Leaderboard

Chapter 5: My One Hundred Thirty-Seventh I.E.P. Meeting. “Is everyone here?” “I think so.” “Then let’s begin with proper introductions.” “Hello I’m Tamara Bankhead, and I’m the Resource Compliance Specialist.” “Hi, I’m Chandra Skinner: Speech and Language Pathologist.” “Hello, I’m Maxine Winters: Physical Therapist.” “Hello, I’m Jasmine Sosa: Occupational Therapist.” “And I’m Clark Gibson: Pre-Kindergarten Teacher.” There was a friendly smile, followed by a nervous chuckle. “I’m Winnie Roberts. I’m the Mom.” Yet another ritual. Another routine in what was my regular existence: The I.E.P. meeting. I.E.P. was shorthand for Individualized Education Plan. Contrary to popular belief, schooling isn’t always the same knowledge conveyor belt, pumping kids full of information and then passing them on to the next grade level. To prevent them from falling through the cracks and to get them needed services and therapies, some students had I.E.P’s. All of mine did. In order to even get into Pre-K at Oakshire Elementary, a student had to have an I.E.P. This wasn’t terribly hard to do in Oakshire, if I’m being honest. The school got more tax dollars per student with an I.E.P. so they were incentivised to load up my classroom as much as possible. People like Brollish were doubly incentivised. A crack under the pressure, a misfiled paper or something improperly filled out would have been all the excuse a clericly minded Amazon might need to dismiss me and “arrange a transfer”. All of Beouf’s caseload had I.E.P’s., too. The first time I was in an I.E.P. I was a wreck. Buzzwords like “federal documentation” and “data based conclusions” got thrown around all willy nilly. My peers gathered around the conference table would be all but sweating bullets sometimes, making sure to have all of their notes perfectly in order, their lines perfectly rehearsed. Teaching is a weird job. You’re expected to be educated and infinitely more informed on educational practices than a layperson, but also do service with a smile while keeping in mind that the parent is always right. The technical expertise of a doctor with the social constraints of a nurse. “We are gathered here today,” Bankhead all but read from a pre-approved script, “to discuss Jaden’s progress in meeting his yearly goals.” Bankhead was a Resource Compliance Specialist: Essentially, a glorified secretary whose sole job was to keep minutes for and run these types of meetings, as well as make sure everyone else had their paperwork properly filled out. It was a thankless job, but she made more money than me, so she didn’t need thanks. “For this Annual Review-”. I tuned out for a second and suppressed a smirk. Annual Review was such a bullshit term. Far too often, bureaucracy demanded multiple ‘Annual Reviews’ for the same kid. An annual review would happen for a kid in the early Fall, to ‘get it out of the way’. Then the same kid would get ANOTHER annual review close to Summer so meetings didn’t ‘pile up with all the new kids come Fall’. Did people not know what “Annual” meant? It was an equal inconvenience to everyone, so I can’t even say ‘Typical Amazons’ here. Mrs. Bankhead looked to the Speech Therapist. “Miss Skinner,” she said. “How about you go first and review Jaden’s progress towards annunciation and vocabulary acquisition?” Translation: How good was a four year old at pronouncing words and how was he when it came to learning new ones. “You see, Mom,” Miss Skinner started, “based on the results of Jaden’s latest Language Development Survey, or L.D.S. for short-”. I tuned out again. My first I.E.P. meeting I was a nervous wreck. This was my one hundred thirty-seventh such meeting. It probably wasn’t, in actuality. I didn’t keep track of how many of these boring meetings I’d attended in my life, and that kind of normality, that lack of importance, was a good thing. I could do these in my sleep now. Yes, an I.E.P. was a Federally accountable document, but it really was just a kind of promise: A promise to pay attention to a kid, to keep track of where they’re at, to not give up on them, and to change up strategies if the current one wasn’t working. It’s literally what any teacher that hadn’t completely given up on their career would do anyways. The rundown of Jaden’s speech ended and the narrative was passed to the Occupational Therapist. “Jaden is now using a tripod grasp to when delineating…” Standing on the chair so that I could lean on the conference table, clenched my jaw and bit my tongue. Trace! Don’t say delineate! Just say ‘trace’! For all the fancy buzzwords that my colleagues were throwing around, they might as well be saying “Bounce the graviton particle beam off the main deflector dish”. All of these people were so nervous around an average working mother. They were all so eager to prove how much they knew and what experts they were in their field. But if Mrs. Roberts didn’t like something, they’d be pressured to the point of obligation to go along with her opinion. From her own seat across from me, I could see Mrs. Roberts’s eyes start to glaze over as she smiled and nodded. She had almost no idea about what these experts were talking about, but didn’t want to admit what she didn’t know. All of these people were talking, but none of them were really communicating with each other. Everyone was so afraid to slip up and look stupid in front of each other for fear of personal embarrassment or how it might come back to bite them. One of the things I liked about having a goatee was that it let me smile, ever so slightly, without giving myself away. Socially and psychologically speaking, meetings like these might be the closest thing that any of these Amazon women experienced to being a Little. Bankhead broke me out of my revery. “Mr. Gibson? You’re up.” I could have rattled off a string of fancy technical terms. Done the whole alphabet soup of educational buzzwords. “Your child is making A.Y.P on his I.E.P. in accordance with I.D.E.A., N.C.L.B., and R.T.T.T. Now if you look at this data chart based on the latest developmental diagnostic survey…”“ I didn’t. I smiled and stood up in the chair a bit taller. “Okie dokie,” I said. “So about Jaden, Mrs. Roberts-” “You can call me ‘Mom’,” she interrupted. “Everyone else has. It’s alright.” I never, ever called an Amazon “Mom”. Didn’t want them getting any ideas. I slid a folder across the table. “Jaden’s doing fine,” I said. “Here’s some samples of his school work. He knows his letters, colors, basic shapes, numbers, and animal sounds. He’s even learned some sight words and we’re working on basic arithmetic using hands on manipulatives.” I suppose In truth, Jaden probably didn’t need an I.E.P. In ten years, maybe five percent of my students had. Technically, my students were all “Developmentally Delayed”, a catchall term meaning that three and four year olds weren’t acting “developed” enough for their parents, but it was still too early to label them with any particular learning disability. Chances are they’d grow out of it, but it was my job to nip it in the bud, so to speak. That’s what it meant for my class, at least. They somehow weren’t living up to Amazonian standards, as ridiculous as they were. Most of my students just needed time, a tiny bit of attention, stimulation, and adults willing to push back on certain undesirable behaviors. I’d had more than one parent all but admit that they pulled strings because public pre-school was less expensive than daycare. “I think he’s got a good head start for Kindergarten, next year,” I said. “I think he’ll outgrow his D.D. label very soon.” “He’s even starting to use the potty at home!” Mrs. Roberts chimed in. Her eyes unclouded now that she finally felt like she was able to contribute to the conversation regarding her child. “Oh yeah,” I agreed. “Not counting nap time, he’s very consistent.” I felt, more than heard my colleague’s hold their breath. I was a Little telling an Amazon that her son wasn’t quite potty trained yet. “He’s four,” I said. “He’ll grow out of it. That and there’s no nap time in Kindergarten.” Mrs. Roberts was all smiles. “I know, right? What is up with that, anyways? No naps in Kindergarten?” I gave my best what-can-you-do shrug and smirk and felt the tension leave the air. “Thank you so much for that, Mr. Gibson!” “You’re quite welcome.” Mrs. Roberts was what I called a second-year-parent. The majority of my students came to me when they were three and left when they were just about to turn five. Two years. Most of their parents had never seen a Little in a position of authority. If I had a dollar for everytime I’d heard a crack about “babies teaching babies”, I’d make more money than the Superintendent. I’ve had parents who’ve openly talked about putting me in a playpen, or taking me over their knee, or offered to let me sit in their lap, or asked where the “real” Pre-K teacher was. I ‘d be halfway to retirement if I got a bonus for that. That was my first year with any given parent. For some reason they just couldn’t wrap their head around the idea that their child’s very first teacher was a Little. By Fall of their child’s first year, I was an incompetent who was going irrevocably damage their precious boy or girl. By mid to late Spring of their second year, I was a miracle worker who’d whipped their kid into shape. First they couldn’t stand me, then they didn’t want to leave me. “I’m gonna miss Jaden being in your room, Mr. Gibson.” Mrs. Roberts gushed. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m nervous about Kindergarten.” I smiled. All reassurance. “Don’t be. Jaden’s grown up a lot, and he’ll do a lot more. Just wait and see.” “I still can’t get over it,” she went on. “When he didn’t potty train at two, I thought he was...was…like a...like...a....” She stopped. Clearly, she didn’t like where this train of thought was going and who it might offend. At least she was cognizant enough to watch what she was saying in front of me. Progress. “Not every kid potty trains at two. They’re called late bloomers because they do still, in fact, bloom.” Mrs. Roberts leaned over the table a bit. Much more at ease. “Still, I gotta know, for future reference..how’d you do it? What’s your secret?” My secret? I made the kid change himself. Peeing and pooping yourself isn’t nearly as fun when you’re the one who has to clean it up. Especially if you’re made to do so and you’re missing play time. “If I told you that, I might put myself out of a job.” That got a laugh from just about everyone assembled. “Mr. Gibson is really good at motivating his students,” Miss Winters, the physical therapist said. She was only at this meeting to officially dismiss Jaden from P.T. Kid didn’t need any help with his gross motor skills at all. “He really makes a connection with them.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Mr. Gibson is very good at getting into the mindset of his children,” Mrs. Bankhead said, not even looking up from her laptop as she typed away at the meeting’s minutes. Miss Sosa nodded. “He is very empathetic. We’re lucky to have him.” From there, the meeting went back to auto-pilot. Academic goals were presented and read. “By the review date, Jaden will recognize and read thirty Dolch Sight words.” “Jaden will add and subtract using manipulatives with sums and minuends up to twenty” “Jaden will write his first and last name correctly with legible handwriting.” And so on and so forth. Fairly advanced stuff for a kid who hadn’t gotten into Kindergarten just yet, but a kid’s need for an I.E.P. would only be re-evaluated every three years, so I made the goals to. “To be clear,” I said, “these aren’t the ONLY things that we’ll be working on. These are just the goals that I’ll be collecting data for.” “Of course, Mr. Gibson.” Mrs. Roberts reached out and shook my hand. Another satisfied customer. After that, minutes were read, papers were signed and I was able to walk out of the meeting room and make a bee-line for my personal sanctuary. *************************************************************************************************** Tracy was laughing when she opened the classroom door for me. Not polite laughing, fake laughing, either. Full on belly laugh cackling. “Hey, Boss!” she said. “How was the meeting?” Most of the kids were busy doing coloring worksheets. Social Studies. People in our community. Basic fun stuff. No sense in having Tracy run herself ragged in my absence, but somebody had to watch the kids. “Second year, parent,” I said. “So it went well.” “What does ‘second year parent’ mean?” I heard. I looked past Tracy. Sitting at my kidney table, playing a match game with a couple of my students was a dark haired Amazon woman. Not a stranger. Not exactly what I’d call an acquaintance, either. Tracy gestured to the intruder, not a hint of weariness in her tone. “Administration sent Ms. Grange over to help while you were at your meeting.” Janet Grange. Third Grade Teacher. Time to go into action, and graciously get this stranger out of my room. I went over to my kidney table. “Thank you so much, Ms. Grange for taking the time to assist my students.” “Mrs. Grange, actually,” the Amazon said. She didn’t sound particularly snooty about it. Most Amazons insisted that the shorter folks get their titles precisely correct. “And don’t worry about it, Mr. Gibson. My kids are out at P.E. so I had some extra time. This was fun. Tracy and I were just telling jokes about our husbands.” Tracy? Joking about her husband? She never talked about her home life. Sometimes I legitimately forgot she was married until she started talking about Aaron...or was it Eric? I could never remember. “Oh really…” “Tell him what you told me!” Tracy said, giggling just at the thought. This was weird. Tracy only ever let her guard down this much around Beouf. And we’d known Beouf for years. Mrs. Grange smiled. It was thin. Polite. Maybe slightly embarrassed? “Nah,” she said. “The moment’s passed. Not really a joke. You kind of had to be here for it.” I did my best to give a comically exasperated sigh and shake my head smiling. “Thank you again.” I said, wishing she’d take the hint. “Before I go,” Grange said, holding up a piece of paper scribbled with my handwriting. “Can I ask you about this?” Internally I froze. I’d been bored and working on math problems the other day at my desk. Nothing major. Just sometimes counting to a hundred and stopping there got boring. “Oh that?” I said. “Was just trying to think of a different way to teach greatest common factors.” If I couldn’t have been a Pre-K teacher, I would have wanted to be a Math teacher. Other way around, if I’m being honest. “But why use a factor tree?” Grange asked. “Because if I reach prime factorization of two numbers, I can re-multiply all the prime factors that they have in common to make the greatest common factor. That way I don’t accidentally miss something and I don’t have to go through listing each and every variation.” Grange pouted her lip out. “Huh…” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought about it like that. I would have just listed all the factors, individually.” Again, she wasn’t being critical, but typical me was nervous that this was some kind of trap. “Yes, but if your third graders don’t have their fact families completely memorized, they could overlook something and identify a common factor instead of the greatest common factor.” “I know,” she said. “I’ve got stragglers in my class who think that the GCF for every even number is two. This is safer. Makes them think it through instead of just plain memorization. I like it.” I smiled; I had to show appropriate gratitude. “You can steal it if you’d like.” Please please please! Just get out of my room so that I can let my guard down! Thank goodness she couldn’t read my thoughts. “I don’t know…” she clicked her tongue. She put down the paper and stood up, really towering over me. I swallowed, feeling my throat go dry. “I don’t think I could explain it the right way. Think you could drop by my room in a day or two and teach it to my kids?” This was a trap. It had to be a trap. There was no other explanation. “I’m not sure I have the time. My students don’t have the same schedule as the older kids.” “You could go during nap time,” Tracy offered. “That should be fine.” I shot her a look. Why was she not reading me?! TAKE THE HINT! Grange looked past me and to my Tweener assistant. “When’s their nap time?” “Just after Noon.” Murder. I was going to murder Tracy. That’s what I’d have to do… The intruder nodded. “Okay. So I’ll rearrange my Math block for just after Noon this Friday. How’s that sound, Mr. Gibson?” I smiled. Big, toothy and fake. “Great,” I said. “Just great.”

I have an idea that sprung forth out of this. Not making promises, but you might see something new from me by year's end addressing the concept.

“Daycare!!” I was incredulous. I’m 20 years old for fucks sake, and I was just told that because it was best if I wasn’t home alone I was going to daycare. Even though my parents had the bad habit of treating me like a little kid, today was the most “4 years old” I’ve felt since I was four years old. I woke up with soaked sheets, and was enrolled as the newest member of “Miss Marmalade’s Daycare” as a student! The way my mom announced the decision made things all the worse. After going through the shameful exercise of balling up my pee soaked sheets and pajamas and trudging to the laundry room, only to have my dad see me and say, “Aww champ, it’s alright, accidents happen to boys your age all the time” which made it even worse because boys my age definitely don’t have accidents “all the time” I sat down for breakfast. Immediately I could tell that my mom was hard at work with some sort of arts and crafts thing. Growing up, she always went all out for all of the holidays, from the first day of school, to Christmas, and even obscure holidays that nobody really observes like flag day. Being unaware of anything worth mentioning at the moment, I simply asked “Whatcha making?” She responded cheerily, “Back to school kits, wanna take a look?” I obliged, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks. There were two identical baskets that contained the necessary supplies for a kindergartener. Crayons, coloring books, markers, you name it, it was in there. Laid on top was a note to the same woman introducing who each of my mom’s two boys were. I read mine for a second, “Jamie likely thinks he is too big to be here, but it is for his own good.” My protests against this move were futile. I was going on Monday whether I liked it or not. At least my parents did not overreact to the wet bed this morning.

Scene #43 I think this may mark the end of the newlywed phase, and I’m gonna apologize right now for the TMI, but this is my diary and posterity needs to know these things to understand how things went down and not just get the lopsided view of The Punisher. So sorry to be crass, but we all know that relationships follow a particular arc: there’s the phase when you’d explode before farting in front of your significant other, followed by the phase when you’re finally comfortable enough around one another to let one rip now and again, and the phase when it stops being cute and just becomes yet another reminder you’re partnered with a human and that humans are animals, which is to say they’re gross. Well, I think our Phase 3 just began. We also know, however, that some humans, such as myself, are special. Take Mary, as a for instance. She is a lioness. Take Nana - she’s a wise old owl. And take me. I’m a spritely woodland sylph. Not that I make glitter ... I should just shut up and tell the damn story. I farted. I admit this. I am not ashamed of it. We all do it, which is why I didn’t get in trouble for it even if it woulda been more polite to excuse myself, but again, we were in Phase 2 just a couple hours ago. Maybe I need to rewind further. I’d spent the day searching for some freelance gigs. We could use the money, and it would give me something to do. I’ve been toying with the idea of finding something permanent, hard as that would be right now, but I’m not ready to give up on the idea of going back to school and changing careers. Around three in the afternoon, I called it a day and was putting my laptop away, and who should stop me in the hall but she of the wandering hands. It took her maybe longer than most to figure out this permanent work from him thing means she has the flexibility in her workday to, say, rail her wife and then go back to her desk like nothing happened. Before going back her desk, while I was laying sprawled on the bed recovering and trying to remember my name, she decided I’d be more comfortable dressed in what she wanted me dressed in. “Legs up,” she said from the normal plane of existence I wasn’t ready to return to yet. “Again? You’re insatiable,” I said with my eyes still rolled back into my head. “No, sweetie, let’s get you dressed.” And back to reality. I forced myself to pay attention to the world again. “Aww, c”mon. It’s too warm out.” “So you can skip the shorts.” “But ... urgh ... please?” “Nope.” “But ...” Over close to a year I’d tried every argument I could think of, and I had nothing new to offer up, not that it had ever mattered before what’d I’d said anyway. I just lay there and let her put another one of those things on me. I was quite fine and comfortable as was. And she just ignored my request, again. I was starting to get a little miffed that this was becoming more frequent and I seemed to have even less of a say over it than before. And I barely had any say at all before. I went from zilch to nada. I missed zilch. “One of these days,” I muttered. “What?” “I’m gonna ... do something.” Dammit. I’m usually more ready with something pithy, but I was still feeling discombobulated from Mary’s hallway ambuscade. “You make the cutest threats,” Mary replied. “There,” she said and patted my front, “and you can pick out your very own top.” She winked at me. “I pick out my own clothes every day,” I whined. Well, almost. She doesn’t really pick them out so much as sometimes lay things out, but since I’m not working she doesn’t do that very often. “And you get to do it again - yay!” “Stop celebrating the mundane,” I said as I sat up with a crinkle. “It’s just mean.” She reached over and let her fingers do a little tickle under my chin. “Daffy.” “Yeah,” I said and successfully almost didn’t giggle. “Such a cutie pie.” “I’m bitter and full of venom,” I replied and crossed my arms. “How bitter is Daphne,” she sang. “Stop,” I said and successfully almost didn’t laugh. “Soooo bitter,” she sang even louder with a big, stupid smile on her face. “We’re going to need normal people lessons when this is all over.” And she went back to her work, and I got started on dinner. So it’s after dinner, and we’re in the living room. I let one rip. I’m not proud. I’m not ashamed either. It wasn’t like a cartoon blast off. Not even worth noticing. “Daffy,” Mary said. “’Scuse me.” “C’mere.” “What? Why?” “Because I said.” She uses that reason for everything. It loses its punch after the billionth time. Not everything can be because she said. “You come here,” I said back. O crap! She’s coming over. “Have it your way,” she said as she crossed the room. She grabbed me under the arm and I was on my feet and she was sitting where I was in a heartbeat. Now, with the no-strikes rule I was well aware I had a spanking coming. Those are the rules. I mean, that was straight up back talk on my part, and with the no-strikes rule in effect, there was only one logical outcome. Her hauling me up and sitting down in my place? Talk about telegraphing the next move: yanking me over her knee. Except she didn’t. I even turned toward her to do it myself (not that I was eager for a smack bottom. Really. Maybe a little. Or a lot. No judging.) “Hold still,” she said and used both her hands on my hips to turn me so I was facing the tv and she was facing, well, my butt. “What are you ...” My question was cut off by the worst noise my wife has ever made. “(SNIFF!)” Did she really … I did not … I never … ever ever … buh huh? I distinctly felt a pop in my brain as one my synapses blew. The Chunnel of my information super highway just collapsed. I stood there with sea water rising around all my commuters. The she, in one of the meanest moves ever, put her hand on my ass. There was distinct cupping. And I love her hand on my ass, but context (freakin’ context, people!) matters, and I was about to jump forward a foot and spin around and explain that to her, but she tugged me backwards. And not on purpose. Well, the tugging was on purposes because she … I don’t wanna say. But history requires its authors if truth as experienced by those who lived it is to be known. She tugged out the back of my (her! Fuck!!!) diaper and (gulp) looked inside. And I wanna crawl into a hole now. She gave me a pat on the butt and announced, “All clean,” like something had just been accomplished, and I suppose she did achieve one thing: I had never been so embarrassed in my life. I mean, that’s a goal we’re striving for much of the time, but I kinda like to be in the know when we’re heading in that direction. It’s a two-player game, and just because you can beat the pants off the other player doesn’t mean you shouldn’t play nicely. There’s a certain decorum to these things, and I’m a big believer in decorum. I’m a high class lady, dammit. I have family honor to defend or something. Of course, I’m too classy to get angry or pouty or lose my cool, which is why I’ve never done it (no one asked you!), so I saw this as a teachable moment for Mary. I turned to her and said something to the effect of, “I-didn’t-and-I-never-and-I-never-will-and-don’t-even-and-you’re-just-a-big-B-sometimes!” And never has anyone ever done such a classy foot-stomp-fist-clench-glare-face-turn-red combination before. She smiled back at me, and that when my classy wheels began to fall off. I cut her off before she could get out whatever her response was with, “Don’t! Whatever you’re gonna say, no! No! Bad girl!” Huh? O my god, she was so damn delighted with herself. “It wouldn’t be unheard of for girls in diapers …” “Don’t even say it! Don’t you dare say it! Don’t you dare even say it!” If by chance you run across some primary source material alleging that I stomped around the living room like Sally Brown in the pumpkin patch demanding restitution and threatening to sue, that’s all a buncha crap. I’m too classy. Plus, Sally Brown is … blonde. “Daphne, I was just making sure you didn’t make a …” I’m too classy to type what she said. Really. I’m very demure. I just decided to take the high road and respond with, “(High-pitched meeping noises) and (sound of steam escaping) and you’re just (alley cats fighting noises) and I’m (world’s most articulate plane crash).” It made total sense if you were there. “Okay,” she said, ending my mini-parade around the living room by taking my wrist. “C’mere and have a seat.” Hmmph! “I don’t wanna sit with you.” “Why not?” “You’re making funna me.” “I am not,” she said while making funna me, “I just wanna make sure you’re well taken care of.” “Stop,” I whined. I was on the edge of hyperventilating (classily). “Okay. We won’t talk about it anymore … unless it happens again.” “You’re so damn amused with yourself,” I accused her. “I’m amused by you and your histrionics.” “I have no histrionics. I have normal reactions to the abnormal things you do to me because I’m just a regular person and you’re a big weirdo.” “Now you’re not being truthful,” she accused me of being. “I’m telling the truth. You just can’t handle the truth! No truth handler you. I deride your truth handling abilities! Truth is mishandled in your mishandling hands of dishandling!” See? That’s how normal people talk (really!). “You,” she said with that wolf-grin of hers on her (pretty) face, “are just like me.” “Am not.” “I can prove it.” “I’d like to see you try.” “Then hold still and lemme check the other side of that diapee.” “Marrryyyy … ooh! … you’re … o! … so … m … m …” “Mean? I know.” I hate it when she’s so wrong she’s right.

Chapter 3 “Jake!” My mom yelled, “Time for your check.” It was the morning ritual all over again. “Dry! You did it! A whole week dry! You know what that means!” Jake did not hesitate, “Big boy pants all the time!” I could not help but feel immensely proud of him. How could he accomplish such a difficult goal. Staying dry was one of the most impressive things going, I thought. Then Mommy turned to me. “Now your turn Jamie!” My turn, what does she mean by my turn? I’m 20, I have not gone through this ritual for almost 15 years! That’s when I noticed that my underwear felt, softer, more comfortable, almost inviting, but oh so bulky. I felt like I went out of body, as I lowered my sweat pants for the big reveal. I was in pullups, the same Paw Patrol pullups that my kid brother just graduated out of! A quick comparison showed that unlike his, mine had gotten their full use. “Oh honey, well you must have slept very well last night.” My mom said as she was running her finger around the swollen leak guards. “You’re soaked.” Go mark it on your chart. My mind was racing again, since when did I have a chart?!? But lo and behold, right next to Jake’s chart was a mostly identical one with my name on it. I say mostly identical because where he had almost all sunshines, I had almost all Xs. My palms began to sweat as a picked up the marker. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP I awoke with a start. It was all a dream! Instinctively I looked down at my sheets, dry as the Atacama. This became a nightly ritual for me. Every night for the next three nights, the exact same dream. Jake dry, me soaked, mom very understanding. Every night I’d wake up right as I picked up the marker. On the fourth night however, the dream continued. I crossed the big X. Mommy then looked at me, and said, “Jamie can you be big and count your consecutive Xs.” Like a little kid, I pointed each X in a row and counted out loud. “1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10.” 10! I was a verifiable nightly sog monster! After I landed on 10, I looked at Mommy with some expectation. She had a look of kindness on her face, as she said. “That’s a lot mister.” I squirmed, uncomfortable. “In fact, I think that’s too many in a row, and you just aren’t ready for big boy pullups, tonight you won’t have to worry about making it.” BEEP BEEP BEEP I awoke with a start again. Something felt odd, like I sweat through the sheets or something. Then I looked down. I had wet the bed. It was undeniable, my pajama pants and sheets were soaked. I started to cry.

Chapter 11 Mary was left alone for a solid five minutes, wondering what exactly was going on, piecing it all together in her head. Kat had mentioned a safe word. That was a thing for, like… sex stuff. But the diaper cover was involved, and she was supposed to have a babysitter coming to attend to her… It painted a picture in her mind, but not a pretty one. Before she could start to get uncomfortable in her restraints, a woman walked in. She was pretty, and she was dressed… rather like a stereotypical housewife. The hem line was perhaps a little lower cut than was usual, but the sundress and half apron she wore screamed ‘traditional matron figure’. She shut the door behind her, stepping up to Mary with a sweet little smile. “Hello, little one. I’m Rebecca, it’s so nice to meet you.” “I, um…” Mary started to say, uncertainly. “Hello, Rebecca.” “Now,” Rebecca said. “I heard that you are a very naughty little girl. A little birdie told me you think you’re too big for your diapers. We both know that’s not true, of course, but that doesn’t mean you should get to go telling fibs, should you?” Mary was just confused now. “I’m… sorry?” “Oh, you will be,” Rebecca beamed. “Now, what would you like me to call you?” “Erm… Mary, I guess.” “Alright, Mary,” Rebecca walked up to her, adjusting her cover and removing it with a handheld scanner that deactivated the lock. Pulling it aside, she hung it up on a hook on the wall, giving her access to Mary’s diaper. “Oh my, this is quite soggy. You had more than a few little accidents, didn’t you?” “I don’t know, I guess?” Mary said. What’s her game? Rebecca giggled. “Of course. Little ones can’t even tell when they’ve had accidents.” Untaping the diaper, she maneuvered a foot behind the table, pulling out a diaper pail and lifting the lid so that she could throw the sodden garment away. Then, she stepped back to the table, picking up another object that had a roughly similar shape to the diaper cover. It was all stainless steel, and though Mary didn’t recognize it on sight, she could easily guess at its purpose. “Do you know what this is, little Mary?” Rebecca asked, as though she were asking a child if they recognized a toy. “It’s a… chastity belt, right?” “That’s right.” Rebecca smiled, fluttering her eyelashes prettily. “Once you leave this room, you’re going to be wearing this chastity belt. You don’t get a choice in that. However, I’m going to make you a little deal, little one.” “What’s that?” Mary tilted her head. Setting the chastity belt aside, Rebecca picked up a magic wand, using it to gesture. “I’m going to play with you. If you get through all of our playtime without asking to cum, then for the rest of the weekend, you can have a diaper change whenever you ask for one.” “But…?” Mary asked, sensing a catch. “But,” Rebecca confirmed. “If you want to cum, you will tell me that you’re a little diaper whore who never wants to use the potty. You’ll get what you want, and you won’t get a single diaper change for the rest of the weekend.” Stepping close, dropping her tone, she added, “You’ll have to stay in the same smelly, sticky diapers until we let you go.” That was a fairly easy decision. Mary would just not ask to cum. It wasn’t complicated in the slightest. ‘Uncomplicated’ wasn’t the same as ‘easy’. Moving her body closer to Mary, her dress shifting a little, Rebecca’s free hand drifted down between Mary’s legs, and slowly, sensually, she began to play. … “Where’s Mary?” Ethan demanded into the receiver. Katherine paused on the other end of the line, doing her best to sound genuinely confused. “How could I possibly know that?” “I don’t- You know something you’re not telling me.” He was pacing the apartment, taking long, deep breaths. “I did an emergency request for her GPS locations. The night she stayed out late and missed her evening change, she was at the office.” “Was she?” Kat asked, her tone innocent and saccharine. “Cut the shit. I’m not stupid enough to believe it was a coincidence that you fucked with my hours the next day. Where is she?” That took Katherine aback. She wasn’t surprised that Ethan had pieced it together - it was an easy thing to logic through, once he had the GPS information. She’d never heard him swear, though, not in the five years he’d been working for her. “Fine. I was feeling vindictive that she broke into our servers so I decided to get her back. Would you rather I called the police on her for trespassing?” Ethan wasn’t having it. “If Mary gets hurt-” “Mary is fine.” “So you know where she is? What aren’t you telling me?” Kat sighed. “Mary is fine, because Mary is a smart, clever, resourceful woman who wouldn’t just drive off into danger for no good reason.” “Hmm.” “You disagree?” “No, but I know you’re not telling me everything.” Kat rolled her eyes. “You’re one to talk about being open. Have you told her yet?” “That’s not- That doesn’t matter,” Ethan said, flustered by the unexpected question. “You mean you’ve been changing her diapers for most of a month now, and she still doesn’t know? Ethan, that’s-” “I’m hanging up now. If you find her, call me right away.” The phone clicked, and Kat sat back in her chair, satisfied. … “Oh, oh god, don’t stop, don’t-” Mary whimpered. She’d been reluctant at the start, but as Rebecca’s fingers teased her with incredible delicacy, her trepidation had melted away. For the third time in a row, Rebecca pulled away just as Mary reached the edge, leaving her frustrated and desperate. “You know what you have to say, little one,” she teased. Mary groaned, but she shook her head. Sighing, Rebecca stepped away for a moment. “We’re in this for a while then, I see. I suppose we’ll need to take a few… precautions.” Squirming, Mary futilely tried to get a little more pleasure, but there was nothing for her grind against. Without Rebecca’s touch to make her melt, there wasn’t anything she could do. Rebecca was content to take her time. She unfolded a puppy pad and slid it beneath the base of the table Mary was cuffed to, to prevent any leaks. While she was down there, she took a pair of booties, slipping them onto Mary’s feet with quick little motions. They felt odd, though it took a moment for Mary to place why. The soles weren’t just soft fabric like she’d expected, they were shaped, curved slightly, so that they slipped and slid no matter how Mary tried to put her weight on them. She had the table to support her for now, once she was standing, it’d be particularly difficult to walk with them. Next, came a pair of matching pink mittens, which slipped over Mary’s wrists and pulled tight. The purpose of those was more obvious - as long as the mittens were on, Mary’s hands would be all but useless. Finally, Rebecca leaned into Mary, their bodies close, and reached between her legs once again. This time, though, she went further back, and Mary gasped when she felt a slick, lubed-up tip of hard rubber play at her backdoor. Rebecca went slowly, using gentle force, teasing Mary open until the whole plug went in. It wasn’t enormous, but it was wide, and heavy, and Mary couldn’t ignore the feel of it taking up space inside her. “There we go,” Rebecca said, her tone almost a coo. “No more worries about your little accidents, or your little fingers or toesies getting hurt. Now, where were we?” Reaching down, her thumb and index finger teased at Mary’s clit, making her breath catch. Taking that as a good sign, Rebecca moved a little lower, one of her fingers probing inside. Mary tensed, and shook her head. “W-wait, no-” Noticing the change in mood, Rebecca pulled away immediately. “What is it?” “I don’t…” Mary frowned, shaking her head. “Nothing inside, while I’m tied up.” “Oh,” Rebecca smiled, her tone soft. “Of course, little one. Whatever makes you comfortable.” Looking Mary up and down, she added, “Well, not too comfortable, but you know what I mean.” Mary felt unsure of herself. In her head, none of this was a good thing - she didn’t think she should want to be cuffed at all, having this woman tease and play with her, trying to goad her into begging for humiliation. And yet, despite knowing the safe word to let herself out in a second, Mary had only balked at one thing. I don’t like this. I shouldn’t like this. So why- Her train of thought was abruptly derailed by a sudden vibration from the plug. It was unexpected, but… not unpleasant. “I don’t want to stay in the same diaper,” Mary whimpered. “P-please.” “You don’t have to, dear. That’s your choice.” Rebecca held up a remote, very deliberately pressing a button on it, and the plug inside Mary buzzed faster, more intense. Mary’s breath caught, and Rebecca brought her to the precipice of pleasure once again, never quite letting her go over the edge. Would it be so bad? She considered. It’s only a few days. You went twenty four hours before, when- Catching herself, Mary shook her head. There was no way she would agree to that sort of humiliation, just for a brief moment’s pleasure. Even so, as the plug thrummed and pulsed with vibrations, as Rebecca’s fingers slowly teased their way inside her… she couldn’t help but wonder. Opening her mouth to gasp, she was surprised to feel Rebecca’s fingers playing against her lips, her other hand no longer free. Instinctively, without needing any guidance or direction, Mary closed her lips and sucked on her fingers, and as a reward for her obedience, Rebecca thrust her other hand deeper inside Mary. Helpless to do anything else, Mary moaned, drool dripping down her chin. “P-pweath,” she begged around the fingers on her tongue, praying that Rebecca might have a streak of mercy. “Just give in, sweet thing,” Rebecca whispered in her ear. “Just tell me you don’t want to change, that you would love to be my stinky, helpless little slut, trapped in your own accidents, only able to fantasize, play, and fill your padding. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Every phrase was emphasized by a little more sensation, a little more pleasure, and Mary found herself inclined to agree. “Y-ye-” And then, the pleasure vanished. The buzzing stopped, and Rebecca pulled both her hands away. Mary whimpered, kicking her bootie-clad feed, and her babysitter laughed. “Oh, I’m not ready for you to say yes just yet, little Mary. It’s good to know how easy you are, though.” “You are horrible,” Mary groaned. “I hate you.” “Aww, you’re just feeling fussy,” Rebecca teased. Turning her back, she walked over to the table, picked up the wand, and flicked it on. It began buzzing in her hand, and she returned her attention to Mary. “I think I know just what you need.” … Ethan leaned in over his keyboard, typing away. There had to be something he was missing. Mary couldn’t have just blocked out the wireless signals from the collar. He’d set them up himself. Four redundant systems, with two separate transmitters. If they weren’t all blocked at the same time, they’d sent up a warning signal immediately showing a signal loss. Besides that, though, he didn’t know how Mary planned on removing the cover without hurting herself. Without GPS, tracking, or any sort of signal, there was only a solution he could think of, but it was terrifying. She’d have to hole up in a hotel room or a friend’s house, and repeatedly activate the shock collar, the drugs, and the other countermeasures until they were all exhausted. Mary would basically be torturing herself for days, and he knew she was stubborn enough to do it. As far as Ethan was concerned, she’d won. And now, she was going to put herself through hell to prove it. He didn’t even want to think about the suffering she was going through. … “F-f-fuck!” Mary whimpered, as another wave of pleasure rolled through her body. “Don’t stop!” … I should never have let her do this, Ethan thought. It was absurd - he couldn’t have stopped her - but he still felt responsible. Or, rather, Kat was responsible. She’d done this on purpose. She’d brought Mary in, gotten her in this position, gotten her in trouble. If I’d just told her the truth- Ethan shook his head, tabbing through information about the cover. Marketing plans, distribution, potential markets. Mary had never been given the full story. They were making a version of the cover for nursing homes, sure, but that was a half truth. That version would only feature the lock and the safety features. No shocks, no collar, nothing that could potentially hurt the patients. Ethan tabbed to the next menu. The sales pitches they’d put together for various Corrections Departments, as a punitive alternative to ankle monitors. That would be the biggest market, if they could sell enough legislators on it. But, it wasn’t the only other market. Tabbing through, Ethan looked at the idea that’d gotten this whole project started. Sales to niche fetish communities. Project Impound hadn’t started as a business opportunity. Ethan had been working on his off hours, reading up about a new variety of kevlar that the company was developing. He’d gotten thinking and, on a whim, put together a rough sketch for a diaper cover using the material. It was a silly idea, made more out of fantasy than any intention of actually producing the design. The original sketch had a big steel padlock hanging from the front. But, like an idiot, he’d saved the project on his work computer. When he’d clocked in the next day, Kat had been waiting for him in his office. When he was busted, he’d initially imagined he was going to get fired. Instead, Kat was on board. She understood the kink angle, but she hadn’t given him crap about it - instead, she asked about possible sales opportunities, practicality, cost. She’d thought about it like a CEO, and asked him to draft up a real proposal. Project Impound had been born, out of a kink he’d never wanted anyone to find out he had. That was supposed to be the end of it. It was a work project. Mary didn’t need to hear about it. But then, Kat had gone and dragged his fiance into it. And now she was missing, and in danger. And if Ethan had just been honest, none of this would have ever happened. I’m such an idiot. … Mary panted. She’d been on the precipice of an orgasm for longer than she could count. Five minutes? Ten? Is time even real? “Just say it, little one,” Rebecca whispered in her ear. “You know it’s true.” “I-” Mary stammered. I can’t take it anymore. She couldn’t remember the exact words, but she improvised, doing her best to satisfy her babysitter. “I’m- I’m a little diaper slut. P-please, just let me use diapers, I never want to use the toilet again, I don’t want to change, j-just… just let me-” The wand pulled away. The plug stopped buzzing. Rebecca stepped back. “See? I knew it was true. Doesn’t it feel nice to admit it?” Mary stared, her frustration making her whole body feel tense and full of energy. “Huh? Why’d you-” “I never said you’d get to cum, little Mary,” Rebecca smirked. “I said you’d get what you want. And you just made it very clear to me what you want.” “No,” Mary shook her head. “No, wait. That’s not what I want at all!” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “We both know that’s not true, little baby.” Setting down the wand, she picked up the chastity belt, approaching Mary with malice and amusement dancing in her expression. Mary stammered, squirmed, tried to think of a way out of it, but nothing came to mind. She was helpless. Gently removing the plug, Rebecca set it aside, slipped the cage up between Mary’s legs, and buckled it in. She didn’t have to lock it - the point was to provide a barrier to sensation. Mary wouldn’t be able to remove it regardless. Rebecca locked it anyways, so that Mary could hear the little ‘click’ as her chance of satisfaction was locked away. “Now,” Rebecca cooed. “You’ve got a whole weekend ahead of you, and we certainly don’t want you to leak. Let’s get that taken care of.” Mary swallowed, her throat dry. What did I get myself into here? And yet, at the same time, she shuddered with excitement. And what comes next? I hope you enjoyed! If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon if you're able. The support helps keep me afloat, and I do my best to make your patronage worth it with early access, exclusive stories, and other perks. Also, I have an ebook out on Gumroad, "Delta Lambda's Little Stinker", featuring teasing, public and private humiliation, hyper messing, and more! Check it out: https://gum.co/RJuFW

It's like catnip. I can't resist.

It just gave me warm fuzzies when I discovered you gave me a new chapter of this for my birthday yesterday.

Super dry kids small, just a little wet right now.

I’ve just woken up in a very wet crinklz aquanauts.

No! Just embarrassed for Dafi cause that mean ladies bulling her! *pouts and glares like a sullen 7 year old* ??

North Shore Supreme blue polka dot. Supremes are my favorite, then Abena.

Hey everyone I am fine! Just been royally busy! Had first real family vacation in a long while!

It’s not a hobby, it is a lifestyle. Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

Northshore Megamax! I fell in love the first time I tried one and now they're all I wear any more. Also sadly dry. ;_;

???

Loved it! Can’t wait for more!

Hello! Here's something I wrote for a contest over on Discord using the prompt "A Walk In The Park" and i figured I'd post it here so all of you can (hopefully) enjoy it. I might continue this in the future if I feel motivated enough as well. Frienemies “Ahhh… What a wonderful day for a run,” Melanie said to herself as she took in the scent of fresh summer air. Despite being summer, the temperature had finally hit that perfect midpoint between not hot enough to feel like you were baking in an oven, but not cold enough that you needed to bring along a sweater. Course, an experienced runner like Melanie usually didn’t care about the weather, having run through scorching heat, freezing cold and snow, rain, and even a hail storm in the past, the refreshing weather just meant less prep to deal with before she could finally head out. Already Melanie had run just about a mile and a half and she barely felt winded, still having plenty of distance to cover. So far her path had lead her to the local park, where groups of people were also out enjoying the beautiful day. The only reason she had stopped at all was to grab her water bottle from her bag and take a quick gulp of water. Hydration was important for a runner, afterall, and Melanie knew that experiencing dehydration during a run once had been one time too many, so she always made sure to take frequent hydration breaks. Sure, drinking so much water had let to a little… issue at first, but Melanie had found a quick and easy solution to that little problem a long time ago, one carefully hidden beneath her running shorts. She was also wearing a loose fitting tank top that did a wonderful job of showing off her well fit body to any passersby, her long blond hair done up into a ponytail to keep it out of the way while she ran. Many times Melanie had been informed by others that she could have easily gotten into modelling with her kind of physique, but running had and would always be her number one passion. As Melanie put her lips to her water bottle for another sip, she was blindsided by someone bolting right by her, followed by a cry of “On your left!” Melanie scowled as she caught sight of the woman who had so brazenly run passed her. Even from behind, there was no mistaking that bright auburn hair tied back into a ponytail. She had just been passed by Abigail Forrest, an new up and comer in the marathon scene who had already started making a name for herself. Despite barely knowing each other, a rivalry had formed between her and Abigail after several races spent trading positions back and forth and pushing themselves to pass each other. Even though this wasn’t a race, Melanie’s pride refused to allow Abigail to pass her uncontested, so after stashing her water bottle back into her bag, Melanie broke into a sprint and took off like a rocket, intent on catching up with her rival and paying her back in full. It took almost no time at all for Melanie to a catch up to her rival, a grin spreading across her lips as she sped up and yelled, “On your left!” as she raced past Abigail. Glancing over her shoulder, Melanie felt a sense of satisfaction as she took in the confused look on Abigail’s face at being overtaken so easily. Her satisfaction was short-lived however, as Abigail’s expression changed to one of determination as she too increased her pace with the intent of catching up, prompting Melanie to do the same. Around and around the park the path took them, the pair never far apart from one another as they fought to gain the advantage over the other. Melanie could already feel her muscles starting to tire, her breathing growing slightly more laboured with each passing moment. Normally Melanie would have slowed down to catch her breath, but right now that wasn’t an option for her, as slowing down for even a second would be conceding to Abigail that she was better than her, and Melanie wasn’t about to let that happen. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Abigail was also beginning to noticeably tire out, so all she had to do was outlast her long enough before leaving her in the dust. However, as the pair rounded a small duck pond, a mother with a stroller suddenly appeared in their path. With only seconds to avoid a potentially messy collision, both runners tried to swerve our of the way to avoid running through the mom and her child. Several things all happened at once. As Abigail swerved, she accidentally bumped her shoulder against Melanie’s, enough so to cause her to stumble slightly. As Melanie stumbled, her heel caught onto a loose stone, resulting in her losing her footing for a moment. Unfortunately for Melanie, she had been running as close to the inside of the pathway as she could at the time, meaning when she stumbled she lost her footing completely and, with zero time to recover, Melanie tumbled over and fell ass first into the duck pond with a large SPLASH! Skidding to a halt, Abigail rushed over to her rival to see if she was okay. Luckily the duck pond wasn’t too deep, so the water only went high enough that Melanie was still mostly above water, though her feet and behind were both fully submerged. Still, the large spray of water had resulted in her still being wet from head to toe, her soaked shirt clinging to her body while strands of wet hair dangled over her face. Several ducks had already swam over to examine the large object that had suddenly invaded their pond. “Oh my gosh!” Abigail exclaimed as she ran into the duck pond and held out her hand to Melanie. “Are you alright?” Instead of taking the offered hand, however, Melanie scowled as she slapped Abigail’s hand away as she pulled herself up to her feet. “You did that on purpose!” She yelled as she reached up to ring the water out of her hair. “I… I’m sorry…” Abigail squeaked out, turning her head as she mumbled, “It was an accident…” “Ha! Yeah right! Like you expect me to believe that.” Pointing a finger at Abigail, she walked up to her and poked the girl hard in the chest. “You think you’re all that, don’t you? Thinking you’re better than everyone just because you managed to win a few races?” “Wha… No!” Abigail replied. “I don’t think that at all!” “Don’t lie… to…” Melanie trailed off as she became aware of a weight in her shorts, her anger changing into embarrassment as she felt her face grow warm, the sensation of so many eyes on her increasing as as she felt the weight threaten to drag her shorts down with it. Grabbing the waistband of her shorts to keep them from slipping, Melanie whipped her head around until she saw her bag sitting next to her in the water, scooping it up and racing off without a word. While everyone else who witnessed the incident just brushed it off and decided to get on with their day, Abigail just stood there, her eyes drawn to Melanie as she raced off. Or, to be more specific, the noticeable bulge in the back of her shorts. “Could she…” *** “No… no, no, no!” Melanie muttered as she looked herself over. After running over to a large collection of trees she could hide behind, Melanie had quickly checked to make sure she hadn’t injured herself in her fall. Once that was done and she found nothing amiss, she turned her attention to the main issue plaguing her. Pulling down her soaked shorts to her knees, Melanie was now able to fully take in the soaking wet diaper she was wearing. By complete accident, Melanie had found that diapers had been the perfect solution to the problems that came with drinking as much water as she did, mostly needing to either make frequent trips to the bathroom or hold in her bladder, both of which had significantly cut into her running time. Wearing diapers designed for fitness, however, had made a noticeable improvement on her total time, resulting in her wearing one every time she went out for a run. Only now it had transformed into a huge problem. Despite not being very absorbent, the diaper had still sucked up enough pond water from her unexpected dip into the pond that it was now completely soaked, the tapes threatening to rip off at any moment. To make matters even worse, most of the stuff in her bag had also ended up soaked, including the spare diaper she had packed just in case she needed a change, meaning her possible options where dwindling more and more. Right now her only real option was to dispose of both diapers and go commando, but with her shorts so wet already… she didn’t even want to think about that! “What do I do? What do I…” “Melanie?” Melanie froze, her eyes widening with fright as she desperately tried to pull her shorts up and over her diaper before Abigail stepped into view. “Melanie? Are you…” Abigail stopped as she took in Melanie’s trembling form, her eyes quickly gravitating towards the clearly visible diaper the other girl was wearing. Melanie felt like she was about to break out into tears, but she wasn’t about to give Abigail the satisfaction of seeing her cry despite how pathetic she looked. “Well? Go ahead, laugh. I know you want to, so just get it over with and leave me alone…” Unexpectedly, a warm and caring smile spread across Abigail’s face as she shook her head, reaching a hand into her own bag slung over her shoulder for a moment. “I figured you might need… this.” Melanie just stared, her mouth dropping open as Abigail pulled a fresh diaper from her bag and held it out to her rival. Her mind a whirlwind of questions, Melanie eventually asked, “Wh-Why do you have…?” Barely missing a beat, Abigail stuck a finger in the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down just enough for Melanie to clearly see the diaper she was wearing. “Did you think you were the only one?” She said as she held out the spare diaper again to Melanie. “It’s my fault you got all wet like that, so the least I can do is give you something dry to change into.” Melanie scanned Abigail’s face for even the slightest hint of deception, but found nothing but genuine concern for the other girl. A ball of shame began to form in the pit of her stomach at how harshly she had treated the other girl before. With a shaky hand, Melanie gracious took the diaper from Abigail and clutched it close to her chest. “Th-thanks…” “No problem. Did you want me to…” Making a twirling motion with her hand, the still blushing Melanie nodded her head. Turning her back to the other girl, Abigail added, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch while you change.” Melanie just stood there for a moment, unsure if she was dreaming or not. Taking a deep breath, Melanie noticed that the diaper she was holding was slightly different than the white medical ones she usually wore. While this one was also designed for allowing ease of movement and thin enough to hide underneath clothes, Melanie could still see a pattern of rainbow coloured blocks across its plastic surface. While looking up diapers online, Melanie had stumbled across a page made for people who actually enjoyed wearing and using diapers in their spare time rather than needing to wear them, calling themselves Diaper Lovers. Could… Could Abigail be one of them? Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud ripping sound, her attention turning again to her current soaked diaper as she saw that one of the tapes had finally popped free, with the others just moments from coming loose themselves. With little time to spare, Melanie reached down and yanked the tapes free, her diaper dropping like a stone onto the ground with a wet plop. Melanie’s blush only increased as she felt like every sound she made was being broadcast through a loudspeaker as she unfolded the fresh diaper and positioned it so she could tape it up while standing. Despite having started wearing diapers a while ago, Melanie was still a novice when it came to putting on diapers, so she just barely managed to get it on while while still standing up. “Ok, I’m done,” Melanie finally said, prompting Abigail to turn back around and look down at the job she had done. Abigail was clearly not please, shaking her head as she muttered, “What a mess… Here, let me help.” Without even waiting for a reply, Abigail hunched down and began to readjust the tapes on Melanie’s diaper, causing the girl to let out a squeak of embarrassment from the contact. “Do you… do you like this stuff?” Melanie felt herself asking, anything to distract herself from the fact that someone was currently eye level with her crotch. “Sometimes,” Abigail replied as she readjusted another tape. “Helps me to relax when I’ve needed them for as long as I can remember.” “Oh…” Melanie replied quietly. “There, all done,” Abigail said after a moment. Now satisfied, Abigail turned around and began to walk away. “I should get out of your hair now.” “Wa–Wait!” Melanie suddenly called out, causing Abigail to stop in her tracks and look at the girl in surprise. “I’m… I’m sorry about yelling at you before. I can… I can get a little competitive sometimes when it comes to running, especially when it’s someone who can keep up with me like you can. You didn’t have to do all this for me, but I’m grateful for all the help.” “No problem. You’re a pretty amazing runner yourself. Actually…” Reaching into her bag again, Abigail pulled out a notepad and a pen, scribbled something down on it before ripping off a slip of paper and handing it to Melanie. “Here.” “What’s this?” “My phone number. If you ever want to challenge me to a run or just hang out and talk, just give me a call. Well, see ya!” With that Abigail took off, leaving Melanie alone with only her thoughts once more. Pulling up her shorts, Melanie glanced down at the phone number in her hand. She had always seen Abigail as her rival, and while that hadn’t changed, could she… could she also maybe become her friend?

@abwetter1 @Evelyn Dellcerro Being Incontinent, I already believe that I have lost some control, but taking a pill to take away control would make it so that I would not be in as much control as I am now: I already take triamterene (Water pills) for excess fluid, and Miralax for constipation issues, and with IBS and Diverticulitis, I don't think that I would want to take a pill to lose all control of my bodily elimination functions. I don't think I'd want to take a pill to take away control of my bodily functions, although losing control for FUN is a THRILL. Why wouldn't I want to lose control on a permanent basis? Here is why? Yes, its fun to have a diaper on, and experience, or LET a loss of control happen, but as anyone who is incontinent will probably tell you, losing control and having it happen at ANY time can be inconvenient, troublesome or restrictive to whatever you are doing - I like to be active, and using diapers allows me to do that without inconveniencing anyone too much, and also because most bathroom setups I may use as a visitor are NOT set up with safety rails, so safety is a concern, because I can't grab anything solid most times to be able to get myself off the toilet: You also have to realize that slippery floors or dangerous elevations or deformities in terrain can cause me problems, and if I step and slide, I will hit the floor, and possibly injure myself: @Transfusionelle says: I agree with her here: if you have control, you have to realize that for each person who has it, there are people who don't have it: if you don't have it, and that is all you know, then it would be normal for you NOT to have control of bodily functions. Wearing and using diapers is one thing, if you enjoy it, and deal with it. It is quite a DIFFERENT situation when you have NO CHOICE but to use diapers because you don't have any control at all: you then go PEE or POOP anywhere, anytime, and you don't decide when it happens. It just happens: This could cause problems for those who are quads, who have to prepare to go somewhere, or plan how long they can be out, or if they can change where they are, or even sometimes when someone wants you to spend the night or something: Its not easy being disabled, and its really hard if you have to change in an unfamiliar place, or in a place where privacy may not be as readily available as the person would like. Right again: people who are disabled have enormous challenges that they face everyday. In 2019, I "Bit the Bullet" and decided that because of my issues, diapers would be the way I deal with them. In 2020, I decided that I was gonna go 24/7 - This is due to comfort, safety and convenience reasons: I am getting older, and it is getting harder to get up and MOVE if I feel the "I need to go" signal. Right now, I have control of #2, but if I eat good food, new food that I have never eaten before, or food that does not agree with my stomach, I can experience diverticulitis or IBS trouble, and sometimes, I can fill my diaper, WITHOUT ME HAVING ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT, trying to relieve the pressure or pain, and if that happens, it HAPPENS, and as @Transfusionelle says: Loss of control of bodily functions is a BIG thing to lose: We work from the time we are toddlers to gain that control: total loss of control has pretty serious and long-lasting consequences - some people lose it because of disability/injury, while others may lose it due to illness or conditions that weaken this control or quicken the pace at which you may lose continence - Loss of control is a serious issue, and there are individuals who may find that loss of control means that they give up control, and lose a piece of their independence, and diapers can help that person gain confidence, but if you lose control of these functions, you may NOT be able to get them back, so: Take it from a guy who is incontinent, and uses a wheelchair: losing ALL CONTROL, if you could take a pill, or even if you didn't or couldn't do it is NOT all that it is cracked up to be. My family cared for my late brother for 10 years, and had to change him, bathe him, etc, because he was nonverbal and could do NOTHING for himself: I have Cerebral Palsy, and I have accepted that eventually, I may have NO CONTROL at all, but I want to keep what control I do have for as long as I can, because once gone, I won't be able to get it back. I enjoy wearing and using my diapers for their intended purposes, and enjoy the feelings associated with the releases and the sensations that I experience, and if I was in a place where I could just "let go" and NOT have to worry about the mess, because someone is helping me enjoy the experience where I lose control, then would just let it go - BUT - 99% of the time, I HAVE to clean UP the mess, and deal with the smell, and the inconvenience if it happens without my allowing it to happen. It can be FUN to wet and mess, if that is what you do, but it also can be a HEADACHE for those who are incontinent and have no choice but to wet or mess. My Take, for what it is worth Brian

I post photos of myself in my diapers just so others can actually see that I do in fact wear diapers and am not afraid of whomever might see them. I have been openly wearing diapers since 1987 when I was medicaly declaired incontinent, to hide this is just hiding from the fact I wear diapers due to not only my love of wearing diapers but actually needing to wear diapers, even if I brought this apon myself.

I am finding this story to be so good, it is hard to wait for the next chapter!! What a great story line, a new product volunteer tester, and such a fantastic product to be challenged with. A diaper cover that can't be removed, requiring the person wearing it to make use of the diaper below, regardless of the fact that they may have been potty trained many years ago. The best part, a beautiful young lady engineer that believes at the start of this that she would beat this before she had to use the diapers, but no such luck, and now the fun begins as she got on the wrong side of the product developer!!!

A Better Dry, thats not so dry or clean.

I knew it! I fucking knew it! This had fucking MK Ultra all over it! It's those CIA bastards! XD

Have you ever seen the way little girls are dressed over the last 35 years/ There is a deliberate pattern to make girls and boys indistinguaisable that has its roots in egalitarianism. So you have the Kafka-esque situation of parnets telling their kids that they are "special" and having them all look pretty much alike and being raised in batches in day care centers, where the individual attention and bonding, so necessary to developing as an individual human being is impossible. Who knows that at some time in the near futures names will be replaced by a 10-digit number A few years ago, I was at a Thanksgiving dinner where the two little girls arrived in dresses and after were changed into tops and some kind of trousers. That was the first time I had ever seen THAT!! And they way everybody's nose is behind some screen or other. personal communication is becoming a lost art. Nowonder we can't or will not beat the crap out of third-wirld terrorist groups. We've been in Afghanistan for 19 years and Iraq for 17 and still have not got it done Net resutl related to subject.You do not see many girls in dresses any more. So I guess it is a rather special event But I am cute enough to make up for it My clothes feel like flower petals AND I am a BLONDE: a Mommy's delight

Chapter 14 Sitting down to enjoy a bowl of generic brand Fruit Loops Chelsea couldn’t help but squirm; the excessive amount of cream her sister had used made it seem as if she was sitting in a bucket of monkey snot. Anything to avoid that feeling as much as possible she wolfed down breakfast and retreated to her room. Flopping onto her stomach on the bed the college girl began to proof read her American Literature groups ‘Ethan Frome’ manuscript. There were a couple spelling errors, but from what she could tell it was ready to be presented to the class. Unsure if the 13-year-olds little friends had left yet, the 21-year-old shifted around in the bed a bit to find a more comfortable position and began writing dramatic prose about her current predicament. A poem lamenting being stuck in diapers was followed by one wishfully thinking about the fun she’d soon be having on spring break. Before she knew it, seven pages of her notebook had been filled and a rumbling in her belly let her know it was getting close to lunch. Checking her clock revealed it was going on 12:30, just an hour and a half and Kristina would be swinging by to pick her up to meet the boys from the afternoon matinee. Thankful it was only Madison in the living room, Chelsea said, “I’m making chicken tenders for lunch, do you want any?” “Sure.” A grunted response came from the couch. “But shouldn’t I be making you lunch? After all I’m the babysitter.” Red faced and hands on her hips the elder sister fumed. “You are NOT my babysitter! I’m 21 and FULLY capable of taking care of myself!” “Oh really,” the younger sister laughed. “Cause someone’s diapee is looking pretty full from here and I bet she needs me to take care of that for her. Go lay on your bed and after I put lunch in the oven I’ll be up to change you.” Chelsea had enough. Charging towards the couch she leapt atop her sister and the two began to wrestle. The younger girl yanked on the elder’s hair and the pair rolled off the cushions onto the floor knocking over an end table in the process. Both girls paused their bickering at the sound of a lamp crashing to the ground; one filled with dread, the other smug satisfaction. “Wait til I tell mom about this!” The 13-year-old gloated. Falling onto her backside with a squish the 21-year-old could only stammer, “It was an accident.” “You accidentally attacked me?” “No.” Chelsea crawled the three feet to where the lamp lay to examine the damage. The decorative setting where the bulb screwed in had separated from the base leaving it dangling by a pair of wires. “God, I’m so screwed.” “Guess you should have been a good girl for your babysitter, huh?” Madison stuck out her tongue. Filled with fresh rage the 21-year-old chucked the broken lamp in the 13-year-olds direction. Madison had just enough time to turn away causing the wreckage to strike the center of her back and her to scream out in pain. “Ow! What the hell’s wrong with you? I’m calling mom!” In a matter of seconds the matron of the family was on speaker phone, “Hi sweety, did you need something?” A garble of words were shouted by both daughters as they tried to drown the other out. Angie upon seeing the call had come in from Madison allowed her to go first, “Chelsea broke a lamp and then threw it at me.” “She was calling me a baby and making fun of me.” Chelsea interjected not waiting for her mother’s response. “I just saw her come downstairs and said it looked like she needed her diaper changed.” “Girls, girls, stop yelling.” Angie admonished. “Chelsea, just because you are embarrassed having to wear diapers does not give you carte blanche. You’re supposed to be a college student but lately all you’ve done is throw temper tantrums like a toddler.” “She thinks she’s my babysitter!” The 21-year-old defended herself. “And you think that justifies throwing a lamp at your sister?” Angie countered. “Madison, watch what you say around your sister, she’s very touchy. That said, she’s been acting very immaturely as of late and perhaps needs someone to monitor her behavior so for the time being I’m putting you in charge including disciple if needed. Chelsea, try and be good for your sister and do what she says or you’ll have me to answer to when I get home, alright? If she abuses her power let me know and I’ll find someone to babysit the pair of you.” “That’s not fair!” Chelsea whined but her mother had already hung up. “Seems reasonable to me.” Madison shrugged. “Now I think as punishment you need to plant your nose in the corner until I say otherwise.” “Fuck you.” A threat to call their mother back was enough to get the older girl waddling to the corner and the younger into the kitchen to start lunch. Twenty five minutes later the 13-year-old sat eating chicken tenders and fries while staring at the 21-year-olds droopy diaper wondering if it was about fall off her hips. Finally relenting she allowed the elder girl to join her for lunch before replacing the thoroughly soaked disposable undergarment with a fresh one and making sure to apply a generous amount of cream. Plastic pants locked on Chelsea finished getting dressed and waited for Kristina’s arrival in a few short minutes.

The next part will be posted on Tuesday the 25th

i do hope we get at least a glimpse of what the weekend entails for her.

One of the easiest ways to get the formatting is to strip out everything your word processor adds and paste in clean text. I do this by copying in my text to Notepad (I actually use Notepad ++) and the copy it out of Notepad to be put in the DD page.

Sweet - Ballroom Blitz

This morning I made doodoo in my pull-up. I had overslept and didn’t have much time to get ready for work, but I still took a few minutes to sit on my poop log and squish it really well before getting a shower. Today I am expecting a case of Parentgiving pull-ups to be delivered. I am looking forward to pushing my doodoo in these because the small size fits me snug and holds the doodoo close. Thankfully tomorrow is Friday and I will have much more time for poo play.

Wow, our avatars are similar. Unfortunately, i live in the USA. I'm almost 72 and have been enjoying my cloth diapers and plastic pants my entire life.

Dotty the pony diapers are cute, but I also like just a plain colored diaper for a nice balance between plain white diaper and baby print diaper. Hope these will be coming out in larger sizes soon! The Megamax are awesome, and fairly quiet for a plastic backed diaper.

I have insurance but it doesn't cover incontinence products. According to Blue Cross insurance, incontinence products are a convenience item and not a medical necessity. The insurance companies do everything they can possibly do to deny any and all coverage for any and all medical services, procedures, and medical supplies. They are simply out to get your money and deny you your benefits.

Not sure where you live at, but I wanted to add https://www.northshorecare.com/ in the US, to the list. Good diapers, at decent prices. Not that anyone here hasn’t already given good suggestions, just wanted to add that one.

I have several of these which are most comfortable. They have 5 snap fasteners which can be a little fiddly. The price is in Australian dollars. (1AUD = 71 US cents.) https://wonsie.com.au/collections/sleeveless-wonsie/products/white-sleeveless-bodysuit-wonsie

Doesn't anyone have locks on their bedroom doors anymore? I don't know anyone of my friends or relatives that don't have door knobs with a lock on their bathroom and bedroom doors. You wouldn't want your kid walking in on you and your spouse while you were he'in and she'in. The same applies when you're getting dressed. They could see you in your diaper or naked with your willie dangling down. Everyone get a knob with a lock for your bedroom door! They aren't expensive or that hard to put on yourself and look at the piece of mind you will get. While your at it, get one with a key for your closet as well if you're going to hide your diapers in there.

a very wet one! ?

It's been a while since I have updated this story, here is chapter 13. I am also working on 2 other stories, "Kidnapped" and "Cheating Girlfriend", feel free to check them out. I always listen to input and take it into consideration while writing these stories, feel free to provide feedback and input on what you want to happen next. Enjoy ? CHAPTER 13: New Homecoming Dance Day As I hear my alarm go off, I realize that it is time to get up. As I got up, I did the new usual. Take my diaper off, jump into the shower, change into a new diaper, and put on the childish clothes that Jennifer had me wear. Once I put on the clothes, I styled my hair to the way that Jennifer wants, pigtails. As I got done getting dressed and doing my hair, I walked past the mirror and stared in shock. As if I never thought that I would’ve looked younger than I looked on Friday, I now officially look like a toddler. Especially with the diaper peeking out of my miniskirt. Thank god my parents go to work early, I thought. I then got my backpack, put a change in there, and grabbed the pacifier that Jennifer wanted me to have, I headed out the door to be surprised by a 2016 Toyota Camry sitting in my driveway. As I looked in the driver side window to see who it was, the window rolled down to show the face of Jennifer Robinson. “Come on in baby, we need to head to school” Jennifer says. As I got into the car, I noticed that Abby looked nowhere near as childish as I do. Abby wore some jeans and a t-shirt as she normally wore. There was barely even a bulge in her jeans from the diaper. As I got into the car, we headed towards the school. “Do either of you need a change?” Asked Jennifer. “No” we both replied. “Even if I did need a change, I can change myself” I blurted out. This comment seemed to make Jennifer mad. After making that comment, Jennifer grabbed her phone, sent a couple text messages, and waited in the car for a couple minutes. I attempted to open the door so I could get out when I found it unable to be opened. “It’s child locked silly” Jennifer said, “I child locked it so that way you couldn’t get out in case you were naughty which of course you are”. Shortly after Jennifer made that comment, the same friends that were at the party appeared at the door on my side. They proceeded to open the door and escorted me into the building. “Hey!” I exclaimed, “I need to go to my locker to drop off my school stuff”. “Not right now little girl” replied Jennifer, “first we need to settle a couple things”. With that being said, a mischievous smile appeared on Jennifer and her friends’ face. I was scared once I noticed those smiles, that meant that something embarrassing is about to happen to me. As we walk into the nearest bathroom, Jennifer and her friends locked the door and blocked the path to the door to prevent me from escaping. “It seems like whatever I do, you are always a naughty little girl” Jennifer said. “What are you going to do to me now?” I questioned. “Oh you’ll see” replied Jennifer with a smile. Jennifer then opened up her backpack and got out a couple things. “Turn around so your back is towards me” said Jennifer. I did as I was told to prevent anything being added on to my punishment. Jennifer then proceeded to stick something up my butt and I started squirming. “Stay still,” said Jennifer. She then proceeded to stick another two things up my butt. “There,” Jennifer said, “that should do it. Oh! One more thing!” Jennifer then proceeded to get out the plastic pants and put them on me and locked them. “Let’s see you change yourself now, hmm?” Jennifer said as her and her friends laughed. “Now, why don’t we leave the little girl alone so she can head to class” With that being said, Jennifer and her friends walked out of the bathroom leaving me alone. I tried everything I could to try to get the plastic pants off of me, but to no avail, they were stuck onto me until Jennifer decided to take them off of me. I then hung my head in defeat and headed to my locker to put my backpack away and head to my first class. As I sat down, I felt liquid gush all over the diaper signalling that I have uncontrollably wet myself again. About a minute after sitting down in my chair, the bell rang signalling class. Shortly after the bell rang, a voice rang over the speaker “Good morning students, unfortunately due to an unorganized schedule, we were forced to reschedule the homecoming dance. The homecoming dance will now be September 22nd. With this being said, I know that it is an inconvenience for all of you, so we decided that the dance will be free, there will be no admission. Have a good day”. I thought to myself, “ thank god, that means that I have less time in my current state”. I then sit through my science and try to pay attention. I can’t help but lose focus over my soaking wet diaper as well as what else Jennifer has in store for me. What felt like five minutes turned into the whole entire class period. Once I heard the bell, I headed towards the locker rooms to change for gym. As I am walking down the hallway of school, I notice something funny. There isn't a lot of people laughing, it’s as if they either don’t notice the outfit I am wearing or that they are used to it now. Once I got to the locker room, I ran into Jennifer. “Hi baby”, she says “I will be hosting a party this weekend and I want you to go”. With no option, I had to say yes. “Yes mommy”, I say. With that being said, Jennifer and her friends laughed and left. Once they left I heard a loud fart sound come from my diaper. ‘Of course’ I thought as I realized what Jennifer and her friends did this morning. The rest of the day was very embarrassing resulting in wet and messy diapers and changes from Jennifer and her friends during school.

I enjoy the Northshore GoSupreme pull-ups for summer days. I don’t have to hide my diapers at home, they just happen to be in my closet on a shelf.

The woman returned to the living room, a simple dress draped over her arm, and a smile on her comforting face, "Alright sweetie, there is a shower down the hall, go ahead and get cleaned up." The old woman handed Chloe the dress, still smiling, and once the girl had taken the dress, the old woman had started towards the kitchen, "And don't take to long, I am making you a special breakfast." Chloe could just nod, still completely unsure if this was a continuation of her misery, or if something was beginning to turn around. The bathroom was not hard to find, and like much of the rest of the house, had a very high tech vibe. There was even an Echo in the corner. That brought a smile to Chloe's face, "Alexa, play songs by Jasmine Thompson." A moment later, the music started, and Chloe finally began to relax. The warm shower was pleasant, and she never quite understand how nice being clean really was. At least until this morning when she was truly dirty for the first time. The shower finally did have to come to an end though, and she slowly stepped out of the shower, into the cool air, and look at herself in the steam up mirror. She couldn't see details, but she could see her shape and just nodded. It looked like the mud was gone. At some point, the old woman must of slipped in, because her dress, and underthings were all gone, although a pair of panties and a bra had been added to the dress. It never really dawned on Chloe to consider why all of this stuff was in her size. She figured small is not the uncommon of a size for girls her age, and maybe this old woman had a grand daughter or something. Chloe just pulled on the clothings, and smiled as she saw herself in the floral print dress, in the now defogging mirror. She normally wore jeans and t-shirts, but she did always like the way she looked in dresses, especially ones like the one she was wearing now, which was tight around her torso, but the skirts and bust were a looser, helping shape her figure. Chloe took a deep breath, pulling her curly hair into a pony tail, and went back into the living room, hoping that she would be going home now. Instead the old woman was there, with a sweet smelling oatmeal, and a smile on her face. "Eat up sweetie," she said, patting a spot on the couch, and placing the oatmeal on the coffee table in front of the indicated seat. "By the way, my name is Martha," she added. Chloe smiled, "Chloe," she said off handed, "I kinda of just want to go home?" She continued. The whole situation was weird, and she was sure this woman was just trying to help her, but she just wanted to get home. "Its ok Deary," Martha said, "Eat up, and then we will be on our way." The woman smiled, and then vanished back into the kitchen with out waiting for a reply. "Ugh," Chloe said to herself, as she sat down on the couch. She didn't touch the oatmeal at first, but she was hungry, and it was obvious she was not going anywhere until she ate it, so she picked it up and started to eat it. It had the taste of oatmeal, but it was really sweet, not like the brown sugar or fruit sweet, but something else she couldn't identify. When the woman finally came back, she took the opportunity to find out, "What is in this?" "Oatmeal and treacle," Martha replied, "The way my mother made it when I had bad days when I was about your age," she continued, as she sat down in the chair across from her. "So, what are you going to do about those boys that I heard this morning?" Chloe looked surprised for a moment, first as she tried to figure out what treacle was, then at the mention of the boys. "I don't know ma'am... I mean if I tell, nothing is going to happen, it will be my word against theirs. They will probably just say I brought it on myself..." Martha frowned, then nodded, "You might be right, but what if I told you there was a way that it wouldn't matter if people believed their word or not?" She smiled slightly at the end of her question. "Before you say yes though, understand that what I am going to tell you to do always works, but not always in the way you think it will." "Okay?" Chloe said, unsure of what the old woman was meaning, although she really did want to hear. "I mean yes, I want to do it." Martha smiled and said, "Great, you have already taken the first step. That oatmeal has a little bit a magic in it, just enough for you to do one spell." Chloe looked stunned for a moment, but Martha continued, "I can teach you to do more if you still want to after this." She paused a serious look on her face, "I need you to understand girl, there is no going back on this. Once you cast this spell, it can not be undone, even if you don't like how it comes out." Chloe didn't believe Martha, but at the same time, why not just humor her. It would probably get her home sooner. "Alright, lets cast this spell..." "Excellent," Martha responded, and then placed a bowl of clear liquid on the table. Chloe had no idea where that bowl came from, which for a moment made her think that this was real. "Dip your fingers in the bowl, one for each boy you want to curse, then say there names three times. This will connect there threads to yours, then say aloud what you want to happen." Chloe placed four fingers into the bowl, and said, "James, Ryan, Carlos, and Geoff" then repeated those names two more times. On the third time, the clear liquid was silvery, and she could see all four of them laughing in the truck. "I want them to be shamed by the whole school for what they did to me, and I want the school to treat me special, like they did last night before these guys ruined it." With that, the liquid in the bowl was gone. "Oh no," Chloe suddenly blurted out as she bolted up, a wet spot on the couch and pee pouring down her legs. "Oh god no, I can't stop it." Martha nodded, "The magic always works in weird ways," she said, getting up from her chair, a diaper and a new dress on the couch. "Come on, lets get you clean again, and then home..."