ************************************************************************ She was making her move and my heart was thundering in my chest as she pulled me to her. I copied her, putting my arms around her waist and guiding myself to her as she pulled me in. I focused on her lips for a moment, full and inviting, my mouth going dry as I looked up to her eyes, dark and warm like the way she drank her coffee in the afternoon. Everything started to move in slow motion as the distance between us narrowed. I pushed myself up onto my tiptoes to be even with her height, my stomach doing a summersault as I lowered myself in fear of causing us to miss our marks, her kissing my chin and me kissing her nose. The mental image of us standing there like that made me giggle nervously, and we stopped moving closer. ************************************************************************ I'm not easily rattled, but her giggle sent ice water through my veins. Was this not what she wanted? I realized I was staring at her when she mumbled a quiet apology, explaining that she'd just thought of something silly and that she was nervous and that made her giggle. She was babbling after that, her thoughts spewing from her mouth without a filter in place to keep them on topic. I smiled at her and pulled her the rest of the way to me, lifting her up a bit and quieted her with my lips pressing into hers. ************************************************************************ My eyes were closed the second she gave the final pull and kissed me. All of my senses exploded as the electricity from our lips connecting overloaded and blew every synapse in my brain at once. The most basic part of me took control, kissing her back with all the love I felt for her behind it, her perfume filling my nostrils as I breathed in through my nose, and then we parted and she was looking at me. Was it not as good for her? ************************************************************************ The pleasant tingle ran down my scalp, spine, legs and left my toes wiggling in my flipflops as I pulled away from her slowly, looking at her, eyes still closed and lips still pantomiming kissing until her brain caught up and she slowly opened them. She was sunburn red in her cheeks, her freckles seeming to darken in the porch light as she started to nervously chew her lip. Time froze and the world fell away around us before... ************************************************************************ Pouncing is the first thing a Little should learn, it can catch your Big off guard and give you precious seconds to tickle or cuddle or generally love on them before they regain control and restore the natural order of things. In the case of another Little, it's a power move that shows them you're in charge and should accept whatever happens after the pounce or else serious face emoji. I pounced on her and did my best sloth impression, wrapping my arms and legs around her and going in for more kissing. ************************************************************************ When she decides to pounce I let her believe she's in control. I don't stop her, I just do whatever she wants and when she's done we move on with our lives. She's never pounced and kissed before. Pounce and tickle? Yes. Pounce and cuddle? Obvi. Pounce and cry? Mos def. There was even the one instance of pounce and poop that I will be telling the story of on my death bed because of how adorable, disgusting, and hilarious it was. If she wanted kisses though, I was more than happy to oblige as I supported her butt with my arms and returned her love tenfold, my tongue sneaking between her lips and sensually caressing her own, her little moans dying in my mouth as I leaned against the wall for support, my legs wobbly and unsteady in the throes of passion. ************************************************************************ I willed her to replace the pounce and poop story with this one as we rested against the wall, my hands unclasping from behind her before being pinned between her and the wall and going up to her cheeks to hold her face to mine as I let my tongue dance with hers. I pulled myself from her and she let me down onto my feet, her expression completely dumbfounded as she stared at me. "Did I do it right?" I asked her softly. ************************************************************************ I nodded and slowly stood up from the wall. "I think you may have been fibbing about not ever kissing before." I told her. She blushed at that and shook her head. "Well, you did so well for your first time that I think you deserve a special reward." I told her as I patted her still wet head with the palm of my hand. ************************************************************************ In one night I: -Had my first kiss ever -Had my first kiss with a girl -Had my first kiss with my best friend -Had my first kiss with my new girlfriend -Did something super secret with her that no one else gets to know about ************************************************************************ We had ice cream. Naked ice cream. Bowls and spoons somehow never got used. You know what we did and I'm not going to tell you, pervert. End

Chapter 6 Knock knock. Ugh, not great timing. “Hi, Taylor. Come on in,” I heard my mom say to my friend at the front door. “Hi, Mrs. Starling.” “Abby’s going to be a minute. Come sit with me. Tell me about school.” I could hear all this because my door was open, and opposite the door was me, in the corner. Apparently timeout was back on the possibilities list, justified by Mom because it’s short-lived and therefore doesn’t really prevent me from seeing friends and doing things. It just delays it a little. To her, it’s in line with the spirit of our agreement, and, well, the alternative is me fighting that, and well, you can see where that would go. I guess the good news is me protesting curfew didn’t warrant a spanking in Mom’s eyes. I wanted to extend my curfew to one so I could leave stuff around midnight and still get home on time. Mom was adamant my curfew remain midnight. I reminded her that college students are often out past midnight, that some things don’t even really start until midnight. She reminded me that my curfew was midnight. To this, I then countered that I wanted it to be one. Mom countered that my curfew was midnight. To which I replied, “C’mon!” Stunning logic, I know. “Abigail...” “This is stupid!” Mom dropped the spoon she was stirring the pot with and turned such a withering glare on me, I stood there while she grabbed me by my left arm, turned me sideways, and spanked my butt through my shorts five times. “Hey,” I protested. Really, I should be on a debate team or something. (SWAT!) “My mind is made up. (SWAT SMACK SPANK!)” I could murder my aunt for teaching my mom about thigh spanking. Or maybe she figured it out on her own. “Ouch! Fine. I understand.” “Let’s go,” Mom said and started steering me toward my room. “But I said I understand!” Why should I get a spanking now?!? I just agreed! And over what, a four-sentence argument? I writhed, just a little, to try to get away; I have a little pride left, and I wasn’t about to submit to a spanking that I hadn’t at all earned. “And I want to drive the point home.” (SWAT SMACK SMACK!) “But I don’t deserve a spanking,” I said as I tried to dodge another swat. “And if you stop wiggling you won’t get one.” “But ...” “I’m putting you in a timeout.” God, what childish way to phrase it. In a timeout. I lapsed into silence knowing there was nothing I could say, me being me, that wouldn’t probably end with me over her knee. She steered me into my bedroom and put me in the corner next to my dresser. Mom had joked a couple days before she was going to get a stencil and paint “Abigail’s Naughty Spot” on the wall right there. At least, I think it was a joke. “Hold still,” Mom said. She reached around me and popped the button on my shorts, pulling them and my panties to my knees. I couldn’t help but notice that in less than two weeks she had gotten really good at popping that button. One handed and everything. “I thought I wasn’t getting a spanking,” I whined. Seriously, a spanking for that little bickering! I DIDN’T WANNA SPANKING! “I’m not going to spank you, sweetie. Calm down,” Mom tried to soothe me. “This is just a little reminder.” “But ...” “Shush. Thirty minutes.” “But Taylor is on her way over.” “Don’t worry. I’ll keep her entertained. Now turn around, and no leaving the corner until I come get you.” I obeyed and felt Mom’s eyes on me as I did. Satisfied I was going to stare at the wall, Mom left, and she didn’t close my door. The first time I got corner time like this, i.e., bare with the door open, was after a spanking and I pitched a fit about it and had gotten another twenty spanks while I stood there, worried that Ryan or Emma would walk by. Mom’s response was that timeout was my punishment, not hers, and leaving the door open meant she could check I was still in the corner easily. Did she really not trust me to stay in the corner if the door was closed? Although, fair point. I mean, what if I was, like, leaning against the wall? Would that not count? I think that should count. But what I think counts doesn’t so much matter anymore, so I stood there waiting for my friend to come over and my timeout to be over, knowing those two events were going to happen in that order. I killed 30 seconds rubbing my butt and twenty-five minutes bored out of my mind. Does Mom even know how long a thirty-minute timeout really is? Well, not exactly bored out of my mind. As I stood there wishing the air conditioning vent wasn’t in that corner, I considered something. Mom and I bicker like sisters sometimes, like we just had. That certainly didn’t register as a fight, hardly even an argument. I’d never gotten grounded for bickering with her. Told off, sure. But no more than that. Never had my phone taken away for it. Been warned to stop or else, but that was it. The only time I got in trouble for it was really for ignoring the “or else.” Grounding is kind of binary. You are or you aren’t. You can be grounded to your room for an evening, but that seemed kind of harsh for bickering. So that never happened. And a spanking just no would have been way too much for trying to get out of a curfew (At least we agreed on that. So, #winning?). So that didn’t happen. But getting swatted a half-dozen times through my shorts? Apparently that was on the table for bickering, as were bare bottomed timeouts (and, by extension, clothed ones, back in fashion after two years without one). So I realized, far from the drastic nature of a fully-fledged spanking meaning Mom would be more reluctant to punish me, mini-spankings – a swat or two here or there – gave her a tool for all the minor things that didn’t rise to the level of a full spanking or what would have once been a grounding or taking things away or even a timeout. So whereas before she’d have done nothing because anything more than a scolding would be disproportional, I was suddenly subject to getting my butt smacked for what would have warranted no more than being told to stop a few weeks ago. How the fuck did that happen? How safe was my butt from her hand if calling a midnight curfew stupid (which it so is!) could get my butt smacked? But now, with Taylor in the living room, I wasn’t bored or thinking about the change in my circumstances. I was embarrassed and terrified. What if Taylor saw me like this? “I’m so glad you like school,” Mom was saying to her. “And I’m glad I get to see you. I miss you guys.” Mom always liked my friends, and she always liked having them around the house. “How is it being home?” “Oh,” Taylor said, “It’s great. I missed everyone, of course. Kinda feels a little weird, though, being back in Mom and Dad’s house.” “Being back under their rules?” “The opposite, actually. They just want to know where I am, but no real rules or anything. They say I’m an adult now, and I’ve been out on my own for almost a year, so...” Taylor goes to school in town at the same university Allison is at, but she lives in the dorms, not at home. “Really,” Mom said. “Well, good for you. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders, and it shows.” “Thanks. I’m sure you must be relieved, too. I mean, Abby was already grounded what, like twice, by this time last summer,” Taylor, my friend, giggled. “Least you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” “No,” Mom said. “I don’t.” I think I heard her smirk. “What’s keeping her anyway?” “She’s getting ready is all. We had a little argument and she’s cooling off for a moment.” Okay. What. The. Fuck. “Oh,” Taylor said. “I guess that makes sense. I mean, daughters and moms, right,” Taylor nervously laughed. “I still argue with mine sometimes. What was it about?” “Curfew.” “Abby has a curfew?” “Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you’d help her keep to it.” “Of course.” “Well,” Mom said, “I’ll go see if she’s ready.” Boy, if Mom wanted an argument, I would’ve given her one right then that would’ve sent her head spinning, but Taylor was there. “Time’s up,” Mom said when she came in. Shoot me. Just shoot me dead. Of course that’s how she would phrase it. “Mom,” I whisper-shouted as I turned around, forgetting my state of undress, “you can hear everything between here and the living room!” “You can,” Mom said, lowering her voice one sentence too late. “Yes,” I hissed. Mom shut the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” she said. In my pissed off mood, I thought about how little ‘sorry’ meant when I was in trouble. “Really sorry.” Yeah, doesn’t work when I tack ‘really’ on to it either. For that matter, ‘I didn’t think’ also did zero to get me out of trouble for being inconsiderate. It’d pretty much the definition of being inconsiderate. I closed my eyes and exhaled. “Whatever. Can you just go tell her I’ll be out in a second.” “Yeah,” Mom smiled at me sympathetically. She slipped back out the door and at least had the courtesy to close it. I ran through all the things I wanted to say to her, leading off with why she was making my curfew a community fucking project. I rubbed my eyes with my fingers for a moment and exhaled again, and then I just felt tired. I hoped the mall would cheer me up some. Perhaps one of the places in the food court was running a self-pity special on comfort food. I got a Goodnite from my dresser and slipped it on, because at least I wouldn’t have to focus on fear of peeing myself, and pulled my panties and shorts back on over them. I mumbled a goodbye to Mom on my way out the door. “So what is your curfew anyway,” Taylor asked me in the car. “Midnight,” I sighed. “Kinda early, ya know, especially on a weekend.” “Yes. Thank you. I know.” “And you got sent to your room for arguing about it?” “Any particular reason you’re so interested in it?” “No … I just … didn’t know you still got, like, timeouts and stuff.” And what the fuck is ‘and stuff’ supposed to mean? “Well, I guess I do. It’s just … my mom isn’t like your parents. It’s just easier to humor her.” “Oh, well, I guess that makes sense,” said my friend who was humoring me. “I do that, too, sometimes, I guess, just go along with stuff at home to make it easier.” We rode in silence for another minute. “So do you get grounded, too?” “No. That’s the deal. No grounding.” “There’s a deal?” “Could we talk about, like, literally anything else?” “Like what?” We pulled into a spot. “How about that forensics course you took for a science credit? Really, tell me again about measuring the rate of decay in a dead pig because I would rather talk about that than what just happened.” I my head on the glass. “Hey,” Taylor said softly. She reached over and rubbed my shoulder. “Please don’t be embarrassed. I don’t care. I was just curious.” “It’s okay,” I sighed. I was starting to feel like I was bottling up my emotions. “Can we just go shop?” And we did. We always start at the top, meaning in places where we can’t afford anything, which never stops us from trying stuff on, and work our way to the affordable stores. Now, you have to understand that Taylor can be as stupid as the rest of us at times, and she has a particular fondness for cheap gin, but most of the time she’s playing the mom of our group, making sure we’re all okay. Everyone have a ride? Check. Everyone have their stuff? Check. Not walking to our cars alone? Check. And she’s been my friend since forever. We went to pre-kindergarten together, so I don’t think there’s anything we don’t know about each other (well, almost). Who we lost our virginity to? We both knew that. My feelings about raw tomatoes (I’m against)? She knows that. Her feelings about eggs (only people who don’t love their mothers think they belong on hamburgers)? I know that about her. She knows about my malfunctioning bladder, including that Goodnites are a a sometimes things for me during the day now. She’s seen me in them so many times over the years growing up, I couldn’t care less, and so sharing a dressing room is no big deal. “Having a leaky day,” she asked as I was trying on a skirt. “What? Why,” I asked as I bent over to peer at my Goodnite through my panties and felt my butt to see if I’d had an accident. I hadn’t, and thank god, because that would have been a first, me going and having no idea I’d done it. That would have sent me scurrying to the urologist, and I hate going to the urologist. “Just asking,” she said apologetically when she saw she’d cause me a moment of panic. “How’s that going?” I straightened up. “Well, it’s not getting better.” I twisted in front of the mirror. “Does this look good?” “Yeah. You gonna get it?” “At the very next 90% off sale,” I sighed as I took it off. “You could always transfer to UMA and live at home. At least you’d have a little more to spend without paying for room and board.” “I know.” Many conversations had occurred in the past twenty-four months about the wisdom of taking on as much student debt as I was taking on to go to the flagship campus. I’d take on less if I went to the campus in town, but I didn’t want to be a commuter student. “Is it getting worse,” Taylor asked me as I put my own shorts back on. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” “I just notice you wearing those out more.” “What do you mean you notice? You can’t see it. Can you?” “No, not usually. But sometimes. But only because I know what your butt looks like. People who don’t see you all the time wouldn’t be able to tell.” “It’s just easier. I don’t have to choose between running to the bathroom every half hour or else be totally fixated on whether I need to pee. If I leak, not a big deal.” “You’ve gotten a lot more mature about it.” “Because I don’t have Mom actively parenting me about it anymore. She was the one who would get so upset on my behalf if I had an accident. That’s the only reason I got upset about it, at least the last couple years.” And it was only, like, once every six months that that happened. I just spent the rest of the time – or rather, Mom and me spent the rest of the time – hyper-vigilant about it. It was exhausting. “Your mom’s never been mean about it, though.” “No. I don’t mean that. I just mean, well, you know what she’s like. She’s so afraid it would hurt my self-esteem or ruin my social life or just make me sad she treated it like preventing an accident was the First Amendment to the Ten Commandments or something. An actual accident like an emotional fire alarm. Her thinking I must be devastated and getting so protective is what would get me all upset. I mean, it’s not like every night I don’t, you know.” “Well, maybe it’s time you go see a doctor again.” “So they can try to put me back on meds?” “I’m just saying …” “I know. I don’t mind. I’m just not interested.” I ended up buying the cheap version of that skirt, or sort of a version of it, at a different store, and we stopped for dinner on the way home, where I made the mistake of having iced tea. It goes right through me. “Abby,” my Mom asked as I came in the door at top walking speed. “Be right back,” I answered as I scurried to the bathroom. I got there just in time, though a drop hit the Goodnite between my legs as I was sitting down. Oh, well. Not a big deal, like I said to Taylor. “Hi, Mom,” I said when I got to the kitchen. She eyed me suspiciously. “How was the mall?” “Fun.” “What did you buy?” “A skirt. And we stopped for dinner.” “Did you have tea?” I blushed. Mom nodded. “Thought I recognized that speed walk. You know the caffeine …” “Is a diuretic,” I finished her sentence for her. “Honestly, Mom, what difference does it make?” I mean, c’mon. We were well into the accept-the-things-you-cannot-change stage. “Well, what if you hadn’t come straight home and couldn’t find somewhere to stop?” “I …” I didn’t want to tell her I had that eventuality covered, not right then. “I’m just not that worried about it. What did you do after I left.” “We had dinner together and watched a movie. You sure did tire them out today.” “Sun and water. The magic formula. Gonna have to find something else to do besides the pool soon before they get bored.” Mom looked pensive. “I wanted to talk about before you left. I’m sorry Taylor overheard.” “Are you sorry you told her you sent me to my room?” “That’s not …” “That the gist of what you said. Taylor figured it out.” “She didn’t tease you, did she?” So that was a concern after all, my dignity. “Of course not. It’s just, I thought this was between me and you.” “Well, I guess I thought having a friend to help you stick to curfew would help.” “And … that’s really not the part that bugs me.” I mean, did she understand that? “Taylor has seen you in timeout before.” I know this was new to her, but did she realize she was veering from one position – worrying about me being teased – to the exact opposite – not a big deal, she’s seen you in timeout before – in the space of two sentences? “Two years ago, and it was embarrassing then, too. Could you, just, geez, could you just be a little more considerate of my feelings?” To my credit, I wasn’t raising my voice, which I absolutely wanted to, not even for the Taylor incident specifically but for the entire two weeks in which Mom turned into Aunt Lisa Junior and the circle of people who knew I get spanked now extended from me and Mom to me and Mom and Aunt Lisa and Allison and that girl whose name I still couldn’t remember. “I’ll try,” Mom said as she reached across the table and petted my arm. “I got you something,” she said, suddenly chipper. “What?” “C’mon in your room. I’ll show you.” I followed her into my room, and I’d rather whatever she had gotten me she hadn’t gone in there. It’s still my space, even if she had turned into a junk room for a bit while I was gone. “Sit.” I sat on my bed and she went into my closet. Even worse. And she went right for the trunk where I keep my bedtime things, as I like to think of them: a bed pad for in case I leak during the night so I don’t have to sleep in a wet spot, spare sheets, Goodnites, and diapers. The trunk wasn’t a secret. I just didn’t like her going in there, at least not anymore. “Ta-da,” Mom said as she presented a new brand of diaper to me. I guess my face said it all, but I tried to say it anyway. “Uh, ... hmm. That’s … it has … it’s pink.” “And it has hearts! Isn’t it cute?” “Where did you, um, get this?” “Online. I found this specialty store. Ya know, I think there are adults who like wearing diapers for, um, ya know, sex reasons.” Oh, great, blushing as a mother/daughter activity. I’d have at least liked to have gotten to see Mom’s face when she found that particular community. I knew about it. Hard to look for pretty much anything adult diaper related online without finding it. “Yeah. I, uh, knew that. But, um, why …” “Because these are so much more fun! You don’t really want those medical looking ones, do you?” Well, what I want and the hand I’ve been dealt diverged in a wood, and my bladder took the path of fuck-my-life, so… “Besides,” Mom continued, “these are so much better than the store-brand things, or even the ones at the hospital. All those people online said so.” She handed it to me. “They’re awfully, um, thick.” “Exactly. You did say those other ones only worked most of the time.” “Yeah, I did say that.” Of course, I meant it as a good thing. “So, do you like them?” It’ hard to say no to someone who is trying to be so sweet. And it was kind of cute. “Yeah,” I said, “It is cute. Thank you.” “Of course. I just want you to get good night’s sleep. I got a bunch more in the garage for when you run out.” “Thanks.” I half meant that. I guess I never understood growing up how Allison could not hate Aunt Lisa. I damn near hated Aunt Lisa, and she never hit me. It always struck me as odd – I could never fully wrap my head around it – that Aunt Lisa could spank Allison to blubbering tears, and Allison would sit up and wrap her arms around her mom and that would be that. She wanted to be comforted by the same person who caused her the discomfort, and a heckuva lot more more than discomfort, right away. I still don’t understand it. But I at least empathized with it now because I was in that position myself. I didn’t understand that, either. But as much as Mom had treated me, frankly, unfairly that day in basically blabbing to Taylor and, yeah, maybe a timeout did help me to cool it but it did not have to be bare, I wasn’t mad at her. So I stood up and hugged her and she hugged me back.

Things progressed. I cooked and cleaned and occasionally provided other benefits. I met her father one day when he came over to stock the wine cabinet. Fortunately, I had just come in from shopping so I was in an immie suit rather than just a diaper. I’m not sure Cheryl had told her family about my “fringe benefits.” Things were different here. At Carla’s, I took pride in my ability to cook and clean, and that was true here. However, I dreaded Carla coming home. I loved being by myself or spending time in the library. Here, I couldn’t wait for Cheryl to get home. We would eat together, usually sharing a bottle of wine. It was almost like we were a couple, except I’d be there in a diaper and when she went to bed, I went to my crib. When I announced I had to poop, Cheryl just allowed me the toilet. I guess she didn’t like the mess either. She had witnessed it one time when we were out together. We had gone shopping one Saturday. We were in the middle of the stuff Cheryl wanted to do when I told her I had to poop. “Do you want to go home?” she asked. “No, you’ve got stuff to do. Besides, I don’t think I could make it that long.” I then settled the matter by letting go into my diaper. I’d done it before, but rarely since Cheryl took me in. “Let’s go get you changed,” she said in response. We found the mall bathrooms, and there was a reasonably private changing area. At least only other immies would see me changing. Cheryl spread my changing pad down and had me hop up. I did. Cheryl unsnapped my romper crotch and untapped the diaper. She used the diaper to remove most of the poop from me. She got out the wipes and started humming while she cleaned me up. After several passes, she was satisfied with her work and got out the new diaper and taped it up. She snapped up the onesie and pronounced it, “All done.” I got up while she went to wash her hands. “Thanks,” I said. Otherwise, she always seemed to love watching me met my diaper in front of her. It often led to me having to take “good care” of her. At other times she just squeezed the front of the wet diaper before I went off to change. On a few occasions, she manipulated the diaper until I came. These were the golden days. I didn’t have much of a care. I just cleaned and cooked and catered to Cheryl. I loved looking at her, especially from my crib at night when she was naked or nearly so. I found her leaving through one of the Immie catalogs that came in the mail. “Some of these Immie suits are pretty cute,” she said. I thought she was going to find a new one for me. “Some times I think it would be neat to wear one.” “You’d have to put a diaper on, too,” I said. “People will treat you differently if they think you’re an immie.” “I suppose you’re right. Is it very hard for you?” “Sometimes. Most of the time, I can handle it. The suits, the diaper. It’s all to show us we are not mature. Many adults are real condescending like we’re mentally inferior. That’s what gets me the most.” She had lingered on the pages with the diapers. I assumed she was wondering what it would be like to wear them. I thought about offering her one of mine, but let it pass. She then turned to the Imatron page. “This thing looks pretty draconian.” “It is. I met a girl whose guardian had one of those on her. He hit her up with the pain signal from across the mall just because she was talking to me. She says it hurts so bad she wets herself. I’m always surprised Carla never had me in one.” “She mentioned it,” Cheryl said. “But she said that spanking you gave both pain and humiliation to you, and that worked better.” I should have figured as much. Cheryl was quiet for a second, then added. “I could never humiliate you, or hurt you like that. If I do, let me know. Do you mind the diaper thing around me? You don’t have to do that.” “I don’t mind,” I said.

Jonny Nine months ago a sleepy and very tired Jonny had been woken up by a noise he couldn’t place. There were grunts and screams, rattles and bangs coming from his mother’s bedroom all of which scared him. Although he was afraid he knew he had to protect his mother so cautiously tiptoed to her closed bedroom door and listened. The noise was even worse and the screams became more intense. Hoping to save his mummy from an attacker he rushed in to find her naked, on her knees and being assaulted from behind by an equally naked man. “Stop hurting my mummy.” He screamed and launched his slim, four foot frame at the assailant. The naked couple looked shocked at the sudden arrival of this fierce little boy who, with a high-pitched cry and arms waving in an attempt to rid his mummy of her naked partner, pushed the surprised man off his mother. The place reeked of sweat and something else young Jonny couldn’t quite recognise but knew it was something evil and it was only when his mother grabbed him and hugged him close did he stop his attack. At this point his shamefaced mother was embarrassed at the level to which her excitement had built and that Thomas, her partner, had equally got lost in the moment. “There, there, sweetheart...” she shushed and held her struggling son tightly, “nothing to upset yourself about... erm... mummy and her friend were just having a bit of fun.” “But, but, you were crying out, you were being hurt... you were...” His mother held him close to her sweaty naked breast, partly in shame and partly because she didn’t want to hear from her son about the noise they’d been making. “No sweetheart, I can honestly say that mummy and her friend were having a really nice time...” “But you were crying out and moaning...” “Look love, I’ll explain everything in the morning but for now. This is my friend Mr Wilkinson from work and he and I are getting to know each other a little better.” “Hi,” a sheepish looking naked man spoke to Jonny. “I’m Tom, erm, your mum’s boy... errrrr... a friend, a workmate, a...” But the poor boy was in floods of tears now he could see what the naked, well-built man was forcing into his mother. She knew this would probably be making no sense to her apprehensive and naive eight year-old son but felt proud that the little mite had burst in trying to save her. Tom tried to ruffle his hair in a friendly gesture but Jonny would have none of it and gave him daggers. # After about half an hour of placating words she eventually got him to return to his own room. However, the sights, sounds and smells lingered in his head as he tried to get back to sleep. It took some time. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was his naked mother, blonde hair dishevelled, sweating, naked and a muscled man hammering away at her. The following morning was the first time he woke up to find his bed saturated. When for the next week each morning produced the same results, it was then his mother eventually talked him into wearing a nappy at night as protection. The plastic pants followed about two days later after a particular soggy, leaky night meant everything was wet once again. After that, robust protection surrounded her little boy every night from then on. He wasn’t happy about his mother’s action but knew there was little alternative. Jonny discerned that when he dreamed, he dreamed of that moment and everything about that terrible experience; the stink, the heaving, sweating, moaning and his own terror coupled with the horrifying sight of seeing his mother mounted like she had been reduced him to a terrified, bed-wetting kid. He couldn’t explain the trauma the scene had caused, nor could he escape what happened when he closed his eyes and the entire act repeated in his head. All he knew, and all anyone else knew, was that the morning would produce a soaked nappy. For the first two weeks after that event he wet every single night, after that it began to lessen in intensity but still produced a soaked nappy at least once a week, though often more. Theresa, his mummy, guessed what the problem might be but was unable to think of a way to rectify what her son had witnessed. She hoped time would heal the wounds. # Over the coming weeks it became apparent that Jonny was about to get a new daddy. Tom was a regular visitor and although the boy was unsure, because his mother was happy, he made an effort when they met. Jonathan, or Jonny as everyone called him, was just over four feet tall, thick brown hair, brown eyes and an open face that made the girls in his class at school go all ‘gooey’. He was a popular boy, good humoured, definitely not a bully and teachers liked his lively attitude. However, although his teachers didn’t know the reason, since that ‘night time discovery’ he had become a bit more reserved. Later, he was introduced to Tom’s family. He himself had been previously married but lost his wife to cancer a few years earlier after the birth of their second child, Paul. Paul was now four and had a sister Gemma was around the same age as Jonny. That first ‘family’ meeting was a tense affair, mainly because of Jonny’s reluctance to embrace the fact that his mother and Tom were planning to get hitched. All he could see was that huge brute of a man doing awful things to his mummy... and he didn’t like it. The image was burnt into his brain and was a constant reminder of that appalling night-time experience. He couldn’t un-see what he’d seen. However, Theresa sweet-talked him into accepting the situation so the two families began to spend more time in each other’s company. # In many ways Tom was like Jonny’s mother, kind and gentle and made a fuss of Jonny and treated him like he did his own kids. They went to the movies and theme parks, on picnics and to the fun fair where they always had a terrific time. He could see his mother was madly in love, and, despite her best efforts, Jonny was still reluctant to be completely involved. However, a date for the wedding was set and Tom’s mother, Gwen, who had more or less helped bring up his two children after their mother died, was given the job of organising the event. She was very pleased to help and often babysat the kids when the two love-birds needed time on their own. The registry office was booked and Gwen planned the outfits for them all to wear. The six foot, broad outline of Tom looked good in a finely tailored blue suit. Theresa wore a cream coloured flowing dress that had a blue, lacy covering, which made it look very special indeed. Gemma, wore a similar outfit except in reverse, a blue dress with a white lacy covering which had the sweet girl beaming with pleasure. The two boys wore matching outfits; white thigh length shorts with white knee-high stockings and blue sandals, white shirts, blue tie and matching blue blazers. Gwen herself having a very stylish but slightly more matriarchal blue dress with an intense lacy design more suited to a woman of her age. Everyone looked fantastic except one disgruntled boy who was less than happy with wearing the same as a four year old. Despite his mother saying how nice and smart he appeared, in each photo he looked more and more depressed, ruining any photograph he was in. None of those attending the wedding could get even a slight smile from him. He was not happy being treated in such a way and sullenly sat at the kid’s table with his new brother and sister and various cousins. Gwen was getting tired of his attitude and, when mummy and his new daddy were having their first dance at the reception took the youngster aside and told him off. She pointed out that he was ruining his mother’s ‘special’ day and he was being impolite to the rest of the family. Jonny seethed with indignation as he looked across at Paul, who was happy and whirling around like a four year old in the middle of the dancefloor with people spurring him on. Why was he dressed like a toddler it just wasn’t fair. His resentment was curtailed when Gwen (or Nan as he’d been told to call her) pointed out that although Paul was only four, he didn’t wet the bed like a two year old and Jonny should be grateful that her son had agreed to take on the responsibility of such a spoilt bed-wetter who was thinking only of himself. Nan didn’t mean to be so harsh but was desperate to make the now nine year old see sense, as it was, he ran off to cry in the toilet. # She confessed what she’d said to her new daughter-in-law and apologised, she hadn’t meant it to sound so severe but Tom said to leave it to him and wandered off to the washrooms to find his new stepson. A tear-streaked Jonny was huddled in one of the cubicles but Tom was determined that today of all days he wanted to make sure Jonny didn’t feel all alone. “Jonathan... erm... Jonny.” Tom could hear the boy in the third cubicle sniffling. “Come out and come out now... we need to talk.” He spoke calmly but with authority, he didn’t want to scare the upset boy but thought he should take command and try to console the poor kid. “I don’t want to talk... she’s already said I‘m nothing but a burden and a little baby...” Tom swallowed, he knew his mother wasn’t normally nasty and this was completely out of character for her but, no matter how disastrously, she was only trying to help. However, knowing how the situation could escalate and become much worse he put on his most consoling voice to cajole the boy from his hiding place. “Look, Nan didn’t mean anything by that... she was just trying to make you think of your mum and me... it is our wedding after all...” There was silence from inside the cubicle. “I thought you’d be happy that your mummy was happy and I know both Paul and Gemma are thrilled to have a new brother.” It was true; both of Tom’s kids had made a fuss of Jonny from the very first time they met. Paul especially liked the idea of having an older brother because in looks at least, they were very similar. Whilst feisty, yet funny, Gemma thought her new step-brother was “kinda cute”. Even though she was just six weeks older than Jonny, they seemed to be a huge age difference, probably because since her mum died she’d been helping her dad and Nan bring up her little brother. Both of Tom’s kids also adored Theresa. She was kind, loving and it had to be said, they’d never seen their dad look happier than when in her company. In this happy family Jonny was in the minority of one when it came to dis-satisfaction. He’d tried to be understanding, as understanding as a nine year old can be but the fact was, all he ever saw when anywhere near Tom was that awful scene in his mother’s bedroom. Even though his mother had explained the situation, that image had burned into his brain, and he had trouble dealing with it. His random wet nights were proof of that. Tom continued. “Come and join us for some final photographs... I’m sure your mummy would love to have at least a couple with her son smiling on them.” “But, but, I look like a toddler.” “Actually Jonny, everyone thinks you look fantastic, smart, a credit to your mother... and she thinks the world of you...” He heard the cubicle door unlatch. It was then that Tom realised that wasn’t what Jonny was referring to... the front of his white shorts had a visible wet stain down the front. “I got scared when... er... Nan... told me off... and I, I...” For a brief second Tom thought he did look like a toddler; the shame and anxiety etched into his young face but smiled and told him not to worry it was hardly noticeable and easily fixed. Although in truth he wasn’t sure how he just wanted to get his new stepson out of the toilet and for them to re-join the rest of the guests. # Nervously, the soaked lad joined the rest of the crowd. Nobody noticed and no one said anything. Nan did eventually shuffle up and apologised for upsetting him. It was only the second time any adult had said ‘sorry’ to him and he was taken slightly aback. The first had been his mother the day after that ‘incident’. “Look,” Gwen said, “I know I made things worse and I didn’t mean to... I just tried to jig you out of being miserable on your mum’s special day and I’m sorry because I did it all wrong.” She sounded sincere and Jonny didn’t know where to put himself because it was his fault, he had been acting petulantly for no reason. Especially, as the shorts and blazer he and Paul wore to compliment what everyone else was wearing had been admired, including by the official photographer. He felt guilty now for not smiling and said sorry back to Nan. “That’s all right dear but let’s get some pics now eh?” “Erm, I’d rather not because, um,” he faltered, and showed Nan what the problem was. “Oh I see, look,” she said brightly, “I have brought something you can change into... a nice disposable... just in case Paul got over excited. Would you like me to change you and then at least you don’t have to suffer wet undies?” She could see him wavering. “I doubt if anyone can tell from your shorts... but you must be feeling very squishy and uncomfortable in your cold damp undies so let’s at least sort that little problem out.” Nan was both soothing and persuasive and it wasn’t like she’d not seen his nappy before when she’d babysat and got him ready for bed. The family knew he wore padding under his pyjamas so wearing a disposable would hardly be a first. She was right about the clammy, itchiness and he saw the benefit of getting a change though wished it didn’t have to be a nappy. They may be okay to wear in bed and under his jammies but worried that some of the wedding guests might notice. However, after a few more words of encouragement he followed Nan to a private room where she was able to change him. He was very grateful to get out of his wet briefs and did feel a lot more comfortable. Nan had in her bag some wet-wipes and a little tub of talc, and had helpfully packed a pair of plastic pants. However, the disposable was quite thick, which left him feeling very conscious of what he was wearing especially when eventually he danced with his mother. It was also amazing how, once he’d been changed, his attitude changed, and in each of the following photographs saw a very happy, smiling boy. # tbc #

The Babysitter “Hannah!” her mom promptly called from downstairs, “Aren’t you gonna come and say goodbye when I leave?” “Yes, Mom!” back with just as much volume Hannah responded. Letting out a small sigh, being forced to put her phone activities on hold, and dreading for who was going to take her mom’s place for the night, she padded her naked feet across her carpeted room and into the hardwood halls. Descending the stairs, she could see by the front door her mom; dolled up in a navy blue dress, blonde hair decorated with curls, face with light amounts of makeup, and a pair of matching heels. She wore a simple silver-chain necklace, and was currently busy with the earings she always wore to match it. Each step of the way as Hannah got closer to the bottom, she could feel the slight shift in her underwear, and the small, yet noticeable bulk from her thicker than average underwear. It almost made her teary-eyed remembering just a few nights ago how far she’d fallen. Underneath her loose shorts, she could sometimes feel the elastic bands brush against her skin, and oh did it make her skin crawl. “Do you have to go out tonight, mom?” there was a tinge of whine in Hannah’s voice, and given what she could expect from tonight, it was well-justified. If it were within her power to prevent her mom from leaving at night, she’d do whatever possible. “It’ll only be for a little bit, sweetie,” her mom consoled, yet still busy looking into the mirror. “I promise I’ll give you a kiss goodbye, and one when I get back tonight,” her next statement was enough to get her to look at her daughter, though, “but don’t think that means you get to stay up.” Not only did she frown because her mom had no intentions of changing her plans, but also because Hannah had the pleasant reminder of her bedtime. 8:30 was such a cruel and unfair time to be sent to bed. It was when all the good shows started to come on! It wasn’t like this always. Maybe a month ago her mom used to be so much more lax compared to now. But now, Hannah already started to feel annoyed remembering the laundry list of unfortunate occurrences. And when she shuffled her legs, the plastic garment between her legs really threatened to bring back all her deep-seated hatred. Everything in her life had been fine. No bedtimes, no babysitters, no belittling, mandated bathtimes, child locks, or any other sort of thing that would defy the typical routine of a 14-year old girl. And especially, no pull-ups. “Can’t I have a later bedtime, please? Everyone else in my class can stay up until 10!” It was an exaggeration, and she didn’t really know how long everyone else could, but at least for her closer friends, she knew for a fact they didn’t get sent upstairs at 8:30. Hannah had tried to negotiate removing the limit altogether, but her mom had been hardwired to shut that idea down altogether. The best Hannah could try now was to mitigate what felt like her permanent losses. The cause of all this destruction and despair would be coming to watch her tonight, and like a calamity she never didn’t bring some sort of even worse development along with her. Since her last visit, Hannah’s mom had suddenly become relaxed to the idea of timeouts in the corner. For an eighth grade girl! It all started with the earlier bedtime, but originally it was 9:30! Then that damn babysitter, whatever she did, convinced her mom to not only give her one, but then knock it down by an hour! She didn’t even know her own mom anymore. She did, but it felt like Hannah’s mom was a proxy when it came to raising her daughter. The emotion was all there, but her rationale...it felt chillingly displaced. At times Hannah felt like she wasn’t seen as a 14-year old in the eyes of her mom. Certainly not when she’d been demoted to pull-ups full-time. It was another permanent life-changing act completely out of the blue, and seemingly taking place after the babysitter’s visit. And what scared Hannah even more was when she felt like she actually needed to depend on them. A few weeks earlier there wasn’t so much as an issue with her bladder whatsoever. But all it took were a few visits from the neighborhood teen, and Hannah was starting to feel...scarily uncertain about her own habits. Especially in class nowadays did she feel her newly weakened bladder strain the most. There were days where she was fine, and felt like a girl who had known panties for all her life, and was certainly misplaced in the underwear department. And others? Other days...she wasn’t so proud to admit that her pull-up wouldn’t be so dry by the time she reached a toilet... Some of her teachers were terribly restricting about letting students to the bathroom, but that never used to be an issue. Never until now. Never until her mom started hiring that woman. It all felt supernatural; the presence of her babysitter being enough to flip Hannah’s entire life upside down. She knew it was ridiculous to think that way, but the coincidence was almost terrifying… “I think 8:30 is a perfect time for you,” nonchalantly, Hannah’s mom like at many other times dismissed her plea. “I don’t want you staying up so late, anyways. You need your sleep, honey.” Using the only tool she had left in her arsenal, and one she hated more than anything to acknowledge, Hannah said, “B...but if I could stay up later, maybe I...maybe the chance of me wetting the bed would be smaller?” As the words came out she grew more and more meek, as well as embarrassed. This was one of the worst effects. With her pull-ups and unexpected bladder troubles, a certain absolute at night had become the bedwetting. A few weeks ago it was maybe once or twice a week. The next, it had upped itself to a steady three. Now? Now even Hannah knew going to bed without protection was non-negotiable, and expecting to wake up dry was wishful thinking. There wasn’t a single night left where she would wake up dry. And even if there was, her mom would probably write it off as a fluke, even if she would try and sound encouraging. Her mom merely looked sympathetic; signing how she was going to disappoint her daughter further, saying, “That’s an interesting idea, sweetie, but I don’t think the bedwetting will stop if we let you stay up later. Then you’d be tired, too.” Hannah’s cheeks burned, hearing her mom write off the bedwetting as a hopeless cause. But even if it were true, what else could she hope for if she didn’t fight? If she didn’t show some form of resistance, her mom’d probably think of it as the greenlight to stick her back into diapers! The sudden irony in her thought had her biting her lower lip in aggravation, though. For the daytime, that is. “Speaking of which,” her mom started to apply another light layer of lipstick, “I should probably pick you up another package of Pampers while I’m out…” she seemed to have made a mental note. “We’re starting to run a little bit low, and unfortunately your daytime pull-ups just won’t do the trick at night,” her voice trailed as her own appearance was clearly at the forefront of her mind, whilst her daughter felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Yes. She wore nighttime diapers. Her mom had taken advantage of the girl’s smaller than average size by using the largest size of Pampers they offered. What was even worse was the fit of the dreaded things. It was near perfect. They did their job well, and it was never a fun morning to see a yellow and discolored Elmo greeting her after a departure from pleasant dreams. She often stirred in her sleep, so somehow it was a common occurrence to partway slip off her pajama bottoms in her sleep, and sure enough showcase a liberal amount of her diaper while she slept. Hence why she stopped going to sleepovers as of late. Mornings were never fun, because not only was she guaranteed to wake up wet, but she was powerless to do anything about it. Her mom insisted on having exclusive control of her diapers, because she needed to know if her bedwetting “was improving or not.” But even from there she extended her personal control into the daytime section as well. Right after being let out of her diaper, it’d be straight into a pull-up her mom was sure to have ready for her. The gradual lack of control she was having over her own clothes was beyond annoying, and she had no idea how to solve it. How to solve any of this. “Can’t we please start using pull-ups instead? Nighties? Don’t they sell those?” in a desperate cry, Hannah tried to at least curb the infancy that was gradually increasing in her life. “They do, but not as cheap for what I can get your diapers for. And what’s wrong with those? Do you not like them?” “Of course I don’t like them!” Hannah continued to whine, a few tears in her eyes. “I’m not a baby, mom! Could you at least treat me like you’re supposed to?” Her mom’s brows furrowed, but she still never looked from the mirror. “The diapers can stop as soon as the bedwetting does,” her mom said, dimissing Hannah’s comment about disliking them. “But until then, I think you should be much more grateful that you can still fit in them.” As if she were supposed to appreciate a benefit exclusive to her mother’s pursestrings. She wanted to openly fume, but knew that her mom might suddenly be willing to dish out spankings now, too. Hannah didn’t want to test that theory, and angrily sulked on the stairs, feeling the slight press of her dry pull-up whilst she sat. “Can...can we at least change babysitters?” Again, totally oblivious to Hannah’s inner struggles, her mom questioned, “And why would we do that? I think Mary’s been doing a great job with you. You two have fun, don’t you? She always has good things to say.” Sure she did. Maybe for her mom, and how she could be a “better” parent her daughter. But for Hannah it was stupid. Whenever she’d come over, they’d talk about girl stuff, makeup, fashion, watch movies...eat a tasty dinner...play games… . .. … Okay, so what? Maybe she was alright. But god if she couldn’t be condescending sometimes! She reminded her so much of her mom now, or maybe it was better put as the other way around. It was partly why she suspected the girl without any real reason. Hannah was a young adolescent, but at the same time in Mary’s eyes just another charge she needed to look after. The sudden potty reminders that came with her demotion to pull-ups was beyond demeaning, but unfortunately more helpful than Hannah’d like to admit… “Listen Hannah,” her mom full turned from the mirror. “I know things have been tough lately with your potty training,” potty training? “but that’s no good excuse to vent in other ways. Mary has nothing to do with what’s been going on, and from the sound of it has been very supportive. You’re lucky to have a babysitter that doesn’t mind checking your pull-ups and putting on your nighttime diaper.” Oh how much a matter of perspective it was. Her mom could not even begin to imagine what it was like to be a kid, and try to live your life while being acknowledged as a toddler. And aside from all that, including this pointless conversation, Hannah still found herself hung up on the strange, and misplaced “potty training” remark. “Think you can chin up for me tonight and be good for Mary?” In a thoughtful voice, she spoke as if she assumed herself to be sweetening the pot. “Tell you what: be a good girl for Mary tonight, and keep that pull-up dry for the rest of the night too, and maybe we can talk about getting some panties back in your dresser?” As if instinct commanded, Hannah’s ears perked up at the sound of the last few words, though hating to have loved the thought of getting her panties back. But it was painful to remember she’d lost them in the first place. It was yet another shameful tactic of her mother to eliminate any “unnecessary distractions.” Hannah hadn’t known what it was like to wear underwear any thinner than at least an inch for almost a month now, and the thought welled her with despair. She was ashamed to admit that the deal sounded enticing… That being said, Hannah still hadn’t forgotten her mom’s previous comment. “But Mom, what did you say about-” She was interrupted by the ring of a doorbell. “Oh! She’s already here!” quickly dismissive of Hannah’s question, she already went for the door. “Is it really that time already?” her mom muttered to herself whilst Hannah rose from her seat on the stairs and followed behind. Her heart sunk as she knew who it was. The one she had such mixed feelings for. A caring and seemingly genuine person, but someone Hannah considered to be the root of her problems for no identifiable reason whatsoever. She’d been coming for so long, it was almost hard to distinguish whether the problems started before or after her arrival. “Mary!” “Ms. Finn!” The pair welcomed each other with happy greetings as they gave each other a hug. “You look beautiful, Ms. Finn!” happily commenting, the babysitter brushed part of her own black hair back, simply in awe at the mother’s appearance. “Really?” she looked thankful, and she looked down at herself one last time. “I was almost afraid I messed up somewhere along the way...” The two shared a laugh, and then Mary looked past Hannah’s mom, directly over to the shorter girl, mouthing a silent ‘hi’ with a gentle wave. A sudden chill crept over Hannah, or an odd sensation the very least. She assumed it as cold, namely because it felt as if all the warmth inside of her had just been drained. Drained, and...and absorbed…? Wordlessly, and lacking concern for her surroundings, Hannah pressed her hand against her crotch, and was more than displeased to find it warmer than a dry pull-up should be, and it was hardly a small accident by any sense of the word. Hannah did her best to grit her teeth and hope she could take care of the mishap unnoticed. “We’ve already been through the routine so much, I doubt there’s much need for a repeat,” Hannah’s mom chuckled, skipping the nightly introduction, much more upbeat and cheery than Hannah and the state of her pull-up. Mary, who looked to be the epitome of preppy senior high school girl, giggled in response as she probably felt the same way, but was far too polite to agree, nor state it first. She had her usual purse slung over her purple sweater, and swayed her hips the slightest bit, probably unintentionally, though all captured by her snug-fitting jeans. “But if you could,” Hannah’s mom started to sound apologetic, yet pleading, “please make sure Hannah gets to the potty on time?” on cue, Hannah could feel her dignity being shattered at that very moment. Mary listened intently, with just as much concern plastered on her face, yet coupled with much more confidence and assurance than Hannah was feeling right now. “It hasn’t been getting much better lately… I made a deal with her, and we’re both looking forward to seeing her make good on it,” she looked thoughtfully back to Hannah, who was trying her best to not be too agitated. “No problem at all, Ms. Finn,” Mary continued to smile. “I usually try to get them on the potty about every half hour. Even if they don’t know they need to go, it might help them realize in the future.” Them. It was such a vague word, yet far too inclusive than Hannah would like. It encompassed all the countless bedwetters and struggling daytime goers who had yet to fully master the potty, and Hannah had just been lumped in with them. Even if it was true, she didn’t want to acknowledge it. Mary came from a good place, but it still hurt no less. “Speaking of which, there’s no harm in checking now, I suppose...” catching Hannah of guard, her mom so casually knelt down in front of her, grabbing her shorts by the waistband and giving them a simple tug after a quick stroke with the button, easily slipping past the sleek pull-up, giving both her mom, and Mary an easy view of her borderline infantile underpants. “Uh-oh,” Mary was the first to sound sympathetic, and say it with a face as if she herself could feel the pain, “looks like you forgot to go, Hannah...” Hannah’s mom could only let out a small sigh in disappointment as she further embarrassed Hannah by giving the crotch an inspecting squeeze, which only seemed to upset her further given how warm it was. The telltale stars on front had faded; a system both her mom and the babysitter were far too experienced to not recognize. “And we just talked about this...” passively, her mom remarked. Hannah, unable to do much about her growing sobs now, stared at her mom, hopeful for forgiveness in place of the public embarrassment she’d just been forced into. “Could I please have a...” Hannah paused to sniffle, “a second chance?” Her mom smiled, but not in the way that Hannah wanted her to. It was the smile any parent would give when they were trying to soften the blow. There was a cruel fate hiding behind her mom’s expressions, and it was obvious because Hannah could tell she was trying to protect her from it. And with few places to go; few steps left until total babydom, she quivered at what might be in store for her. “Maybe we can try tomorrow,” she took a moment to hoist Hannah’s wet pull-up back into place, and the shorts came right after, despite normally being the first one to suggest getting her changed into a new one whenever this sort of thing happened. And unfortunately, it did happen more than once. But this time, it felt as if Hannah had taken another step back, and her mom wasn’t feeling so prompt to stick to the potty training regimen anymore. “But...but mom…!” She always had her get changed whenever she’d wet her pull-up, even when she was right about to leave! But that second command didn’t follow, and Hannah could feel herself wanting to desperately cling to her pull-ups now; prove that she could keep them dry. Hannah wanted her mom to get mad; angrily change her into a dry pull-up. At least that way she’d know that her mom still held expectations for her. Yet...yet, they never came. “I need to get going now, sweetie. Just...just don’t worry about this for now, okay?” She kissed the broken Hannah on the forehead. “I want you to have a fun night with Mary.” Still, Hannah felt like her mom had lost a fragment of hope; respect for her daughter, as she stood back up. She gave her daughter a pensive, lingering look for a few moments longer, then shifted her focus. “Same as usual, Mary,” Hannah’s mom transitioned back into her happy self again, now that it wasn’t about her daughter’s failed attempt to keep her pants dry. “8:30, and in a nighttime diaper, please.” Still all smiles, Mary assured her yet again, and then her mom grabbed her purse sitting on the table near the door. “Come on, Hannah,” Mary politely suggested in a hushed tone, gesturing to the sulking girl. “Mommy’s leaving! You need to say goodbye!” As if her mom were in agreeance too, she made the awkward ordeal even easier by getting on one knee again with open arms. Hannah was the one to close the distance, despite being terribly mindful of the wet bulk between her legs, as well as how it wasn’t much of a secret anymore. It wasn’t massive, but it was certainly there, and Hannah could tell, much like her mom and Mary could. Hannah was actually thankful for the hug and kiss, because it felt reassuring in spite of what’d just happened. Her mom had been disappointed, yet at least this way Hannah still knew she loved her… Though, what Hannah did her best to stomach was when she was wrapped in her mom’s arms, she could feel the back of the waistband to her shorts and pull-up being tugged at now. “Mom…!” flustered, unable to properly react, Hannah could only tearily whine the culprit’s name, and be relieved once her underwear finally slipped back into place. “Sorry, sweetie. I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any surprises in the back, either.” She let out a small laugh; the kind that was trying to force an already bad situation into something more upbeat. But for Hannah, it was just another insult to her pride; a sign of how far she’d fallen in the eyes of her mother. In the eyes of herself. Never once had she messed herself, and even amidst all this turmoil, that was the one thing Hannah was positive would never happen to her. It was an iron absolute, and she’d be damned if someone suggested otherwise. Her mother already expressed her doubts by checking in the back… It made Hannah feel terrible. It hadn’t even been a whole 15 minutes and she’d shattered the expectations her mom had set for her. The ones that were meant to last the entire night. With her final goodbyes, Hannah’s mom wished them both a good night. Mary saw her off as she slipped out the door, and the responsible teen was sure to lock the door from behind. As soon as she left, Hannah felt as if a weight had been both simultaneously lifted and dropped on her shoulders. Her mom had finally left, and the lingers of disappointment in the room didn’t feel so potent now. But on the other hand, she was now alone with the mysterious anomaly which seemed to unintentionally cause so much havoc. It was likely paranoia, but Hannah still couldn’t shake the strange feeling… And when Hannah moved, she could feel one last small spurt of pee escape her; a likely remainder to the full wetting she apparently hadn’t finished. It was enough to remind her of her helplessness though, as tears started to silently roll down her cheeks. The much more chipper Mary turned from the door after watching the mother’s car leave the driveway and was stricken with concern as she saw Hannah devolve into a miserable mess. “Hannah? Honey, what’s wrong?” quickly she came to the girl’s aid, although much to Hannah’s dismay, as she tearily noted the girl who was a mere handful of years older than her used such a condescending pet name. But even in spite of all that, it did little to shift the focus of Hannah’s tears. “Because!” Hannah frustratingly spat, feeling a small urge to stomp her foot. “I can’t do one simple thing! I’ve been wearing these stupid pull-ups for weeks now, and it’s only getting worse!” The vocal admittance only made Hannah cry harder, as her world came crashing down. Her mom was probably busy thinking how she could ease her back into diapers right now; do away with the hopeless struggle between panties and pampers altogether. “Hey, hey...” Mary continued to sooth as she started to rub Hannah’s back. “Why are you being so hard on yourself?” “I’m not supposed to be wetting my pants, Mary!” Hannah irritatingly shouted. It wasn’t Mary’s fault, probably. It’s not like she put the pee in Hannah’s pull-up for her, but she didn’t feel in the mood for pointless consoling. Words wouldn’t make this better. Words wouldn’t keep her pull-ups dry. “It’s just a small hiccup, that’s all,” seemingly unbothered by Hannah’s annoyance, she pulled the girl in for a hug. “I know you’re gonna get over this, trust me. I’ve seen it all the time.” Sniffling, Hannah responded, “re...really?” “Of course!” with a more positive tone, likely seizing the opportunity to make the sun shine once again, Mary responded with enthusiasm. “In fact, I know some kids that haven’t had trouble with just peeing, either...” leaning in close, Mary shared her encouraging gossip. “And even those kids were able to bounce back,” she leaned back, as if the invisible spectators were allowed to hear now. “So I know you can too!” “But...” Hannah was listening with inspiration, but the reality of her mistakes was still much more tangible than her hopes. “But my mom…! You saw how she reacted! She probably hates me right now. How is she supposed to trust me if I can’t last 20 minutes?!” “She might be a little upset, sure,” Mary conceded, but was quick to not let the negative statement last for too long, by adding, “but she still loves you very much. Nothing would change that.” It was only her babysitter saying those words, but they felt oddly reassuring… “I just want her to treat me fairly again...” sadly, Hannah spoke with better days on her mind. “Nothing I say seems to get through to her anymore.” Hannah grimaced already from remembering the diapers debate. “Well, you know I have a way with words?” temptingly, Mary spoke with the slightest amount of hopeful mischief in her voice. “Really?!” Suddenly all-ears now, Hannah for the first time that night clearly stared at the teen with genuine hope; rays of salvation shining in her eyes. Mary hadn’t explicitly said she’d do anything, but her allusions were far too obvious to not assume. “Sure, why not?” Mary smirked, knowing full well she’d just coaxed her happy charge back out of a dreary spell. “I can let your Mommy know it was one big fluke, because it was, right?” she looked at Hannah for confirmation, who nodded her head until it was ready to fall off. “I think she’ll understand after I let her know what a good night we had. Because that’s what we’re gonna do, right?” again, although slightly more reluctant, Hannah agreed once more. And as a side note, Hannah was once more attentive to her babysitter’s mannerisms, this time being the mention of “mommy” instead of a simple “mom.” Strange, but not nearly enough for Hannah to say anything, especially when this was the person who could finally talk some sense into her mom. “Great. Then that’s what’s gonna happen!” Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, Mary tickled the center of Hannah’s palm with the nail of her thumb; something she always liked to do. Giving her skin the tickles though, Hannah quickly pulled hers away, as it’d already given her arm goosebumps. “But before we kick the night off, do you wanna get into something a bit more dry?” trying to be mindful, Mary notioned towards Hannah’s wet pull-up. Blushing, Hannah silently agreed. “I’ll meet you upstairs, then,” she patted Hannah affectionately on the head. “Give me just a few minutes?” Hannah didn’t wait long after until she was already headed up the stairs. She was more than capable of changing her own pull-ups, but again, her mom had made it a point to limit access to both herself and Hannah’s babysitter. In that regard it was the one silver lining to these things. They could slip off as easily as they came on; just like panties. But whenever her mom put her in her nighttime diapers, they were staying on for the night. That’s what made some of the earlier nights especially frustrating. She’d wake up feeling the tight stretch on her bladder, only to be forced to wet the diaper because her mom wouldn’t let her take it off. Last time she did it ended in a timeout, and no phone for the day... Hannah could only sigh in relief now that she had someone on her side for once. It’d always been a one-sided battle, but not anymore now that Mary was with her. Maybe...maybe she wasn’t so bad after all? Mindlessly, Hannah slipped her hands into her front pockets as she felt as if she were on cloud 9 right about now. Things were finally going right, and all she needed to do tonight was relax. And she did. Far more than she would have liked. A sudden rush of pee slithered from out of her bladder, and unannounced it pooled into her pull-up. Just at the top of the stairs, Hannah gasped in a panic as she was helpless to stop her second accident. She felt worse with every ounce her underwear absorbed, and nearly screamed when it became clear she’d pushed the thing far beyond capacity. The dribble slapping against the hardwood sounded like a jet engine once it leaked through her denim shorts and collided with the ground. Frozen in place, her face contorted with shame as her body finished its business, and she became a spectator to her own bladder which had a mind of its own. What...what happened?! She barely felt anything at all! And didn’t she just wet? So why was it already happening again so soon?! “Hannah?” Mary’s voice called from the bottom of the stairs, already getting closer. “Do you have a pull-up ready?” Still silent, Hannah’s mind raced a mile a minute as she couldn’t even begin to figure how she was going to get out of this one. Much worse, she’d probably just guaranteed that Mary would be backing out on their deal. Even Hannah couldn’t blame her. She wanted it to be a fluke, but this was far too coincidental. The front of her shorts and around the legs were harshly dampened, and there was a small puddle of pee sitting on the wood. Even in front of the light mix of brown and orange wood could she still see the distinct, yellow tint. “Okay, let’s get you all cleaned...up…?” Mary started her sentence with a casual tone, but it quickly morphed into confusion as she rounded the corner on the stairs to see Hannah planted awkwardly on top of them. There was one small, final drip from the edge of her shorts, and when it made its tiny plop with the ground, the house stayed silent. “H...Hannah...” “Why…?” the single word was simple, set packed with every negative emotion the young girl could imagine and drum up within herself. She questioned not herself, nor Mary, but fate which had dealt her these cards. Sodden and sopping, her legs were now far apart. “I just went...so why?” As she emptily murmured, as pair of arms wrapped around her neck, and hung themselves downward. Feeling the bigger girl press from behind her, the sign of affection and comfort was much too overwhelming to not have a breakdown. “I don’t get it!” between her sobs, Hannah shouted. “I can barely tell when I need to go!” Having a single accident was already bad enough, but a second one and so ridiculously soon was enough to mentally push her over the edge. She didn’t want Mary’s hug to stop, but it didn’t make her feel much better. “Hannah, please,” Mary spoke hurtfully, as if the girl’s distress were poison to her. “I want you to focus on having fun tonight! Can we please not stress over the small stuff?” “This isn’t small, though!” The disconnect between the two was now clear, given that wet pants only seemed to matter to the one responsible for them. “Everytime I screw up, my mom uses it as a reason to baby me even more!” There was no room for failure, because anything short of success meant two more permanent steps back, which is why every mishap had the weight of the world crashing on her. “Come on, Hannah, please, I just wanna make you happy again!” She spun the girl around so that she could meet her eye to eye, but Hannah looked no less sadder, and if anything, worse. She didn’t want to meet the face of someone who caught her pants covered in pee. “Go ahead!” Hannah spat bitterly, already knowing what was to follow now. “Tell my mom I wet myself again. Tell her...” Hannah’s bottom lip quivered, finishing her words, “tell her I can’t handle pull-ups...” “Hannah, there’s no need to be so upset...” Mary continued to speak in calming tones and coos, clearly involved in her efforts to make things right again. “How about...” Mary seemed to be thinking for a moment, “how about we sweep this under the rug altogether? All of tonight? As far as I’m concerned, no accidents ever happened, and we got you to the potty whenever you needed it.” It was a godsend, and it was the next best thing compared to dropping off the face of the planet; escape her irreversible mistakes. But it almost felt like she were dreaming. The deal sounded too good to be true. “But why?” Hannah’s sobs started to die down as she rubbed her eyes, “why would you do that for me?” Mary gave Hannah’s cheek a light stroke, smiling, “because I hate seeing you so sad, silly. I’d much prefer seeing you with a smile!” Unintentionally, an involuntary smirk escaped Hannah over the overflowing affection, which had Mary laughing happily. “Now come on, no more tears,” Mary spoke reassuringly, giving Hannah a few final pats. “Want some help getting cleaned up?” Mary asked, holding an outstretched hand. Hannah eyed it almost nervously, but given how accepting Mary had been, as well as helpful, it almost felt wrong to deny her any further...and she felt like she could honestly use an emotional crutch right about now. Accepting the girl’s soft, yet firm hand, they made a brief walk to the bathroom, whilst Hannah grimaced from needing to take normal strides in pee-covered pants. The added layers to it all just made it feel wrong. She was in a soaked pull-up, but on top of that so were the clothes covering it. It was like she shouldn’t have been wearing the pull-up at all. Now it just felt like an unnecessary barrier; delaying the inevitable. Inside the white-tiled bathroom, Mary stood Hannah in place. Just as Hannah was about to go for her shorts, Mary had already been working at the button before she herself could even actualize the thought. While the right to remove her own pants were taken from her, Hannah longingly looked at the toilet. It felt like she was seeing a stranger, or a long lost friend. A once well-acquainted pair now becoming more estranged with each ‘little accident’ she had. To use it was a sign of maturity, and though it was so close right now; in the flesh, it couldn’t have felt any farther away. What was a cruel reminder to dismiss the big-girl thoughts and to remember exactly why she was using the toilet less and less, was when she felt her shorts taking a brief moment to work themselves around the puffy crotch of her underwear. It wasn’t a fun sight to see, and was a stark contrast to the simple colors and plain designs Hannah was so used to seeing in normal panties. Along with the thin, breathable fabrics, flexible feel, and sense of maturity, everything Hannah had known to be commonplace in regards to her underwear had been shifted entirely. In place of her comfortably-cut panties that knew just how to maintain a level of modesty without being so overbearing, a pink pull-up decorated in moons and stars--correction, once decorated in moons and stars, now sagged heavily around her hips in place of what all her friends had the privilege of wearing. Instead, for Hannah, she was stuck with the underwear that had clearly been pushed beyond its comfortable capacity for absorbency’s sake. Hannah started to blush again being back on full display, but for the most part it was all in her head, given that she could feel no ridicule coming from Mary; just sympathy. “Step out for me, please?” Reluctantly, and while Mary still had a hold on Hannah’s wet shorts, she could feel the wet denim brush across her skin and damp inner thighs as Mary lowered them to her ankles. She stepped out of the one thing barely coming even close to hiding her shame. Maybe in another, dryer life they had done their job well, but now the wet stains on them were far too telling. “Okay, I’ll be right back. Think you’ll be good for a few minutes?” The question was probably rhetorical, but seeing as Hannah had just had two accidents within a handful of minutes between each other, she didn’t receive it that way… Mary sauntered off and out of the bathroom, with Hannah’s wet shorts in hand; the last article which shrouded her absorbent indignity. Left with only but her thoughts, Hannah could only find that by focusing on her bladder 100% did she feel any real sense of security. Although she wasn’t sure how certain it was, the next pull-up would certainly not face the same fate as this one; not by a longshot. This time with a tinge of smugness, Hannah forgot about how silly she might seem, clad in a wet pull-up, when she looked at the toilet; certain of where she’d be next time nature called. It wouldn’t be fun to be changed into a pull-up by Mary, and also make constant trips to the bathroom, assuming what she said earlier was true, but even Hannah knew that some of the tougher things in life were simply worth fighting for. She was already caught in a poor streak, and she’d do anything to fix that now. Just as she was about to start counting bathroom tiles, Mary’s distant footsteps could be heard again, and they grew louder and louder until she had returned. With a skirt, and likely a pull-up bundled underneath it, she held the items in one hand and a package of wipes in the other. Seeing the “Baby Wipes” branding on it didn’t make Hannah feel great, but reaffirming herself, she grit her teeth. If she could get through a little bit of humiliation now, she could be the mature, young adult which fate was hellbent on trying to prevent. “Ready to get all cleaned up?” Mary smiled as she looked at the red-faced girl, quickly coming to terms with how her bark was certainly larger than her bite. Meekly, she nodded her head as Mary inched closer, kneeling to the ground to have a better handle on her charge. “M...Mary?” Hannah quickly broke the silence, suddenly feeling desperate to have some sort of distraction. She didn’t feel herself wanting to take in each and every speck of what was about to happen. “Mhm? What’s up?” Mary responded with a casual tone, despite doing something so embarrassing to Hannah as she tore the sides of her wet pull-up, and the underwear for a brief moment still clung to her skin. The adhesion caused from her recent accidents still remained, and clearly feeling uncomfortable, Hannah wiggled her hips the slightest bit just to get the accursed thing off. Thankfully it didn’t take long for the motions to separate the thing from her skin, and it hit the ground with a slight crinkle and squish; one last reminder to what had been done in it. No tears. I’m done wetting myself, remember? “Wh...why do you babysit?” Hannah asked, feeling her heart beat faster as the circumstances grew more and more unappealing. She’d probably asked before, but she was too flustered to really think about the semantics; too desperate for a conversation, or an outlet for her attentions. She watched as the girl she wanted respect from changed her wet pull-up into a dry one. How could she be seen as an equal if she couldn’t even keep her underwear dry? She felt small, and as if Hannah were unconsciously looking for a reason to belittle herself further, she took glaring notes of how Mary curved all over. And here Hannah was, with only curves coming from the crotch of her inflated pull-up. In regards to Hannah’s question, whether she had asked before on a previous night or not, Mary didn’t seem to give any indication, as she answered, “Well...I suppose I’ve always liked taking care of kids, you know?” The way she ended it on a “you know,” wasn’t actually what she meant, but was a typical way of ending an answer even you weren’t sure of yourself. Hannah wasn’t keen to hear that she fell into that category right now. Needing to be taken care of. She had figured the babysitting would have stopped this year after her fourteenth birthday, but she suddenly jolted as the cold, wet wipe touched her skin. “Sorry about that, I know it’s a little cold...” Mary spoke, looking genuinely apologetic. Hannah blushed furiously as what was already happening came to the forefront of her mind. Her babysitter had a full view of her privates, and private toilet habits, and she was in charge of both of them. Hannah grimaced to herself as she thought about Mary. She was old; a teenager getting ready to move onto college; primed for handling adult responsibilities, and long past the issue of holding her bladder. She didn’t wear pull-ups, and she didn’t have to worry about wetting the bed. Well, neither did Hannah, but that was because of certain ‘protective’ measures… Almost shaking her head from side to side, just to chase the thought away, she tried to take stock in a mundane bar of soap in the shower while Mary did her work. She wanted to disobey, and insist on doing it herself. Sure, she’d never personally handled her own cleanup after something like this, but that’s because her mom never let her! It was people like Mom and Mary who were supposed to take charge, but Hannah wanted to prove them wrong. But, if she did try to protest, she’d likely only make trouble for Mary...and she was honestly trying to help. Just as she was becoming desensitized to the cold wet wipe, Mary ended it with a few last strokes between the legs, then discarded the wipe. “I probably should have gotten a towel...” passively, Mary remarked, looking around to see where they might be. But Hannah didn’t really pay any attention, because now that they’d run the first two laps, she felt confident that she could send it home. “Wait, Mary?” Hannah asked again, garnering Mary’s attention once more. Suddenly, she tried not to mind how she was naked from the waist down, but rather focused on wanting to be the one who changed that. “Can...can I put on the pull-up myself?” Mary was silent for a moment, then said,“W, well...I don’t see why not,” almost sheepishly answering, but smiled with an expression that uncomfortably told Hannah that she was hiding something. Something Hannah was afraid to discover. “But...” her voice trailed, as her eyes moved over to the skirt wrapped around the pull-up. Despite Mary’s unusual awkwardness, Hannah was already swelling with pride to finally have a sense of agency. Confidently, she made a small stride to the pull-up underneath, and grabbed it through the skirt’s fabric. But clearly the skirt was thick, because the folded pull-up within it certainly felt so. F...folded? Unwrapping the pull-up from the skirt, Hannah pulled it into clear view as she realized what was in her hand wasn’t a pull-up. Far from it. As she stared down at the white garment, all too familiar Elmo caricatures stared at her with smiling expressions. Panic had seized her voice, as Hannah wordlessly continued to stare at the diaper, in utter shock from its sudden and untimely arrival. What had it done with her pull-up? Suddenly, she felt as if she were looking at an enemy which had disposed of her treasured friend. She felt like she could gag when she squeezed the thick layer of plastic and cotton, all wrapped into a disposable, infantile package. This was only supposed to come out right before bed! So...so why? With disappointed curiosity, she turned back to Mary, on the verge of breaking into two. Now she understood why Mary had answered so reluctantly. Hannah could put on the next pull-up. That is, if there ever was a next time. “A diaper?” thickly Hannah whined. “I only wear these for bed! I’m supposed to be wearing pull-ups!” She wanted to say panties, but she at least wanted to sound rational… “I know, Hannah I know,” quick to console, Mary put a comforting hand on Hannah’s shoulder, but she still felt terrible. “But will you at least hear what I have to say? Please?” Already wiping a frustrated tear from her eye, Hannah remained silent, apart from her sniffles. Mary must have assumed the silence meant yes, because she continued. “Hannah, you’ve already had two accidents since I got here, and we’ve still got a lot of nighttime left...” the way she spoke in such an unintentionally condescending way, suggesting that Hannah wasn’t up to the challenge. “I know you want to wear your pull-ups,” she spoke as if she knew Hannah down to a T, when that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Hannah by no means wanted to wear these stupid things at all! She wanted panties, not some childish substitute! Pull-ups were at least the limbo between adulthood and babydom, and right now Hannah was having a breakdown because she was swaying the wrong way. “But I really think we should have you wear one of these tonight,” she gently removed the diaper from Hannah’s hand. And as Hannah watched her expressions, it made her want to cry even more. Despite how much evil her babysitter was unleashing upon her, all she seemed to harbor within was kindness and concern. She thought she was helping Hannah, and maybe objectively she was, but Hannah didn’t want to see it that way. If she didn’t resist, that would imply acceptance, and there was no way she’d resign herself to pull-ups; especially diapers. Irrationally hoping Mary might discard her own logic, Hannah pleadingly asked again, “But why? Why can’t I just wear pull-ups? I’ll be better, I promise!” “And I know you will,” Mary consoled, taking Hannah’s empty hand, doing the same thing she’d always do with her thumb. “Because I want you to know that I won’t think any less of you for wearing one. Think about it this way: I’m the one who forced you to wear it, so that way there’s no reason to beat yourself up over it,” she looked to Hannah as if it were a suitable solution. Maybe that idea could have worked somewhat if Hannah were 7, and the very person responsible for it didn’t give her the idea. By openly suggesting it, it was as if they both silently acknowledged it was a lie. Mary was the one forcing her, but someone or something had to have forced her hand first… Despairingly, Hannah looked at the diaper, knowing that once she was in, there was no getting out. “But what happens when I need to use the bathroom?” “Well...” Mary looked to be thinking hard, and her delay to answer felt as if Hannah’s worst fears were about to be confirmed. “To tell you the truth, you don’t have a lot of diapers left… One more, actually.” The sudden remark had sent a chill up Hannah’s spine. One more?! Did she really go through a package of 20 that fast? Maybe she really was helpless… “One more we can use tonight,” Mary added, barely doing much to break Hannah from her depressed state. “I already set one aside for bedtime.” Hannah wasn’t sure how it made anything different, other than trying to be a convenience to her mom. And frankly, her mom’s feelings were the last thing she cared about right now. “If you need to go...” Mary still looked not to be totally onboard with what she was saying, but continued, “I don’t see too much harm in taking you to the potty.” Finally, with a ray of hope in sight, Hannah looked at Mary as if she were her savior, and was all smiles yet again. “But if you don’t make it,” she transitioned into a friendly, yet serious warning, “we’re not gonna talk about using the potty for the night, okay? Those tapes can only come off so many times. They need to stay on to do their job.” Hannah didn’t even want to consider her final clause. The assertiveness she packed into the threat of permanent confinement was scary, but Hannah knew she’d never let it slip that far. She’d never fall so far as to let these dumb things “do their job.” Mary had paused to keep searching for a towel, and her efforts were rewarded once she opened the closet. Pulling one out, she unfolded it and draped it over the floor, giving it a signaling pat for Hannah to lay down. Nearly gulping, Hannah while keeping her thighs close together wiggled over, and debating whether to actually go through with this or not, she was rushed along by Mary’s firm, yet gentle hands on her shoulders. “The sooner we get started, the sooner it’ll be over,” Mary encouraged as Hannah laid her back on the towel, or rather, Mary gently forced her to. With her hands covering her privates, her feeble attempts to maintain some sense of dignity were lost when Mary once again with guiding force set them aside. This probably would have been her cue to say something like, “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” or, “We’re both girls, aren’t we?” But maybe the mind games were so deep at this point she knew that Hannah was thinking the same thing, because nothing was said. The whole process felt wrong. It was like having breakfast for dinner. Something you did every day, just at the totally wrong time. Being diapered for any other occasion than sleeping wasn’t a welcomed change, and it certainly felt strange. If she closed her eyes, which she did, it almost felt like her mom was changing her. Despite Mary only being a teen, it still felt like Hannah was being handled by a motherly figure, which she didn’t appreciate. She did, but she didn’t, namely because it widened the already decent age gap between the two. Diapering her though expanded that wedge by light years. How could Hannah talk to her about boys when she was too busy trying to keep her pants dry? Why learn how to do her own makeup when she could be taught how to change her own diaper instead? Nothing was fair, and the compassion Mary was using on Hannah to ease her into it was equally as pleasant as it was condescending and demeaning. Mary was a caretaker first, and a friend second. The change was concluded by Mary drawing the front up between Hannah’s legs, then pressing on the tapes. Normally her pajamas would come next, but in its place was a skirt. Such revealing clothing was immediately a turnoff, but Hannah didn’t bother arguing, already expecting a slew of reasons why she should be wearing a skirt rather than pants. One of the most glaring and personal ones though was that her normal pants and shorts probably wouldn’t fit over it...When Mary stood her back up, the plastic leg bands crinkled loudly. Much louder than her pull-ups. Was it weird to say that she was already missing them? “Okay, I need to go clean something up, but in a little bit how about we play a game or something?” Mary suggested, and though she made no obvious indication of it, they both knew what mess she had to clean up. If Hannah had somehow hit her head of the concrete and forgotten what’d just happened maybe 15 minutes ago, she’d certainly remember when she saw the puddle of pee going back downstairs. “Sound good?” “Mhm...” Hannah quietly answered, still trying to find her land legs; adjusting to such a massive paradigm shift in her underwear. “Don’t worry about what’s happened already,” Mary chimed in as Hannah was walking away. “I’m sure tonight is still gonna be fun!” Maybe it was, if Hannah could just forget about one of the most traumatic things she’d ever done. What made her suddenly yelp though was a light swat from behind, hitting her crinkly, yet thankfully dry diaper. Clutching the imaginary wound through her skirt as if she’d been shot, Hannah looked back at Mary with burning cheeks. Mary blinked simply with a smile, and without letting the silence linger for too long, Hannah stormed off and out of the room. It was the moments like these where her perception of Mary could change entirely. She didn’t know if she was kind, caring, or teasing and mean. For the most part she was nice, though… Maybe she just didn’t realize some of the things she did? Avoiding the puddle of pee like the plague, Hannah walked down the stairs and into the living room, hoping some tv might be able to save her from this endless nightmare. Thankfully the entertainment at least did something for her. Laying on her side, yet making sure her skirt was covering everything underneath it, she mindlessly watched the moving pictures while in a mix of thought and observation. And as she watched, the commercials, shows and noise all started to blend together. She could almost imagine a hum in the background too. It was all so...soothing. Her eyelids grew heavier as she laid there, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then for a few more. Then a minute. Then five. And then, they didn’t open back up. Dozing off for well an hour, when Mary nudged her awake, Hannah, still groggy, couldn’t place why Mary looked so concerned. What was up with her? “Hannah, hon, are you okay?” “Hn? Mary? What are you…?” “I think you took a little nap...” Hannah moved while Mary spoke, and a sudden, wet, cold chill pressed against her thigh. Looking over, there seemed to be a large, dark splotch on the gray couch. No...she hadn’t. But she had. Even if it was a nap, a bedwetter is always a bedwetter… Sleep did not discriminate… “These aren’t too good for side sleepers, huh?” Mary chuckled sadly, clearly seeming sympathetic. She placed a soft hand on the drier of the two thighs, and Hannah tried her best not to sob. “Don’t worry,” Mary smiled; that same face she’d always give in the face of despair. Unmoving, inalienable positivity. “We still have one more diaper!” Looking much more somber though, she added, “But a deal’s a deal...” No more toilet. “...Can I put some on?” trying to stay calm, yet with a clear hint of desperation, Hannah asked. Normally she’d never feel the need to ask permission to put on her own underwear, but it was almost frustrating to think she didn’t even recognize them as her own anymore… “...Sure,” Mary happily answered after a few moments of thought. “A little encouragement is good every once in a while, I guess. But the diaper stays on,” still kind, yet with authority Mary added. After the diaper change, Mary talked her into a game of hide and seek. Reluctantly, Hannah agreed, given that there was nothing which would seem to put her in a good mood now… She was the hider, and Mary was the seeker. Without any real reason she chose her mom’s room, hoping to burrow herself under the bed. Though in the process of that, she found something much, much more intriguing. A seemingly simple cardboard box, upon opening it was the jackpot itself. Sanctuary. Valhalla. The equivalent of any sort of salvation, and sanctum! Pulling apart the cardboard flaps, in it was all the panties that’d been removed from her dresser. Forgotten friends, Hannah had just discovered what her mom had done with them all! The more she stared at them, the greater the desire was to have a pair around her hips. Hannah hated to think that this was a tease more than a grand return to adulthood, but staring at the pile of cloth underwear made her feel like she’d just discovered buried treasure. It was enough to make her forget almost entirely about her current circumstances, and how far she’d fallen. Settling on a pair of blue and white striped ones, Hannah stared at the pair of panties in her hands, knowing full well that they would fit her. They were once hers, after all. Bringing them to her feet, she could feel the bulk of the diaper between her legs as she slightly moved them apart. Stepping her feet into one hole, and then the other, it felt euphoric to feel the wonderful fabric slide across her legs as she drew them up. So wonderful, a tiny meep escaped her when a small spurt of pee escaped her. She had no intention of telling Mary, though. Something other than plastic leg bands were around her thighs though, and that’s what mattered the most. It would have been perfect, only until instead of slipping across her skin, pressing against her groin, the panties instead slipped over the crotch of the crinkly diaper. Obviously peeking from all ends, the white, infantile diaper overflowed from all openings where the panties ended; a harsh and morbidly humorous contrast. She wanted to feel good about wearing panties again, but the diaper which sat between her and the panties was too demoralizing. It was like her bladder was a prisoner, and her panties had been so kind as to visit her while in confinement, and the diaper like any detention center kept visitors out. “Feel good?” Mary hopefully asked, fully unaware of how Hannah was feeling on the inside now. Hannah would likely die inside if she looked in a mirror. Although it was nice to think she was wearing panties again, she probably would have looked like a poor excuse for a young adolescent right now. Probably a toddler who got a little bit too excited and thought they were ready to be a big kid a little too early. Rather than a pair of panties, you could probably call it a diaper cover that was doing a poor job… Quietly, Hannah sniffled. She didn’t think getting what she wanted would have felt so terrible. “Come on,” Mary broke the silence, tickling her palm with her thumb. “Ready to go brush your teeth?” A familiar tingle sparked through Hannah’s hand, and a strange wave of relief washed over her, coming from the hand. As if all her muscles suddenly relaxed, she felt slightly sluggish as comfort overcame her. But with it, a sudden pressure in her bowels too. No. You can’t be serious. “M...Mary, I...” Hannah tried to plead, but her body seized all over, and she was afraid to be denied on the grounds of their earlier promise. Helplessly, she could feel her body force itself into a squatting position. “Hannah, are you alright?” Hannah tried to grit her teeth, as the force was too strong for her to stop. She didn’t even try to run to the bathroom, coupled by a list of reasons. If she ran, the cramps would probably give way and she’d do it on the way over, and Mary may not even let her. The diaper’s tapes wouldn’t happily go on afterwards, and that would probably upset the babysitter further… As the unyielding force finally drew to the exit, a helpless grunt escaped Hannah as her cheeks involuntarily spread for the rude guest currently making its way through. She could hear the diaper’s backside crinkle as she filled it with poo, forcing the back of the diaper to expand. Instantly she devolved into whimpers and cries as the mess settled itself and slowly snaked from her backside into the seat of her pants, and with muddy squishes conformed to the shape of her diaper, creeping between her legs. It smelled terrible, and Hannah took exasperated breaths as her diaper suddenly felt much heavier, and clung to her skin in the worst imaginable way possible. And in the middle of her messing, the pressure hit too close to her bladder, which is why it released itself as well, but with significantly less strain. After the rush of pee finished its course, squatting in a soiled diaper, Hannah could only fall to her knees as she cried. “It...it was an accident!” desperately, Hannah tried to coherently plead through her tears, and her vision was too blurred to see Mary. She tried to remain as still as a statue from the waist down, irrationally hoping that there was some way she could be absolved of this very literal mess without needing to move. She could only imagine how comical she looked; a bulge coming from the back of her diaper, and by extension the panties she tried to wear over it. Her underwear was a living oxymoron; wearing adult panties over a baby diaper she just messed. It was all too overwhelming. Everything was crashing, and she was right at the center of all the wreckage. “Come on, honey, think you can stand up for me?” Mary at some point had taken Hannah’s hands into hers, though not doing her signature palm massage. She spoke almost somberly, yet with a likely reserved cheeriness to coax Hannah out of her worries. “If you want to be clean again, we can’t have you sitting here!” again, trying one last time to be upbeat. The tears kept coming regardless. And as Mary consoled Hannah, Hannah noted that amongst all the kind and encouraging words, not a single one of them regarded it as an unfortunate accident. Despite being in such emotional turmoil, Hannah was aware enough to know that she wasn’t being treated as a girl working on pull-ups. Quite the opposite. The way Mary eased her back onto her feet, and gave the waistband of her diaper a reassuring upwards tug, though the slight jostle just made the mess even worse. Not like it mattered, because she had to start walking--no, waddling, eventually. Now it was Mary’s turn to seem like her mom. Just like when she walked out the door earlier this night. Both of them had silently lost faith in Hannah, and she knew it was well-deserved. Even if Mary did keep her promise, the inevitable would happen with or without her influence. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. It only made Hannah cry harder when they passed the wardrobe mirror, seeing herself so distraught. Underneath her skirt was the backside of her messy diaper just peeking; possible to see because her mess had forced the diaper to expand outside the blind spot. And just along the edge she could see the pair of blue panties struggling to stay on. It was as if they were trying to abandon her, too. It was a stinky, painful waddle back to the bathroom, where Mary cooed as she did her best to quarantine the mess. Back on the towel, Mary undid her tapes, and both equally happy and sad as it happened, the weighted diaper hit the ground with a plop almost immediately. Finally with room to breathe, the diaper’s odor filled the bathroom to uncomfortable levels. It made Hannah of course well with shame, and she could even see Mary’s nose scrunch the tiniest bit, but she was no less comforting. A few wet wipes later, Hannah had finally been cleaned of the mess she made in her pants; something she had never expected to happen in a million years. “There, see? All clean now. No more messies,” Mary continued to soothe, but the demeaning language only unnerved Hannah further. Yet at the same time, it was nice to have someone there for her… “I think it’s about time we get ready for bed,” Mary spoke simply, still devoid of any real judgement, at least any negative judgement that was. “I’ll go get your jammies, so wait here for me?” without waiting for a response, Mary stood back up, but not without grabbing the pair of panties too. “Wait!” amongst her sobs, Hannah finally spoke to Mary clearly. She turned back, open to hearing what Hannah had to say. “Can...” she felt the tears coming back already, knowing she was in no position to make demands, and equally as much for adult ones. “Can you let me keep the panties?” If anything, the only consolation she could have was at least getting to hang on to a pair. She didn’t want all this misfortune to be for naught. A pair of panties couldn’t fix anything in her life right now, but it could at least make her feel somewhat better. Mary was quiet for an uncomfortably long amount of time, like she was debating whether or not to humor a toddler. Had it not been for Hannah’s factual age though, this would have been true. Then she sighed, as if it were against her better judgement. “Mommy better not see these, got it?” Mary looked back to Hannah with a warning stare, as she handed them back to Hannah, who could only cry tears of joy. Desperately, Hannah nodded her head, as Mary temporarily left the room. Desperate for maturity, Hannah eagerly drew them up her legs, disregarding her skin still slightly being wet from the wet wipes. She drew them up with such exaggeration, the sides went well above her waist and the fabric had been stretched the slightest bit, just so she could drive the point home by feeling alone she was wearing panties again. It was like a breath of fresh air; almost enough to make her forget about the messy diaper she was standing next to. Wanting to figuratively soak in them for just a little bit longer, she let go of the waistband, waiting for it to conform to her waistline and sit propper. But instead, she felt them slip down her legs, and back to the ground. She was melancholic as she stared at them, quickly realizing just what the problem was. They had been stretched when she put them over the diaper, though just slightly. Slightly was enough to break the straw over the camel’s back, though, as from looks alone Hannah knew they wouldn’t fit her anymore… The only reason they had stayed on for as long as they had was because she was holding them in place. Her bottom lip trembled as she came to terms with this, knowing the only way they would fit her now was if she wore a diaper underneath it. Even when she got what she wanted it wasn’t right. Nothing was. Like the prophecy had foretold, it was another night of despair, and she had no idea why. Mary came back with the last diaper and a pair of pajamas, as promised. Hannah hadn’t mentioned a single word of the panties never fitting, and didn’t say anything at all. Not when she was laid down, not when the diaper was slipped under her bottom, not when it was drawn up between her legs, and not when the tapes’ adhesives came into place. Mary had apparently dug deep in Hannah’s dated wardrobe, because she had a pair of Disney Princess bottoms and shirt. The last time Hannah could remember getting themed clothing like that was when she was maybe 9 or 10. Hannah didn’t argue though, because she figured she’d already given Mary enough trouble for one night. As defeated and decrepit as Hannah was, it made her feel even worse knowing it was at the expense of someone else who had to take care of her. Hannah whimpered when the pants were drawn up, because they mostly went on right up until the halfway point on the diaper’s plastic landing strip, just giving the Elmo designs a small wall to peer over, otherwise known as the waistband of her pants. “They don’t fit...” Hannah quietly remarked to no one in particular. “I think we just need to give them a little stretch, that’s all,” Mary continued to tug at the pants, and they eventually did go over, but Mary stopped at a point where the fringes of the plastic waistband were still peeking. And because she had stretched the small pants so much, the crotch visibly conformed to the bulge of Hannah’s diaper perfectly, and though she couldn’t see it, also came close to form-fitting the elastic bands around her legs too. It was no secret to what she was wearing now. The shirt was small too, but somewhat fit better than the pants did. Her belly button was never covered, though. Mary watched Hannah brush her teeth, and once she was finished, the two were already in Hannah’s room, getting her into bed. “I’m sorry things didn’t go so perfectly tonight,” Mary sympathetically smiled, but still aware of the damage which had been done. “But again, I don’t think any less of you.” She gave Hannah’s arm one last stroke. Hannah was too emotionally drained to say anything. She had been put through the ringer tonight and was likely on the fast track to diapers, if not there already. When she partly moved on her side, the crinkle coming from her bottom reminded that she likely better start getting acquainted to. But before she left, Mary said one last thing. “And don’t worry, I’ll still talk to your mom,” and on that final positive note, Mary turned off the lights, and closed the door. When Hannah woke up, it was at some point in the middle of the night, if her window was any indication of that. She peeled back the covers, and when leaning forward felt the wet squish in her diaper. It had been dry when she went to sleep, and clearly she had been too involved in her dreams. It didn’t hit her as badly as a daytime wetting did, though. Especially not a messing one. She didn’t know why she woke up, but she did want to do one thing, even in her dazed state. Still without getting out of bed, Hannah leaned over to the side, fishing her hand underneath the bed’s skirt, pulling out what she was looking for. Snaking off the pajama pants her sleepy self had fumbled with already, she drew up the new article of clothing. Now in the presence of a diaper, they were snug-fitting again, and although depressed to know how it would work only this way, Hannah thoughtfully pressed a hand to the stretched panties. Pulling the covers back up, she went back to sleep while she silently wept. “Ms. Finn! How have you been?” “Great, Mary, and you? Is the college hunt going well?” “It’s definitely a search, alright,” Mary chuckled, as if this hadn’t been the first adult to ask. “But, I’ll find out eventually.” “I’m sure you will,” Hannah’s mom agreed. “I need to get going soon, though. Think you can handle Hannah tonight?” “Think I can handle a little diaper duty,” Mary spoke confidently, snickering at the joking challenge. Hannah’s mom made an uncertain noise, as if she weren’t so sure Mary could. “Whatever you say. Whenever she messes in her sleep, though, that’s the real challenge.” Mary solemnly agreed. “The worst of it is when they squish it all around without even realizing it… Poor things.” “Anyways, 8:00 tonight? She’s got a sleepover for tomorrow, and I want to make sure she’s nice and rested.” “Will do, Ms. Finn!” again, Mary happily saluted. “And also, since you were last here, I moved Hannah onto the boosters, as well.” “Oh?” Mary curiously asked, “What for?” “The wettings have been getting more frequent,” she paused for a second. “And larger… Don’t get me wrong, her pampers work well, but sometimes she needs a little something...extra.” “Well, I think I can handle that. Saves me from at least one extra diaper change, right?” “Well…” again, Ms. Finn didn’t seem to be totally onboard with the joke, saying, “you’d think...” “Oh! And also,” Hannah’s mom spoke again, as if she forgot an important detail. “No covering up her diaper tonight, okay? I’ve been reading a few blogs, and an important part to getting her used to her diapers is by keeping them out in the open. That, and it’s better to know when she’ll need a change,” she seemed to add it like an afterthought. “Got it, got it, got it,” repeatedly, Mary assured. “8:00 bedtime, use the diaper boosters, and no pants either.” “No skirts, too,” she partly corrected. “It’s been tough, but I think she’s finally starting to get used to it.” She sighed somewhat, staring off into space. “We won’t be going back to the potty for a bit, so I at least want her to be comfortable… Look at the time, though,” she turned her head back to the hallway. “Hannah?” she called, “Mommy’s leaving! Come and say bye-bye!” It took a few seconds, but you could hear the girl coming before you can even see her, announced by the crinkly noisemaker around her hips. From a single glance, the crotch of her unobstructed pamper diaper looked a little more pronounced than it usually would. It didn’t fold in on itself, and was unusually round. Almost like there was an extra layer inside of it… Her pace was slow as she shuffled down the hall, as if trying to minimize the sounds she made with each step, while doing everything she could to not stare at the babysitter. It was the first time she looked like this in front of her, after all. Nothing had changed. Each and every time Mary came back, things somehow got worse, and this time was no different than the others. Mary silently waved with a smile to Hannah, while she nervously came closer, veering towards her mom. “...Bye mom…” They were two simple words, yet it sounded as if it took a great deal to even mutter them out loud. “Goodnight, sweetie,” Hannah’s mom spoke in a tender tone, as if she were sending a toddler off to bed. She got on her knees and before she even hugged the girl, slipping a finger in between her leg band and thigh. Hannah meekly whimpered, but stood still like a statue, almost as if this wasn’t the first time this’d happened. “Just a little soggy,” Hannah’s mom simply commented, unlike her last departure which held much more disappointment. Turning her head to Mary, as if Hannah wasn’t even in the room, she said, “She shouldn’t need a change until she goes poo. She’s usually good about that around this time.” Hannah, still listening despite being forgotten, grew embarrassingly wide-eyed at the comment, though not daring to look anyone in the eye. Mary slowly nodded her head, passively eyeing Hannah’s reaction. Hannah then received and gave her hug, but while locked in it, she felt the firm pat to her plastic backside. It was almost enough to make her cry knowing that’d change eventually, but maybe she could negotiate something with Mary… “Have a good night, you two!” Hannah’s mom ended it with a kiss to the trembling Hannah’s forehead, then waved a goodbye to Mary, closing the door behind her. As if the door shutting were a cue, Hannah fell to her knees in a sob. “Hey...hey...” Mary rushed over to her, stroking her back. “Come on, there’s no need to be sad… Did you go already?” It only made Mary cry harder, now knowing her emotional distress had now become associated with the state of her diaper. Her legitimate concerns came second to her bowels and bladder. She’d been barred from panties, and the last of the pull-ups had been thrown out. All that was left in the house for her were diapers. Her mom somehow found out she found the box of panties, and thus she tossed the whole lot into the trash altogether. That was a rough day, by far. Taking too long to give Mary a verbal response, she pulled back the waistband of Hannah’s diaper, and not finding what she expected, set it back into place. “I thought...” Hannah sobbed, “I thought you said it’d get better?” Without any real explanation, Mary could only continue to soothe her. “Come on, where’s the big girl I know so well? Diapers or no diapers, you’re still my favorite gal to hang out with?” Hannah knew it was probably a lie, but having someone so understanding, although belittling, was a genuine comfort that had grown on her. It probably all was just one big coincidence, and a happy one at that. The loss of her bowels and bladder were something supernatural she couldn’t explain, but at least the universe had gifted her Mary. She was kind, understanding, supportive, and attentive. Sure, she may have checked Hannah’s diapers and changed them, but that was her job. Hannah couldn’t expect her to not do such. What was weird though was when Mary said, “Besides, look at it this way: no need to worry about the bathroom anymore!” “H...huh?” Mary innocently giggled, as she rubbed Hannah’s shoulder. “All I’m saying is that it’s a lot less stressful now, isn’t it? I remember last week when you were still on pull-ups. That was a bumpy ride, right?” Awkwardly Hannah shrugged, but she’d much rather fight for her pull-ups than surrender to diapers. “M...Mary?” “Hm? What is it?” “Do you think we could do it like last time?” “Like what last time?” “You know...not tell Mom about tonight?” “What wouldn’t I tell her?” Mary asked with genuine curiosity, unsure of the answer. “My...my accidents? Tell her I didn’t have any?” Still, Mary looked troubled trying to decipher what Hannah figured to be as clear as day. “Hannah, honey, what accidents?” “You know!” in a teary whine Hannah complained. “In my...diapers?” “Hannah...” Mary had furrowed her brows in a sorrowful form, as she looked as if she were going to break some dreadful news. “I did that last time because you were in pull-ups. But now?” Simply, she gave the crotch of Hannah’s diaper a squishy squeeze, causing the pee to stir in it, and forcing Hannah to blush furiously. “You’re not wearing pull-ups anymore, sweetheart.” She tried her best to give a loving smile, but it was obvious she were trying to break some bad news gently. “Accidents don’t happen in diapers...” With her bottom lip trembling, Hannah’s fresh tears came back as reality set into place. “Maybe I’d be willing to hear you out if you were in pull-ups, but do you really think that’s the best for you right now?” Streams rolling down her cheeks now, and suddenly one coming from her bladder, she shook her head no. “Let’s not worry about pull-ups anymore, okay? And look at it this way,” she tugged up the front of Hannah’s sagging diaper. “No more pull-ups means no more accidents!” still hushed, Mary sounded upbeat. “Mommy’s not mad anymore, right?” It was a morbid fact, but there was some truth to it. Still, that didn’t excuse the price she had to pay in exchange, though. She continued to sniffle as Mary stroked her hair. “And if it makes you feel any better, I think you look very cute in diapers,” she leaned a bit lower to catch Hannah’s eyes in the middle of a downward gaze. Hannah looked away, still frustrated by the circumstances. She had no reason to be angry with Mary. In the end this was all her own fault. All she was trying to do was make her feel better… “Wanna go watch some tv?” slowly lifting Hannah’s chin with her finger, she looked at the girl hopefully. Hannah nodded her head, and taking the babysitter’s hand, they walked down the hall she came from. She had finally reached it. Rock bottom. Not even Mary could save her. “So you’re having a sleepover tomorrow, huh?” Mary asked, trying to change the topic. “Looking forward to it?” “I guess...” Hannah lied, dreading tomorrow night. She wanted to go, but not as she was now. The only reason she broke her golden rule was because her mom did for her. All it took was a single conversation between her mom and a friend’s, and like that Hannah had involuntarily been signed up for a night with her friends. And of course her friend’s mom now knew about her diapers, because if Hannah’s mom wasn’t going to be there, what responsible adult would be? It would certainly be a rough night. She wasn’t even sure if she had clothes that could fully conceal her new underwear. If her mom had a complete say in it though, she never would. As they were about to round the corner, a sudden cramp hit Hannah’s abdomen, knowing full well what was to come, and unfortunately just as her mom predicted. It was impossible for Mary to not notice, because she was suddenly stopped by the anchor her hand was tethered to, and turned around to see Hannah already frozen in place. The bowel movements had become so frequent now she didn’t even need to squat anymore. Face ridden with a thousand yard stare, she grunted helplessly as her bottom trembled and the back of her diaper started to fill itself. The diaper slightly crinkled as it expanded, and Mary, still holding onto Hannah’s hand suddenly stopped tickling her palm with her thumb. It took Hannah a second to even realize she was doing it to begin with. Finishing her unfortunate mess, Hannah remained speechless as she stood there, waiting for something other than the smell to hit her nose. “I’m...I’m sorry...” in a frazzled stutter, Hannah tearily tried to explain herself. “That’s alright,” Mary pat the top of Hannah’s head. “It has to go somewhere, right?” No more accidents. It was expected of her. “You head on into the living room, okay?” Finally letting go of Hannah’s hand, she gave her a suggestive push by pressing her hand against the back of Hannah’s diaper, nudging her forward, but smearing the mess in the process. “I can just change you in front of the tv,” smiling, Mary waited for Hannah to keep walking. Quietly, nodding, Hannah walked bow-legged into the living room, messy diaper in tow. Every step of the way, Mary watched her stinky charge toddle off to the room, with a devilish smirk forming a wider and wider; a bigger, toothy grin with each step. Once the girl was long gone, Mary turned on her heel and back to the stairs. Walking into Hannah’s room, she opened the drawers to her dresser, where the pull-ups would usually be, but were now instead an array of child-printed diapers. Picking one out, Mary eyed them disapprovingly. With a sudden shift in tone, as if full of mischief, trickery, and sadism, she tutted, “Much, much too thin...” With the snap of her fingers, a purple spark erupted from the tip of her nails, and the diaper in her hand started to grow visibly thicker; nearly twice in size. She reached her other hand into the bag of diaper inserts sitting plain as day next to her dresser, deciding against making it any more ‘absorbent,’ too. Expectantly, she looked around the room, checking near the wet wipes for something she expected to find, but was severely disappointed, though mostly annoyed. “Stupid woman,” bitterly, she scoffed to no one in the room. “You can’t even buy baby powder without me telling you to?” She knew she had to be explicit when she used her magic on others, but the devil in the details was always annoying at times like these… “Sorry, Hannah, baby,” she added the last bit in a syrupy voice. “Looks like you won’t be smelling so sweet tonight...” And already with a destination in mind, she walked over to Hannah’s bedside, leaning over, kneeling near the bed skirt. Lifting it up, her eyes barely scanned the area she was just seeing for the first time, and with her target in sights, grabbed what she was looking for. “Poor thing...” with both hands, she held the garment in front of her eyes, seeing the panties had clearly been stretched out. “Still getting ideas...” sighing, the snapped her fingers once more, and the garment had vaporized into nothing. Truthfully, it was Mary’s fault. She was the one who teased the poor girl. She remembered to instruct Hannah’s mom to throw out the panties, but admittedly she forgot about the pair the girl got away with. Not that they would have ever fit her without a diaper, but the last thing she needed were reminders of what she once wore and who she once was. Grabbing the wet wipes, she walked back down the stairs. Hannah probably was thinking right about now it couldn’t get any worse, and she was right. In fact, it never got any worse. In Mary’s world, at least. In her’s, it only got better and better. And there was certainly much more fun to be had. She chewed her thumb for a moment, thinking deeply, wondering if there was some way she could chaperone Hannah’s sleepover tomorrow… She looked at her thumb nail thoughtfully, wondering just how many friends of Hannah’s she could show off her diapers to… Tabling the idea altogether, she walked back into the living room where Hannah was still standing awkwardly; not even daring to sit down. She watched the tv nervously, still shivering in embarrassment. Mary watched silently with a smile, seeing the full diaper sway to and fro. But going back to the babysitter facade, her smile shifted back to a much more innocent one, tapping Hannah on the shoulder. She must have been too quiet, because Hannah suddenly jumped, simultaneously trying to turn around, but in the process lost her footing, falling right on her diapered bottom. The tv’s audio was just low enough for the both of them to hear the squish, and Hannah’s face visibly grimace and contort; mortified by the substance seeping between her legs. Mary looked apologetic as she came close, stroking Hannah’s cheek. “Ooh, I’m sorry, Hannah,” instead of helping her back up, Mary took advantage of her position and laid her down further. “Boom boom went smoosh, huh?” At this point, Hannah was at a loss for words as Mary situated her. “You know, Hannah,” Mary casually spoke as she undid the tapes to her diaper. “I’m really happy I got to babysit you.” As she wiped her messy bottom with a wet wipe, clearly proving privacy no longer existed for Hannah when she leaned in close, asking, “Are you?” Overwhelmed, Hannah, busy looking at the leg of the coffee table, tearily nodded yes. Secretly, Mary writhed in pleasure as she watched the troubled girl’s expressions. And it would only get better. Better and better until she truly had reached rock bottom. She would be cute and adorable then, but the chase is always the best part… Thoroughly breaking down Hannah was what she lived for… She was just about to massage Hannah’s palm again, then stopped herself. Personally, Mary didn’t feel like cleaning up a wet rug… She’d do it after she was diapered. The lingering effects for when she did this were far too obvious, and Hannah’s bladder and bowels were certainly taking the brunt of it. Maybe just a few more times, and she wouldn’t even be feeling the need to poo anymore, or at the very least only realize she needs to poop by the time half of it’s already in her diaper. Or maybe to really drive the point home, she could make the potty monster real. In Hannah’s imagination, at least. She’d feel safer making a mess in her pants than on a scary bowl that could grab her at a moment’s notice… Both ideas were exciting, and equally a possibility. She’d need to flip a coin on it, or even have Hannah decide, maybe? She could just mask the decision as what they were eating for dinner. It was always fun to see them unconsciously spell their own demise. The best part was even if Hannah did have any suspicions, they were objectively absurd, and it’s not like Mary was going anywhere. She’d been “looking” for a college the past three years. In the meantime, she made ends meet with her babysitting jobs. And what kids need a babysitter more than the ones in diapers? Yes. They need ones for a long, long time.

The Boarder's Tale Chapter 1 Pete stood outside the terrace house. He looked at the piece of paper in his hand. The internet was amazing, he thought. No need for those rental sites. He'd found the landlady of this place on a travel chatroom, and here he was a month and 12000 miles later. He opened the nicely painted cast iron gate between the two white pillars and made his way along a short, flagstoned path and up several steps to the black front door. He lifted the polished brass doorknocker and heard the sound it made reverberate inside. A few moments later the door opened and a pleasant looking, middle aged lady stood smiling at Pete. The stereotype of the landlady, thought Pete as he introduced himself. The lady was Mrs Smith, a widow who offered room and board to what she told Pete were 'suitable lodgers'. It seemed that Pete was suitable enough to be having a cup of tea a few minutes later with Mrs Smith and being told how she ran her house. 'So,' said Mrs Smith. 'Anything else, just ask. You'll have your own key. One more thing, do you have issues with bedwetting?' The question took Pete by surprise. He blushed, because he had had a few problems in that area. He had been late toilet training, his mother had told him, and he had wet his bed off and on into his teens. Even later, he had had occasional episodes, when very tired, stressed or once or twice after drinking too much. 'Er, bedwetting?' he replied, hoping he hadn't looked guilty. 'Yes,' said Mrs Smith. 'It's not too uncommon, and creates a lot of washing. I have a plastic undersheet if there's any chance that you might have an accident.' Pete was still a little shocked. His bedwetting history was probably his most private issue. 'Oh, well...' he began. 'It's not a big deal,' said Mrs Smith. 'When was the last time you wet the bed?' Pete had never been good at lying. 'Oh,' he said, trying to sound confident. 'A while ago. A long while ago.' 'So, since childhood,' said Mrs Smith. 'How long ago? Years? Months?' Pete could have kicked himself. This was the perfect accommodation for him, and in the first five minutes he's admitting wetting the bed. ''Years,' said Pete. 'Several.' He winced inwardly. He was making this worse. 'I see,' said Mrs Smith. 'I think we'll start with the plastic undersheet and see how you get on.' Bloody hell, thought Pete. How has this become an issue? At least she's not kicking me out on the strength of it, he thought. 'OK, thanks,' he replied. Damn, he thought. I'm my own worst enemy. That sounded like I was confirming that I'm a bedwetter. 'Well. I'll show you your room.' said Mrs Smith, getting up from her chair. She was quite well built, Pete thought as he watched Mrs Smith turn towards the door. She was wearing jeans and a woollen top. She had nice hips and a large bust. Pete liked full, mature figures, not he thought, that he had any ideas towards this nice lady, even if she had sprung his big secret. At least she didn't seem horrified that anyone should occasionally have an accident at night. Mrs Smith opened a door in the upstairs hallway into a large, comfortable room. There was a big, paned window, a fireplace and a double bed. On the bedspread, resting against the pillows were three large stuffed toys. Pete looked at them in surprise. 'Oh, they're left over,' said Mrs Smith with a laugh, without saying left over from what, or who. 'You can choose one for yourself if you like. I'm sure the previous owner wouldn't mind.' 'No, it's OK,' said Pete. He wasn't sure if what Mrs Smith had just said was odd or not. 'Your bathroom is down the hall at the end,' said Mrs Smith. 'We sit down to pee in this house, by the way,' she added. 'Less chance of mess.' 'OK,' said Pete. Now that was odd, he thought. Still, it was her house, and he usually sat to pee anyway. He'd grown up in a household comprising his mother and three older sisters, where no one including him ever stood to use the toilet. It seemed natural now. Mrs Smith wrapped up her introduction to the house. 'That's about it,' she said. 'You have the run of the house, and you're most welcome to sit downstairs with me in the living room in the evenings. In fact, I'd enjoy the company. Or you can play up here in your room.' Play in my room, thought Pete. Maybe she meant play something on my laptop. 'I'll leave you to it,' she said, turning to the door. 'Dinner will be at 7.30.' 'OK, thanks,' said Pete, watching Mrs Smith's denim clad hips as she left the room. To be continued.

23 years old, looking for diapered friends or daddy’s to be friends with. If you want to chat feel free to message me, would love to make like minded friends.

The wooden door swung with a sense of passion running through its hinges, as 66 inches of pride marched its leather boots across the wooden floor and inside the guild. Hanging on her wrist, just before the edge of her brown, finger-less leather gloves, was a twine basket caught in its own mild swing from the sheer momentum of its carrier. Covered by a patterned piece of cloth, it shrouded the contents inside. “Jessica!” the familiar guild receptionist, Tira, warmly welcomed the adventurer with a wave from behind the wooden, masterfully carved countertop trimmed in bronze. Only the more popular guild houses were trimmed in anything more expensive. Out here in the sticks, there wasn’t as much activity for aspiring goblin-slayers and dungeon-delvers. Jessica, the girl with the basket, haughtily set the basket on the counter with a smug grin on her face. Today was the day. She’d been at this too long to not do the math at least thrice over! Yes. She knew exactly what her bounty would yield, and what it would ultimately lead her to. “Tira, this is the last time I’ll be collecting silk-grass day-in and day-out!” As if to give herself the assurance, she nodded her head once again. Tira meanwhile, either oblivious or mindful of the girl’s boastful confidence, politely adjusted the cuffs to her blouse before peeling back the cloth on the basket. “A splendid job as always, Jessica,” she spoke with a discerning eye as she held a small sample of the girl’s haul. The grass almost looked metallic, with how the chandelier from above shone down on it. “I take it this is the five bundles like always?” The ‘always’ part almost seemed offensive, but clearly she didn’t mean it. Jessica had known Tira long enough to know she was nothing but kind, caring and supportive. From the start, she’d been encouraging Jessica, a newbie to the adventurer’s life, and helping her in whatever way she could. But yes, she had been at the same job for quite some time now, despite it being the hero’s mantra to help anyone in need; complete any sort of task that needs attending, and it just so happened Jessica’s was to quench the undying thirst for silk-grass. But she could take it all in stride now, knowing this was finally the last grass-run! “Same as always, Tira! Maybe there’s even some extra in there?” There probably was, but if the margin was too small, they’d always round down on her. Even if they did, she still made just as much as she’d expect. “I’ll trust you, considering you are the goto when it comes to grass-gathering. The town alchemist is really appreciative, by the way,” she smiled the same way she always did. It was enough to even make the haughty Jessica feel a little silly...and proud. Demeaning as it was, it was still a good deed done nonetheless. “And uh, I don’t mean to rush, but do you think I could get my payment?” When it came to being frank with Tira, Jessica always felt like she was treading on eggshells. She never wanted to come off as rude to her. “I want to visit the swordsmith before sundown; I think they’re closing soon...” Tira suddenly gasped, placing a hand to her mouth. “Wait, Jessica, you can’t mean you can finally afford one!?” The smile that was already on Jessica’s face only grew wider, as she now had someone equally as excited to confide in. Wordlessly, she nodded her head. “That’s great! So that means you’ll be ready for some tougher requests, right?” She took a moment to straighten her thin, blue vest while she turned her back to Jessica for only a moment, going through some shelves. “Let me just get your payment...” “Yep! No more harvesting for me. I can’t wait for my first real adventure!” She couldn’t even begin to think what she’d do next. Fight slimes? Boars? Goblins? Orcs? Dragons? The possibilities were endless! Well, maybe harshly limited given her equipment...but, the potential was what mattered the most. The sound of metal coins hitting the wooden top announced payment’s touchdown. Ten silver coins were deposited, then carefully arranged on the wooden surface. “Alright, so the job pays ten silver, but...” three shiny friends were reeled back into Tira’s hand. It would’ve been sad if Jessica weren’t expecting it. The guild always took a cut. “After the guild’s fee, that makes seven silver.” She nudged the small stack a little closer to Jessica, who slipped them into her jingling pouch. She’d already amassed her tiny fortune. All that was left was to spend it! “Congratulations, Jessica, really!” Just before Jessica could turn away, Tira leaned forward and pulled her in for a smothering hug. Had the counter not been an obstacle, Jessica may have been fully suffocated. Finally she relented and let go, after Jessica resisted enough. “You better hurry now before they close. And since it’s too late to take another quest tonight, see me first thing in the morning! I’ll have something good prepared for you!” “Thanks, Tira! See you tomorrow!” She waved goodbye as she rushed out the door, brown hair in all its splendor flowing right behind her pace. Her feet couldn’t carry her across the cobblestone fast enough. She could just manage to see the smoke rising over the rooftops off in the distance. It was her beacon; her gateway to the next level. From here it was just the start. “Yes! Yes! You’re all mine!” Clutched tightly in her hands was a beautifully sewn sheath, made from an animal’s thick hide; nicely cured, cut, and shaped. Inside it held a piece of metal attached to a handle wrapped in fabric that ensured a rock-hard grip for its user. Sharp along the edges and meeting to a single point on the end, it couldn’t have been longer than the connected span of both Jessica’s hands, but it was hers. Her first, real sword. Well, dagger, but her first real blade! A few meager coins were left in her deflated pouch, but it was all worth it. Every single silver of it. Nearly a month of hard work had finally paid off! It took her just about a week to even figure how to budget for this thing, much less directly work towards it. The pride and sense of accomplishment right then was beyond measure. And as she held her ever-so wonderful dagger close to her chest, she looked at the crimson hue in the sky. Truthfully, she couldn’t be any happier, but it was a frustrated sigh that left her mouth. How was she going to sleep tonight, knowing she couldn’t use her dagger until tomorrow? She wanted to use it now. She was already craving for the new horizons which she would embark upon. It was an insatiable hunger, and she wanted to satisfy it now. Excitedly, still outside the swordsmith’s shop, she panned her eyes to the right, seeing the open gate to the town just nearby. There had to be something out right now, right? Did slimes graze the plains all day? She couldn’t remember. All she could log inside her brain was where the best spots to harvest silk-grass are. Well, that would need to change. She’d need to make room for all the now much more relevant information she would discover. She was already walking to it. Then jogging. Then sprinting. “Come on! Where are all these stupid slimes?” She stomped her foot into the grass, causing the slight shake to her thin chainmail. Her shoulder and kneepads were itching for combat! Some of the more experienced adventures liked to crack jokes about how “overprepared” she was for harvesting, often claiming she thought the grass might eat her if she got too close… Rather, it was in case of a day like this. A day when she finally could fight something that would bite back. Unfortunately, the surrounding fields were empty; devoid of a single target for practice. Maybe she really should pack it in? There would definitely be stuff tomorrow… Yet as she tried to reason to herself, she kept looking into the forest. No! What are you stupid or something? Even she knew her limits. The forest had significantly tougher creatures lurking about. Of course Jessica could take them any day of the week, even with both hands and feet tied behind her back. But, she might want a little warm-up at least against the smallfry closer to town… After that, though! Then, then she could take on the world. But maybe...maybe there was something weaker on the outskirts of it? She made her way into the woods. Somehow she’d managed to talk herself going quite the distance into the woods. A distance she normally would’ve been uncomfortable of, if she knew she’d be going this far from the start. All she had to tell her the way back to town was by keeping the setting sun on her back. Everything else was just guesswork. She’d never gone this far into the woods. Not even for silk-grass… And yet, despite the danger she was putting herself in, it was overshadowed by the immediate frustration of not encountering a single fight! “Ugh! Why won’t anything fight me?!” Her hand never left the handle of her dagger, secured nicely on her belt. Her joints were probably going to freeze that way if she held it for any longer. Roots and branches were starting to become and issue now too. They were becoming taller and taller, more congested with every foot she tread deeper. A few here and there had unexpectedly brushed her face, which was annoying in its own right, though especially so since it felt like an insult to injury trying to hunt monsters. “Get, out, of, my, WAY!” Suddenly yelling, grunting and shouting, Jessica quickly unsheathed her blade as she unleashed it upon its first kill; tree branches. Now vanquisher of molecules, she finally had some of her composure back when taking a moment to breathe. Suddenly looking smug again, she pressed forward. “That oughta teach you stupid trees...” It wasn’t really her first cut, but boy did it feel good to swing it. It was already feeling like an investment well-made. As she kept walking, a pretty sight caught her eye; a fluttering bug with beautifully colored wings. It was a butterfly! Nothing dangerous or large enough to warrant slaying, but something captivating enough to watch. Then there was another. It was gold and black, and then she was just as surprised to see another; this one purple and green. Where were they all coming from? A faint buzz slowly picked up in her ears. What kind of thing was making that noise? It was getting louder as from wherever it got closer. Then, in a stupefying moment, Jessica turned around. It wasn’t a thing making that noise, but rather things that were. Jessica didn’t know what was more off-putting: the army of insects flying in a concentrated group, or the humanoid figure they were all revolving around. It was as if a woman had fused with a tree. The figure of a female, yet brown and green skin with the texture of tree bark. Her eyes glowed a fierce, emanating green, and what could only be equated to hair was a bundle of vines and branches hanging around her rough, uneven looking shoulders, sprouting flowers and leaves all over. Her feet devolved into nothing more than bundles of branch , yet they were separated from the ground, and she looked very real. Very terrifying, as she stood a little more than twice Jessica’s size. She didn’t look happy. “H-Hi...” her joints felt stiff, and her muscles were like blocks of ice; heavy and immovable. Her mouth quivered as she tried to find the words, much less actually identify what this odd monstrosity was, or what it wanted with Jessica. Then, much to her dismay, realizing the fruits of her mistakes, slashing the branches from earlier didn’t seem so smart of an idea in retrospect… “D-don’t come any closer!” Finally remembering her line of defense, she quickly pulled the blade in front of her, pointing it at the creature of nature. “If you do I’ll cut--” her small flame of bravado was quickly snuffed as a blunt root suddenly shot from the soil beneath her, easily knocking the blade out of her weak grip with a little force. “H-Hey! Wait, that’s mine!” Before the dagger could fall back down, a nearby tree seemed to come to life, as a branch extended from it to catch the blade. Jessica was truly panicking now. In mere seconds she’d become defenseless, and was at the mercy of a creature far beyond her class. “Please!” She looked to the creature, who with a human-like face, clearly annoyed, stared back. Jessica seemed to be pleading desperately now. “Please give me my weapon back! I’m sorry for threatening you! I’m sorry for cutting your branches! I’ll leave! I promise!” The once brave and fearless girl was now trembling with trepidation. She wanted to run, but it scared her far too much to think what might happen if she failed to get away. Despite looking human enough, this thing didn’t seem to speak like one, so it was near-impossible to discern her intent. Then, its mouth curled into a wicked smile, or at least how Jessica perceived it. A smug predator now had its prey, and it seemed to be enjoying every moment of the helpless struggle. Even the bugs could get a read of the room, because they all began to quickly make themselves scarce. She was almost too frightened to notice the foreign tendril slowly creeping up and around her left ankle, slithering into the gap between her leather pads and skin. She doubled over, trying to thrash as the invasive probe nestled itself further around her leg. She tugged and pulled, but almost lost all hope when she could see it was another root coming deep from the ground. “P-Please! Don’t!” Blubbering, she looked back to the monster, who seemed no less amused, which further pushed Jessica into waterworks. Was this really how it all ended? Dying simply because she got a bit too ambitious? Maybe harvesting grass for the bulk of her career wasn’t all that bad. Maybe thinking she could ever amount to anything greater was her fault. She’d gone and foolishly jumped off and into the deep end; thwarted by her own greed. She didn’t stop crying, but knew that this fate might be deserved. Still, she was inconsolable, too young to cope with such a bitter end. It got closer to Jessica, wincing from the motion alone. Hopefully it would be a swift death… She looked no less happy as she got closer and closer to Jessica, only a foot apart, magnifying the difference they had in height. Leaning forward, her eyes just remained a little bit higher than Jessica’s, whilst her green sockets seemed to pierce her entire being. Jessica tried not to squirm as the root secured itself firmly all over her, wrapped around her calf, thigh and waist so snugly. She could see the small bulge snaking around her clothed torso, knowing exactly where it’d sewn itself. “Wait...” between her sobs, she managed to speak. “You’re a...you’re a nymph, aren’t you?” It made no difference at all, but at least now there was a name to a face. The naturey, woman-like appearance made too much sense now. She didn’t even know why she was saying it to begin with. The nymph didn’t seem to care though, as she leaned back into her dominant pose, being just as cryptic as she’d been since the start. A chunk of bark covering her front, she took her hands to it and started pulling it forward, causing a peeling, snapping sort of noise; the kind you’d hear from breaking branches. Was she hurting herself? None of this was making sense! Her face showed no indication of pain, however, as with a final snap the remaining fibers of wood were broken, and off came a plate of bark covering her torso. Jessica wasn’t sure what to expect, though the likely assumption was either more wood or plant material, but given how this thing looked...as she stared at the reveal...it seemed...oddly obvious. Much like a human woman in this regard as well, she too had a bosom. Identical in shape and form, though different in texture and look, a pair of unmistakable breasts were now faced towards the trapped Jessica. It was jarring enough to make her forget she was on death’s door. Her eyes kept rapidly pacing between the very risque sight, and the nymph who couldn’t stop smiling. What kind of game was this thing playing? Jessica kept trying to struggle, but the root had grown rigid and stiff; impossible to bend. Her breathing started to become more rapid as the nymph had suddenly lifted her, with the root now flexible like thread, and...sat her in her lap? Supported by one arm, she was laying in such a position that gave her the perfect side view of the creature’s breasts. She root wrapped around her became snug again, signifying this was her destined position. “Are...are you not going to kill me?” She looked pleadingly up to the nymph. A rough hand took hold of her chin, as her gaze was directed back to the woman’s chest. If it wasn’t clear before, she’d made her chest bare for a reason… And now looking at it a bit more clearly, much to Jessica’s confusion she could see that there were nipples as well. And...and they were leaking something? A shiny brown, something slightly viscous dripped from them, and unfortunately right onto Jessica’s pants. Just from looking she could tell it was sticky. She was close enough to smell its faint odor. It reminded her of citrus, or something fruity... Trying to shift her position, finding the woman’s grip was rock solid kept her from trying to protest. And much to her horror, the arm supporting her head started to gently push, bringing Jessica closer and closer to the breast, quickly realizing what this was all about. “Wh-what?! No! You can’t feed me! I’m not some child! I’m not--” she couldn’t finish her words, as the tip to a plump breast was forced into her mouth. It betrayed her expectations completely, considering how the nymph was made of wood and leaves. Her chest was the exact opposite; soft, bouncy and squishy. Maybe that’s why she covered herself up? She was trying to think rationally, but even without sucking, the substance that was leaking from the nymph’s breast was now leaking straight into Jessica’s mouth. She tried to pull away, but the nymph’s arm would not relent. In her helpless struggle her tongue had a fit of its own as well, accidentally swabbing the sticky liquid now collecting in her mouth. It was vile; disgusting. A sinister substance concocted from the pits of hell itself. It was bad. She hated it. … That’s...what she wanted to say. But instead, a sweet syrup dressed itself over her tongue, as she involuntarily swallowed the chillingly wonderful nectar. It took her a moment to realize she could breathe through her nose, wide-eyed, as her tongue sprouted a mind of its own, suddenly shamelessly probing for more. It’s...it’s good… Real good! What was she doing? Why was she reacting this way? And why? Why did it taste so good?! Her submission came from a solemn truth that she would not be able to escape, and how she felt guiltily strung along by such a wonderful taste. As shameful as it all was, she could seem to stomach her feelings just as well as the nymph’s nectar. Little to none was coming out, and her primitive desires were making her impatient; frustrated. As if her body already knew the answer, her moving jaw, lips and tongue worked in a conjoined effort to further coax the drink from the creature’s breast. The flesh-like tissue responded in tune, as a wonderful stream eased itself into the back of Jessica’s throat. And finally she heard the nymph make a noise, as it was a sweet, seductive sigh, and the grip on Jessica’s hair felt a tiny bit tighter, though loosening once again as the nymph regained her composure. Did she actually feel pleasure from this? Jessica took another swallow of the sweet, delicious syrup. She was too occupied by the taste of treats than to consider the circumstances. She cared not for her dagger, where she was, what she was doing, or how she thought she could have died. All she focused on was getting more syrup from this creature’s breast. It reminded her of honey and syrup combined, sprinkled with sugar and strawberries! Her analogies were likely poorly composed, but who could blame her? The drink was making her so frazzled, nothing in that moment seemed to make sense. The more she sucked and swallowed, she could feel the liquid’s warmth radiate somewhere deep inside of herself. It sent mild shocks and vibrations that tickled her all over, particularly close to the stomach. Had she not been so drunkenly hypnotized, she’d maybe have even squealed in delight. How could she have thought of doing something so heinous? Pointing a blade at something that could carry such sweet delights in its chest? She’d already become a natural at feeding from the nymph’s breast, and surprised herself by the discomfort she felt once she was forcibly detached. “W-wait! But I’m...” was she really this hooked? How addictive was this? She licked the outer rim of her lips, then stared at the smiling nymph, who didn’t seem so predatory anymore... “I’m not done!” She wanted more and was helpless to do anything about it. Luck was finally on her side though, because after a quick rotation in her posture, she was suddenly closer to the hopefully, equally as full other breast that had yet to be touched. It didn’t take a guiding hand for her to latch her mouth on this time, and was probably her only element of surprise on the creature, as she made a slight noise, likely induced by the abrasiveness of her suckling captive. It was all happening so fast, yet time had stood still. Her eyes were drooping, as her sense of sharpness and alert were being quickly drained away with her adrenaline, being replaced by a much stronger wave of calming euphoria. She almost felt like she’d committed a crime when her stomach had started to become inevitably full. A few whimpers summed up her internal conflict; an unending desire to nurse, yet contradicted by the physical limits of her body. There was no chance she was going to cut herself off, though. She no longer had the mental barriers to keep herself in check. All she knew how to do by this point was drink. She was so out of it, a strand of drool formed the bridge between her lips and the nymph’s breast, when she was finally pulled away, involuntarily. “No, no! Please, please, just a little more!” Her emotions were getting the better of her, whining as if she’d just been denied a long-awaited inheritance. When she tried to grab for a hold, the nymph’s much more tough arm swatted hers away. Even though she was practically intoxicated, the small, rational voice in her head was at least thankful for her stomach not bursting. She didn’t know what she’d do if there was a third breast… That warm, full feeling in her stomach never seemed to wane, as her stomach had the slightest curve to it; an unfortunate sign of overeating, or in this case, overdrinking. Her mouth was still salivating just from looking at the bare breast, but even that tempting sight was soon to go, because like magic her outer bark tissue was fast growing over her chest. And as it left, so did Jessica’s remaining energy. Whether it was the rapid shift in her emotions, the effects of the syrup, or both, some toll was being collected, and Jessica was just about bankrupt in every sense of the word. She was so tired, all she could think of now was sleep. Yes...sweet, lovely relaxation. Stuck in such a sleepy state, she couldn’t help but giggle once she focused on the feeling in her tummy. It was still radiating those distant tingles, and it was kind of a funny feeling the way she felt her lower regions twitch in response… She was probably just too content from all the syrup. She would blink, then realize a few seconds later that to actually blink you’d need to open your eyes again right after. Certain pressures were building too. But she couldn’t place them? She was too disoriented to, after all. Whatever it was, and wherever she was, it could wait. Until she was ready...she’d be catching some shuteye… “Are you sure this is her? I can’t imagine an adventurer would...you know… Even if they’re a rookie.” “Well, she matches the description.” Jessica could feel a hand nudge her shoulder, but wasn’t alert enough yet to realize it. “Tiny girl, brown hair? And regardless of how she...smells, this is definitely her.” “Don’t you think it’s kinda weird though? How are you gonna be missing for a whole 24 hours, just to take a snooze in the forest?” “It’s not that normal, Faris. You saw the surrounding area. Covered in woven branches, leaves and flowers? And until we found her, it actually kind of smelled pleasant. It’s obvious this is a nymph’s territory.” Then her all-knowing tone seemed to transition into genuine uncertainty. “But that doesn’t explain why we’d find her in the middle of it...” “...Nnnn…?” Jessica made a weak noise, as she was finally coming to. “Look! She’s waking up! Thank the heavens,” the female voice spoke a bit lower this time, “I almost thought we were gonna have to carry her back...” “We? Faris, did you forget that you’re the muscle here? That’d have been your job.” “Is someone there?” Still with her eyes closed, though adjusting to the light, Jessica stirred. She felt groggy all over, like she was a statue learning how to be something animate. “Then I think I’d be taking 100% of the reward.” Faris, the ‘muscle’ in question, said snarkily. “As if! If you didn’t have me, there’s no way you would have been able to track her!” From Jessica’s perspective, she wasn’t appreciating all the noise. She did manage to open her eyes though, as the sunlight from the roof of foliage bled through just enough to irritate her eyes. “Whatever you say, Vanessa the potty pants tracker. Like, seriously? Anyone could have smelled her a mile away!” “Watch your tongue! She’s waking up!” It was only about a minute later until Jessica was actually registering noise. She was on her side, laying in a bundle of leaves. She was coming from a clearly deep sleep, as her limbs felt glued together all over. Glued...especially between her legs… A foul smell drifted to her nostrils as all it took was one sniff to cause deep regret. She quickly covered her nostrils, as she rolled onto her back to sit up. That was her first, and last mistake. What she didn’t realize was that there was something sitting between her bottom and the ground, which was almost like a ball of clay inside her cotton underwear. Clay was what she wished it’d have been, but the cold, awkward squish had her wide-eyed in just a few seconds, putting the feeling and location of the mess together with the terrible smell. No...she couldn’t have! “Oh...I think she just sat in it...” A quiet, not-so-quiet voice whispered to another person, and Jessica mortifyingly caught sight of two female adventurers. “Um, hello,” the other female greeted, though she seemed a tad bit awkward, but something told Jessica it had something to do with herself… “You wouldn’t happen to be Jessica, would you?” Trying not to move an inch, lest the mess covering her backside be smushed any further, she slowly nodded her head. “See? I told you it was her.” Jessica was about to ask her own questions, but there was a small, yet sudden build-up she was feeling down below… As if it were a visual cue, she looked down at herself, noticing a slight unfortunate stain on the front of her pants. There was the one from the syrup drops, if she remembered correctly, but all around that...It was darker. It was as if the syrup had been washed away from something else… Her question was answered, though not in a way she would have liked. The small build-up spilled over, quite literally, as an involuntary sigh left Jessica whilst a foreign, alien sensation came from her bladder, as a stream seeped through her panties, and then pants. And as it came out, and she wordlessly blushed, the stream seemed to be perfectly limited to the already existing stain on her pants… “...Did the worker say she was a bedwetter, too?” The wooden door swung with a sense of urgency running through its hinges, as 66 inches of panic scurried its leather boots across the wooden floor and inside the guild. Hanging on her wrist, just before the edge of her brown, fingerless leather gloves, was a twine basket caught in its own rushed swing from the sheer momentum of its carrier. A few strands of silk-grass were already slipping from it. The usual patterned piece of cloth was a bit looser than usual, as there was unfortunately other things on the adventurer’s mind. “Jessica!” Tira warmly welcomed the adventurer with a wave from behind the wooden desk, just like any other typical day. She barely even flinched when noticing the urgency in Jessica’s expressions and movements. Jessica, the girl with the basket, quickly set the basket on the counter with an unintentional amount of force, as she did her best to keep her thighs squeezed together, which was only a sign of the other muscles she was trying to keep tight. Today wasn’t her day. Having that extra bowl of stew for breakfast this morning was clearly a mistake, and it was starting to show. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead just from trying to maintain the overwhelming pressure. The worst part was that it probably wasn’t even that bad. Her sphincter had simply weakened so much, a small gust of wind felt like a tornado to her now. Had it been a week earlier, she could’ve easily kept something like this down for at least another two hours! Three, even! Now she was lucky to last even fifteen minutes... “Tira, please, I’m in a hurry…! Can we be fast today? Please? “Sorry, Jessica, I’ll try to be as fast as I can, but you know how things are,” she chuckled, though Jessica didn’t share in the humor. “Rules are rules!” She peeled back the cloth covering the goods, which was partly done for her, considering how sloppy Jessica was being. What had the adventurer whining though was when Tira started counting them by the handful. “Tira! What are you doing?” Jessica almost regret her complaints, because as if she wasn’t a multitasker, Tira set aside the grass and her counting as if it took everything just to respond. “I just need to be sure, Jessica.” “But you never needed to count the grass before!” God! How long did she expect her to hold it for? She started to whimper as something was already peeking between her buttcheeks. “That was then, and now...well...” she looked to Jessica as if she were a complex set of arithmetic. “As my job, I need to make sure you’ve done your job properly...that’s all.” As if she were trying to drag out this charade even further, she went on to ask, “Any more questions?” “Just please finish it! I can’t hold it anymore…!” She tried to stand upright as best as she could, hoping it might keep her bum sealed together. She didn’t care how embarrassing it looked anymore as with both hands she pressed as much as she could into her backside, hoping it could somehow keep the messy beast at bay. Yet, the one deterrent to her efforts, snugly worn underneath her tights, was a terribly oppressive cloth that at least guaranteed an inch of spacing between her palms and ground zero. “Three bundles...” Quietly, Tira counted to herself, and Jessica further reached her wits end. A small grunt escaped her as she clenched her teeth, desperately trying to fight a losing battle. “...And that’s why I said you should’ve used your firebolt!” “And waste my mana? Faris, you have a perfectly good sword that can handle goblins that tiny...” Jessica nearly jumped when she could hear a pair of boots coming in from the entrance. The heavy shifts of metal armor crowded the room, and the swishes of cloth robes and leather boots were drowned in comparison. Unfortunately they were familiar faces. “Vanessa! Faris!” Tira once again, unfortunately paused her counting. “Hi Tira!” the pair beamed. “I take it your quest went well? Which one was it again?” As if time was a limitless thing, she thought to herself. “Clearing out the goblins in the nearby town’s sewer system, right?” “Yep!” Faris answered. “Can’t say it was the most pleasant one, though...” She pinched her nose. “The sewer smelt like...well... a sewer.” “Very well-put, Faris,” Vanessa snarkily chimed in. “Shut up. I think she gets what I mean.” Real adventure. That’s all Jessica heard. She could’ve had that as well; she was right on the cusp of it. All until that one unfortunate encounter… Fate was a cruel mistress, as the pair that’d found her in the aftermath of it were now staring right as her right, right where she was pressing into herself. “By the way, are you with someone right now?” The taller woman curiously looked down on Jessica’s head. “We could always come back later?” “Oh, don’t worry, we shouldn’t be much longer. I’m just counting up her silk-grass.” “Silk-grass, huh?” Faris snickered. “Feels like ages ago when we were first doing that, right Vanessa?” Jessica tried not to take it personally, and it was probably being too busy to put a stop on her bowels that helped. “I’ll say,” she blankly added. “Rookies need to start somewhere, though...” If only she were a rookie. Or maybe she was, and was simply fated to remain that way… “Speaking of which, are you doing alright, hon?” Faris got a little closer than Jessica would have liked, as she could feel a presence was closer to her bottom. “Is something pinned to your butt?” She laughed curiously, then startled the girl once she prodded her bum with a gloved finger. “Oh...oh!” The longer she looked, the clearer it became. Jessica’s cheeks burned like the firebolts Vanessa could probably shoot, knowing it didn’t take an arcane magician to figure out why someone might have a bulge in their pants. “Sorry about that, kid...” Faris remorsefully spoke, patting her on the shoulder. And unfortunately, as simple as it was, a shoulder pat was what broke the camel’s back. Like an endless pile of junk overstuffed into a tiny closet, the whole thing burst in an almost comedic manner. A large load of mess suddenly exploded from Jessica’s backside as her bum spread nice and wide for the rude guest invading her terribly thick underpants. It quite literally felt like she was pouring mud into her pants. She grew completely stiff as it happened, staring bug-eyed at Tira who was staring right back at her. She shuddered as her messing scene came to an end. The room was quiet as it fully sunk in, and the odor fully seeped from her. “Ah...er...Tira?” Vanessa awkwardly spoke. “I think this girl, uh...” Tira with a smile still sighed, seeming apologetic. “Yes...I know.” Jessica still hadn’t said anything, other than remaining frozen still as she became teary-eyed. “B-but, but I didn’t mean...” Biting her lower lip, a simple beckon from Tira’s hand had her walking awkwardly around the desk. “Sorry, girls. Could you just be a little more patient? I just need to take care of one other thing...” It was obvious what she was alluding to, as Jessica bow-leggedly joined her, sniffling. A hand was rubbing her back, and Jessica could only try and stifle her sobs as she felt the heavy weight in her pants. How could things have devolved so quickly? And as they disappeared down the hall, Jessica could hear the unfortunate chatter from the pair of veterans. “I’m pretty sure she’s the one we found in the forest about a week ago...” “Well, at least she’s wearing protection this time...” In a private room, there was a wooden desk with some chairs, accompanied by the many bookshelves along the walls. Beside the desk was a bundle of cloth and a bucket of water. Jessica didn’t know how long they’d been there, in that spot, for... but not they almost certainly always were, given their purpose. “Tira, p-please,” she hiccuped. “I didn’t mean to!” “I know you didn’t, Jess, it’s okay...” With guiding hands she had Jessica sitting on the table, and she whimpered a terrible cry as the poo rubbed itself further into her skin. “Shh...shh...” Jessica would normally protest if a stranger were going to pull her pants off, but unfortunately this had happened already too many times already for it to be considered not normal. This whole predicament was certainly abnormal, but she’d become far too desensitized to it by now. “If you just had let me use the bathroom, though!” It was true. She knew she needed the toilet, so why was she not permitted? Well, only contributing adventurers had such a privilege, hence why Jessica was so desperate for her to finish counting. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out, Jessica, but if you couldn’t hold it...” her gentle hand set itself on the cloth, bulky crotch of Jessica’s exposed diaper. “Well, I guess we can call it effective insurance, I suppose...” The binding pins to her cloth diaper were undone, as her little “present” was nice and exposed from underneath. Once the smell had a chance to waft, it was obviously terrible...but...something was strange. Jessica in any other sensible moment would not do this under any circumstances, but this time voluntarily sniffed. It was bad, yes, but...strawberries? Amidst all that badness packed into her bodily waste, there was a slight hint of something somewhat pleasant in it… Tira had leaned out of view for a moment, but after hearing the swish of water she was back with a wet cloth in hand. “Okay, Jess, you know the drill. Lift your bum for me, please?” A week was enough time to form a protocol for this sort of thing, meaning that it wasn’t Jessica’s first time having a messy diaper, and nor Tira’s first time dealing with one. “Still,” as she wiped, she continued to speak. “I don’t know how this could have happened to you...” Despite how embarrassing the situation was, Jessica still had it in herself to annoyedly groan. “I already said it was because of that stupid Nymph!” “Honey...” the way she’d adapted to the condescending pet name was even worse. It was as if she’d unspokenly acknowledged Jessica as a child. Just a week ago she’d already gotten her first weapon! Now she didn’t… After that creature tossed it somewhere, she never did find it. The day she was found, she couldn’t bear to stay in such filthy clothing, considering she’d messed in it and peed herself at least twice… By the time she was cleaned up and ready to go scavenging for her weapon again, apparently that pair had torched the marked nymph’s territory, virtually assimilating it with the rest of the forest, meaning Jessica had no way to find that spot ever again. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for all of this, but, well... nymphs just don’t go and do that sort of thing...” She was remaining a bit touchy, given how awkward the subject material was. Jessica unfortunately knew it too. Even if they were facts, how could it not sound like a tall tale to try and explain that a nymph breastfed you and virtually ruined your bladder and bowels by the might of her breast milk? Well, breast syrup… Tira seemed sensitive to Jessica’s pleas, but it’s not like she totally believed them, either… After her strange, 24 hour coma induced by the whole experience, she’d already digested all the syrup, or her body unfortunately absorbed a large amount of it, given there was some aftereffects that were present. No sensible adventurer or encyclopedia could corroborate Jessica’s witness of events. Not a single nymph has ever been reported to do something as strange as this, meaning Jessica was the boy who cried wolf. No one believed her, which made her pants pissing and messing all the more strange...or even deliberate. “Oh! Jessica!” The sudden panicked shout of her name broke her train of thought, as Jessica suddenly saw the spurt of urine leaking from her, or rather, shooting from her in all directions. Gasping herself, in a split-second moment of panic, she placed her hands over her crotch, catching the warm stream, though it sprayed against her hands and leaked between her fingers. “No, no!” Tira quickly discouraged, swatting her hands away and instead holding the front of the cloth diaper against her crotch. “That’s how your hands get dirty! That’s what these are for, remember?” Her total loss of self-control was too much, as she nearly covered her face with her pee-covered hands just to avoid the direct eye contact and maybe wipe away some of her tears, but without any sensible options left, she merely cried without any sort of change. She didn’t even realize she was peeing to begin with! Everything was slipping far, far too fast, and she didn’t know how to handle it. “It’s okay, Jess...” she peeled back the front of the diaper, to see if the stream had stopped. “That’s what these are for, remember?” Before she went back to cleaning up Jessica’s nether regions, she took her hands instead. “I’m sorry...” Jessica sobbed. “I was just trying to help...” “I know you were,” she scrubbed Jessica’s hands tenderly. “I’m sorry I said anything to begin with. I know you can’t control it...” It was probably the kindness that hurt the most. She acted as if Jessica genuinely couldn’t be trusted, and on some level it was sorrowfully true. She wanted to be the strong, brave adventurer like she’d always envisioned, but this couldn’t be any farther from it. She hated to admit the pleasure there was in being set on a clean, cloth diaper, but it almost felt like she was giving in to acknowledge it. At least once she was pinned back up, she could forget about this momentary embarrassment… Then an extra, small stack of cloth was slipped between her legs after the usual ones that were already there. “T-Tira? What are you doing?” “Well, I figured you should have something a little extra to keep you dry… Just so you don’t have to worry about needing a change for a bit longer? You seem stressed, Jessica, I want to help.” “Putting more boosters in doesn’t make me feel better!” She tearily shouted. “None of this is right! No one believes me and it’s just getting worse!” “I know it’s...different,” how much of an understatement that was. “But whatever’s causing this, I think it’ll all sort itself out...when it wants to.” “What do you mean, ‘when it wants to’?” What was she even getting at? “Until then,” hopping over her question, “can you at least let me try and help you feel comfortable? I don’t like seeing you like this, Jessica...” She was already pinching something from the inside of a small pouch tied to her waist, sprinkling it on Jessica’s crotch. A sweet smell came from the shining powder, as it easily absorbed into her skin. “Now you smell nice and fresh,” Tira chuckled, but Jessica remained quiet. Tira closed up shop, as she drew up the front of Jessica’s diaper, securing the added booster between her legs, adding to the already pronounced bulk that there was to begin with. Pinning it securely, the change was finally over. Jessica didn’t need any more prompting to get off the table, and as she tried to stand, it only reminded her of the times she was actually capable of pressing her thighs together. What a distant memory it had become. “Actually, Jess, if you could hang on for a second?” Tira paused her right before she could pull up her pants. She didn’t like being exposed any longer than she had to, so her cheeks stayed as a mild red. “Wh...what is it?” “I was hoping to do this after I finished your payment for the quest...” she was going through some drawers behind the desk. “But I think you should have it now. You could use a pick-me-up right now, I think.” Pulling it out, Jessica was a little surprised to see the large item in her hands. It was a white box wrapped in bright red ribbon, and she set it down on the table Jessica just had her diaper changed on. “A present? For me?” Tira with a smile nodded her head. “But why?” As she looked to Tira, she was already walking to the box, forgetting about her pants on the ground. “You’re one of the hardest workers I know, Jessica, and even if no one else might see it, I think you deserve much more credit than you’re given. So when times are tough like this...I want you to know I’m supporting you.” Did she really feel that way? She knew Tira and her had a decent relationship, but it never went beyond that sort of work-type interaction. Then again, that had changed since Tira was the one responsible for changing her diapers right after a quest… Even still, it was all contained, more or less, here. “...Th...thank you…!” Her eyes became glossy as she ran to Tira for a hug. “Awwh, you’re welcome, sweetheart.” Tira warmly hugged her back, and though her hands were a little closer to Jessica’s bottom than she’d have liked, she wasn’t going to spoil the moment over something as silly as that. “Now, are you gonna open it?” “But...aren’t those other two people waiting on you?” “I don’t mind keeping them if you don’t?” She grinned, and Jessica slowly turned back to the present. She still couldn’t get over it. A gift for her? Her heart was beating a mile a minute now that the possibilities behind it were endless. She nearly gasped from the thought alone. A weapon! It had to be a new weapon! She had told Tira of the terrible fate of her brand new dagger; lost to the wilds for eternity. But she’d really go and buy one for her? The more she fantasized, the more she considered it a certainty. Considering the size of the package, it had to be bigger than a measly dagger, as well. Forget the diapers, today was amazing! Excitedly, she undid the ribbon with a pull on one of its strands, and like magic the wrapping had totally fallen limp. Placing a hand on either side of the box, she gently lifted its outer cover, slipping it off for the sweet, tantalizing reveal. Hello, my brand-spanking new swor--! She’d been so excited for the initial reveal, she was still trying to work through her happiness reserves while she stared at what was most certainly not a new sword. Her smile was frozen to her face, as it most certainly did not reflect her true reaction to what it really was. Tira placed her hands over her mouth, shielding a gasp. “You like it? That’s great! I was almost a little afraid you weren’t going to… Oh! But this makes it all worth it!” Jessica’s smile faded into a blank stare as she grabbed the item from the box with both hands. Underwear is what she would have liked to call it. But there were two problems with that. One, diapers were not considered underwear in Jessica’s book, and two, accessories for diapers by proxy definitely were not, either. All sorts of circles in blues, reds, yellows, pinks, greens, oranges, and purples decorated the cloth garment, as Jessica stared at the cloth cover. “It’s a...” “Diaper cover!” Tira was too cheerful to not finish the girl’s sentence. “I figured if you started stylizing your, um...diapers, a little bit, maybe you might not feel so bad about them anymore?” “Where...where did you find this?” Along the waistline there was a white string of ribbon woven in and out of the many slits, meaning to be tied and adjusted for tightening the cover around someone’s waist. The leg holes looked all bunched up, and when Jessica wordlessly tugged at them, she could see it was a stretchy material meant to be form-fitting. “That’s the best part, I had it specially made by the town’s tailor!” She was so giddy, a small giggle escaped her. “Don’t you just love the design?” “Y...yeah...” What was she supposed to say? Tira had poured her heart out for the girl, and had done it in such a...interesting...way. The thought of trying to cope with her diapers by wearing something like this was mortifying and absolutely horrible, but she couldn’t say that to Tira’s face. Not after everything she’s done… “Well, come on! Don’t you want to try it on?” “Ah...yes! Of-of course!” It had taken her a second to come back to reality. “But, uhm, I was just thinking, maybe I should wait to try it on once I get home...” Tira looked as if she were going to pout, puffing out her cheeks, looking playfully angry. “No, no! That will not do. How else am I supposed to see how you look in it?” Her assertiveness caught Jessica off guard, as the diaper cover was taken from her. It was apparently all in good fun though, as Tira laughed over her own silliness. “Indulge me a little, won’t you?” Holding them out nice and low, Jessica was forced to use the kneeling woman’s shoulders for balance while she reluctantly stepped into the diaper cover. As her legs brushed the material, she could tell it wasn’t your run-of-the-mill kind of sewing. A lot of Jessica’s gear and clothing were woven by thick and simple fabrics and thread. But this diaper cover had a much finer touch to it… Still, it was embarrassing to say that her best piece of clothing was a diaper cover… The leg holes expanded as much as they needed to accommodate the size of Jessica’s thighs. They wrapped around her legs perfectly, as her cloth diaper filled out the crotch area unfortunately nicely. You’d almost think the polka-dot design was part of the diaper itself. Before Jessica could move, Tira went for the tightening ribbon next, taking both ends and drawing them together. “Not too tight?” “N...no?” Tira played with the ribbon ends a little, but finally ended on a nice small bow tied on the front of Jessica’s diaper cover, letting the small decoration sit symmetrically on the front. It fit. Almost too well. “Oh, Jessica! You look amazing!” Jessica, rather, was blushing, trying not to contradict Tira’s positive vibes with her own, much honest ones… “Thanks...Tira.” “You’re very, very welcome!” Her eyes never seemed to leave Jessica’s padded posterior. “But there’s still more, you know!” More? Jessica was too shocked by the diaper cover alone to see anything else in the box, which is why it came as a surprise to see there was in fact something else in the box. God forbid, however, should it be something else childish or embarrassing. Yet, it was surprisingly tame? As tame the word “tame” could be. It was a simple pinafore dress, with its straps crossing over each other in an ‘X’ shape. Jessica didn’t know if you’d really catch her wearing one, but at least with this she could call it cute… “It’s really nice,” Jessica simply spoke, and this time she wasn’t lying. “Right? I thought it’d be a nice substitute for your normal gear.” “What?” Jessica spun her head. “What do you mean a substitute?” Tira looked a little confused, as if her point didn’t translate properly. “What you usually wear when you go questing? Don’t you think this would be better instead?” How was this any better? If anything, it was worse! Maybe she’d wear something like this if she were going out for a casual day, or some sort of event, but slaying monsters was definitely not on that list. “Sorry, Tira, but I don’t think it’d work very well with my leather armor pads...” It did feel bad to deny her generosity, but she tried to keep in mind that she was being decent enough to accept the diaper cover… “But...” Tira hesitated, as if it were something she shouldn’t say. “But do you really need to wear that sort of stuff?” The question was terribly blunt, and Jessica felt a large part of her pride break. “Don’t get me wrong!” Tira could see how much her words hurt, as she was quick to explain. “All I mean is, since you’ve been back to harvesting grass...there isn’t so much a need to be dressed like that, you know?” The one person who Jessica had considered on her side, had seemingly left to join the others. Not even Tira was calling her into question. It was a brutal, chilling honesty that Jessica tried to desperately not to acknowledge. But now that Tira was of the same mindset too, no matter where she’d turn, no one would ever consider her a real adventurer. “Leather is great for when you’re embarking on some minor explorations and slaying quests, but...” she awkwardly smiled as if it made things any better. “Grass is a bit more docile...” Jessica quietly stuck her fingers at the various buckles to her leather padding, first losing the elbows, shoulders, chest, and finally knees. Now she wore nothing more than her shirt, diaper, and diaper cover. Had you seen her now, you wouldn’t think twice about writing her off as an adventurer. Even if she showed you her official card, you might think it’s forged, considering most adventurers know how to keep their pants dry without a little extra help… “Please don’t be sad, Jessica, I really want you to feel better.” As she tried her best to console, she still helped Jessica put the dress on, who was stuck in her own kind of trance. The straps came over her shoulders, as the dress fit unfortunately nicely as well. With each step she took, the skirt to the dress swayed to-and-fro. There was an odd emptiness between her diaper and the outside world now, as Jessica glanced at a nearby mirror seeing the skirt cover her backside in full. That was the one relief, she supposed. But still, she didn’t see an adventurer anymore. All there was now was a small, errand girl that kept her missions on the more peaceful side of things. She wore no armor, had no weapon, but did she really need them? No. By this point, she was clearly just trying to overcompensate for something else; her lack of dignity, maturity, and capability. “You look great!” Tira pulled Jessica in for a hug, who weakly hugged back. “And if it’s any help, I’ll hang onto these for the time being...” She bent over to collect all of Jessica’s leather gear, who almost tried to stop her, but was too afraid of Tira being truthful once again. Her gear was whisked away and hidden behind the desk. Gone for who knows how long. “Oh, and there’s one other thing...” There was more? “The town alchemist? She’s my sister, actually. Well, I’ve been really honest when I say she really appreciates the work you’ve been doing for her. So much, in fact, she’s really starting to see how much she loses out on when she puts the job through the adventurer’s guild.” Jessica was unfortunately too smart to know where this was going. “So...if you were interested, instead of taking the job through the guild and getting a minor fee subtracted, why not work for my sister directly?” There wasn’t anything wrong with the idea of helping out a person, but what hurt Jessica the most was the indirect effect of it. It was yet another degree of separation from the adventurer’s lifestyle she longed for. Already she’d lost her weapon, armor, modesty...potty training, but now she was going to lose the guild, as well! The alchemist, Tira’s sister, was probably going to outsource the job on her own regardless of Jessica’s answer, so once she does leave, what would be left for Jessica to do at the guild? Anything other than gathering grass was too unstable of a workflow, and unfortunately, she couldn’t handle any other sort of job… Did she even have a choice? “O...Okay...” “Really?” Tira smiled a wide grin. “That’s great! Really! I’ll be sure to tell her tonight. And even better, not only will her profits go up, but yours too! She’s even willing to offer you a room, if you’re serious about becoming her assistant! Oh...and...” she leaned a bit closer, as if for a whisper. “I already talked to her about your diapers...she doesn’t mind changing them, if you were worried about that.” Jessica did her best not to react, but how could she not when the woman that changed her diapers just outed her secret to someone? Well, not just anyone. It would be the next person in line to change Jessica when she didn’t do it for herself… And was it even a secret anymore? Surely not with this clothing. Maybe once she stood still, but what if the diaper sagged too much? Actually, maybe that was a plus for the diaper cover; now it may not sag so much… But what happens when she gets on her knees for the grass? Something told her the skirt wouldn’t be able to do its best job then… “I’m sorry I won’t be able to see you as much, anymore,” Tira hugged Jessica once again. “I promise I’ll try to find the time to visit you. Truthfully...” now she sounded a bit embarrassed, which was bewildering, considering the circumstances for Jessica. “I think I’m gonna miss being able to change you, like this...” Jessica didn’t know how to react anymore. That steep slope she was already sliding down was just about a vertical wall by this point. Trapped in freefall, she couldn’t afford to look back on the things that came whizzing by, otherwise she’d miss the next thing right around the corner. “But! I’m sure I’ll have a day off at some point, so don’t forget about me, got it?” She puffed out her cheeks. And Jessica, although weakly, genuinely smiled, hugging her back. It was a warm hug, but not warm enough to overshadow the even warmer feeling forming in the front of her diaper. “Good thing I went for the booster, huh?” She smiled, and Jessica merely blushed, looking away. “Okay, I can clean everything else up here at the end of the day. You just enjoy yourself for the rest of the day, okay? My sister should be ready for you tomorrow.” The pair re-entered the hallway, as Jessica felt a strange sensation. For once it didn’t come from her diaper area. Instead, it was from the room they just left. As if, as if she’d just left behind something important. Something essential to who she was as a person. But it was gone now, because she no longer had a reason to be here. Now, she was simply the grass-collecting alchemist assistant, working for a measly amount of silver along with a diaper change as needed. At least she got a free room… “Sorry about that!” Tira apologized to the lounging pair of adventurers, Faris and Vanessa. “We just needed to freshen up a little.” Jessica tried to look away when the pair were sizing her up, probably noticing the distinct change in apparel, as well as any indication of being an adventurer. “It looks cute,” Faris spoke simply, and her basic tone was enough for her partner to start laughing. Jessica was in such a rush to leave, her little jog unfortunately caught an uneven floorboard, which had her trip forward face-first. “Ouch...” “Jessica! Are you okay?” Tira nearly ran over, already moving around the desk, but Jessica was already getting up. “I’m...I’m fine...” she was doing her best not to cry. The fall hardly even fazed her, but she’d taken a much heavier tumble this past week, that was what she was feeling the brunt of the most. All she could hope now is that she’d finally hit rock-bottom, and that’d be it. “Um, excuse me?” it was Vanessa’s voice. Jessica against her better judgement turned her head to her, to see she was extremely close to her. Before she could even figure out what the woman wanted, a tug on the back of her dress’ skirt was enough of an answer. During her fall, her skirt must’ve fallen out of place, exposing her diaper for the other two veterans to see. Not like she had anything to prove, though. After all, they just saw her filling her pants... But...maybe they didn’t see this time? “Sorry about that...” Vanessa apologized. “Your...your diaper looks cute, though?” Maybe being an adventurer just wasn’t for her.

A few weeks later, Cheryl’s car was not behaving right. I drove her to work in my car and then took her car to the dealership. I waited while they worked on it. Of course, they called her with the estimate, and she authorized the work. Nobody was going to ask an Immie for their opinion. When it was done, I headed over to her office to retrieve her. I was only a block from the office when I saw lights in my rearview. I looked down at the speedometer. “Shit,” I said. Her car didn’t rattle and grind like mine, so I hadn’t noticed how fast I was going. I pulled over. “License,” the cop said, and then seeing how I was dressed, added, “and LOA.” I passed both over. He spent a time reading over the LOA. “You know you were speeding?” he said. “Yes, I’m sorry. This is my guardian’s car, and I’m not used to driving it.” “Your LOA doesn’t seem to cover you being here.” “My guardian’s car needed work. I had taken it to the dealer today. I’m on my way to pick her up right now. She works in the Monument building there,” I pointed at the next block. “You better call her and have her come here.” I called Cheryl and explained. A moment later, both Cheryl and Carla appeared. Carla was talking to the officer, arguing that the “household needs” provision of the LOA applied here. The officer finally agreed but said there was still the issue of the speeding. Carla, Cheryl, and the officer talked more. Carla grabbed Cheryl and me. She sat Cheryl down on a bench and then turned to me. I knew what was happening. Carla pulled down my suit, and I slid the diaper down and got across Cheryl’s lap. “Make it good,” Carla told Cheryl. She got five good whacks in on me. The officer was happy and left. Carla bid her goodnight, and I got redressed. We got into the car. “Sorry about that,” Cheryl told me. “I’d have just paid the fine, but money is tight right now.” I drove us home and made dinner. Afterward, Cheryl was digging through her papers on her little desk. “What's up?” I ask. “Like I said, money is tight. The car repairs are pushing me over the edge. Paralegals don’t make what lawyers make.” “Can I help? I can try to cut the household expenses,” I volunteered. “Everything will help.” “We can get rid of one of the cars.” “How would that work?” “Everything is close enough to walk to for me. On days that I did need a car, I could drive you to work and pick you up like today.” “That might work,” she said. We brainstormed what we might do. “I could get a job,” I said. “I have lots of time. This house isn’t that much effort to keep clean.” She looked distressed. “But I want you all the time. Part of the mess I’m in is because I bought you. Not that I blame you or anything. Immies are a luxury. If it gets too bad, I’d have to find someone else to be your guardian, but that is the last resort. Did you know the guardians have to pay a tax on every Immie they have?” “I didn’t know that.” I thought about things for a bit. She’d have to sell me. I shuddered. Not just that it would mean going to a stranger and starting over, but I didn’t want to leave Cheryl. “What were you saving for when you bought me?” “Law school tuition. I should have gone to law school first and then got an immie, but I fell in love with you when Carla had me over to meet you.” I let the words “fell in love” pass by. I assume she just meant it like one would say they “fell in love with a car” while shopping for one. I thought a bit about the prices of things I had been buying. I hadn’t given things much thought. I just bought what we needed. “I know of one thing that we can save on.” “What’s that.” “You’re going to have to forgo some of your benefits. I could skip wearing diapers when I am home. It means you’ll have to let me use the toilet rather than watching me wet mine.” She thought long and hard. I could see it was one of her favorite things. She finally said, “What would you wear?” “Nothing at all, I guess.” She smiled at that. “As long as we have money to buy condoms,” she added. So I set to trying to save whatever I could. I was naked when home. I tried to keep the food budget down. I avoided going out to save on diapers. I arranged to sell my car. It only netted a few hundred dollars, but it helped. That night, Cheryl requested I take “good care” of her after dinner, and I complied. She gave me a long kiss after it was over. “Thanks for really trying to help with the finances,” she said. “No problem.” She kissed me again and snuggled in close. “Can you sleep with me in the bed, tonight?” “Sure.” In fact, for the next few days, we slept together each evening. I didn’t know if she was concerned that she’d have to lose me because of the finances and wanted to get as much time in or what. I wasn’t complaining. I was really growing quite enamored with her. Perhaps we could sell the crib. One night, after sex, she said: “I love you, baby.” “I love you, too,” I replied. I spent time trying to figure things out. I was out shopping and passed a military recruiting office. I stopped in and talked to the recruiter. He started out pointing out that if my guardian sold them my contract, it wouldn’t necessarily mean I’d end up with a determination of being an adult; it wasn’t automatic. I told him I understood. I came home and did more research on the computer. I think I had a plan. I called my folks and asked their advice. There was one hitch to the plan that was risky, but they agreed to help me. It took me about a week to get things in place. I made a nice dinner and opened a bottle of fine Cabernet from Cheryl’s father’s stash. I lit candles. Cheryl came home and eyed the spread. “I thought we were saving money?” she said. “It’s not that much, and I think I may have figured things out.” We ate, and finally, she asked what I had come up with. “OK, well all this depends on you agreeing, but I think I’ve come up with an idea for fixing the finances.” “Go ahead,” she said. “You could assign my guardianship to the military,” I said. “That would give me some much-needed money at the start, but what about the long term?” She knew that I might well end up as an adult rather than an immie. “You’d have my military salary.” “How would that work?” she said, confused. I reached to the sideboard and pulled out a box and opened it and slid it toward her. “You’d have to marry me first.” Tears welled up in her eyes. I couldn’t tell if I’d hurt her or not. She leaped forward and threw her arms around me and kissed me hard. “Of course, I’d marry you. It’s more than I could hope for.” We kissed again. Then she lifted the box. “Where? How did you get this?” I took the ring and placed it on her finger. “My parents.” She smiled. “So how will this work?” I have two things I need to get done before you enlist me. First, I need to get into shape. I don’t want to show up as a fat sot at basic training. “You’re not fat,” she said. “But, I’m not in shape. In addition, I need to study the prerequisites for an Electronic Technician. The recruiter says that the enlistees are given aptitude tests at the end of basic training. If I can show what I have what it takes, I can get into that specialty. It would mean I could be stationed near here and live at home. Once I’m back home and making a good military wage, we should have saved enough for you to go to law school, and we can live on my pay while you do.” She smiled and nodded. We finished the Cabernet and opened a second bottle. She called her parents and let them know. I called my parents and Debbie. Together we called Carla. We decided to just have a quiet ceremony. We went to the government center for the license. Cheryl signed the papers as the bride. “We’ll need the permission of his guardian,” the clerk said. “I’m his guardian,” Cheryl said pushing her deed forward. The clerk processed the papers and we went up before the justice. Cheryl and I said “I do,” and we kissed. She owned me in all ways now. We spent the next few weeks trying to be husband and wife more than guardian and immie. I called my parents and let them know I was married. They took it pretty well.

The Boarder's Tale Chapter 3 Pete sat on the bed, catching up on some emailing before he hit the sack. He didn't like social media - it was enough keeping up with his emails. He mailed a few friends, including his current sort of girlfriend Ellie back home. She was a couple of years older than he was, and a serious sort. Pete tried to tone down his enthusiasm about things when he emailed her. He didn't like her telling him he was 'like a kid' when he chattered excitedly about something good or interesting. For example, Ellie had a stuffed animal on her bed - a puppy - and Pete, after telling her he'd found a good place to stay, was about to tell he had a blue teddy on his bed, but he deleted the half sentence. He looked at the teddy, picked him up and put him on the chest of drawers with the other two animals. 'Sorry, buddy,' Pete said aloud, then felt a bit silly for saying it. He felt quite happy, and hummed tunelessly to himself as he undressed and climbed into bed. It was a very comfortable bed, although he was annoyed to feel the plastic under the bottom sheet. We'll soon get that sorted, he thought. He stretched out in the bed, naked. He never wore pyjamas. He turned out the bedside lamp, and had been lying there, listening to the muffled sounds of late night suburbia coming through the closed window, for only a few minutes when he had the urge to pee. 'Dammit,' he said, and climbed out of bed. He really did need to go, and hurried out the door and to the bathroom. He had to squeeze his penis between his fingers for the last few feet, and sat gratefully on the toilet. Phew, he thought. That sometimes happened. Needing to go meant needing to go. He usually made sure to visit the bathroom before long trips or lectures to minimise the problem in case it occurred. Ellie called it his 'Chinese bladder' and he called her 'politically incorrect'. Pete got up and flushed the toilet. He left the bathroom to find the hall light on and came almost face to face with Mrs Smith. 'Hello dear,' said Mrs Smith quite casually. 'I heard you running up here and popped up to see if you were OK.' Pete was stuck, naked, standing in front of his landlady. He could hardly turn around and speak to her, so he just tried to pretend he was dressed. 'I'm fine, Mrs Smith,' Pete said. 'I just went to the bathroom and .I didn't want to, you know, waste time.' Mrs Smith smiled in reply. 'That's OK, honey,' replied Mrs Smith. 'You've got the plastic sheet if there's a problem. Did you take your PJs off?' Pete was a little flustered. First the damned topic of the plastic sheet had come up again - really the topic of his bedwetting, and second he should be able to not wear pajamas, even here. He hadn't worn 'PJs' since he was a kid. 'I don't wear them,' said Pete. That reminded him he was naked. He hoped this wasn't going to become normal. For some reason thought made him giggle aloud. He tried to stifle it. Mrs Smith looked concerned. 'Sleeping naked isn't very healthy, Pete,' she said seriously. 'Or funny. I'll see what I can find you. The other spare room was Erica's. She was my last boarder. Nothing I have will fit you,' she continued, looking at Pete's slight frame. 'Erica's travelling and has left most of her clothes here. There might be something suitable that's not too girly,' she concluded with a light laugh. 'It's OK,' said Pete. 'I'll wear my underclothes.' 'You certainly will not,' said Mrs Smith. 'I hope those are going straight in the wash, after all your travelling and roaming around the city yesterday. Hop back in your bedroom and I'll be there in a minute.' Pete had no choice but to do as he was told. He went back to his room and looked at the bed. He could hardly get back in. He wished he'd brought a towel with him from the bathroom. He compromised by sitting on the bed with his jeans over his lap. He glanced at 'his' bear in the chest of drawers. 'Bummer,' he said to it. Mrs Smith arrived a moment later with a handful of clothing. 'I think these will do for now,' she said. 'You can wear these for a couple of nights until I go to the shops on Tuesday. I'll get you something then. You can come too if you like.' 'OK, thanks,' said Pete. 'I'll pay for them,' he added, wondering what Mrs Smith had found. 'Not necessary, honey,' said Mrs Smith. 'A moving in present. Now, leg in here.' Pete's sisters sometimes used to dress him, which he found very embarrassing. This was no better. 'I can do it,' he objected. 'Don't be silly,' said Mrs Smith. 'Leg in.' Pete put one leg into the light blue terry towelling garment. It looked like shorts, but seemed to have a lot of scrunched looking elastic bits. 'Now the other one,' said Mrs Smith. Pete complied, then put his arms up at Mrs Smith's command. 'There we are,' said Mrs Smith, tugging the top of the garment down around Pete. 'Turn around,' she added. Pete turned, looking down at himself. The top was light blue terry as well. It was quite loose with a kind of seam high up across the front, where it felt tighter. It only went down to his hips, and the shorts were mostly visible beneath it. The shorts were really loose too, but they had elastic at the legs as well as the waist. The arms were short as well, with more elastic. All the edges were kind of scalloped. There was coloured stitching on the loose part of the top above the seam. Pete hoped it didn't say anything, and he sank his chin into his chest trying to see. Mrs Smith laughed. 'It's just a pattern,' she said. 'It's called shirring. Well,' she added, 'Don't you look pretty!' Pretty wasn't how Pete ever wanted to look. Handsome would be more like it. He looked around and noticed there wasn't a decent sized mirror in the room. Still, he could see enough. He was wearing a kind of short towelling nightie, with puffy pants under it. He refused to even think the word panties. 'It's like a dress,' Pete said. 'Just a big t-shirt over shorts,' replied Mrs Smith matter of factly. Pete looked down again at his attire. He used to object to having to wear his sisters' cast-offs, including even their panties when his were all in the wash, and he objected to this, but he couldn't really say so to his new landlady, however weird this was. She was just trying to help. 'All set, then,' said Mrs Smith brightly, as if dressing a naked boarder in a nightie that would suit a ten year old girl was nothing out of the ordinary. 'Back to bed.' Slightly stunned, Pete nodded and climbed back into bed as Mrs Smith stood smiling at him. She pulled the bedclothes up to Pete's neck then bent towards him. 'Sleep tight, sweetie,' she said, and kissed him on his reddening cheek. 'Goodnight, Mrs Smith,' Pete replied, inhaling the sweet perfume Mrs Smith's kiss had left swirling around his head. Mrs Smith smiled again, then asked with her hand on the small bedside lamp, 'Do you need this light left on?' 'No, it's OK,' said Pete. Mrs Smith headed to the door, then turned. 'Night then,' she said. 'And don't worry about the mattress. Remember you've got the plastic sheet,' Pete rolled his eyes in the dark. That subject had to go away. He waited for Mrs Smith to leave. 'Oh,' came Mrs Smith's voice. 'He can't spend all night up there.' Mrs Smith came back to the bed, and tucked the blue teddy under the bedclothes next to Pete's head. 'Does he have a name?' asked Mrs Smith. Pete felt he was glowing with embarrassment. This was as bad as the bedwetting business. 'Er, just buddy,' he said, and immediately felt ridiculous. 'Buddy,' said Mrs Smith with her light laugh. 'Well, sleep well, you two.' Pete was glad to hear her leave. He was going to get up and get rid of the stuffed toy, but in his annoyance and embarrassment, at least it was a comfort of sorts. He gave the bear a quick squeeze. 'Goodnight, buddy,' he said quietly, not wanting even the furniture to hear. He spent a few minutes getting the unfamiliar loose garment comfortable around his body. He wondered what Erica was like. It felt funny wearing her clothes, whatever she was like. Despite his odd feelings, he did feel very well looked after, kind of embraced by Mrs Smith. Odd she might be, thought Pete, but he was warming towards her obvious concern for his welfare. Soon, he drifted off to sleep. To ge continued. ' '

I absolutely get what you are saying for the most part I feel the same. I too have strong memories going back to a very, very young age with a very strong desire to be in diapers because” that is how it is supposed to be”. Even today if I were to give it a name I feel “uncomfortable” in a continent body. I have been wearing diapers 24/7 for twenty years or so. My diapered life is almost fully integrated in my daily activities. Over time I went through various so called “stages” , at least, I call them stages, for my desire to wear diapers and use diapers without control were massive. At a certain point I stopped fighting and simply went with the flow, it made life so much easier. Just like you I gave up my search for answers for with each stage I entered I was driven to re-evaluate what was going on. I doubt you’ll find one that will fit the bill completely to much variables come into play. One of the things I like most about being in diapers is to wake up in the morning in a soaking wet cloth diaper without knowing you wetted it. Then I’ll start up my morning routine. I’ll keep my wet diaper on for the first hour, run around the house making breakfast, drink a pot of coffee. Meanwhile the blissful feeling of waking up in a soaking wet diaper subsides, allowing my adult side to take over. Although I am not an AB, in anyway the aspect of waking up in a soaking wet diaper feels and makes me feel very babyish. For me it is also very important to get my diapers a close to the ones I wore as a little child. Especially my night time diaper needs to be as close as I can get it, therefore I wear cloth and preferably retro style Snap-On plastic pants. During the day I turn to disposable diapers for cloth is not very convenient if you have to change it. it is almost next to impossible while at work or doing your daily chores. Although not as babyish (to my opinion) the disposable diapers I wear during the day makes me feel more like an incontinent person. I like it when my diaper is wet and needs to be changed. I also like the routine of changing, getting out of a wet diaper and put on a fresh one, and the cycle starts over. Ever after all these years I am not really diaper dependent but I make so that I am and that works for me. Living my life like an incontinent person causes me very little problems. I have told numerous people I wear diapers. They all responded nicely and kindly which made it a whole lot easier to integrate my little side into my normal adult life and routines.

Thx, just placed an order for a bag of Quadro booster pads and a sample pack of Quadro Deluxe boosters. They're sold out of the larger packages of the Deluxe, even on Amazon.

The Boarder's Tale Chapter 2 After Mrs Smith left, Pete put his two modest bags in the bed and unpacked. He tended to travel light, and other than a couple of changes of clothes, he didn't carry much. He put his laptop on the small table beside the bed and placed his spare clothing neatly in the empty chest of drawers. Having unpacked in a few minutes, he lay back on the bed to take stock of things. It all seemed good, except for the embarrassing business of his bedwetting. Pete mentally kicked himself again over that. He hoped it would never be mentioned again. Then he thought of the slightly weird things Mrs Smith had said, like him playing in his room. Oh well, he thought. Maybe it wasn't weird and he was just on edge about the bedwetting. His thoughts were interrupted by a tap at the door, followed by the door opens and Mrs Smith taking a step into the room, carrying some towels. 'I thought you might like to have a shower before dinner,' she said. 'Thanks, I'll do that,' replied Pete, and Mrs Smith left, closing the door. She might have knocked and waited until I answered, thought Pete. Then again, he thought, maybe she's just easygoing and doesn't believe in much personal privacy. He got up and made his way to the bathroom. It was a big bathroom, bright and well appointed. The shower was glass walled and quite deep, so there was no shower curtain. Pete stripped off and put his clothes on the long, low padded bench at the side of the bathroom. It looked like a bench for doing exercises on. I might try it later, thought Pete. He tried to keep himself fit, not always easy when travelling. The shower was hot and at a good pressure, unusual for this country, Pete had found. He'd been luxuriating under it, soaping and rinsing, and was washing his hair when he heard Mrs Smith in the room. 'My God,' he thought. He had his eyes closed against the shampoo, and all he could do was turn away from Mrs Smith's voice. Mrs Smith laughed. 'Don't be modest,' she said. 'I was a paediatric nurse for 20 years and I've seen plenty of naked young boys. 'I'm just putting some fresh towels in here.' 'Er, thanks Mrs Smith,' said Pete. Maybe she was a hippy years ago too, thought Pete, or a nudist. 'And I've put your plastic sheet on the bed, so you don't have to feel anxious about the mattress. Washing a sheet or two is no drama,' she said. 'I see you chose the blue teddy,' she added, with a laugh, then left the room, as far as Pete could hear through the suds. He rinsed his hair off and opened his eyes. He was alone. Again he wondered if Mrs Smith was a bit odd, or whether he was being overly sensitive. After all, the women he'd grown up with certainly afforded him no privacy, although they expected plenty, he thought with slight resentment as he remembered his sisters and mother, even in his teenage years, quite happily coming into the bathroom while he was naked. And 'my plastic sheet', he thought, and 'washing the sheets is no drama'. Did she actually expect him to wet the bed, he wondered. He wished the embarrassing subject had never come up. As for the blue teddy, he'd put the others back in the shelf, and left the blue teddy on the bed just because it looked appealing in a funny way. No big deal, he thought, and wondered why Mrs Smith had mentioned it. Clean, dried and refreshed, Pete returned to his room, dressed and joined Mrs Smith for a delicious roast dinner. Whatever else she was, she was a good cook, thought Pete. The only hiccup was when he dropped a bit of the hot trifle they had for dessert on his shirt. Mrs Smith had made a bit of a fuss about wiping it off, and replaced the fork he'd been using with a spoon, which Pete thought was unnecessary. The fire was burning in the comfortable living room, and Pete was looking forward to sitting comfortably there for a while, when Mrs Smith announced that she thought he should have 'a nice early night' after his long day settling into new accommodation. Effectively being told to go to bed, Pete obeyed, going up to his room. To be continued.

I had a cg kinda force me into it tbh. He turned out to be trash, but I did like wearing so I just kept doing it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ lol.

Scene #8 “But you can’t,” I said to Mary. Like that meant anything. Of course she could. “And why not,” she asked me. She was sooo out of patience with me. I was in a bad mood and had been for a few days, and I may have taken it out on her, if you were inclined to interpret it that way (also known as the correct way). Now, here we were in our backyard, me with a pair of pruning shears in my hand. “Um, because it will kill the plant?” Mary’s angry face. I don’t like Mary’s angry face. It’s not as bad as her scary-angry face, but when I’m in trouble, her I’m-so-disappointed face is definitely preferable. “Little girl…” Dammit, she knows how much I hate that! “You can now cut two switches.” When will I learn to shut up? “Muugggh,” I whined. Mary’s not-impressed face. “And you can do it without shorts if you’re gonna be a brat about it.” I bit my lip, both to keep silent and to keep from making the frustrated face that only ever succeeds in strengthening Mary’s resolve. She pulled my shorts down, turned me around, and sent me on my way with a swat on my undies. She took my shorts with her inside. I had ten minutes to cut now two switches and prepare them, then she’d be out to put them to work. I know my wife. No way was she going to switch my bottom inside on such a nice day. That’s the double-edge nature of the switch: quiet enough to be discreet is the same as quiet enough to use it anywhere. We have a big, flat, grassy yard with trees and bushes inside a waist-high retaining wall lining a privacy fence. I love the feeling of grass under my feet early in the summer time. It never lasts. As soon as it gets too hot, the grass dries up, but when it’s still early June it’s so lush and soft. I headed for the magnolia bush. It’s actually the only plant in our back yard I can name, except the sunflowers. Mary taught me how to do this way back. A straight-ish branch at least eighteen inches long. It has to be green wood, so no picking it up off the ground. It should be thin, because it’s a switch, not a cane. And it can cut you, so choose carefully and clean it even more carefully. I looked at the bush, and I figured the hell with it, I had ten whole minutes. I flopped onto the grass on my back and let out a throaty grunt of frustration. “Knock knock,” I heard from behind our fence. Mae Wilson, our widow neighbor. About seventy, heavyset, bit of a hippy vibe, long, silver hair, and often in her yard with dirt on her hands from working in her garden. “Hi, Mrs. Wilson.” “Sounds like you’re in trouble again, Daffy.” Her pet name for me. It would be rude to have a pet name for her, but if I were to give her one, it would be ‘Grandma,’ because I kind of think of her that way, in an affectionate way. “Yeah,” I sighed. She knows about us. It wasn’t intentional. She overheard me getting it through an open window one time, and she came to me not long after. She was afraid for me. I told her I was fine, and she said no way, and she was about ready to call the cops, so I told her the whole story. She smiled at me, said, “To each, their own,” and from then on she kind of saw me as the neighbor kid-slash-half of a kinky lesbian couple. “Can I come over?” “Sure.” We have a gate in our fence. I laid there with my eyes closed against the sun and heard the latch open and gate crash back shut. “Oh,” Mrs. Wilson said, “You are a sorry looking thing.” And she would know. She’s seen me with no pants on and with a red butt before. We’re all women, after all. Though I’m sure she’d be embarrassed to see Mary like that, she and Mary don’t have the quasi grandma-grandkid relationship we have. Even I’d gotten over the embarrassment of her seeing me like this. “You wanna talk about it,” she asked me. “Not really.” “Okay. I’m just gonna sit and pout with you then,” she said as she laid down on the grass next to me. We stayed like that for about twenty seconds, and then I felt her thumb – that rough texture of dirt from her garden dried over her soft skin – on my upper arm. That did it. That’s all it took. One sympathetic stroke of a thumb. “I was mean to Mary,” I said as my voice broke with a sob. “Oh, honey. Why?” “I was just in a bad mood. I didn’t mean to … I just ...” “Do you need a hug?” I sat up, and so did she, and we met in the middle, and she put her big, soft arms around me, and I put my head on her big, soft chest. I like that about her. Mary is young and firm and strong. She’s my wall. Mrs. Wilson is big and soft. She’s more like a safety net, like my real grandma had been. “I’m sorry,” I said to her with my voice muffled. “Wanna try telling me again what happened?” We pulled apart. I wiped my eyes. “I … work has been going really bad lately. I keep getting blamed for things that aren’t my fault, and it’s like there’s nothing I can do to succeed, and I’ve just been taking that out on Mary.” “How so?” “Just, I don’t know, I’ve been really curt, when I talk to her at all, and I’ve just been rude. I’m … does that make sense?” “I know what you mean. Sometimes George and I would get like that sometimes. It happens to everybody.” “I know. Mary is so supportive,” I said as I picked up the shears, stood up, and started inspecting the magnolia tree. “Do you want some help with that,” Mrs. Wilson asked. “Sure.” She held out her hand, and I gave her the shears. I boosted myself on to the retaining wall and let my feet dangle. “Do you know how to do that,” I asked. “Honey, I grew up in the country in a very different time. I haven’t done this in about fifty-five years, but I remember.” She started looking through the branches. “You can keep talking, if you want to. What happened just now?” “It’s stupid.” “So? You can tell me, sweetie. I won’t judge.” “I didn’t get Mary a soda.” I sighed and looked at my feet. “Oh?” “We were in the kitchen, and I got up, and Mary asked me to grab her a soda, and instead I got myself a glass of water and sat back down.” Mrs. Wilson cut a branch and started peeling the leaves and knots off with the shears. “I don’t even know why,” I said. “I … I heard her. I was just kind of zoned out and didn’t care.” “Still, a switch is a bit harsh for that,” Mrs. Wilson said as she ran her hand down its length to make sure it was smooth and wouldn’t cut me. “It’s not the soda. I’s my general attitude, is what Mary said. She’s right, too.” “I got more than my fair share of attitude adjustments when, well, not when I was your age. More like a third of your age, but you know what I mean.” She gave it a flick, and I winced to hear it cut through the air. “Mary said two, right?” “Yeah.” I kept replaying the last couple days in my head. It wasn’t once incident or really even a string of incidents. It was just me being a bitch for four days. The only thing Mary did wrong was not spank me sooner to try to knock me out of it. I shook my head. I felt myself getting teary again and sniffled. “I don’t deserve her sometimes.” Mrs. Wilson set the half-finished second switch down and knelt in front of me, taking both my hands in hers. “Yes, you do. Of course, you do. Mary loves you so much.” Oh, sure, make me cry again. The back door opened, and out came Mary. “Why don’t you go give her a big hug and tell her you’re sorry?” She wiped a tear off my cheek. “Go on.” I hopped down and met Mary half way across the yard. Of course she opened her arms for me. She kissed the top of my head. Oh, how that makes me go all to pieces in her arms. “I’m so sorry.” “I know, little girl.” Mrs. Wilson approached us. “You have a little talk with her, Mae?” “She’s a very contrite little girl, Mary. Do you really have to spank her?” Ya gotta love grandmas. “Hmm,” Mary said, “you want to tell Mrs. Wilson the rule on that Daphne?” I let go of Mary and turned part way so I wasn’t quite facing Mrs. Wilson. “PMS and bad moods are no excuse for being a bitch.” Mary shrugged. “We both live by that rule in our house.” “I see,” Mrs. Wilson said. “Well, rules are rules. But maybe you could go a little easier on her. She knows she did wrong. Maybe just a light spanking?” Of course, perhaps Mrs. Wilson, not being a kinkster herself, has a different notion of what constitutes a ‘light spanking’ than we perverts do. “What do you think, Daphne? Would that be enough to get you back on track?” I nodded. With an arm around my shoulder holding me close, we walked over to the bush. “Nice job, Mae,” Mary said as she looked at the first switch. I guess she was watching us. “Here,” Mary said, “I think we only need one of these today and …” she broke a a few inches off the other one. “There. That should be sufficient.” Mary sat down on the retaining wall where I’d been sitting. “Mae, can we have you over for tea in a little bit to say thank you? We’ll only need a minute. Or you can just stay.” Mary may have made the switch a little less painful, but of course she’d make that little joke just to see me turn red. There’s no way Mrs. Wilson … “Well, if it’ll only be a minute.” Wait. What? “Um, Mary …” “What,” Mary said, “Mrs. Wilson has seen you spanked before.” That was news to me. I looked at Mrs. Wilson, who nodded sympathetically. “Sorry, kiddo, but we do live kind of on top of each other, and you’re not the quietest little girl when you’re getting spanked.” “And we’ll even keep your unicorn undies up.” I looked from Mary to Mrs. Wilson to my unicorn undies. “Of course,” Mary said, “If you’d rather go back inside, we could do that, but then there’d be no good reason to not bare your little, pink bottom.” “Does she have to watch,” I whispered. I’m bad at whispering. Did you know people could be bad at whispering? “The poor thing,” Mrs. Wilson said about me. “She’s having a hard enough time as it is. Tell you what – I’ll just duck back into my yard for a minute, and you just take care of her, then I’ll come right back.” That was agreeable to Mary, because she nodded and lifted me across her lap as Mrs. Wilson excused herself. Being over the knee on the retaining wall was awkward. It’s narrow and of course has no give, so I felt like I was laid out like a board. “Let’s get these down,” Mary said as she pulled my panties toward my knees. I didn’t protest. I at least had visual privacy. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMAK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK. I guess that was my warm up, because Mary picked up the switch. There’s something about a switch resting against your bottom. It’s so much worse than a hairbrush or paddle resting there. It feels so small. So light. You know much it’s about to hurt, but it just gently teases you back there. And then you hear it cut the air just a little when your spanker moves it away from you, and then cut a lot more as it’s flicked down onto your very cute, very spankable bottom (well, in my case). SWISH! “Eep!” SWISH! “Eep!” SWISH! “Ow!” SWISH! “OW!!” SWISH! “Umph!” SWISH! “Muuhhuh!” “Just let it out, Mary cooed in my ear. SWISH! “Wah …” SWISH! “Uh huuh huhh huuh.” And I was sobbing again. I laid across her lap and took my punishment. SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! The last two delivered to my thighs. “Okay, baby,” Mary said. She ran her hand down my bottom to my thighs, her palm crossing each stripe she’d left behind. “I forgive you. Here.” She helped me sit up, and as best I could on that wall I turned so my legs were wrapped around her and I could bury my head in her chest. “I’m sorry I treated you so bad.” “I know you are. There, there. Shhh.” She was gently tickling my back with her finger nails. My mom used to put me to sleep doing that when I really was a little girl. I told Mary about it one time, and she happily embraced it. It only took me a minute to calm down. Mary set me on my feet. “Was that enough to snap you out of your bad mood?” “Yes,” I nodded. She looked doubtful. “I hope so. Any more attitude today, and you’re getting paddled and sent to bed.” It wasn’t even lunch time yet. At least, I thought I was fine. It was a short spanking, and it did hurt like a mother, but it wasn’t enough for the warm, fuzzy, endorphin-y feeling. So maybe it was enough to break the pattern, but maybe I could also use a real butt blistering. All I ever have to do is ask, so I put that on the back burner. Mary pulled my underwear back up. “Can I come back over,” Mrs. Wilson called out. “Yes,” Mary called back. Mrs. Wilson came back through the fence, and I felt embarrassed and turned red all over again. “Can I give her a hug,” Mrs. Wilson asked, “or is she in timeout now.” “Nope, all over and done with. Hug away.” And I got my second (or was it third?) hug from Mrs. Wilson. “You were very brave.” “I cried like a little girl,” I scoffed. “And I bet that made you feel so much better, didn’t it?” “Mhmm.” “What else do you say to Mrs. Wilson,” Mary asked. “Thank you.” “Darn tootin’,” Mary said as she reached down swatted my butt. “She saved you from the much worse spanking you had coming. Now, let’s serve our guest some iced tea and cookies, hmm?” “I’ll get everything,” I said. “She can be very polite when properly motivated,” Mary said with a wink to Mrs. Wilson. I started toward the house. “Oh, she is just so darling with her little red fanny peeking out from under those adorable undies with the little grass stain. And her little, dirt-smudged feet!” Now I was blushing again. I like hearing how cute I am. “Hey Daphne,” Mary called after me. “Tell you what, Mae. How about you go help her wash her face and hands, and I’ll get everything.” “I’d be happy to,” Mrs. Wilson replied. “Where are my shorts,” I asked as I stood with a foot in the door. “It’s warm out. You don’t need ‘em for the rest of the day,” Mary declared. “Run along with Mrs. Wilson, and be a good girl for her.” Mary’s smirk. I like that a lot more than her angry face. Especially when she find just the right button to push to get me all blushy and tingling in my tummy.

Hi Alex, A million thanks for still another entertaining chapter. 'Taylor' is a fine additional character. Who knows, perhaps Susan, Lisa and Taylor's mother might have lunch during which they discuss the benefits of spanking adult children?

A couple of weeks ago, at around the 6.5 month mark for 24/7 use, I blogged on my thread of a very similar dream-theme that had appeared: me going out and about with my nappies exposed to the world, to my discomfort (I have no interest in exhibitionism and make every effort to keep my nappies private in real life). This theme has recurred. Not every night but it's not been an isolated event. I wonder what it all means? These "themes" I recall: 1. The "I need to pee/I am peeing" dreams 2. The "I need to manage my diapers within the context of a conventional dream" dream. 3. The "My diapers are on display to the world and there is nothing I can do about it" dream. I note that the "I need to pee" dreams have ceased and I think I'm now, very occasionally, bedwetting: after around 6.5 months 24/7 diapered this year.

Chapter 5.2: The Ritual “Get off your asses, we can’t sit around here looking at clouds all day. We have a lot of stuff to acquire.” She took a swig of the water bottle she was carrying, then handed Adam a list. It had twenty-seven items and he only recognized one or two. “Holy shit, Amy, do we really need all of this stuff?” “No, but half of it we’re unlikely to be able to get on short notice. Some of it seems like it would be highly illegal if not physically impossible to get under any kind of time frame. So, I drew up some alternatives that have similar medicinal or symbolic properties.” Adam shook his head. “We’re just gonna wing it?” “Well, yes,” Amy said, puffing her cheeks out in a way Adam once found adorable, crossing her arms defensively in front of her chest, “but actually, no.” Adam was confused, and said so. “Look, Adam, we’re going to try an obscure ritual that probably nobody has done in three hundred years, and it might not work. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about this kind of shit, it’s that intentions matter. I’ve come across sources that outright say that you should never pay attention to the exact details, but always discern the intention and purpose behind them. Old-timey witches would put traps into their rituals, things that would turn the ritual upside down if done literally—but a trained practitioner would know to look deeper, at the function and intention, and find a suitable substitute. The worst thing we could do, probably, would be to follow the recipe literally.” “She has a point, mortal,” Asha said. She had risen with the grace of a cat and now had her head almost resting on his shoulder, looking over the list. “Perhaps you were able to invoke the binding because you’re such a piss-poor necromancer that you accidentally got all the details wrong in all the right ways.” “Thanks, Asha.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, so, you guys need to trust me on this,” Amy said, taking another sip of water, “or you’re out. Right now.” “I trust you,” Adam said. “I trust him, and he trusts you,” said Asha. “Good. Now, listen: We’re going to make a witch’s brew, with all sorts of nasty ingredients, which you two will drink, and then we’ll do some stuff with incantations and candles and knives and blood,” here Adam’s eyes widened, “but no more than taking a small blood sample at the doctor’s office, relax. That shit is easy compared to making the brew and finding the right location to perform the ritual at the right time.” “So, the hard part?” “Well, getting all the ingredients and putting them together in the approximate right proportions. I’ve identified all the ingredients as either being medicinal or symbolic. Meaning, everything that has some known use in traditional medicine is probably there primarily for its physiological effect, while anything that was never widely used as medicine is probably there to serve as a symbol for something or other. We’re on a clock, people. Let’s get moving.” Luckily, there was a little side street that housed no less than four different little herbalist’s shops, traditional apothecaries, the sort of shops that old ladies and young hippies go to, but most people would never know were even there. Even luckier, by some unspoken agreement, all of them were open on an early Sunday afternoon. The first stop was Zhu Jie’s Apothecary & Herbs. It had one grimy window into a dark interior, but the shop on the door said OPEN and inside was a single, long counter, with a very cluttered set of shelves behind it. Behind the counter was a doorway with little crystals or pearls threaded together hanging as a curtain to shield the store from the back room. A golden cat sat moving its paw back and forth mechanically on the counter, next to an antique till. “Coming, I come,” said a husky voice from the back. A wrinkled old lady poked her head in through the pearls. “What you want, little miss?” She asked, addressing Amy as she were obviously in charge. Curiously, Amy blushed at the form of address. “I came for some Yuan Zhi. Oh, and a rat’s tail.” The old woman entered her shop and shook her head. “This one,” she said, nodding at Amy but addressing Adam, “she come in all the time, looking for all sorts of odd things. Want to recapture her youth, she say, but she is young enough to make old lady like me blush.” The woman waved her finger in front of Amy. “Very disrespectful, that one.” But there was a warmth in the way she said it, and a glint in her eye—Adam noted that Amy was beet red, and the woman gave him an exaggerated wink as she said it. “Do you have the stuff I need?” Amy asked, trying to deflect. “You think you come here to get nasty old rat tail? You think Chinese like that shit?” She grinned, gauging their reaction to her vulgar speech. “Lucky for you, little bird told me might have use of one, got plenty rats in the basement. Old house, stinks down there, tell you. This cat is good for nothing!” And she slapped the mechanical good-luck cat so hard it almost fell off the counter, then she laughed. “Also, Yuan Zhi, very good root. Got powder.” Amy paid for a dried rat tail wrapped in paper, as well as a little ziplock bag of a light brown, almost white powder that would look suspicious to any police officer in a mile’s radius. She put both into her purse, along with her almost empty water bottle. “What was that about?” Adam asked. “Recapturing your youth?” Amy shot him a look that said, One day very soon, your curiosity will get your ass kicked, and he quickly asked about the Yuan Zhi instead. “Polygala tenuifolia, known in traditional Chinese medicine as Yuan Zhi. Modern science is just about rediscovering that it might have some actually valid uses. It promotes Nerve Growth Factor and Brain-Derived Neurotrophic Factor, it reduces monoamine oxidase, and it has rapid antidepressant effects possibly mediated by a mechanism similar to ketamine. Basically, it protects your brain, and I have reason to believe this ritual will fuck up your brain.” “How do you know all this shit?” He asked. She smiled and tapped her forehead. “I read.” She’s full of surprises. He didn’t ask about the rat tail. They visited the next herbalist’s shop. This one had self-service shelves, but also more stuff in various jars and Erlenmeyer flasks on shelves behind the counter. Amy pointed to a jar of blackish goo behind the counter. “I’d like to buy some chaga,” she said. The young man behind the counter was far less chatty than the Chinese woman, and they were out quickly. “Inonotus obliquus,” she said. “Also known as chaga. A parasitic fungus that grows on birch trees. In Norway, they call it cancer polypore.” “It causes cancer?” Adam asked. “It kind of looks like a tumor the way it grows on the tree. Also, it supposedly prevents or cures cancer, according to traditional medicine.” The third shop was a little bit more modern, and styled itself a head shop. “That means it sells drugs, but not like, the good shit,” Asha observed. “How would you know?” “I feel the sweet scent of caged sin in my bones, railing against its restraints,” she answered as if that were a completely natural thing to say. “Oh, okay,” Amy said. “I’ve actually never been here before. I think it opened recently. Let’s see if it has anything useful.” Aside from a whole wall dedicated to glass cases displaying elaborate and impractical methods of smoking weed, there were some cacti, various semi-legal pills, and a little shelf with essential oil. “Oh,” Amy said. “We might be able to use this.” She picked up a little bottle of sassafras oil and brought it back to the counter. She crossed her legs casually as she leaned towards the cashier. The dude looked like the most stereotypical stoner you ever saw: a skinny white dude in an oversized hiphop t-shirt and dreads and a slightly absent gaze. “Ah, a connoisseur, I see,” he said with no particular enthusiasm as Amy paid. Did she just…? It might be a trick of light and shadow, but it did seem as if Amy had leaned a bit into the counter and ground herself against it for a moment before she turned around. Don’t get up to any perverted thoughts now, Adam, he thought. “I can hear you, you know,” Asha whispered and gave him a wicked smile. “Shut up.” She mimed zipping up her lips. Amy looked at them and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “So, what’s that, then?” He asked. “We gonna do an erotic bath before the ritual?” Amy and Asha both punched him in the shoulder. One after the other, making sure to hit the same spot, just for extra pain. The first punch was humiliating; the second punch, delivered by Amy, actually hurt. It was like they’d planned it that way. “It’s sassafras oil. It contains safrole, a precursor to ecstasy.” “Sounds illegal,” Adam said. “Knowing this sort of shop, it’s probably within 0.1% of the legal limit, but not a drop more,” Amy said and shook her head. “I don’t like this sort of shop because they don’t give a shit. They don’t care about their customers or their safety at all. Look at that dude behind the counter, he’s just hoping we’ll leave so he can go for an extended smoke break. He’d gladly tell you how to skirt the law, but would never tell you about any risks or how to minimize them.” Asha licked her licks. “Sinful, indeed,” she said, and for a moment, yellow flames flickered in her eyes. The last shop, at the end of the street, was an Indian Ayurveda shop. Amy scanned the shelves and picked up Ashwaganda, Bacopa monnieri, curcumin and piperine. “Half of this stuff is just to make you not lose your mind. Ashwaganda and Bacopa are adaptogens, which theoretically make your body more adaptable to stress. Curcumin is a pigment found in turmeric spice that acts as an anti-inflammatory and promotes antioxidants, and piperine is found in black pepper and makes curcumin more available to your body. Now we’ve got all the medicinal stuff, but we still need some of the more symbolic ingredients.” Amy crossed her legs. She was wearing a tight pair of light blue jeans that clung to her hips, and now her thighs were shaking. Adam remembered the empty water bottle. Does she have to go? “Drop it,” Asha whispered. Why? “Because she is a grown woman and will say something of her own accord. And because you like to watch and I like to watch you watching her.” “What are you whispering about, lover-boy?” Amy had straightened herself up and seemed to be back in control. “None of ya business,” he said, favoring her with his most winning smile. “So, about that other stuff?” “Well, we got the medicine done, now we need the symbols. The rat’s tail is one, but we need several more things that are probably gonna be disgusting, but go in the brew because they represent an idea, not because of their physical properties. And we’re gonna have to find the proper substitutes. Do you think we’re going to find a lion’s paw anywhere?” “Courage,” Asha said. She had her eyes closed. “It represents courage, does it not?” “That is one of the traditional things signified by the lion, yes,” Amy said. “But it could be something else… If we get it wrong, you’re screwed.” “I know for a fact that we will find a symbol of courage to put in your brew before midnight,” Asha said, and the way she said it—with a small wreath of fire which he let slip out of her mouth, out the side, licking her lips, smiling, then sent up her left nostril, which began smoking—made it clear that this was one of those mystical moments that you do not question. “Great, Asha,” Amy. “Wanna share some details?” “She doesn’t,” Adam said. “Not right now. What else?” “We gotta capture a live frog.” Amy shrugged. “I don’t know how the fuck to do that, but how hard could that be? This is one of the ones where I think we should go with the literal interpretation, because there’s too many possible things a live frog could stand for, and I’ve seen wild frogs around the ponds in the park this past week.” Turns out, capturing a live frog with a net on the end of a long pole is far harder than it sounds. They had been at it in the park for three hours, and although there were many ponds and most of them had frogs or at least tadpoles in them, catching one of the little buggers was proving to be near impossible. Once, Adam almost caught one, but it managed to jump into the water just as he was flipping the net around to bring the frog-fucker out of the pond. The sun was setting, and although they had a good few hours until midnight, they wouldn’t have many more with enough light to actually catch a frog. By this point, Adam noted that even Asha was squirming subtly, and his own bladder was also sending signals that he really out to go pee soon. Amy, on the other hand, was frantic. Whenever she thought he wasn’t looking, she was desperately clutching herself between the legs. Normally, Adam would have enjoyed the show and let it go on until its natural end—she was an adult and although he wouldn’t prevent her from going to the restrooms, which were located near the other end of the park, she was old enough that he felt no responsibility, indeed like he had no right, to make her go—but now, he was seriously worried that they’d fail the ritual because someone couldn’t catch a damned frog because someone couldn’t stop pee-dancing like a little girl. Adam felt the fury from earlier in the day rise in him, and he very deliberately counted down from ten to zero. He was determined never to lose his temper again the way he’d done earlier in the day. “Amy, this is ridiculous,” he said. “Anyone can tell you need to pee. I need to pee, Asha needs to pee, we all need a piss. We’re not gonna catch a frog before dark if we can’t keep squeezing our crotches. I’m gonna piss behind a tree, I suggest you do the same.” “I can hold it until we catch a damn frog!” Amy said, but as soon as he partially turned away from her, she clutched her hands between her legs. Adam walked behind a thick tree, which was shielded from most of the park by a series of bushes, unzipped, and released a long-awaited piss. It was glorious, and lasted a minute. Finally, the dribbling tapered off, he shook his penis and stuck it back into his boxers, then re-buttoned his pants. When he came back around, Asha was leaning against the other side of the tree, quickly removing her hand from the inside of her pants when she saw him looking. She smiled at him. Amy was crouching, both hands between her legs. “I swear, it’s like you enjoy this,” Adam said. “Just go pee.” Amy blushed. “Okay, okay, you asshole,” she said. “Help me up, Asha. I don’t think I can stand on my own.” Asha helped her two her feet, and she hobbled, both hands still between her legs, behind the tree. Adam caught her crouching down and heard the rustle of pants and presumably underwear as she undressed. “Ahh!” Amy moaned. Then he heard the sound of a branch breaking on the path, and turned around to see a worker in a reflective vest adorned with the municipal symbol and a rake slung over his shoulder ambling towards them. Amy stuck her head around the bush, blushing. “What are you kids getting up to?” The middle-aged park worker asked. “Not getting into trouble, I hope?” “Catching butterflies,” Adam said, and Asha handed him the pole with the net on it. “Well, that’s good. Just don’t let me catch you playing hooky behind the bushes, eh?” He laughed, but nobody else did, and the laugh rapidly turned into a cough. “You kids behave. Park closes at ten,” the worker said, then trudged further down the road. Amy came back from behind the tree, blushing red like a tomato. Adam’s eyes were drawn towards her crotch, which had a softball-sized wet spot, still visible in the fading light. Amy caught his eye. “Stop staring, you perv!” “Sorry. I’m really sorry, Ames, but if you’d gone earlier...” “I know! I was just obsessed with getting everything ready for the ritual. I tried to cut off the flow and pull up my pants, but I couldn’t cut it off quite in time.” She was breathing heavy. The park worker was out of sight. “Better run around the corner and finish it, then,” Adam said. Amy nodded. She walked behind the tree again, and he heard the same rustle of pants and underwear being lowered, then… Nothing. One minute passed. Two. “You okay behind there, Ames?” He asked, concern in his voice. “No!” She popped her head back ‘round the tree trunk. Tears of frustration were threatening to overflow as she came back, her pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. “I can’t go! I’m pee shy, okay? It’s like once that guy showed up, somebody cut off the flow and I can’t open it back up again! She put a hand between her legs again as one tear began its trek down her cheek. “But I can’t last much longer! Adam, what am I gonna do?” “Would you like us to leave you alone? What can I do to help?” “There!” Asha shouted. Adam swung around to see her depositing a live frog into the glass jar of water they’d brought, then pop on the lid into which they’d nailed a few air holes. He turned back around towards Amy, who’d clearly lost control for a moment when Asha surprised her. The wet spot now extended another inch down her left thigh. “No, it’s...” Amy said. Adam stepped up and took hold of her shoulders. “If you don’t want to, I won’t. But if you don’t say anything, I’m going to lead you behind that tree and help you finish your business, okay?” Amy nodded. He held one arm on her shoulder, the other squeezing her hand, as she waddled behind the tree. “Okay,” Adam said, rubbing her back, “now you just lower your clothes and then...” Amy ripped down her jeans, but before she could touch her panties—light blue, with a teddy bear adorning her backside—she exploded. A stream of urine shot through her panties, arcing so far Adam had to jump aside, pattering loudly onto the leaves and soaking into the dirt. Feeling more than a little guilty, Adam hooked a finger on the inside of her panty leg and yanked the whole thing down, but it was too late. The pastel blue was already see-through, although it was now sitting at her knees, and Adam continued to rub her back as she peed. “I’m—I’m sorry,” Amy said, as she pulled her soaked panties up. There was a large puddle between her legs, and a little bit had splashed up onto her white socks. Adam tried not to look between her legs, where the contours of his friend’s sex were clearly visible. “I really couldn’t hold it anymore. I just… I thought I could hold it.” “It’s okay,” Adam said. “It was a little silly, but we’re all a little silly, aren’t we, Asha?” Asha poked her head ‘round the tree trunk, holding the trapped frog in her right hand. “Oh, my,” she said, looking at Amy’s soaked backside. Amy turned around, blushing, but her eyes were dry. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This was so dumb.” “Well, you already saw me piss myself,” Asha said, shrugging. “More importantly, you just gave us our final ingredient.” “What the hell?” Amy looked confused. “The panties,” Asha said. “They represent your courage. Standing before us, like that, and not breaking into tears.” “I don’t understand,” Adam said. Amy blushed. “No!” She said. “You’re not saying what it sounds like you’re saying.” Asha nodded. “You want to drink my piss? You dirty slut demon, get away from me, you ugly bitch...” And Adam had to grab her arms and hold her tight, now standing with her dripping genitals on full display and her wet panties around her ankles, to prevent her from punching Asha. “They’ll dry out before the ritual. Do you think we’ll get a better reflection of true courage tonight than this? Standing disgraced in front of your best friend, looking him in the eye and not being ashamed?” Amy fixed her gaze on him, her lip trembling, but she held. “Okay,” she said. “You saw me disgrace myself. Still wanna be my friend?” “It’s not the first time,” he said. “What do you mean?” “Nothing, I’m sorry...” “What do you mean?” She yelled. “I mean… I know you wet yourself when the hell-hounds showed up.” She blushed. “I… Yeah.” “I didn’t want to say anything.” “Well, now I know.” She sighed. Looked down at her wet underwear, shook her head. “Okay. What now?” “Now,” Asha said, and in one swift motion, before anyone could react, she had taken hold of Amy’s wet panties and ripped both sides off, leaving her fully exposed, “we prepare for the ritual.” Amy scrambled to cover herself between her legs, blushing, too embarrassed to say anything. Adam chose this moment to respectfully walk around the other side of the tree and let her pull up her damp jeans in peace. “What about you, Asha? Don’t you need to piss?” He asked. “I do,” she said. “But I can wait a while longer. Let’s go!” As it turns out, they would find a better symbol of courage, but they couldn’t have known that. They spent some time wandering around the park, carrying our herbs, the live frog in a glass—looking miserable, the little fella did, and he felt a pang of sympathy for him, or her—and their cookpot and portable Primus stove. “So,” Adam said, as his phone buzzed to remind him the park was closing, “where are we going to do this?” Asha was right behind him, squirming and holding herself. He didn’t comment. He’d learned she’d just as soon bite my hand off as kiss me with tongue, and didn’t know which one would be more embarrassing in front of Amy. “I’ve been thinking,” said Amy. “We’re trying to literally pierce the veil separating this plane of existence and the next, right?” She looked over at Asha. “Something like that, mortal.” “What better place than a cemetery?” “Oh, no,” Adam said. “We’re not going to a fucking cemetery to do black magic. No, ma’am.” “Hear me out, Adam. I know cemeteries freak you out...” “They don’t! But the combination of cemeteries, midnight, full moon, black magic and creatures straight out of hell chasing us? Who’s to say the dead themselves won’t rise from their graves and eat us alive?” “They will not, mortal,” Asha said, spitting something on the ground. A leaf formerly attached to the stick she now had between her teeth, it appeared. “How do you know?” “Because I come from a land of death, mortal, and if they could rise of their own accord, right out of their graves, do you truly believe I would not know?” He shook his head. “Okay, so, like, the nearest cemetery...” “Just past this block. Saint Joan’s Cemetery.” “Wait, like, Joan d’ fucking Arc?” “No,” Amy said. “Blessed Joanna of Portugal.” “Good,” Asha said. “She’s not one of the real ones.” “Real what?” Adam asked. “One of the real saints, dear,” Asha said, patting him on the head. “Otherwise, we might have a problem.” I’ll ask you later, demon. “You will not,” she murmured. It was almost eleven when they arrived at the cemetery. It looked like any graveyard Adam had ever seen. A few sturdy oak trees, lots of grass bisected by gravel paths and dotted with gravestones. He saw a couple of small buildings that might be family mausoleums in the distance, and further still, a small chapel. They made their way towards the center of the cemetery. Adam sat down on the gravestone of a woman named Eleanor Santorini. She’d been dead these past seventy years and he doubted she’d mind. It was now fully dark, and a cloud was slowly receding from the full moon, allowing some meager natural light to illuminate their surroundings. “So, now we wait,” he said, grateful for the reprieve. Asha stood, legs crossed, by his side, her head twitching to and fro as if listening to something that was beyond his hearing, but aside from her obvious need to relieve herself, she seemed calm. That is, until they all heard a heartrending cry that could only signify one thing: hell-hounds. Many hell-hounds. They had forty-five minutes left until midnight. Squinting his eyes, Adam could see the silhouette of one of the lumbering beasts, like a monstrous ox with a canine head, about a hundred yards out, near the entrance to the cemetery. The hell-hound raised its black head and howled. Its fellows would be converging on their location. The singular hell-hound took a few tentative steps towards them. It was now at a distance where, if it chose to charge, it would all be over in less than twenty seconds. Still, it stood there, its shape now less diffuse, stomping its foot into the ground and howling for its pack-mates to come join the hunt. Adam looked at Asha. Her eyes locked with his. “What do we do?” He mouthed. “Do you know, Adam,” she asked, “why necromancers in the old stories bind demons?” He shook his head. She rose, and now yellow and blue and green flames were playing around the contours of her hands, her face, her feet, her knees and elbows. “Power!” She said. Except it wasn’t a word. It was like the sound of a rock slide, coming down a mountainside to devour an army. He realized she wasn’t speaking English, either. She was speaking hell-tongue. The language of the incantation that had started it all. “Uhagarrukh!” She thundered. Power. “Power over life and death.” Adam could see Amy in his peripheral vision. She was cowering behind a gravestone, clearly unsure whether to flee the hellspawn in front of her best friend or the one blocking the exit to the cemetery. “A necromancer commands life and death,” Asha intoned, in that strange language of hers. It was a sequence of clicks, of hisses and pharyngeals and ejectives. And something deeper: the sound of magma, deep down below the earth’s crust, waiting to escape, eager to devour the living. But he found himself, strangely, calmer than he had been a moment before. He felt her pull at the mental leash, and he felt it hold. “Power over the living, and power over the dead,” Asha intoned. “I don’t know anything about death magic!” He said. “I’m not a necromancer!” “This isn’t death magic,” Asha said. “That’s where you’re wrong. A necromancer does not draw on death. A necromancer is alive, gloriously alive. It is the union of life and death that brings such incredible power. A power which a creature purely of death and decay could never touch.” Adam began to understand. He rose, only now realizing that he had sunk down onto one knee. “Do you want to live?” Asha demanded. Her body was now a dark silhouette, much like the hell-hound’s, but hers was alight with fire, green and yellow and red and blue. “Yes!” He yelled. “Then you must give me your life,” she said, “and I will give you command over death.” Adam’s hands were shaking. “Remember this morning,” Asha said, taking his hands, very gently. “Remember the rage. What did it feel like?” “Like death.” “No!” She said, squeezing his hands harder. “It was life.” He closed his eyes for a moment and felt for that rage, that anger, that fury. It was white-hot, smoldering, and in his mind’s eye, the heat took hold and roared like a bonfire. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yessss.” “Will you give me your life, that you may command death?” She whispered. “Yes.” Before he could regret it, she had bit him. She took a bite out of his throat, and a searing hot pain threatened to take hold of his consciousness and put it out like a glass over a candle, blocking the air out. He took an unsteady step, feeling viscous hot liquid sliding down his Adam’s apple, down his shirt onto his chest. He opened his eyes. Asha was in front of him, hovering in the air, a wreath of fire around her scorching his eyebrows. The hell-hound charged. It was over in three seconds. One moment, the monstrous shadow-ox with the head of a bulldog was running towards them. The next, Adam was splattered with black and red goo as the thing met its end at the point of a blade made of fire, extending out of Asha’s hand like she’d been carrying it all along. She hung in the air for a moment, hands both pointed downwards, trembling, the two halves of the deceased hell-hound falling to each side of the flaming sword, smoldering in the grass. Adam found himself worrying, absurdly, that the dry grass might catch fire and burn them all. Asha collapsed to the ground. He stumbled over to her, managed to put an arm under each of her armpits and lever her up. “What do we do now?” He asked. “Run!” Asha said. He looked for Amy. She was gone. Oh, no! “Over here!” Amy yelled. She was standing by the door to one of the mausoleums, holding the iron door ajar. “It’s open!” Half walking, half stumbling, leaning on each other for support, the two of them made their way inside the mausoleum, passing under a peer of laughing stone-cut gargoyles. Amy closed the door and locked the heavy wooden bar on the inside in place. “If you could do that, why didn’t you do it before?” Adam demanded. “I wasn’t sure if you would survive it,” Asha said. “And you did command me not to hurt you.” The pain from the wound in his neck pulsed, reminding him his mortal body would have its reckoning. Flush with adrenaline, it would have to wait. “Begin the ritual,” Adam said to Amy. “There’s no time left. Either it works or we’re all headed towards whatever’s worse than death.” They could hear the pack of hell-hounds howling outside. Amy poured some water into the cook pot and began hastily mixing her disparate ingredients while Asha got the portable stove going. The air inside was stifling, and Adam wasn’t sure how long they could last even if the hell-hounds didn’t break through the door. After all, who the hell thinks of ventilation for the dead? Amy poured and mixed powders and roots and oils into the pot, then, finally, threw the rat’s tail, her soiled panties, and the live frog inside. “You’re going to cook it alive?” He asked. Amy raised both her eyebrows. “You got a problem with that? Wanna go outside and have a diplomatic chat with those monsters from hell instead?” He shook his head. Amy took the handle of the hunting knife she was holding and whacked the frog on the head when it attempted to jump out of the boiling water. Turns out, frogs don’t like to boil alive, whatever your biology teacher told you. The frog sank down into the disgusting stew. Amy wrapped her hands in the sleeves of her sweater, then lifted the pot off the stove, losing hold with a curse before she could properly set it down on the stone floor and spilling a good quarter of it. “Fuck! Should have brought a cooking glove.” It was now ten minutes before midnight. The door shook violently, presumably as one of the hell-hounds tried to bash it in, but it held. For now. Amy lit some candles, placing them at the points of some geometric figure to complex for him to understand. He put a hand on his neck, feeling the slow flow of blood leaving his body. He was light-headed. “Stay with me,” Amy said. “Five more minutes, then the brew will be cool enough to drink.” Adam lay down. Asha took his head in her hands. “Bide,” she said. “Do not leave the land of the waking just yet. Bide.” He heard Amy unsheathe the knife, heard a little snip, tried to move to prevent her from cutting Asha, but it was no use. He felt a hot bowl touch his lips. “Drink,” Amy said. “Try not to throw up.” A foul liquid, the consistency more like porridge than soup, dripping down his throat. It threatened to rise, but he closed his mouth and swallowed, counted, one, two, three, then accepted another gulp. It went down, and stayed down. Asha presumably did the same. He heard her coughing, but he couldn’t even open his eyes, let alone move to assist her. He felt a finger touch his lips. It had a sticky substance the taste of copper. “Blood of mine,” Asha intoned. Amy stuck a finger to his neck, then she prompted him, and he managed to croak, “blood of mine.” “Say with me,” Amy said, far away. The howling of the hell-hounds was a constant backing track. He heard something heavy collide with the door again, but since nothing tore into his throat, he assumed the door held still. “Say with me,” Amy repeated. “Ah-ushukh diniyahhah...” “Ah-ushukh… Dini… yahhahh...” There were more words. His lips formed them, but his ears were no longer capable of hearing them. Finally, silence. Adam felt the leash between him and Asha stretch, grow taut. She was pulling away from him. And then… it fell off. It didn’t snap in the middle from the force exerted on it. It simply unknotted itself on both ends, by mutual agreement, and then it was gone. She’s free, he thought. Free and gone forever. I’ll never see her again. Then she was on his throat, tearing at him. For a terrifying moment, Adam thought he was going to die. He opened his eyes, looking into the red eyes of his demon, the demon he’d bound against her will, the demon who was now going to murder him for what he’d done to her. The demon he just might love. Then she planted a big, sloppy kiss on his lips. The howling of the hell-hounds was gone. He heard nothing but his breath, ragged; and hers, and somewhere in the distance, Amy’s. “Oh, Adam!” Asha said. “I’m still here.” “I don’t understand,” he said. “I’m still here, but the hell-hounds are gone. I’m here, with you.” That was the moment his body decided to have its hour of reckoning, and promptly, Adam lost consciousness.

That's one of the reasons I like cloth diapers for those trying to go 24/7. When washed with a modern high efficiency washing machine, the ecological impact is a fraction of a disposable's, not to mention the cost savings. It's also convenient to not have to worry about how to manage disposal

Summer frowned and let out a sigh "This is going to take a lot of work to break you of that habit" she said shaking her head. Wendy had been like that for aslong as Summer had known her and she couldn't blame the poor girl, if she was told by her parents everyday that she wasn't good enough than she might start to believe it as well. Summer knelt down besides the chair as Wendy ate, she kissed the girl on her cheek whispering into her ear "Don't you remember how much fun we used to have when you were my little baby" she said with a soft coo "all that playing and fun and snuggling down for movies and naps" "Isn't it going to be fun being Nanny's good girl again" She said wrapping her arms around Wendy's waist nuzzling her cheek against Wendy's. "We can start as little as you want, I have all sorts of things so we don't have to start with diapers if you don't want to" she said slowly she wanted to comfort Wendy to bring her more onboard with the idea rather than think Summer was doing it for the money

I had an interesting sleep last night. First of all, I pretty much never dream about my diapers. I have tried to have dreams about diapers, have fallen asleep thinking about being in diapers, recalling memories of wearing diapers as a kid, etc, but it never seems to seed anything. Last night, however, I woke up with a need to pee at about 2:00 am, so I rolled over onto my back. Where I am now with respect to wearing diapers to bed, having been doing so for at least two years, I don't really have to make myself go, I just have to be conscious enough to relax and stop stopping myself, if you know what I mean. It's like some of the gateways are already open, so I just have to let it happen. What's nice is that once it starts, I really am not aware of it anymore from that point - I'm not pushing, and I have to concentrate on noting other feedback, like a warming or expanding diaper, or the occasional trickle, to confirm if it's stopped. I usually drift back to sleep pretty much as soon as I start. I think that the entire "operation" could probably occur without my waking up, except that, being primarily a front or side-sleeper, I have to roll onto my back, because it does take some deliberate effort to go when I'm sleeping on my front, and, it's also more likely to result in a leak, so it isn't very relaxing. Last night, after I rolled onto my back and nature started taking its course, I fell back asleep, as usual, but, at some point later on, I had not one, but two vivid dreams involving being in diapers. The first was really interesting: I was at a municipal office of some sort, because I had won some money. Not a magnificent sum, but enough to bright up my day, in the dream - I recall the figure being $7000. And I had to go to city hall, maybe to collect it. So I was walking through the lobby past a bank of elevators, and I was wearing just a diaper and a shirt, but I wasn't self-conscious about it. I stopped at a desk and signed something, and then I turned to leave, and I had the thought as I walked away that, wow, this is going to be a great day, but then I also thought, wait, don't get too excited, it's just a bit of money. Right at that moment, I was walking up a flight of stairs toward the exit doors, and an uncle of mine, one of my favourite, came walking through the doors in a suit, and I saw him out of the corner of my eye and thought, oh Jesus, please don't notice me, and I pushed through the doors, turned, and started to run, hoping as I did that he had somehow missed that I had sauntered past him in the entrance to city hall, with just a diaper on below the waist. The second dream occurred after that; I was in my car, parked along the front of a local mall, at night, and I was again wearing just a diaper and a t-shirt. I was there because I had to drop something into a mailbox. However, I was babysitting a small dog that belonged to a friend, and I knew that this dog needed to go to the washroom, so I wanted to drop the letter into the mail, and then drive the dog over to a park. When I opened the car door, I tried to keep the dog in the car as I stepped out, but it slipped out, and took off across the parking lot, trailing its leash. So, I had no choice but to get out of the car and go after it, but was aware that I had only a diaper on, and a very soggy diaper at that, so I was acutely aware of it hanging low, as I tried to half-walk, half-run after the dog, and I held onto my diaper with one hand as I went, afraid that it might drop or one of the tapes might let go as I ran across the parking lot. There were a few people mulling about and cars driving by, and I was also really hoping that nobody I knew would see me in that condition. Then, I woke up, and realized that I had rolled back over onto my front, and that my diaper was quite wet. I drifted off to sleep again, but not before thinking about the two dreams long enough that I remember them pretty well. I think I may use this as well to start a thread about diaper dreams...

Just got done Uber driving students around campus wearing my bambino diaper.

How does a sissy little girl not get excited when she sits down on the potty and sees this.... I wonder if my wife even contemplates how excited she makes her little girl. The desire to use these feminine products is definitely what makes me a sissy.

I have a little bit of all the answers above. I have a partner who is willing to partake, though I don't ask him to. I also have about 4 very close friends who know, and all the digital people I talk to on here.

Ezrine had tears in her eyes, and she shook a bit when the pooping started to make her pee in Frank's arms. There was no way he didn't know she was being bad and going potty in her pants now. They stopped and talked to the woman for a few minutes, and then he took her on into the bathroom. She was about to cry when he smiled at her and started to tickle her. She didn't have a chance to start whining because when he tickled her, she laughed without meaning to, and then she started to feel happy as he started to undress her. She was a little old to be undressed by someone else, especially a man, but the others did it when they wanted to, too, and Frank... he wasn't like them. He seemed to be undressing her because he wanted to really help her, and that made her feel so happy inside that she couldn't cry about pooping her panties now. Sana watched him taking Ezrine, and then she noticed pee running down Ezrine's legs and down Frank's shirt, and she knew what was happening. She hoped he wasn't going to be mean because Ezrine had wet, but she was afraid to go and try to help. In the past, if she tried to interfere, the ugly men would punish her even harder, and then they would punish Sana really hard, too. She just hoped. She shook as she sat at the table, and with all the nervousness in her, she started to pee without realizing it.

Chapter 24 The morning light streaming through the bedroom bought me back to the present. The time I had just spent remembering the first week I met Karen gave me that inner warm glow and I smiled at how far we had come in the period since. The adventures we have had together since, as Mummy and her ‘nappy boy’, have been embarrassing, exciting and for the most part fun The weeks holiday at the beach last Summer, my office Christmas do and the surprise party that all of the ladies threw for my last birthday will always remain as great times in our relationship. As I lay here comparing the puffy white plastic pants I have on to the silky lilac and black lace panties Karen is wearing I realise that this is my life now. Did I ever think that I would be persuaded to wear adult nappies 24/7, wetting and sometimes even pooping the infantile product in private and public? No. But I do and all for the love of Karen The End