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Scene #204 “Okay,” Mary said in her I’m-fed-up-with-this-frosty-silence voice when we were getting ready for bed after we got home, “what did I miss? You were doing okay, and then you got the look.” “What look,” I didn’t say in the most passive aggressive you-mean-this-look-and-this-matching-tone-of-voice tone ever? “That look.” Ooo, big Miss Mary folding her arms like she has a valid point just because her point is valid. Well, screw that! Where to even start with the many ways the evening sucked? For one, Jo and Ann were the center of attention. And for another, their names are fine on their own but stupid together (Joann? Not that they call themselves that, but they could, and these people are not Branjelina, lemme tell you). And Jane and Tommy were so much more interested in Ann than in me. And Brenna and Lisa were … Like everyone wanted to make the newcomers feel welcome, which is so the right thing to do and I don’t care. FUCK! I hate this. I hate feeling this way. It’s stupid and not necessary and since when did I turn into the world’s most insecure titmouse? What happened to the me who met her wife while letting people I barely knew at the time spank me? What happened to her confidence? “Can we not talk about it? I mean, not tonight,” I asked. Mary sighed and gave me her nope face. “I think we should talk about it.” I knew she was gonna say that. I just sighed and made my woe-is-me face. I gotta say, I’m really getting insufferable, in my opinion. “We’re not going to bed like this. Did someone say something? Do something?” If Mary thinks she can defrost my frosty silence by being reasonable, well, she’s got another thing coming. “C’mon,” Mary said and led me to the bedside and pulled me over her lap. “Are you kidding me right now!?! What did I even do?” “Nothing, but sometimes you talk more when you’re over my knee.” “I do not!” I couldn’t see her face, but I knew it had that this-is-my-sarcastic-if-you-say-so look of hers all over it. “I’ve gotten you to confess an awful lot of things with you in this position.” “Let me up!” SPANK. Not a hard one. Didn’t even hurt. “I’m serious, Daphne Ann. You don’t have to look at me from there. Won’t that make it easier to tell me what you’re feeling?” I hate it when she has a point. She usually does. I do, too, but only around eighty percent of the time (seventy percent max on my best day). “I don’t like Ann. There, happy?” SPANK! Okay, that one had a little zing in it. “Please don’t get snippy with me.” She paused to see if I had anything more to say. “Why don’t you like Ann?” “Because she’s just so … She’s … She’s … She’s fine. She’s totally unobjectionable and nice and she makes friends easily, and they’re my friends and I don’t wanna share.” “Okay, I hear you saying that, and I believe you, but that’s why you’re mad at Ann. Why are you mad at me?” “I wasn’t until you pulled me over your knee.” “Yes, you were. What did I do? Tell me, and I’ll apologize.” “She and Jane and Tommy got right into their little headspaces, and you just went right along with them and Ann sat on your knee, and you let her! Okay? Not over your knee. On your knee. Right in your lap like she’s … You do it with Jane too.” “Do what?” “You get all into this big headspace and just … The way you looked at her.” “It’s roleplay, Daphne.” “I know, but … I don’t like it.” “Are you saying you’re jealous of the way I treat Jane when she’s being little, and the way I was with Ann.” “Not jealous. Just … something like jealous but not.” “O … kay. Like envious?” “No.” “Like what then?” Hate admitting when she has a point, but she was probably right that there was no way I’d say this while looking her in the eye. “I don’t want other people to make you that happy,” I told her before that sentence even made sense to me. I could practically hear her cocking her head to the side and making her whoa-try-that-on-me-again face. “What does that mean,” she asked me quietly. Shrinking your voice down to barely above a whisper during hard conversations is a me move. Mary doesn’t really do that unless she’s worried she did something to hurt my feelings. “I wanna be the only person who can make you that happy.” “It’s roleplay,” she said again. She sounded confused and a little mystified, and I don’t blame her one bit for it. “No, it’s not. I mean, it is, but you … You should see how happy you looked when Ann rushed up to you when she was being little. Maybe it is just roleplay, but it makes you so happy.” I am, by the way, aware of just how unfair this is to Mary. She’s allowed to be as happy as she wants to be whenever she wants to be. But I’m also allowed to not like it just like I’m allowed to really dislike myself for feeling that way in the moment, which I did. I felt like a straight up toxic person. “I’m sorry,” I said as I sniffed. “I know I’m not being fair, and I feel awful for feeling that way. I don’t like that I’m jealous but I am and it’s ugly and I’m sorry.” “Sit up,” she said and helped me. She opened her arms, and we held each other very tight. Also not fair that she’s much stronger than me cuz her tight is like a damn death grip sometimes. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said to me. “I don’t mean to.” “I know.” “It’s just … You get that way with littles. I thought it was just Jane, but you were the same way with Ann, and we hardly know her.” “I just like it. It’s fun to get excited and make them smile. I like making them feel special.” “I wanna make you that happy.” “You do, Daffy.” “I wanna make you smile like that.” “You do.” “It’s not the same, the way you look at them. I can tell.” Wow, I really shouldn’t have said that. “That’s not true, Daphne. Don’t you tell me I don’t look at you the same way.” She sounded cross, in a gentle way but the sharpness in her tone was unmistakable. “It’s roleplay. I feel so many ways about you that I never feel about Jane, and I don’t even know Ann. Don’t tell me I don’t just because I put on a face for them. It’s roleplay. I’ll stop if you want me to, but don’t try to tell me that this is because of how I feel and not because of how you feel.” I slid off her lap and sat next to her facing the room but not looking at anything. “I’m sorry.” Also missing back when I used to be able to have this kind of conversation (or was this a fight?) and not cry. “You’re jealous, Daff. That’s what you’re feeling, and you’re making yourself feel worse. It’s okay to feel jealous sometimes.” “I just … It’s not just that. I don’t like feeling like they can give you something I can’t.” “Daff, look at me.” I did. She had such a serious face on, I didn’t even give it a quirky name. “You don’t like sharing me with other littles.” O my fucking gawd. “I’m not a little!” “What then? What do you think they’re giving me that you aren’t? You are everything. You are …” She shook her head. “Fucking cliché,” she muttered. “You are my whole life. You’re everything I ever wanted or will want, and I’ve made sure you know that in every way I possibly can. You don’t like seeing me being a big to other littles. You have no problem seeing me be a domme with other subs, but you get upset when I’m being a big with Jane and now with Ann.” “I don’t.” “I’ve seen you shoot daggers out of your eyes at Jane when she’s in little space and wants my attention, and you looked ready to slap Ann across the face.” “That’s … It’s got nothing to do with her being a little.” “Yes it does! Why is that so hard? I don’t care if you want to call yourself a little or not. You’re … You’re Daphne! You’re you. I don’t care about labeling roles. I don’t care about all the friggin connotations. I care that we keep ending up back in this exact same conversation, and I don’t know how to break out of this pattern. Sometimes it’s me; sometimes it was my fault, and I apologized til I was blue in the face. But this isn’t. This is you inventing a reason to be upset.” “That is not fair, Mary!” She sighed heavily and softened her voice. “I didn’t mean it like that.” “Okay, so we slipped into the ageplay thing together by accident, but you’re the one who leaned into it first. You’re the one who pushed the boundaries. She took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry, and you’re right. But I still don’t know what you want me to do. Just tell me, and I’ll do it. You know I will. All you have to do is say it.” “I don’t know what I want you to do.” “Do you want me to stop being big with Ann?” My turn to take a deep breath. “No.” “Then what? Daphne, I need you to tell me what the solution is here.” “I don’t have a solution. You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Then I guess I don’t understand.” O my god, what have we been talking about? Fine, lemme spell it out for ya: “You’re not her mommy!” “So it is about her being little and me being big!” “Yes! But no. It’s about … affection. When littles … You get affectionate. You use … You don’t talk to me like that. You don’t act the same way in the same way, if that makes any sense.” It must’ve because her response was, “If I did, you’d get pissed at me. Every time I’ve come close, it’s ended in a conversation like this.” “I know.” “So then what are you saying,” she practically pleaded with me. “I already said it.” “What, Daphne? What?” “YOU’RE NOT HER MOMMY! YOU’RE MINE!”

Chapter 6: The First Day “…When it comes to enforcing matriarchy, I think I have an idea.” -Communique between Constance and Margaret, Circa 2274 The next morning Raymond was awoken by a woman’s soft voice. “Wake up babies! It’s time for breakfast!” He woke up in a quick panic and looked around his room for the intruder. But no one was there. Must have been his imagination. He got out of bed, confused, groggy, and recovering from what felt like a strange dream. It was the weirdest dream he had ever had. He went to a habitation station that was run by crazy women who kept men in diapers. He had his stuff confiscated and received a spanking. He listened to some insane feminist-communist-whatever give a speech, and then he wet his pants. Three girls changed his diapers. What a weird dream. He stretched his body and yawned. Full consciousness beginning to return. He first notices that the room he is in is not his normal room. Strange, he thought. He reached for his phone on the bedstand, but it wasn’t there. Must have misplaced it. He groggily gets out of his bed and stretches, letting out a great yawn. Raymond became aware of a strange feeling in his crotch, there was a thickness between his legs. He put a hand on his crotch and felt a plastic, it crinkled as he felt it. Suddenly he realized his dream was a recollection of the previous day’s events. He felt annoyed, why had he done this? He was in a foreign place wearing an adult diaper. The situation felt like it was out of a weird comedy. His feelings of annoyance were interrupted by a primal urge. He needed to pee. He could go in his new underwear, it was made for that, but yesterday he had come up with a plan to avoid this. He pulled on some pants and headed to the changing rooms. The diaper tightened under his pants; the thickened fabric pressed against his crotch. Lovingly letting him know exactly what he was wearing. He walked with an awkward gait out of his dorm room. The hallway was the same as last night, but this time fuller with other young men in the same predicament. Yet, despite their shared clothing article, Raymond hid his face in shame and headed to the changing room, hoping they were empty so he could loosen his bladder. Walking through the hall he sees two others standing in the hallway talking. One of them wasn’t wearing pants and had a diaper on full display. The other simply dressed, normally. Of course, normally to Raymond, to the men here, the former man was dressed more normally, or at least, more comfortably. Finally, he came to the changing rooms. He was greeted by the scene of three people engaged in the same humiliating act he was trying to avoid. A woman stood over a man lying on a table, his legs in the air, the woman cooed and made silly faces at him as she slid a white diaper under his pelvic area. Another young man stood nearby, his pants down and his stained diaper sagged heavily. “That’s a good boy! Behaving so well for his changies!” The woman acknowledged Raymond’s entrance without looking away from her subject, “Hey baby, if you need a change you’ll have to wait, I have my hands tied. Isn’t that right little stinky?” She said returning her attention to her charge. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.” He replied. “Billy, you make the stinkiest diapers I’ve ever seen. I’d almost say you were born to fill diapers!” She chuckled and looked up at Raymond, “I’m sorry, do you need a change?” “Uh, no thanks, I was just leaving.” Raymond motioned for the door. “Uhm, okay then.” The woman replied confused before she disappeared from vision as Raymond went out the door. Great, he would have to hold it. He didn’t feel the need that badly, maybe he could wait a while. Raymond just needed to distract himself until he could, but he’d need to go back before his next class. He headed back to his room before he was interrupted by his stomach. It was breakfast time, and maybe some food might keep him from thinking about his bladder. Where was the cafeteria exactly? Did this place have one? As it turns out, after a little bit of exploring, there wasn’t a cafeteria in the dorms but a shared kitchen. This kitchen was shared by everyone on that floor, Raymond cursed himself for not taking the time to buy food to store and eat. He would have to go hungry. He sat down on a chair in a little dining area just outside the kitchen, he was surprised he didn’t notice this last night when he arrived. A young man approached Raymond’s table with a plate of food. “Hey, are you the grounder?” He said. “Grounder?” Raymond replied. “Yeah! Like, you’re from a planet, right? Not a station like here? Mind if I sit down?” He said, sitting down without permission. Raymond thought he heard a soft crinkling noise, confirming that his new seating partner was diapered as well. But maybe he should just assume every man here is, Raymond didn’t think that tuition would be proved wrong anytime soon. “Yeah, I’m from Earth.” “Which Country?” “Florida, I just got here.” “Oh, I’ve heard about Florida! Isn’t that like, where the biggest shipyard on Earth is?” “Uh, yeah actually. You can see the landing ships out in the gulf, I used to work there, in the shipyards.” “That’s sweet.” He says before spotting someone who is presumably his friend. “Hey, Tom! Come over here! This is the new guy he’s from Florida!” Another young man arrives in Raymond’s view and sits down, right next to the other occupant. He sets his food down and looks at Raymond. “Oh straight? My dad’s from there!” “Ah, where in?” “Yellowknife, I think he said? Yeah, I think he’s from there.” “That’s way up North from where I live. I live in New Miami.” “I hear it’s pretty hot down there this time of year.” “Yeah, but you got the wind from the gulf, keeps it cool.” The conversation continued with small talk. The first one to sit with Raymond was Sanely, and his friend was Michael. They asked Raymond was asked a lot of questions about where he was from, why he came, and other pleasantries. But the conversation inevitably came to the elephant in the room. “So, did you wear diapers before you came or?” “What? No! Hell no. Why would I wear diapers? I don’t even want to be wearing these stupid things!” “Well, they-“ “Why do you wear these things? You guys can’t actually use them can you?” Raymond interrupted Stanley. Of course, Raymond should know that answer already, he had witnessed other’s using them, or at least the aftermath in the changing rooms today and yesterday. Raymond even used them himself. But this was his first moment to talk to another man without the weird Estrean women around. “Well, uh, yes?” Michael said, visibly confused. “Do you not use them on Earth?” “No! Why would we use diapers! They’re for babies!” “So you use the toilet like women?” “Yes! Like adults!” “I can’t even imagine using one of those.” Said Stanley. “Yeah, my babysitter let me see the women’s bathroom and they look weird,” Michael replied. “What’s using a toilet like?” Michael said turning back to Raymond. Raymond was confused and somewhat offended. There were two grown adult men who couldn’t have been younger than 20, talking about how toilets were ‘weird’ and being unable to think of using one. Also, babysitter? “Babysitter? How old are you?” “21.” “You’re too old for a babysitter!” “N-no? I think you’re supposed to have one by now. I’ve been dating mine for a while now.” “You have a babysitter and she’s your girlfriend?” A moment of realization came over Michael’s face. “Oh! Yes, she is, I forgot. That’s what we call our girlfriends here, at least, that’s what they want us to call them.” Raymond was just disgusted by how they talked. The humiliation he had experienced was now coming up as disgust and anger. “This station is weird as shit, and y’all are insane.” “Not taking to the local culture well hun?” Came a woman’s voice. Raymond turned around to see that a tall middle-aged woman with brown hair was standing behind him. She looked down at the boys from her standing position with a sweet smile on her face. The same you give to little children. The same smile that all women on this station used on all the men. “I came over to the boy’s dorm to come and make sure you made it to class on time, I know off-station boys have a hard time adjusting.” The woman said with a condescending tone, “But I am very proud of you Raymond! The last student like you stayed in his room all day, scared. Poor thing went a whole week before he even talked to anyone. Don’t worry he’s a very happy baby like the rest of you boys.” “Hey Mrs. Goldstein!” said Stanley. “Well, hello there! How’s my little stan-stan doing? I hope you’re doing well?” Mrs. Goldstein said, rather pleased. She acted as she had just met a long-lost relative. “I’m doing rather well actually. I’m getting an internship at the university’s history department. I work under Mrs. Edgeworth now.” “She told me about that! I am very proud of you! It’s not often we get boys interested in preserving and teaching our matriarchal history. Are the girls giving you any trouble? I know the upper department women can be very mean.” “Oh, they’re not too mean, well, I get teased sometimes.” “Oh do they?” Said Goldstein, sounding like a mother who heard their child was being bullied. “Well, I want you to tell me and Mrs. Edgeworth all about that later, remember, just because you’re a boy doesn’t mean you’re not smart enough to handle the history department.” She turned her attention to Raymond. “Anyway, where are my manners? Hi, I am Mrs. Goldstein, and you must be Raymond, I believe? I was told you were the new student from Earth.” “Yeah, that’s me.” Raymond replied, exhausted by all this weird talk he had to overhear. “Well, you don’t sound all that excited to be here hon. Something wrong? I overheard your little tantrum earlier. Do you need to be changed?” Without even waiting for a reply, Mrs. Goldstein pulls back his pants and looks down at his diapers waistband. Raymond recoils and swats her hands away. “Hey!” Raymond exclaims as he stands to his feet, now taller than the woman with the probing hands. Mrs. Goldstein retreated her hand and recovered, then she looked at Raymond the same way an adult looks at a child they’re about to tell off for being very naughty. But instead, she makes a breathe-in, breathe-out motion with her hands and changes to a more calm and patient demeanor, one learned from years of dealing with infants of Raymond’s caliber. “I think I see, are you hungry? Have you had breakfast yet?” Raymond had not, and he could use a bite. “No,” he replied, “Where’s the cafeteria?” “I’ll lead you to it, it’s not far. But I expect good behavior from you on our way there mister.” She said sternly, as if she were talking to a naughty toddler. Raymond would need to get used to hearing this tone from women, but he doubt he ever would. “Yeah, sure.” “We’ll work on your attitude later,” she said sighing, she turned her attention to the other two. “Do you little ones mind me borrowing your friend for a bit? You all can chat again once your classes are done today!” “No, we’re fine.” “Good! Alright, Raymond follow me.” She held out her hand, and Raymond begrudgingly took it. She began leading him towards the other side of the cafeteria where a bunch of men his age was gathered, seemingly standing in a line. The line dipped into a recess and dipped out at another end, where men with lunch trays and awkward gaits exfiled back into the main cafeteria. Raymond and Mrs. Goldstein got in the rear of the line. “I think you’ll come to like it here.” Goldstein said turning around to Raymond, twisting so she still held his hand. “I know it’s a big change for a lot of boys,” she chuckles, ”In…. more ways than one. But most of the boys I help introduce to this society do come around. You know, a lot of people call this station a weird experiment, or just full of crazy people, or worse. But I believe that Estrea is the way of the future, the way that humanity was meant to be ordered.” She paused for a moment. Trying to guage a reaction, her face betrayed that she knew Raymond wasn’t fully appreciative. “Well I get ahead of myself, I can tell you how great this station really is in history class today. You got assigned to my class this semester, and you’re lucky! My specialty is off-station males.” She said, with a look of satisfaction of her own self appraisal. “Well, thanks, but I don’t plan on staying long. I’m getting my pilot’s license and going back to Earth, or maybe Mars. Maybe Estrea is great, but uh, I don’t think it’s for me.” Raymond said, adding the last bit to try and soften any blow. Mrs. Goldsteins did not react or take offence. What Raymond didn’t know was that she had heard this all before. ‘Oh I don’t wanna stay. I got big dreams elsewhere!’ They all said. ‘This place just isn’t right for me.’ They thought. ‘I’m a man. I don’t need women changing my diapers and treating me like a child!’ They all insisted. It never changed in her 20 years as a professor specializing in male education. She had seen and heard it all before. And she made sure every single one of those ‘men’ were happy little pamper packers before graduation, and every single one of them found stayed. All had been married to some Estrean woman who kept them in their place, and they loved those women for it. Mrs. Goldstein knew one thing if she knew anything, and that was how to get a man to stay on her beloved little station of weird women and baby men. Raymond would be no different, he thought he was, but Goldstein knew he wouldn’t be. Goldstein believed truly that all boys are just overgrown toddlers who needed mommy’s love, and it was her proud duty to make them realize that. It was all about saying the right words, implanting the correct brainworms, and in her view, just stating what was true! Most importantly, she knew how to matchmake. She just needed to get Raymond with the right Estrean girl, and he’d stay alright. She had faith that Raymond would crack like the rest, she knew that the women of Estrea were all his betters, and he would need to submit. Issue was bringing him to see that. “Well, we have plenty of time to change that!” Mrs. Goldstein said smugly.

Chapter 2: I'm Coming Home In my window display, I saw the world as it was around me, easily spying on anyone who passed by. Actual children and Littles would saunter on by and look at me with dread or enthusiasm. I began to classify them myself, thinking how the three labels for this society didn’t seem enough. Bigs or Middles seemed simple enough, as their abilities weren’t affected too much by their height or other perceived advantages. Littles on the other hand, seemed to cover several different states of being. In front of me now were three perfect examples. The boy on the left looked fearfully at me. Tears coated his cheeks and dripped onto his shortalls and the pacifier that was strapped around his head. His pants seemed to bulge slightly, but unless you had somehow seen that the bulge was a diaper, I’m not sure most would have been aware of its presence. The Little was obviously unregressed and new to this lifestyle. As the other two Littles shoved into him, he braced himself on the window, showing off his thickly padded baby blue mittens. A large imposing man yanked on the reins I now just noticed on him and pulled him away. He didn’t fight the man, so I knew he wasn’t fresh, but he probably still thought about escape. A life not tethered and bound to another person. The second Little seemed embarrassed to be looking at me and the other bunny, Miss Pink, next to me. But still, there was something more to her. She seemed to go through small waves of joy and then trepidation. Not used to this lifestyle but giving in, particularly considering her far off look at one point and then the pawing at her diaper underneath her short dress. Using her diaper without thought, but she had obviously realized it afterward, noticed its state, and then wanted it to be changed. Whap! Whap! Whap! I saw a daddy spanking his Little girl over on a bench by the pretzel store. Normally a place of good smells and sights was now only prominently marked by a screaming and pleading Little as her butt was being spanked mercilessly by her daddy’s hand. “You.” Whap! “Do.” Whap! “Not.” Whap! “Use.” Whap! “Bad words.” Whap! “Like that!” Whap! Whap! Whap! “I’m sowwy! Oww! Oww! I’m sowwy, Daddy! It won’t happen… oww! Again!” It was a common sight around here and could almost be guaranteed to happen at least once every two hours when the mall was open. Anyway… the third Little was a boy, obviously regressed as drool began to coat the glass in front of us. His lack of teeth could have been a sign of lower regression, but his lack of inhibition over wearing just a onesie that thickly bulged out with what could only be a massive diaper and a pacifier dangling from its collar, covered in spit, said much more. That being said, I always found the eyes to be an excellent judge of a Little’s state, more than how they were dressed or even acted. The first Little’s eyes seemed fearful, but they had a spark of hope and possibly even defiance still. The second Little showed bits of defiance and possibly even a desire beyond this life, but still maintained a spark of youth and amusement. The drool-coated Little though, had no defiance, spark, or hope. His eyes seemed scattered and unfocused, which put this Little in the most severe of regression categories. Other Bigs may have classified Littles by their abilities, but I always thought of those as window dressings. Surgeries and all could eventually dull a Little, but their eyes would show the life still entombed within them until that point actually came, which could take days or even years depending on the Little. I even heard rumors from my display case that some Littles cracked within hours. ‘Poor little tykes…’ “Barry!” the Little’s mother rushed over and pulled them away from the glass as they crouched down to their level. “Just what am I going to do with you Little man?” “Mommy! Bunny!” the Little pointed excitedly toward me and seemed frustrated that he had been pulled away from his viewing spot. “Yes, Barry. That’s a Bunny, but you don’t need that one, honey. I’ll get you another one. Now, come on. Mommy needs to wipe up your mess, baby.” The mother was obviously right. Barry didn’t need me. Maybe another bunny, but not my model. She pulled a few wet wipes from a small package in her purse and wiped off the window that had been covered in drool, and then used another wipe on Barry’s face. He flinched but stayed still. Most seasoned Littles knew the consequences of fighting a Big, particularly in public, though I suspected his reaction was more of a Little’s impatience of such a minor and tedious task such as cleaning one’s face. “Rats, there goes another one,” Miss Pink breathed when no one was around. “I swear that girl was going to choose me.” Miss Pink and I had a competition to see who would be taken out of the display window first. Being a stuffed animal entitled us to no money or property, so personal pride meant a lot. “Eh. Maybe tomorrow, Miss Pink. I think it would take a lot for these Bigs to choose anything not fresh from the package.” Miss Pink only nodded, before quickly resuming her pose as a Big couple passed the store window. We had been in the display window together to advertise a new type of stuffed animal line, but we had come to learn that though Littles may look at us excitedly from the outside, the Bigs doing the paying would always want something fresh from a box Mr. Kincade kept in the back of the store in storage. Identical in every way, but that was just the way of a Big. Once they had passed, I continued up again. “I think we had a shot with the Little boy. If only he wasn’t so regressed.” “Tell me about it! That mother seemed like one of the nice ones too,” Miss Pink fondly recalled. “Maybe a bit forceful, but she even thought about getting him a bunny anyway. Not like the man with the lesser regressed one…” “True, but I don’t think she was too nice though. He was pretty regressed. I’m not sure if our technology could even touch his state.” “You underestimate our power, Mister Bunny, but I guess regressing them no matter what is just who they are. It’s practically genetic at this point!” She let out a small chuckle. “I think the other Little boy and the girl would have been perfect though. Still enough left to regress, but not so much that we would be considered a waste as compared to Jefferson.” I nodded and snapped back into place. Another Little girl was arriving and now looking at Miss Pink. Both her and her mother seemed excited, but I could see Miss Pink, despite her statuesque pose, was disappointed when they walked inside the store. ‘Another one wanting the fresh packaging…’ I thought of Jefferson still housed inside as I continued to pose. He was inside the shop and while his model was popular and even designed by a Little, his line was over 15 years old. He didn’t possess any technology, so most Bigs would buy him for their already regressed Littles to likely add to a growing collection amassed only in the post-regression state. Buying expensive toys that would serve no value beyond the love of a Little just didn’t make sense to anyone more fiscally responsible or thoughtful. Our line, Miss Pink and Mister Bunny, were among the newer models. We were designed to present subtle subliminal and hypnotic messaging for Littles to regress them into whatever desired state. Rather than mentally regress the Littles all at once though, we had been designed to only create a state of mind that could be easily regressed over time. We stood as a response to Little’s advocacy groups who had said ‘true hypnotic conditioning is often barbaric and ignores the thoughts of the Little.’ While natural occurrences, society, and continual conditioning would eventually regress a Little, our technology allowed the Little to ease into a regressed state with acceptance and without the bouts of fear most other Littles had while being regressed. It might as well have been mental regression, but from a legal standpoint, we were more human. From this, we were often thought of as a transitional toy, rather than a specific toy for those who were already regressed. Still good for after the Little had been regressed, but sadly too good for those who had already been changed. I peered down at my own fluffy form and to Miss Pink’s and marveled over how each part of us was designed to help with regression or to comfort a troubled Little. Her pink and my slight brownish-gray fur were made to be abused and shuffled around in different environments without the worry of wearing out immediately or looking dirty within seconds of use. Our fur was soft to allow the Little to use us for comfort when stressed or sad and was also designed to repel most dirt and grime associated with the activity of the typical Little lifestyle. Our large eyes gave us a more realistic appearance to not seem as babyish and yet portray an innocence, which would only make most Littles feel guilty if they rejected us. Our six appendages, ears included, were firm and resilient and allowed the Little to be able to grip us more easily to ensure points of grip were never a factor in why we weren’t at our Little’s side. Lastly, our arms and torso were adjusted from realistic proportions to be able, along with a wide head and pair of feet, to be hugged or locked into place under an arm without any interference. I was amused in my own thoughts when a larger than usual shadow darkened the light in front of me coming off the billboard advertising for Little modification surgery, where I had learned most of what I knew about this society. The screen was a constant grizzly reminder of this world and the operations that could be done to make them more compliant, like cutting tendons to enforce crawling and removing teeth to ensure they couldn’t be used as weapons or implements of escape. The list went on, so when such a damnable sign was covered up, it was enough to almost make me forget my pose and switch head positions to better view the figure. After a minute, the figure crouched to a level more associated with the Littles. An average height Big with chestnut hair and big blue eyes stood staring at me directly. She wore a small smile as she eyed me and the ads noting my features. I would have thought she was just another window shopper, but her eyes bore a fierceness and determination that I had yet to see with others in front of the window. It would have been downright terrifying if her array of freckles, dimples, tiny smile, and near sparkle of her eyes portrayed something different. Instead of looking at me like an object being used to hurt a Little, as most Big expressions seemed to showed, her expression almost showed a sign of relief and happiness as to my existence. If she had been half of her height, I would have compared her to a child looking at a present on Christmas for the first time, but she was a Big, so this was something else. My mind quickly flashed to the possibility of getting out of here, but they were soon dashed when she walked away and out of my view. “Ah! Rotten luck Mister Bunny,” Miss Pink sympathized not long after when no one was around again. “I could have sworn she was going for you.” “Same here. Did you see the way she was looking at me? I’ve only seen that look from regressed individuals around here. Certainly not a Big!” “Actually, I saw the same thing with Mister Brown.” I remembered Mister Brown from a few months back. ‘Lucky toy.’ He was another toy bear who was popular last year for his huggable nature, and his brown form was displayed in the window closest to Miss Pink. From her vantage she could see more than I did on that side of the front displays. “Some curvy blonde did the same, staring at him for a good five minutes. Almost creepy, but then she went in, and Mr. Kincade later grabbed him and packaged him up for her.” It was big news that night when all of us toys had gotten together, as window toys were hardly ever purchased. Mr. Kincade, the store owner, had only moved us to ensure we were free of dust and still looked clean for potential window shoppers. We were there more to advertise than to be expressly claimed. That night, Miss Pink and I had started our competition. After months of waiting, we had an array of hope that we could be next. Now, it seemed like Mister Brown had only left because he was a bear. They were probably running low or something like that elsewhere, since they always seemed to be desired, and later cuddled, by Littles. I estimated that three of the seven Littles out there were seen carrying some type of bear in their arms around the mall. Less than half, but still impressive considering that almost every major animal, and even some mythological ones, could be purchased at most stores. Creak. Miss Pink and I suddenly posed very still. That sound only meant that Mr. Kincade had just opened the back of the window. That sound by him was only heard when we were being cleaned or when he was getting one of the models or other toys that were displayed in the cabinet alongside us. I dared not to, but my hopes were soon confirmed, as I felt his wrinkled and partially soft or calloused large hands envelop my torso and pull me from my display. It was sad to leave Miss Pink in a way, but I couldn’t help but let out the faintest of smiles as I was pulled alongside her. If I was right, I would be going home with someone today. ‘Goodbye, Miss Pink, and good luck.’ Like good toys, neither one of us moved, despite leaving each other possibly forever. “This one?” Mr. Kincade asked a figure to my rear and behind the countertop. His tone of surprise was easily discernable. “Yes. That one.” “We have others in the back that are fresh.” Mr. Kincade sat me on the counter and faced the rest of the store and the customer. It was the lady from before! “Just came off the li…” “No,” she held up her hand to stop Mr. Kincade. “Thank you, but I have my eye set on this fluffy guy. There’s just something about him…” Her baby blue eyes gazed longingly at me. “I understand completely.” Mr. Kincade adjusted me on the countertop to face the woman now directly, who was still staring at me with almost a wonderment in her eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder myself as to who she was buying me for, as she slid her ID card across the counter to Mr. Kincade for payment. “Is there anything else I can get you today, Miss… Hubert?” the man asked after scanning her ID chip for verification of payment method. “Hubert, actually. Like ‘Hugh-Bear.’ My family’s originally from Gaule.” “Oh, I see! Excellent. Very unique around here.” From the reflection of one of the display cabinets, I could see everything going on behind me still. Mr. Kincade pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose to focus on the readout in front of him. Mr. Kincade and his shop were both practically antiques in this fast-paced technology-oriented world, but both had a quality and heart that most people admired. The air smelling of fresh linen and sawdust, toys could be purchased at any one of a hundred different Little shops in the area, but most experienced or caring Bigs came here. Mr. Kincade lovingly created many of the toys now displayed on the shelves, his worn hands and black-rimmed glasses being a testament to the years of his life put into his profession. He always smiled and knew that any toy, even the ones like me that he had purchased from larger companies, were the best and any Little would likely enjoy us for decades. “I’m sure.” Her gaze only occasionally went to Mr. Kincade, but for the most part, was fixated on me. I personally congratulated myself for holding my pose for so long. Most toys like me could hold the same pose for a few minutes in the beginning but then might move a smidge when their owner looked away, even if for a second. No one ever noticed. Of course, if they had, who would they tell? Anyone talking to a stuffed animal or even believing they were alive was likely not a good combination. The machine beeped in front of Mr. Kincade, and he smiled gingerly, which caused his wrinkled exterior to be emphasized even more than usual. “Anything else I can get for you, Miss Hubert? I have some lovely alternative implements in the back.” ‘Damn you, Mr. Kincade.’ I knew the things in the back. Everyone here did. They scared the absolute stuffing out of most normal toys. “Alternative implements?” ‘Good. She doesn’t know. Maybe she’s a half decent Big.’ “Oh yes. If you’re getting Mister Bunny, here,” Mr. Kincade patted me on the shoulder, “I’ll assume you have a Little… and maybe a Little who’s… how can I put this?” Mr. Kincade stroked a few errant whiskers under his nubby chin. “Ah, yes. A Little who’s not so Little. Up here.” Mr. Kincade pointed to a spot at his temple where his gray and white hair was greatly receding. ‘Ever being the salesman. Can’t blame a guy for making a living, but… ugh.’ “Oh…” Miss Hubert looked stunned for a moment before resuming her previous graceful demeanor. ‘Another good sign.’ “I see what you mean. Well, I’m actually getting Mister Bunny here for my Little, because I’m looking for something… a little less. I want someone to love. Frankly, and I beg your pardon, but if I wanted a lifeless doll, Proctor has a whole new line of lifelike dolls.” “I understand ma’am.” Mr. Kincade took a step back. ‘Yay, Monica. You have passed a test most Bigs would fail outright.’ “Mister Bunny is perfect for middle of the road applications these days. I’m sure your Little will love him in no time at all. Never had one returned from his line.” “That’s some hefty praise for a bunny, but I’m sure you’re right. Charles has been so down lately. I think he needs a friend and Mister Bunny here seems just perfect.” ‘Charles. An odd name for a Little, but I like it. I just hope Charles and I can be friends one day.’ “Yes, ma’am. Designed that way too, but I’m sure you knew that.” Mr. Kincade relaxed his posture and started grabbing a bag from underneath the counter. Miss Hubert only smiled and nodded. Miss Hubert then quickly held up her hand as Mr. Kincade started to cover me up with a bit of wrapping paper. “Actually, can I get the display box alone instead? And the blue bow wrapping?” Mr. Kincade seemed puzzled but smiled and then started to get the box from the other side of the counter instead. “Thank you. I know it may be a little unusual, but my friend June came by here and did that for our friend Suzanne’s Little’s shower. Pink instead of course the tiny girl, but it just looked so perfect. I knew if I ever came here for my Little, I just had to have it for myself and them. Such a wonderful presentation as a gift.” “You’d be surprised how often we get this request, actually.” Mr. Kincade set the box down on the countertop and set me inside before closing up the lid. The plastic in front of me was thin and transparent, so I could still hear and see much of the world outside. “A lot of customers don’t know about the option, but a very classic design. Popular for just the right types of Bigs.” Mr. Kincade finished the look by wrapping a large ribbon around the box at the top. It was a bit informal for some, which is why Mr. Kincade didn’t offer it first naturally, but it made a nice wrapping as a present for a Little themselves, or a Big as a gift for their Little. Truth be told, I suspected the design remained as it was for the more physically challenged Littles. Popping a box and lid off were much easier tasks than the taught wrapping paper of most traditional gift giving, a near impossible task for any Little with altered mental, strength, or dexterous abilities. “Thank you so much, Mr. Kincade. I’m sure Charles will just love this.” Miss Hubert picked me up and cradled me under her arm. “I’m sure I’ll be back here once everything is settled down with him.” She then headed toward the door and turned back for a moment. “Have a good day!” “You too, Miss Hubert.” Mr. Kincade gave a little wave from behind the counter. “Stop by any time!” Miss Hubert gave a little wave back and exited the store, ringing the classic bell as she did so. As we walked away, I felt sad for leaving the only home I had every really known, but I knew my next one would give me a greater purpose than I ever had being stuck there. Soon, I would meet Charles and our life together would begin. I couldn’t believe how excited I was, and I hadn’t even met him yet! Moving on, a short walk later and Miss Hubert placed me in the front seat of her minivan. It seemed new from its cleanliness and there were no signs of the regression implements I had seen advertised so many times from the screen in the mall besides a car seat secured in the back mandated by law for all who were classified as Littles. ‘Please don’t change, Miss Hubert.’ Often, the commercials I saw from my perch in the window would be about items Bigs could purchase for their Littles. From seeing those, I knew this car lacked many of the typical items found in most cars in this world for Bigs who owned a Little. Miss Hubert was either very different or Charles was still very new. ‘Charles…’ With a name like that, I guessed all of this was still new for both of them. Still, a toy could hope that a Little would be treated nicely, new or not. The drive to Miss Hubert’s house was pleasantly short. Most communities were advertised as close by and convenient to ensure fussy Littles never had to stay in the car too long, or at least that’s what the add had claimed for some of the more recent development zones in the area. From the same company, I had seen many houses, and Miss Hubert's was very similar to most others on her street. A pale bluish-gray siding wrapped around a two-story house, complete with a garage, a porch, and a neat yard in the front. Miss Hubert had chosen a peaceful dark blue for the shutters and the front door, and though not as cheery as the sunflower yellow, meadow green, or even lovers red, it still showed off a pleasant décor. Miss Hubert retrieved me and quickly brought me inside, occasionally checking her watch, before setting me down on a large gray couch. The room was pleasant, neat, and spacious, and the house smelled like clean linen and lavender. Again, there was a lack of signs that a Little was living here currently, so while the car could be a personality difference, the inside of the home confirmed that Charles was still be in the early stages of being an adopted Little. After some shuffling and clanging in the kitchen, Miss Hubert came back to me, and to my surprise, after a moment of fiddling with the box from behind, she removed me from my confinement. “So… Mister Bunny. Ugh. Gonna have to change that name, but I didn’t buy you for me.” She stifled a laugh. “How silly would that be, right?” She stared at me for a half second, as if she expected a response back. “Anyway, I just need to say this out loud… I’m Monica,” she gave a little shake of my hand and then set me back in her lap, “and Charles is my Little, but he’s, well, he’s still… adjusting.” Monica seemed anxious talking about Charles. “It’s only been two weeks since I got him from one of the agencies.” ‘Aha! I knew it! She’s probably nervous of doing a bad job with him.’ She took a sip from a mug I just noticed she had brought in with her and then set it back down on the table near the armrest of the couch on a strategically placed coaster. “The agency and apparent middleman specialize in non-regressed Littles. I wanted him to accept this role and not be forced into it, but he’s so… resistant. I almost want to change my mind about regressing him the way I want at all.” She looked guilty and took another sip from her mug. “He’s a Little. I know that… but I’ve seen most Littles these days. If there’s anything going on upstairs, in the head I mean, it would be news to me. They seem so… broken. Particularly the ones from more than ten years ago.” Monica looked sad for a moment but straightened herself out and continued. “I didn’t want that for Charles. A lot of us mommies don’t now actually. Well…” she seemed to think for a moment, “…here at least. Don’t get me wrong, I want a true Little, but not infant level… maybe toddler?” She didn’t seem to know, but that was okay by me. With my programming, I just needed a range at this point. ‘I’m glad I’m with Monica. She just wants to be a mommy. No sadist, no butcher. Just ‘mommy.’ Perfect.’ “That’s where you come in. Charles has been pushing back against everything, so I need a little… push.” I figured as much. That was what I was designed for anyway. Nothing bad or permanent, but just little pushes to ease a Little into their deemed proper place in this society. I didn’t like it, but that was my job. My primary purpose at this stage. To truly defy it would be unwise in the current Big climate, even here. “Now, he’ll be home any minute. He’s at a playdate right now, but remember, nothing too extre…” Ding! Dong! The doorbell echoed throughout the house, and a panicked Monica looked quickly at the door. Charles was early, but I couldn’t wait to meet my new best friend.

I actually have other stories planned from the stuffy's perspective in the works, but I thought this was a more solid piece to run with when I was looking at the outlines of each initially. I think a Calvin and Hobbes type of story would be really interesting in this type of setting with the Bigs and Littles. Without further delay though, here is Chapter 3. Chapter 3: Hello, Friend Monica looked immediately frazzled. “Just a minute!” she yelled out. She looked at me and placed me back in the box as gently as she could while still rushing. “You’re a surprise,” she whispered, while putting the box closet, the bow once again tied back neatly, “I’ll get you out later.” Monica quickly stashed me in the closet behind a few coats and was practically giddy now. Her moods seemed to swing quickly but I figured it was just her nerves of trying to placate her new Little. ‘Gotta remember that.’ “Oh, I just hope Charles likes you!” She shut the closet door, and I could just make out the sound of the front door being opened. “June! How… you?” Monica cried out. The conversation came through the thick door concealing my position only so much at this distance from the front door. I could only hear half of any outside conversation not within spitting distance of the closet. “Mon’! Great! Georgie… Charles…” June answered back, still mostly inaudible. “How was…?” Monica asked. I stopped trying to hear the conversation. In the future, I would try to listen more to see what mood Charles would be in when he first saw me. I might not have been able to console or lift his spirits through talking, but it was always nice to know what you were going into as a toy that could ripped apart at a moment’s notice. For today, I figured it would mostly just be introductions on his part. Anything more would be asking a lot of an unregressed Little. A few minutes later, I heard stomping outside the door, followed by the quick closing of the door. “Charles! Wait up. Let’s talk.” Monica was now closer to the closet, and I could hear more of the conversation. “I don’t want to talk to you! I hated that. You said George was like me. You lied!” ‘That must be Charles.’ His yelling rang through the closet door easily and nullified his greater distance from me to still be heard. “I didn’t lie, Charles. Georgie is like you. A Little, but maybe just a bit…” “He’s practically a baby! He wears pull-ups and baby clothes! We’re not the same at all!” It was typical Little behavior at this stage, which meant he was definitely very new to all of this. It was becoming crystal clear in seconds of why Monica had bought me. ‘Becoming friends today could prove to be impossible. I think the most I can hope for today is just not to be torn up. Please, oh please. Anything but that or the trash on my first day.’ Mr. Kincade often received back broken toys that he would mend and sell at a discount or even outright donate to those less fortunate. Those stuffed animals were never the same after being torn apart and I could only hope they found a better life with a more appreciative Little. I think anyone would be changed after their eye or arm had been torn off by an upset anything, let alone a Little who’s supposed to be your closest friend. I shuddered in my box at the thought and crossed my ears in hope as best I could in my confined space. I would need all the luck I could muster to win Charles over. “Charles, please try to calm down. I’m sorry you feel that way about Georgie, but I guess it’s just where he’s at right now. A lot of Littles here are at different stages. You might actually find he’s one of the good ones once you look past all of the… outside bits.” “I sincerely doubt it,” Charles said with an exaggerated huff. “Well, a friend is a friend.” “Hmph. Not for me…” I could tell Charles didn’t believe her, but I’m sure a difference in word meanings had just occurred between a Little and a Big. He likely took the phrase to mean that he would be so bored by all the other Littles, Georgie would just naturally become his friend. From our conversation and her desires earlier however, I knew Monica likely had actually meant that once Charles was regressed as well, the outside bits likely wouldn’t matter anymore to him. Such differences were to be expected. The conversation seemed to die down and Charles appeared determined to stay in his bad mood for the next few hours, while brooding, stomping, and grumbling about the room. From the fading of the light coming through the section of the bottom of the door I could still see, I knew the daylight had dimmed significantly and had been replaced by the lights turning on from inside the house. I was worried I would be stuck inside the closet all night, but I quickly diverted my attention to a sudden noise from outside. Crash! Sudden loud voices started to rumble outside of what I could make out. If nothing else, they both seemed angry and would trade off between each other after a few seconds each. Smack! Smack! Smack! The voices crew louder between the smacking of something, and Monica’s loud and angry voice traveled just enough beyond the walls that I could make out that it was her yelling at Charles and him screaming back, but the soundproofing of the house and the box blocked any real effort I had at discerning what was being said. All I knew from what little I could hear was that Charles was likely yelling out in pain from a spanking from a very upset Monica. A few minutes passed by like that with a smack about every five to ten seconds when the house became eerily silent once more. I waited for something more to happen when I heard a quick shuffling outside. “Stand in that corner this instant!” I could hear more shuffling coming away from the kitchen’s direction that I had seen earlier from my position on the couch. “You’ve been very bad tonight, Charles. You broke one of my plates just because you didn’t want to eat your greens. I want to treat you differently than other Littles, but that was not okay.” ‘Wow, Charles. That was not a smart move. Monica is just trying to be nice and give you something most Littles in this world would do anything to have, if they could even still think. Breaking a plate is not the way to go about this.’ As much as I didn’t want to use my messaging on Charles, I knew for his sake that a few messages now would only help him in the long run. More days like today, and I didn’t even think someone like Monica could resist applying some quick regression treatments. Permanent and debilitating in the best of circumstances if it was being used at all as a punishment. ‘Not good.’ “Now you stay in that corner until I come back. I have a mess to clean in the kitchen and when I get back here, I better see you firmly in that corner.” Her tone then seemed to mellow out a little at the end, but she was obviously still upset. Frankly, her tone became more mother-like than strict disciplinarian. “If you do, I’ll forgive you and you might just get a present.” In the silence afterward, I only heard a faint sniffling. Despite a reference to me, I could only focus on the tension outside and the suffering of Charles. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now, but at least nod your head.” A moment went by. “Good. No stay there and I’ll be back.” I knew I was that present. It just made sense given my current wrappings. ‘Please stay against that wall Charles. Please, for my sake. I want to meet you and honestly, I think you could use a friend like me tonight.’ I had regressive messaging of course, but my routines at night would also put a Little in a more relaxed state. After reading my box one night when I was bored between the games of poker the toys in the store would play, I discovered that set of technology in me was also used in spas around the country. Nothing regressive, but instead, messaging used to calm even the hardest and most furious of minds. ‘Charles could definitely use me tonight.’ An eternity seemed to pass waiting for Monica to return, and I could only hear the still-present sniffles coming from Charles. All I wanted at that moment was to hug him close and let him know that I would be there for him no matter what happened, but I needed patience. Frustration on my end wouldn’t do anyone good. “Charles?” I could hear Monica say as she walked back in the room, her shoes gently rapping at the wooden floor. “Are you ready to come out of that corner now? Just nod your head if that’s what you want but you still don’t feel like talking.” A moment passed. “Good. You can turn around now, honey.” I heard a slight shuffling around and I hoped my moment would be soon. Monica didn’t seem angry anymore, so Charles had done what she had asked and she had time to cool down. I could only lay there now in my box as I waited for Monica to retrieve me from my quiet and dark space in the closet. “Now, you’ve been very bad for me tonight, Charles, but I think after that spanking and time in the corner, you’re very sorry. Are you very sorry, Charles?” Charles didn’t seem to respond at first, but then let out a raspy and broken voice, much different than the one I had been hearing for the past few hours since he had gotten home. “Yes… Monica. I… I… I’m sorry…” There was a pause. “Very sorry,” Charles added quickly but solemnly. “Aww. That’s okay, honey. I don’t want to do things like that, but I need you to listen to me. I’m in charge of you and you’re going to get sick if you don’t eat your greens, okay?” “Yes, Monica…” Charles seemed a little more composed now from his ordeal, but still seemed to hesitate in what he was saying. ‘At least he was sorry.’ There was hope for him in this world after all. I had never seen a Big yet in my time in the window who would put up with tantrums, backtalk, or unapologetic Littles. Accepting their rules and authority just made things easier on everyone. “Now pull up your pants and turn around and face the wall.” I heard footsteps coming closer to me. “You were naughty today, but I don’t think you did anything irredeemable enough not to get your present. Besides, I had been waffling over whether to replace that set of plates anyway. Now, there’s nothing stopping me.” The closet door opened, and I froze in my box, hoping Monica was reaching for me and not some other gift. ‘Doubtful, but you never know with a Big with a desire to get a Little to like them.’ “I’ll probably just end up donating the others.” She then bent down and retrieved my box. ‘Yes! I’m going to meet Charles. I really do hope we can become friends.’ Monica whirled me around in front of her. Along the back wall next to the bookcase and one corner of the room, stood a Little not even 5’7,” which made Monica nearly twice as tall as him. He was firmly a Little but not a newborn size or anything. That would work in his favor for not being regressed all the way. ‘Good. He’s got that much going for him at least.’ Charles was just pulling up his black shorts over his blue and green striped underwear, which barely covered the immense redness that poked out from his butt cheeks on either side. I had never received a spanking being a toy on a shelf most of my life, but it definitely looked like it had hurt, especially considering his wincing as the shorts drew above his waist. Above his red t-shirt, Charles sported a tangled mess of medium length hair. It seemed it hadn’t been cut in weeks, but I knew Monica was probably waiting on more public outings until Charles was more behaved, rather than have him become a girl as some Bigs would do. I guessed she also probably liked the little curls and waves that his hair had started to exhibit in its longer length. Monica then flipped me over carefully so only the rear of the box would face Charles. “Okay, Charles. You can turn around now.” I heard some shuffling. “Is that box for me?” Charles voice seemed surprised and weak, but also grateful somehow. “Yes, Charles. It’s a gift for you.” Monica then leaned forward and handed my package to Charles. With my ears relaxed, I was a little less than two feet tall. The box encapsulated me fully and stuck out on both ends to showcase Mr. Kincade’s logo and my product line, so the box was easily three feet long and a little over a foot wide and deep. It was nothing to Monica at around 10 feet tall, but I was over half of Charles’ length. Charles wobbled with the box for a minute, before setting it down and getting a good look at me through the plastic window. ‘Hello, friend.’ As expected with recently adopted Littles, Charles conveyed a look of shock and frustration. From his mature attitude and short stint of two weeks unregressed here, a stuffed bunny was probably the last thing he wanted right now, no matter how fluffy or cute I was. “It’s a… a…” “A bunny. That’s right Charles. And they’re all for you.” Charles stood in front of me. I wanted to scream at him to ‘Pick me up!’ but I had to keep my cool. It would come natural to him one day if everything went how Monica wanted it to. “But why… why it?” ‘Ouch.’ Not even bunny. Just a single, ‘it.’ Monica seemed saddened for a moment. “Charles, I know this place hasn’t been easy for you and I know you don’t want to be here. I took you in from the agency because I couldn’t see you… butchered.” Charles immediately looked ashamed over his behavior. He clearly knew what happened to some Littles. “There’s nothing we can do now about getting you back home, so you’re stuck here now. And frankly, from today, it seems like making friends here may be a bit of a challenge for you for a while.” “You could say that again.” Monica let a small smile appear on her face. “Exactly. Well, think of Mister Bunny as your friend. Talk to them. Yell at them even. Just try and use them to make yourself feel better. You might actually come to like them if you give them half a chance. That’s all I’m asking. Just a chance.” Charles looked at me hesitantly before finally popping the lid off my box. His small Little-sized hands grabbed me by the waist and held me up. We were face to face for the first time and I got a good look at Charles. His round nose and soft features only accentuated his younger looks with his unkempt longer hair. Brilliant green eyes pierced my inner being and I could tell without hesitation that a brightness burned within them. He was clearly the in first stage of how I classified Littles, if his red action movie t-shirt wasn’t my first clue of his unregressed nature. No Little, even partially regressed, would be allowed to wear such an item. Still, the only thing to offset his cute unregressed looks were his red and puffy cheeks, and the still present moisture adorning them. Clearly, Monica had reduced him to tears during the spanking over its intensity and maybe just a small hint of humiliation that it had caused him. Hopefully, he would learn quickly. I didn’t like seeing my new friend so upset. “So, what do you think of them?” Charles eyed me with distrust, but I could feel his fingers slightly burrowing into my soft sides. “He’s… fluffy.” “Well, that’s something.” Monica got up from where she had sat on the couch after handing me to Charles. “Look, I know you probably think of them as just a toy but remember where you are. Our technology here is at least 20 years, if not more in some areas, ahead of even the best in your dimension.” ‘Ah. Portal Little. That explains a lot. This transition is going to take some effort for sure.’ I figured as much with his attitude, but it was nice to confirm where Charles was coming from. “These toys are special. They have aids to help you fall asleep at night. Isn’t that cool?” ‘Ah. Sleep aids. The backdoor to get any Little to cooperate.’ That’s how it had been sold for years by now. No Little would agree to sleep with a subliminal messaging stuffed animal, but one that would help you sleep in such an unforgiving world to your kind… that was a different story. I in fact did help Littles sleep, but that was just one of over 15 features I had. It was a lie of omission, but it allowed most Bigs to get their proverbial foot in the door to their Little’s mind. “Sleep aid?” Charles seemed to ponder the thought for a moment. “I mean, I guess.” ‘Got him. Sorry Charles. It’s for the best at this point, really.’ The line would work on most, and it was only a matter of time now before Monica had Charles right where she wanted him. I felt evil in my part to play, but I knew Charles would need a friend, and I would spend the rest of my existence making up for what I was about to do to him. “Wonderful. Now, you just need them with you in your bed tonight. Nothing more if you don’t want to, okay?” Charles seemed confused for a moment. “Okay…” Monica didn’t elaborate further and just pushed forward, despite Charles’ apparent confusion. “Now, off to bed. We’ve got some things to do tomorrow, and I want you well rested.” Charles nodded and shuffled up the stairs. He laid me on his bed through a door in the middle of the hall, before leaving once again. and I waited for him to return. Propped against his dark blue pillows, I admired his room as I heard the faucet turn on from the bathroom. It seemed bare, but the smattering of furniture, books, and some decorations made the room look almost mature. I was clearly the most immature item for the time being, but I suspected this ‘big boy’ bedroom wouldn’t last forever. No coloring books, nightlight, or even stencils on the wall from his favorite T.V. show. I knew a true Little clearly didn’t live here, and I knew certain changes would be in order before Monica had reached her goal. I, as a stuffed animal, would just be the first step. While still looking at Charles’ tall and sturdy-looking dresser, Monica walked in and sat on the bed next to me. She gave me a knowing smile and quickly flashed a remote toward me. To reduce discomfort, my system had been programmed without any external buttons and could be activated by the remote-control Monica was now holding. Soft and spongy material inside of me was the latest in technology and allowed me to maintain my huggable form, while still being able to perform my functions at night. Once activated, my internal designs would start my messaging once the lights were off to a set level and Charles was asleep. Soon after Monica had pocketed the remote, Charles reentered the room, now wearing a set of red plaid bottoms and a gray top, his face showing signs of being recently washed. “I see you found a spot for your friend.” Monica looked over at me and then stood up as Charles walked over to the bed. “Yeah… sure.” I personally felt discarded on the edge of the bed by the pillows to ensure there wouldn’t be any contact from Charles, but I knew this was just par for the course for where he was at in his development up until now. Charles got into bed and wrapped the covers around him, though to my delight, Charles adjusted me so I wouldn’t fall when he did so. ‘Did I misjudge Charles? Or is this just a one-off act of acceptance or a ploy to placate Monica?’ Some Littles leaned more into the lifestyle than the others, and after dinner, I doubted Charles would fit into this category, but I couldn’t figure him out just yet. That being said, I guessed I would have all the time I needed to dive deeper into him if all went well. Monica slid her fingers tenderly onto the bed and patted the covers. “All good?” Charles nodded. “All good. Goodnight.” He was abrupt and obviously trying to be left alone, but Monica had one last thing to do. “Hold up there, mister. You have a new friend. I really doubt you still want to call them Mister Bunny, or am I wrong?” Charles shook his head and then looked pained. “Do I have to? Tonight?” Charles just seemed to want to drift off and escape the day, but Monica was insistent and gave him a firm look. “Yes, you need to name them.” Charles groaned but seemed to accept her words and think. After a minute, Monica spoke back up, “Do you need any help, Charles? I have a bunch of names if you do.” She smiled sweetly at Charles, but it was not returned. “I know the name. I don’t need your help.” He turned to me with an intense look of frustration and determination. “His name is Hopper. ‘Hop’ for short.” ‘Hopper? Really?’ That name really surprised me coming from Charles. Out of the four tiers of naming, that was tier two right now, but likely a tier three by the time we became actual friends. I just really hoped I wouldn’t become a tier four. I had learned the tiers of naming from the toy store, just like I had done with the regression phases. For the first tier, a toy would be called by their packaging name or a normal name. These toys would be Ken, Barbie, Joe, Phil, Hank, and so forth. No creative effort involved. Tier two showed more creativity by naming the toy after something famous that it wasn’t directly, was a play on words, or reference to its purpose. A Dalmatian could be named Pongo, a shark named Bruce, or a Bird named Chirps. Third tier names often were more imaginative and may have had to do with the toy itself or may have just been a random name the Little enjoyed. A dragon named Ernie, a snake named Mrs. Green Bean, or a flower named Snuffles. Lastly, fourth tier names were either solely chosen by the caretaker or the Little, but due to a lack of ability, the name would always come out as a string of babble or just drool. These toys may have been called Kiki, Debo, or Lala by their Little, but they always went by their true names of Kitty, Deborah, and Lyle themselves to any other non-regressed Littles. ‘Hopper’ felt right, but I was still surprised. ‘I guess you just never know about some people.’ “Hopper?” Monica seemed equally as surprised as I was but seemed satisfied after a moment. “I like that name. Are you sure, Charles? You can take it back later, but I just want to make sure for now at least.” “Positive. You let me choose, right?” Monica nodded at the defensive question by Charles. “Well, then I choose Hopper.” “Very well. It’s a good name but I just wanted to make sure…” Monica looked like she wanted to say more, but merely turned and walked toward the door with soft but deliberate footsteps, touched the door handle, but then turned back to face the bed. “Well goodnight, Hopper. Goodnight, Charles. I’ll see you two in the morning.” I could almost hear the groan emanating from Charles as Monica closed the door and shut off the lights. Charles seemed to be deliberately trying to ignore me and made forceful movements to ensure he was sleeping on his side and turned away from me. Part of me was glad, because once Monica had turned off the lights, my system began to activate, and I couldn’t bear the thought of Charles watching me with what I had to do. Fortunately, through the subtle messaging outpouring from a tiny speaker hidden in my mouth, Charles was soon in a deep sleep; a necessary step to ensure compliance with the heavier options and as a safety feature in case the caregiver changed their mind. After a few more minutes, my more intense subliminal messaging popped on. I was continuously racked with waves of guilt, but I knew I had no other choice. As a toy in this world, I knew my first priority was to regress my Little and to ensure my Little’s caretaker was satisfied. I had seen other toys who had disobeyed their primary order and had been returned to the toy store. They were often depressed, threadbare from their journeys since being with their Little, and rarely lasted more than a few weeks in that kind of state. To prevent this terrible fate from happening to me, I looked to check for any signs of alertness from Charles, and when I didn’t see any, I took my messaging up a notch and gave into my primary purpose. My messaging softly floated about the room, and Charles’ breathing became slower and less forced. Within minutes, Charles was sleeping on his back and seemed utterly content. This was the first second stage to my messaging and would force the listener to lay on their back and have their arms loose and down at their sides to allow for a state of complete relaxation and submission to anything they would hear. Charles was no exception. I could have stopped here and let Charles sleep soundly, but I knew Monica wanted results. I checked for signs of him waking up again with some subtle pokes to his slumbering form, and once satisfied, I then cranked up my messaging manually and laid back to watch the results unfold. An hour later, Monica carefully peaked in, letting only the smallest of cracks of light in, highlighting one of the slim walls of the room on the opposite side of the doorway, which in turn awoke me from my own rest. The floor creaked in small amounts as Monica was able to slide in and examine us for herself. I noticed her usual calm features were immediately heightened as she spied Charles in all his glory, curled on his side once again, but now clutching me tighter than a drowning man to a buoy. My systems had done their work when Charles had switched his position earlier and wrapped his arm firmly around my waist, as it still was with Monica now watching. I knew most Littles may be able to stay strong at first when they’re awake to hypnotics or subliminal messaging, but I also knew that no one could combat even the mildest of messaging when they were asleep. It was why my line had been so popular. Nothing heavy or damaging in my noises; just calm and peaceful wording and various frequencies all performed when the Little was asleep and defenseless. Charles had succumbed within an hour past his macho outer demeanor, and if Monica’s smile was anything to go by, this would not be the last night of using my messaging against my new friend. I just hoped Charles would be spared some of the fates of other Littles in this world and that we could still be friends once Monica had finished with her plans.

Thirty-Four It was good to get a text from Lyndie. But I had absolutely no idea how to start explaining this situation to her. She’d hear all about it eventually, so I offered only a teaser: “Just a few more stores,” Kylie said. She had only tried the stunt she pulled at Luann’s store one more time, though it didn’t really work as well as it had the first time. She had the department store sales associate lead us to some strollers, before revealing that she wanted a stroller that would fit me–the actual big baby. This woman seemed completely unimpressed and uninterested in whatever game Kylie was playing. And when Kylie went in to give my pants a tug, she found them to be a little tighter this time, and unbudging. The employee walked away, leaving Kylie to look a little foolish. Kylie hadn’t repeated the little game since, but I could never rule it out. She was probably waiting for me to let my guard down before springing it on me again. Instead, she was back to just shopping. Spending money. Accumulating more bags, that I was then responsible for carrying. Meanwhile, as I followed her around, I was contemplating my own little plan. I hadn’t fully committed to it yet, but it felt a little spicier everytime I mulled it over. It would be simple: I’d just release my bowels and fill my diaper. Then, unwilling to either change me or have me follow her around, she’d be forced to take me back to the suite. Her disgust for my smelly diaper would be the icing on the cake. Of course, this actually required me to, you know, poop my pants. In public. Which, when possible, was something I wanted to avoid at all costs. It was what pushed my little revenge fantasy to the backburner. “Do you see him?” she asked as we walked, motioning towards a guy reading his phone on a bench. “What about him?” “He’s cute.” Shaggy dark hair. Stained and torn jeans. Worn black Nirvana t-shirt. Is this what passed as ‘hot’ today? I shrugged, not only uninterested, but unsure why she’d point him out to me in the first place. “What do you think?” she asked. “Should I go say hi?” “Are you…confiding in me about a boy?” She scoffed. “You’re right. I should only confide in you if I see a cute teddy bear on a shelf. That’s more your level of expertise, right?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to go talk to him.” “Okay,” I said. “Have fun. I’ll be over here when you’re done.” “You’re coming with me.” “What? Why?” “Because your Mommy will murder me if I lost you.” I rolled my eyes again. “I’m not, like, an actual infant, you know? I’m older than you are.” “And which one of us still needs their diapers changed? Just come over here.” Her hand was on my arm again and she tugged me towards her prey. Maybe I could’ve resisted a little longer, but I had grown accustomed to just following someone when they were leading me. “Hey,” she said to the guy. “Hey,” he said, looking up from his phone. Up close, he looked a few years older than he did initially. Older than me, probably. “What’s up?” she asked, her head tilting while her voice went up an octave. Is this flirting? She had lazily cast her line, and he was biting. “Not much,” he said, shrugging. “Haven’t see you around here before.” “I’m just visiting.” “Cool,” he said. His eyes lit up, happy with that information. “I’m Vic.” “Kylie,” she responded. “Mind if I sit down here?” “Yeah, go for it.” I almost rolled my eyes again, but wasn’t sure how obvious it would be. I let the two potential lovebirds have their conversation while I pulled out my phone to view a new text from Lyndie. I felt myself blushing. ‘Fun’ was a vast understatement. In the background, I could hear Kylie and Vic yammering. It baffled me that they had anything to talk about at all. “...was supposed to meet some friends,” Vic was saying. “But they bailed on me.” Kylie shrugged. “Well, I’m not doing anything.” “Who’s that?” he asked, motioning towards me. She laughed. “He’s not, like, my friend or anything. Just, like, a friend of a friend. I agreed to take him to the mall today.” Interesting. When she was talking to anyone else, she was more than willing to throw me under the bus and expose me for the diaper-wearing baby I was. But she suddenly seemed to care a little more about how my diapers made her look. I went back to my phone, seeing a new text. I had no idea what Vic and Kylie were talking about now. I tuned it out, scrolling through my phone in search of distractions. Occasionally I’d pick up on an exaggerated laugh from Kylie. Her supposed third goal of making out with someone today might actually come true after all. “I was going to head back to my place,” I heard him say. “Maybe smoke something and watch a movie.” “You, uh, have your own place?” she asked. He nodded. “Yeah. If you’re not doing anything and want to swing by later…” I watched as her eyes swung over towards me. “I should probably drop this one off at home first.” “Well, like, I could give you two a lift,” he said. “We could drop him off and then take you back to my place for a while?” “That sounds pretty good to me,” she said. “And if we drop him off, I could grab some liquor too.” I didn’t actually care what she did. Regardless of the roles we played, we were still adults. Adults who had just graduated high school, and adults who still wore diapers. But…we were adults. But I found myself a little miffed by this anyway. Mommy had trusted Kylie to be my babysitter today, only for Kylie to want to run off with the first Nirvana shirt she spotted alone on a bench. Also, I still felt like I owed her a little comeuppance for her attempts at causing trouble for me at the mall. I checked in with my bowels. Online and ready to deploy. It was either now or never. I bit my lip, going through the pros and cons of going through with this one last time. I could hear Mommy’s voice in my head: “You don’t get to pick and choose when you’re a caregiver. You’re simply there when you’re needed.” I actually wasn’t sure if she had ever said that before or not, but it sounded like something she’d say. I had made up my mind. “Actually,” I said, stepping closer to the bench and pulling away Kylie’s attention. “I think we need to get back to the suite soon. I…I don’t think I’m going to make it.” Kylie’s eyes grew large and steam seemed to come out of her ears. “Wh-what do you mean by that?” “I think I’m going to…” Deep breath. “...make a poopy in my diaper.” “Wait,” Vic said, scratching his head. “What did he just say?” Kylie’s face had gone pale, seeming just as disbelieving as Vic. “Clark, what the hell? Why would you, uh, make a weird joke like that?” She was trying only to protect herself and remain in Vic’s good graces. It also served as a jumping-off point for me. I didn’t have to go forward with this–I could just back off and only lose a little more of my dignity with people I’d probably never see again anyway. But, no. Mommy was going to be so proud of me later. “You said you’d change my diaper if I had an accident, Kylie. And, uhm…it’s about to happen.” Kylie seemed to have no idea how to handle this situation. First, she turned to Vic: “Look, he’s just joking around and, uh…” Then, she turned back to me: “Don’t… Don’t do that.” It wasn’t completely clear what that was. For sure, she wanted me to stop talking about diapers and pooping. But I wondered: Did she actually think I’d do it? How much did she think I was actually bluffing in an effort to embarrass her. “I-I’m sorry, Kylie. It’s too late. I’m…unnnhh…not going to…errhnn…make it…” I hoped to be, at least, nominated for an acting award for this performance. Though, truth be told, it wasn’t that much of a performance at all. The grunts? My legs widening so that I could squat down? None of that was embellished much–it all needed to happen for me to push this load into my diaper. With another, slightly exaggerated, grunt, I felt my bottom open up and the sizable mass slide into my diaper. With my pants on, it was probably hard to tell that the backside of my diaper was changing shape and growing heavier as it was filled. But there were more than enough signs that I was actually pooping myself. My grunts and my reddening face, for sure. But the sounds of the diaper itself, too. The tell-tale sputtering and flatulence, and the crackling crinkle of the plastic diaper being stretched to its limits seemed louder than they ever had before. And the diaper’s stench was already forming a cloud around me, set to spread out in every direction possible soon enough. And I hadn’t just convinced Kylie and Vic of what I had done–others in the area had stopped and watched me, perhaps trying to determine if I was actually doing what they thought I was. “Goddamnit, Clark,” Kylie said, shaking her head. Her cheeks were scarlet now. “Look,” Vic said, standing up. “I’m, uh, going to get going.” “W-wait,” she pleaded. “I can explain. We can still hang out, and we don’t have to, like, bring him. And…” “I don’t know what’s going on here,” he said pointing to me with one hand while waving the other in front of his nose. “But I think you need to take care of it.” Then he got up and left. Kylie jogged after him for a few feet, but gave up quickly. Even if she had caught up to him, there probably wasn’t an easy way to recover any of her own dignity. For one, she’d have to explain why her companion just pooped his pants at the mall. And she barely knew the answer to that for herself. “I can’t believe you,” she said, marching back to me. “I…I had to go,” I said. “Sorry.” “You smell awful.” “Well, I did just…” “I know what you did,” she spat. “I just can’t believe that you’d do that here. And now. You’re disgusting.” “Can we, uh, go back to the suite now?” “No,” she said. “Fuck no. I’m done playing stupid games with you. I’m not going to sit around with you and your dirty diaper. And I’m sure as hell not going to change you. So congratulations on being the stupid little infant you want to be. Adios.” “Wait,” I said, calling after her as she began to walk away. “Where are you going?” “I’m done,” she said. “I’m taking my bags back to my own hotel room.” “But what about me?” “What about you? Doesn’t this mall have a place for moms to drop off their babies? Go there and see if they’ll change your diaper and put you down for a nap. Otherwise, you’re on your own.” I could’ve followed. I didn’t. Much like her and Vic, I wasn’t sure what I could say that would get her to stick around. My increasingly stinky diaper wouldn’t have helped that argument. Also, said diaper would’ve made pursuit quite challenging. So now she was gone too, and I was left standing by myself in the middle of a strange mall in a strange city, my diaper filled to the brim. First things first–I needed to get out of there. I waddled as quickly as I could towards an exit. My odor followed me, a toxic cloud that drew everyone’s eyes to me as I passed. I swore I shuffled past a few familiar faces. Was that the girl from the escalator? Was that Luann? One of the women that overheard Kylie’s loud comments on my diapers? Maybe I was just imagining it, but I swore that I could see a glimmer of comprehension on all their faces. A look that said: “Well well well, looks like he actually does need diapers.” The air of the parking lot–a mix of tar, exhaust fumes and trash cans–was hardly fresh, but it seemed to cut through the noxious fumes wafting off my filthy diaper, and I welcomed it. Now, how the hell do I get out of here? I could just call a ride. But that would mean subjecting them to the contents of my diaper for the entirety of the ride. And it wasn’t a close enough walk even if I wasn’t wearing a toilet between my legs. I needed to tell someone where I was. Lyndie? No, what could she do? Mommy? She was, no doubt, busy at her conference. Dared I pull her away for that? For this? But I didn’t know what else to do. I could have, maybe, returned to the mall, found the most discreet bathroom I could and do my best to take off the diaper and clean myself off–even though I didn’t have a spare diaper or even any baby wipes. It was at this moment that my phone vibrated. The cosmos deciding to throw me a bone: It was Mommy. I sighed, pacing around a mostly deserted part of the parking lot for a few minutes as I debated how to use the lifeline that had been tossed to me. Really, there was only one option for me: the truth. I waited a moment for a response, but then decided to just start telling her the story anyway. I kept it simple, figuring I could fill in the details later. I told her how Kylie dragged me to the mall. How Kylie met Vic, and had come close to heading back to his place with him. I told her about my decision to mess my diaper–and how Kylie abandoned me almost immediately after. There wasn’t an immediate response to this text-vomit, and so I continued to pace, growing increasingly nervous about what her reaction would be. Finally, it came, and I felt my phone vibrating in my tight grip. Thankfully, she quickly followed this up. I told her where I was. The mall. The specific parking lot. I reiterated that my diaper was in a catastrophic state. And, just as I was about to ask what to do with my diaper once I did get back to the suite… The hard parts weren’t over yet–I’d still need to be driven home in my nauseating state. But relief was at least on the horizon. Mommy, as per usual, was there for me to make things right. The black town car pulled up in a surprisingly short amount of time. It was Joel again, and he stepped out of the car and opened the back door for me. There was already a towel on the seat. “Your, uh, mother told me about your accident,” he said. “I don’t mean to offend with the towel, but…” “N-no,” I said. “I get it.” His use of ‘mother,’ was interesting. I wondered what he thought of our dynamic. Did he see it for what it actually was? Had Mommy filled him in on the need-to-know details? Or was he just completely lost? I certainly wouldn’t have blamed him if it was the latter. We drove back to the suite with the windows open. Neither of us had much of anything to say–which I preferred. “Thank you,” I said to him when he dropped me off at the door of the hotel. “I’m…sorry if it smells like me after you leave.” He shrugged. “When someone tips like your mother, there’s a lot I’m willing to deal with.” One last hurdle to go: the journey from the lobby back to the suite. And two steps into the lobby, just as I’m starting to sweat again while I try to figure out the path of least exposure, I spot Kylie. “There you are,” she said, walking towards me. I let out a confused: “Huh?” “I was looking for you everywhere in the mall. Where did you run off to?” I shook my head, as if trying to clear away cobwebs that caused me to misremember the previous hour. “Where did I run off to? Y-you were the one who…” “I’m sorry I got mad,” she said, shrugging. “But as soon as I walked away, I realized that I had been a little harsh. So, you know, I immediately went back to find you.” No. No way. I didn’t know Kylie well, but I knew that she wouldn’t have gone back looking for me. And her tone now? The lack of snark or name calling? She realized she had fucked up. Mommy not only trusted her with me today, but there were things on the line for Kylie. Photos and truth that she could pass along to Gretchen. Kylie had come back only to try and save face. Too little, too late, I suspected. But I quickly decided I’d let Mommy be the judge, jury, and executioner. “Come on,” she said. “Lets get you back up to your suite. You, uh, still need your…diaper…changed, right?” The sound of her voice said it all: She was even willing to do the one thing she swore she’d never do to get back into Mommy’s good graces again. “Mommy said she’d handle it,” I said, as Kylie got us an elevator and escorted me into it. “Is…Ms. Heller coming back soon?” she asked. “I think? I’m not sure.” But when I scanned my keycard to unlock the suite’s door, the very first thing we saw was Mommy, already waiting for us with her arms folded in front of her. “I’m so glad the two of you are back. Baby? I think you’re overdue for a diaper change. And Kylie? You and I are going to need to have a little conversation when I’m done with him.” For the second time that day, I saw the color disappear from the supposed queen-bee’s face.

Chapter 15: Bonded AN HOUR LATER, we were in a secure area of the Los Alamos labs with military guards outside our conference room. Lily was cuddled up in Mom’s lap while I was in Dad’s. Hannah’s parents were there, along with the chief of security, Dad’s boss, and a representative from the EPC. “I demand you turn custody of these two Mergents over to us immediately!” A flustered EPC agent demanded. “I have warrants for their arrest in the attempted murder of 20 people in Albuquerque. We’ll also be charging them for the attempted murder of 8 EPC officers up at the Caldera, Murder, and attempted murder of EPC agents when they shot down a helicopter, among other charges!” “No.” The Captain of Security, Robert Jennings, said simply and unemotionally. “But…” “The facts are pretty clear in the first part, sir. They defended themselves from a mob after Emerald Baby defended herself from a kidnapper. Your agents only were attacked when they were abusive and said ‘Mergent scum’ as they tried to detain them. I think anyone would doubt their safety in that instance.” “But…” “They have a video recording of this that I have viewed. Furthermore, these Mergents have Government EIDs and fall under our jurisdiction.” “I’ll fight this!” the gentleman fumed. “I’m sure you will. Sergeant Weathers, please escort this man and all other EPC agents out of town. The EPC has no jurisdiction here.” When he left, I looked at Hannah, “When did you get your card?” “Actually, that was a bit of a stretch of the truth. We’ll need to take Miss Rayburn and test her immediately for one, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for your daughters to remain here much longer,” he said to our parents. Mom nodded, tears coming out of her eyes, “You’re right.” “Is there any way we can see if Bechtel can take both of them right away?” Dad asked. A knock sounded on the conference room door as if to answer the question before it even came from his mouth. Another uniformed Sergeant stepped in, “Talia Hensley just arrived, sir.” “Excellent timing,” Robert said. Mrs. Hensley walked in a moment later and smiled at us. “How are you doing?” She said to us as a group. “It’s good to see you again, Robert, Mr. and Mrs. Hammerstein, Sofia,” she said politely. “I’m Talia Hensley, the headmistress at Bechtel Preparatory School,” she said to Hannah and her parents. “How are you here so quickly?” Dad asked, surprised. “Sofia has some interesting abilities that left her flagged in our system. We prefer to take students at a semester break at this point, but if something like what just happened goes on, we like to be ready to move things sooner.” “So, you can take her now?” Mom asked. “Sort of; I have to work out one last thing. I suspect it’s going to be just fine, though,” Mrs. Hensley told Mom. “Mr. and Mrs. Rayburn, based on what happened with Hannah, that she would also benefit from coming to Bechtel. Unfortunately, the EPC will be breathing down her back for some time. I believe, like the Hammersteins, you don’t actually live in Los Alamos?” Hannah’s dad shook his head, “No, we live outside too. The lab’s protection only extends through Los Alamos?” he asked Mr. Jennings. “That’s correct. Since the labs were historically military-operated, we have retained the ability to send those EPC scumbags out of town at our leisure. The problem is that if you exit town, they can do whatever they want again.” “Your school, it’s also free of this issue?” her dad asked her. “Yes. Historically we’ve had many students who have found the school to be a safe haven from EPC witch hunts.” “It’s a good school?” Hannah’s mom asked, “I mean… I never expected Hannah to be a Mergent…” she sounded shocked. “And,” her voice cracked, “I never thought I would have to send her away for school so soon...” “You would, of course, be welcome to visit, and your daughters are always welcome to come home for breaks. I wouldn’t recommend them visiting for Christmas, though. The EPC probably won’t let up until at least March when they’ll likely have had some bigger fish to fry.” I watched both of our moms burst into tears at that. “You said there was one more issue?” Dad asked. “Well, we still need someone to roommate with Sofia and help her with... “ “Diapers and babysitting?” I asked. “Yes.” “I’ll do it,” Hannah said. “Are you sure?” Mrs. Hensley asked. “I don’t think I could let anyone else do it,” Hannah said. “I’m sure someone else could,” Hannah’s mom started. “No, Mom, I mean I physically and emotionally couldn’t let someone else do it.” “What do you mean, Hannah?” Mrs. Hensley asked. I answered, “Mrs. Hensley, when I jumped into Hannah’s arms, with everyone chasing after me, that was when she emerged. Just as I ended up with the EFP of a baby… I think she ended up with the EFP of a mother.” I looked sheepishly at Mom, “Caireen complained that she had to share me with two other mothers. This kind of confirmed it to me.” “A true bonding… that is unique,” Mrs. Hensley said. “In that case, I think we’ll take both girls as roommates. Do you need a crib, or can Caireen help you modify your room?” she asked me. ‘Caireen?’ ‘I get to make another nursery!’ she sounded happy. I groaned internally, “We’ll take care of it,” I told her. “Okay then, Robert, have you finished processing Hannah’s GEID yet?” “We haven’t tested her yet…?” “Can you make the GEID, and we’ll test her at Bechtel? We retest everyone there anyway, and it would let us settle them in tonight. I’ll send her test results to log into the system by Tuesday.” “Give me a half-hour?” He suggested. “Good, that’ll give the girls a chance to say goodbye to their parents and me to get an extra teleporter to help them out.” “What about my clothes and stuff?” Hannah asked. “We’ll ship them to you,” her mom said. The next thirty minutes were tear-filled. Mom insisted on changing my diaper before we left, and I hugged my sister and parents, clinging to them until it was time to go. “Be good for Hannah,” Mom told me. “Mom, she’s my best friend?” “And, apparently, another mother now. She has my full permission to discipline you or whatever she needs to do.” “But…” “Sofia, that’s not up for debate. You’re in a two-year-old’s body - and you sometimes act like it too.” I sighed, “I’ll be good, like always, Mom!” Finally, the time came, and Mrs. Hensley directed us to follow her to an area that wasn’t warded against teleporters. Hannah held me on her right hip, so I could see a little bit. Mom had given her Lily and my diaper bag with four bottles that had been rinsed out, some diapers, and a few extra pacifiers. She promised to ship me some other clothes and more diapers the next day with express shipping. We came to an area marked “Teleporter port,” with a dozen armed Marines standing guard. Two people there looked to be in a uniform that said Bechtel on the shirts. “Good evening Mrs. Hensley,” an older one said. “Hi Tom, these two ladies are going back with us,” she said. “The baby?” He asked, surprised. “Come on, Tom, you know better than to judge by appearance,” she chided with a smile at the man with some decidedly canine-looking features on his face. “Right, Mrs. Hensley.” “Okay, young lady,” he said to Hannah, “I’m going to grab onto your elbow; hold on tight to the baby.” A moment later, our parents were gone, and we were no longer in Los Alamos. Instead, we stood outside a large building on the street. “Welcome to Bechtel, ladies,” Mrs. Hensley said from beside us. “Normally, we would have a meeting and complete some paperwork when you arrive. But, given it is nearly midnight, I think it’s better to take you to your dorm and get you settled in.” She paused, “Umm… Hannah, because of Sofia, I have a dorm I want to place you in… Please don’t be offended by it when you discover more about it. “Huh?” We both said, but she didn’t explain any further. A very pretty-looking, short Hispanic girl came up the path just then. “Mrs. Lang asked me to see you and help some new students?” ‘Be careful. This girl is very powerful,’ Caireen told me. “Yes, Esmie,” she pointed towards us, “these two will be joining Trident House. Mrs. Lang will help them find a room there.” “Okay, no problem!” She said with a beautiful voice and beckoned us to follow her. “I’m sorry, I’m Esmie,” she said, and you are?” “I’m Sofia, and this is Hannah,” I said. Esmie kept walking, “I assume Sofia, you’re actually older than you look?” I laughed, “Sort of… at least I was.” “Sounds like an interesting story,” she said. “That it is,” I agreed. “Any chance I can hear it?” “Tomorrow?” I suggested. “It’s been a long day…?” “If you arrived in the middle of the night with Mrs. Hensley and teleporters, I imagine it was!” she agreed. Esmie stopped just outside a building with a statue in front of it. It looked like a proper private school dorm from the movies, with nothing terrifying about it - and that made me nervous. “Look, there’s a lot that I need to fill you in about this school… But most of it can wait until tomorrow, though. Before we go in, I want to ensure you know about Trident.” “What about it?” Hannah asked, “Mrs. Hensley alluded to something too.” “We have a secret. Everyone here is either a changeling or prefers non-traditional relationships.” “They’re gay, in other words?” I asked. “Sofia Elizabeth!” Hannah hissed, shocking me with her motherly use of my middle name. “What? I’m not knocking it.” I felt a bit bad. “So, I’m assuming Sofia, you are a changeling?” She asked me. I nodded, “In about every way.” “Hannah?” she asked, and I looked up to see Hannah blushing. “Hannah?” I asked softly, confused. “I’ll fit in here,” she said with a smile. “Leave it at that,” she said as much to me as to Esmie. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep the dorm’s secret.” Meanwhile I felt like a bomb had been dropped on me! Hannah had never told me, or anyone else that I knew of! Esmie smiled at us, “Welcome to Trident!” It was quiet as we entered the front doors, and a kindly older lady with stern eyes greeted us. “Good evening Esmie,” she said, “Go ahead and head up to your room. I’ll see to these two now.” “Thanks, Esmie,” I said, joined by Hannah’s voice. “Ladies, my name is Mrs. Lang. I’m the house mother for Trident.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Hannah, and this is Sofia,” Hannah said. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say Sofia was your daughter?” she asked. We both blushed, “Not by birth,” I said. “How old were you before you changed?” She asked me. “Eighteen.” “I see, Hannah; you were the same age?” “Yes, I guess at least I don’t think I’ve changed ages like Sofia…?” She smiled at Hannah and continued, “Anyway, we are fortunate enough to have an empty dorm room on the freshman floor. I hope the regular beds work for Sofia?” “Mrs. Hensley is expecting me to change it,” I said simply. “Alright then.” She showed us where the bathrooms were and led us to our room. It was a pretty good-sized room, in all honesty, but I hoped it would be big enough for whatever Caireen had in mind. “Do you need any bedding?” She asked curiously. ‘Caireen?’ ‘Nope, I’m going to take care of everything!’ She said with a giddiness that made me fearful. “I’ll be making it,” I assured her. She looked suspiciously at me in Hannah’s arms but shrugged and said, “Good night, ladies; I need you ready to go at eight so you can get your breakfast. You have an appointment at one to begin sorting out the next few days for yourselves out.” “Okay, Sofia,” she said as she sat me down on the floor, “do your thing?” ‘Caireen, you want to just take over, and I’ll watch? I’m exhausted,’ I confessed the last bit with a little bit of shame. ‘Absolutely!’ For the next twenty minutes, Caireen worked spells that I tried to follow but didn’t have a chance to do so. It was advanced magic that was way beyond my understanding. At the end of it, we stood in the prettiest and most girly room I could imagine existed on the planet. Everything, including the existing furniture, closet doors, and wardrobes, had been changed to a white color with fancy molding along the ceiling and the walls a couple feet from the floor. The drop ceiling tiles had been transformed into a plaster ceiling with many decorative sculpted accents. Two medium size crystal chandeliers hung down to illuminate the room. Glass wall sconces now adorned the wall. The floor was cushioned by a very soft, light lavender carpet. The walls of the room appeared to have been split into two personalities. Hannah’s featured a pretty deep lavender color with an extensive, bold black sketch of a tree with music notes and hearts interspersed. Mine featured a mural of the castle from the Sofia the First show and the characters painted on it in painstaking detail. My mural spanned both of my walls, just as her color spanned her wall. An accent color was visible along the wall portions around the closets and wardrobes. The room itself seemed to have somehow grown larger by at least double. Hannah had a beautiful white four-poster bed with elegant bedding and lots of lace on the curtains that came down. Somehow, a minor detail or two made it seem older fashioned and retro than the little girl’s dream bedding that was mine. I felt both excited and diabetic from looking at my side of the room. A round crib with a canopy over it was just offset from the wall. A changing table leaned against the wall opposite the doorway. It was all styled very similarly to my nursery in the castle, which didn’t surprise me since the same person decorated this one! My bedding was a light pink, and I could see the crib had emerald jeweled accents along the top and bottom rails and ornate carvings of tiaras along the rails. Each of us was allotted desks along a wall. One was obviously mine by the size, and computers rested on both. A rocking chair was conveniently located in one corner of the room, with a soft pink and green baby blanket hanging over the back. There were bookshelves for both of us, with one shelf completely filled with picture books. A toy chest sat next to the wall, most likely filled with toys. Hannah confirmed that when she went to open it. “Wow,” Hannah said. “Too much?” I asked. “Way,” she giggled. “This is the princess bedroom I dreamed about since I was a little girl!” “Well, we both have it now,” I said while shaking my head. Without warning, she picked me up and walked me over to the changing table. She noticed diapers there and said, “Caireen, Your Majesty, thank you for this.” ‘Tell her she’s welcome,’ Caireen said. “She said you’re welcome.” Hannah had me stripped from the romper and the soaked diaper I was wearing in no time. She left me strapped on the changing table and walked to the closets. Inside she found a light green nightgown with as much lace as anything I had seen at Caireen’s castle. “This is adorable!” She said. I sighed and agreed, “It’s very pretty.” She had it on over my head and said, “Your mom said you normally have a bottle at night?” I nodded, “and a story,” I paused, “I don’t expect that from you, though. It’s not like we have any milk in the room!” Hannah nodded and sat me on the floor. “Let me see if Caireen left me anything to wear.” She opened the closet and saw a collection of modern and heirloom dresses. She found a pretty pink nightgown and began taking off her clothes. I was really embarrassed, but I couldn’t help but watch. When the Gi she was still wearing came undone, she stiffened. Her bra was soaked. “What the Hell?” she said. “Eew…” she pulled off her bra, and we both realized why she had that problem. She was lactating. She just stared at me and didn’t say a word. ‘Caireen, what’s going on?’ ‘I don’t know for sure...’ ‘But?’ I felt her sigh, ‘I told you there was another mother… I think that’s why.’ ‘Is she okay?’ ‘Of course. Though if Hannah continues to lactate without having a baby pulling the milk out, it gets excruciating.’ “Say something Sofia,” Hannah said, “You had that ‘I’m talking to Caireen look’ on your face.” Now I sighed too, “She said that it’s because you bonded with me.” “Is that all?” I shook my head, “she also mentioned that it will get pretty painful if you don’t have a way to remove it.” “Is this a permanent thing?” ‘Is it?’ ‘Maybe. Hannah might dry up like a normal mother if there’s not a baby feeding.’ ‘But?’ ‘But I have a feeling this is her EFP, just like yours is leaving you in diapers.’ “Great…” I said aloud. “She says you might dry up if there’s no baby feeding.” “Or?” “Or... this is your EFP.” Hannah burst into tears then, and I ran up to hold her legs in a hug, at least. “What am I going to do? They already thought you were my daughter… Like I had you at sixteen!?!?! If I’m lactating…?” I held onto her for a moment before she picked me up and hugged me tightly. Her face was really red when she pushed me back so I could see her face, “I wish it wasn’t so out of the question to have you help me…?” “Help how?” I asked cautiously. “Well, you’re the only baby I know around…” she paused, “and you got me into this mess.” “I was your eighteen-year-old male best friend last week!” I whined. “Well, you’re a baby this week,” she said with a smile. I looked at her face and could see the discomfort showing. Hannah had been my best friend for years, and I could tell she was embarrassed beyond words right now too. “No one other than a doctor or our parents knows about this, right?” I asked. “What happens in the nursery stays in the nursery,” she told me. “Mom never follows that rule!” “I promise not to announce your poopy diaper changes all over the school like she would.” “Can I have that in writing?” She tickled my side, “I guess shall we try this? If it’s too weird, you really don’t have to… I kind of feel like I need you to,” she told me honestly. “I’m more worried about the two of us being so dependent on each other, but let’s give this a go,” I told her with a smile. “You know, other than pretending to feed my dolls when I was little, I don’t know how to do this…?” “Well, put me up there and hold me,” I told her. So that’s what she did. I sucked tentatively a moment later before beginning a natural rhythm I felt I had no control over. “Does that taste okay, Sofia?” She asked me. I didn’t respond; my body was on autopilot, just like it was with Caireen in the castle. Eventually, when I had drained her first breast, she instinctively shifted me to the other side. While she was holding me, she began singing a lullaby. Her voice was beautiful and soothing. It left me feeling like I was in the safest place in the world. I was so comfortable! At some point, I must have fallen fast asleep. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thank you for reading! Please press the ‘Like’ Button if you’ve enjoyed it! Comments are always super appreciated!!!!! If you're someone who must finish a good story 'now,' consider purchasing the full book on Amazon Kindle! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BTBTTGX1 I will be posting a chapter about every other day until the complete 62 Chapters and the Epilogue are reposted.

The story concludes. Chapter 4 Rebecca’s first day was a series of battles. I already spent seven days in diapers and was losing the battle to control my bladder. I also wanted a bit of control, and not to be subjected to the supervision of an eighteen-year-old who had just graduated from high school. I already lost part of that battle when I let her change my poopy diaper. But I still hoped I could get her to see me as an adult, and not a small child. I knew Rebecca was heading to UCLA at the end of the summer, so I asked, “When are you heading off to UCLA? Have you decided on a major?” It was just small talk, but I hoped she would see me as a wise man. I always enjoyed helping young people with their transition from high school to college and I thought I could give her sage advice. Rebecca blew me off. She replied “Not for a while. I get to spend the whole month with you. Won’t that be nice?” I was annoyed when she answered like I was just a toddler and replied. “I’m not really a kid. I teach at San Mateo College.” She laughed, “Your mommy warned that you might get cranky. Remember, I just changed your diaper, so I’m in charge. Mommy wants you to write. Go to your playroom, and I’ll be there in just a bit.” I protested, “It’s a den.” I settled into the den and then saw Rebecca holding a baby bottle. I asked, “What is that?” “It’s your water. Mommy wants you to drink more water.” “I don’t need a baby bottle.” “Yes, you do. I don’t want any spills.” I snatched it from her and said, “Fine!” She followed, “You need to say thank you.” I angrily retorted, “Thanks.” “That’s not how you say it. You say, ‘Thank You, Uba-san.’” Rebecca seemed to enjoy her power trip. I sarcastically replied, “Thank You, Uba-san.” I sulked most of the morning. I was bitter and I knew that talking only got me in trouble. We sat in silence until I stood up a little over an hour later. She asked, “Where do you think you’re going?” “I need to pee.” “That’s why you are wearing a diaper, use it.” “Fine!” I then let out a large stream that flooded my diaper. “There, can you change my diaper, now?” I was annoyed and was trying to make this as difficult as possible. “Bad baby! You don’t get to tell Uba-san that. I’ll check and change your diaper when it’s time. Go to the corner.” I stayed in the corner for a little while, and I could feel the diaper leak down my leg. Finally, Rebecca asked, “Are you sorry that you talked mean to Uba-san?” I apologized, although it wasn’t sincere. I was still mad and just wanted to be left alone. She stayed in the den with me all morning, but I locked her out after lunch. I was in the den by myself and didn’t let her in. She knocked on the door a few times, but I ignored her. Unfortunately, Claire had a key and opened the door once she got home. She was furious and demanded that I apologize. I answered, “I’m sorry, I just wanted to be by myself.” Rebecca replied, “I accept your apology. Hopefully, you will be better on Monday.” Claire gave me a stern look and said, "You are not allowed to be alone anymore unless you’re in your crib.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the den. I asked, “Where are we going?” “You’re going to bed. I’m sending you to bed early, and no dinner.” “It’s not even six o’clock.” I protested. “That’s what happens when you’re naughty.” Claire gave me other punishments over the weekend. She made me handwrite an apology note to Uba-san, and then I had to write lines as well. She took the door off the den and replaced it with a baby gate and then put a baby monitor in the nursery as well as the den. She said, “I obviously can’t trust you, so I need to keep an eye on you.” After that, my days followed a simple routine. Uba-san watched me during the week, and I spent a few hours writing in the playroom, and then we went on a walk and had lunch. I had to take a nap after lunch. I always seem to whine when she told me it was time for my nap, which is typical for small children. She would just laugh and say, “You need your rest, and Uba-san needs a break.” Fortunately, the nap made the day go by faster. I only left the house on weekends, which was also the only time that I had something to cover my diaper. I got used to wearing just a diaper and a small t-shirt. Despite my obedience, I was getting tired of the baby treatment. I still had another full week left in my original thirty days, and I wanted a respite. I mustered up the courage to approach Claire. I said, “Claire, this is getting ridiculous. I’ve done everything you asked, but I’m getting tired of the baby treatment. This is cruel.” I thought I was polite and respectful, but Claire did not. “Go to the corner.” “What? Why? What did I do?” “Corner!” I stomped to the corner and cried, “It’s not fair.” This time Claire didn’t praise me because I was pouting. She waited a few minutes, which seemed like forever in my mind, and then came to me. She hugged me and said “I love you very much, but you know that’s not how you talk to mommy. I’m afraid that you’ve earned yourself a baby weekend.” I asked, “What’s that?” “You’ll find out. I’m going to treat you like you are a real baby.” It was made worse by the buildup. I watched as she brought in more implements of my punishment each day. Claire brought in a highchair, which I figured I would have to use. The crib was already in my room, but she put a changing table there as well. But I still didn’t know what I was really in for until it started. Claire came home on Friday and asked, “Are you ready for your baby weekend?” I shook my head in horror and said, “No! Please don’t do this.” I begged, and even started to cry. Claire had a compassionate look and said, “I know it’s scary, but you need to listen to mommy. When you don’t listen, I have to punish you. There are consequences for being naughty.” “That’s when you send me to timeout,” I whined. “Timeouts are only to stop you from being naughty. This is to teach you a lesson.” She held up a pacifier and said, “Open up.” She clipped the pacifier around the back of my head, which made it impossible to spit out. She brought me to the nursery and tapped on the changing table, “Climb up here.” I did, and she praised me “Thank you, baby. Arms out.” I put my hands over my head and Claire said, “No baby, that’s up. Show mommy your hands.” I showed Claire my hands and she put a rubber ball in each hand. She then strapped mittens over my hands. My hands were cupped, and I couldn’t move them. She put booties on my feet that had padding under them which made it difficult to walk. She gave me a sponge bath and then brought me back to the nursery to finish with the diapers and onesie. She dressed me in a blue onesie, and then said, “Ok baby, get in your crib.” Claire connected my mittens to my waist and pulled up the rails to lock me into the crib. She said, “Don’t leave, mommy is going to get your dinner.” I thought that was ridiculous because there was no way I could get out of the crib. Claire came back with four bottles and said, “Ok, it’s dinner time.” She unclipped the pacifier, and handed me a bottle, “Drink all of this up.” I struggled to hold on to the bottle, and Claire asked, “Do you need mommy to hold it for you?” I shook my head but continued to struggle to hold the bottle in my mouth. Claire said, “Let mommy hold it.” She held the bottle against my lips while I sucked down the first bottle, and then gave me three more bottles of this chocolate mixture. She then burped me, and said, “Lie down on this blanket, sweetie.” I laid down on the blanket, and Claire wrapped it tightly around my body, and then under my back. The other side was wrapped tightly and then tucked in. Just to make sure I couldn’t wriggle it loose; Claire pinned the blanket so that it was locked in place. I was fully swaddled and couldn’t move my legs or arms. Claire smiled, “Snug as a bug in a rug.” She kissed my forehead, “Nite-nite, baby.” I could barely roll over, and I had no idea how long Claire would leave me like this. I couldn’t move the pacifier around and couldn’t make any noise. I have no idea how long I was swaddled like that. Claire occasionally came in and gave me a bottle of the chocolate mixture. I guess the formula had laxatives and sedatives because all I did was sleep, pee, and poop. I lost track of how many times I was given a bottle, but she changed my diaper three times before she brought me into the living room. I think I spent an entire day in the crib. I was relieved to be out of the crib, and free from the swaddle, but I still had the booties and mittens on. The pacifier stayed clipped into my mouth unless I was given a bottle, and I was brought back to the nursery for two naps. That evening I was put into the highchair, and Claire fed me jars of disgusting baby food. It was the first solid food I had all weekend. After dinner, I was brought back to the nursery and swaddled again for bedtime. The next morning Claire woke me up with a cheery voice, “Congratulations. You were such a good baby this weekend, so now you’ll be one year old.” I mumbled, “One year old?” My mouth was tired from the pacifier, but I guess Claire understood my question. “It means no more booties. If you are good, I’ll give you more big kid privileges, but you have to earn those back.” I was still spoon-fed and confined to a playpen for a few more days. A baby weekend means that I lose all privileges for the whole weekend, and then gradually gain them back with proper behavior. I got to feed myself on Wednesday, but I was still sitting in the highchair for a full week. I couldn’t tell hours from minutes, and my days started to blend. Fortunately, I still had a mental count of how many days I spent in diapers. I got to the thirtieth day and thought it was my last day in diapers. I remembered that I had a tantrum and she told me that she started the count over, but I hoped she forgot about that. Claire came into my playroom, even I started calling the den ‘my playroom’, holding some of my old underwear. She asked me, “Do you know what these are?” I answered, “Yeah, they look like my underwear. Can I take this diaper off now?” Claire laughed and said, “No, I’m sorry honey, I don’t think so. I like you better this way, and I’m afraid that you might pee your pants.” I let go of all of the pent-up emotion. I put up with this crap for a whole month, and now she is telling me that it is permanent. “WHAT! That’s not fair. You told me that this would only last thirty days. It’s been thirty days. It’s time to stop.” Claire shook her head and said, “I didn’t say that. I said that I would stop if you were ready to be an adult after thirty days. I don’t think you are ready, and I like you this way. You’re sleeping better, you’re healthier, and you’re not drinking anymore. I think you’ve lost some weight because you’re eating better, and we aren’t fighting. This is way better.” I complained, “That’s not fair. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to do things by myself, and what about my job?” I didn’t know how Claire would respond. Speaking like that usually got me sent to the corner. “You don’t need a job. I make enough money, and I don’t want you to have a job anymore.” I was exasperated and on the verge of tears. I was upset, but I couldn’t imagine leaving. I only did this because I didn’t want to lose Claire. Claire remarked, “You hate your job,” which was true, “and you told me you want to write. This will give you time to write. I will even help you get freelance work.” I protested, “But it’s not right. I don’t want this all of the time. I’m not a child.” Claire asked, “Did you hate all of it?” I had to tell the truth. “No, I liked some of it.” “What did you like?” “You give me lots of hugs now. How often did you tell me that you loved me before this? You hug me every time my diaper is wet, and then tell me that you love me. Whenever I get sent to the corner, you come back and say that you love me. I think sometimes I said things just to get sent to the corner.” Claire blushed and said, “Oh, that’s so sweet, and I do love you.” She then paused, and asked, “Did you hate the diapers?” I started to blush. I knew that I kind of liked wearing diapers, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. Claire smiled and said, “I knew it.” I argued, “But we can’t do this forever. I promise I’ll be better now. I learned my lesson.” Claire got deadly serious. “Chris, I’ll be honest with you. That ship has sailed. I know that you haven’t changed enough, and you’re going to mess up. I can’t live like that again.” I pleaded, “I’ll be more mature. I’ll clean the house. It will be spotless.” “I’m serious, Chris. I’m not going back to what we had before I put you in diapers. You have a choice. You can leave, and I’ll grant you a no-contest divorce. I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars and pay for a hotel room until you get a place to rent. Or, you can stay, but on my terms.” I shouldn’t have needed to ask, but I did. “What are your terms?” She replied, “This! Diapers, crib, and everything else. You will stay in diapers and listen to me. I’ll be your mommy, and I’ll take care of you.” I asked, “So, I basically would be just like a child?” “Not basically, you would literally be my little boy.” "Can I take time to decide?” Claire answered, “You don’t have to decide tonight, but you’re wearing diapers if you sleep here. Your bedtime is still nine o’clock, and you’re sleeping in your crib.” What option did I have? I didn’t want a divorce. Claire is the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I would never get somebody like her again. I would have a tiny apartment and a miserable job that I hated. I could stay, have time to write, and pursue my dream. I never had time to write before and couldn’t think of any stories. I wrote more in the last month than I had in the previous five years. I was flooded with stories and wasn’t stressed about life. Being an adult is hard, and I’m not very good at it. I took a deep breath and said, “I’ll stay here.” Claire beamed and said, “Wonderful.” She handed me the scissors and said, “mommy wants you to cut up all of your underwear. You don’t need them anymore.”

*Future me here, this is the first story I wrote on here and therefore, there are many things that are different. First, like many of the other Diaper Dimension stories, this story may contain elements that some may find unnerving or even unsettling to read about. I do not agree with these methods, but I have included them because I also know they make some pretty good fiction. Additionally, there is a soft sequel to this one which can be found at the following link: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/90405-dashs-redemption-a-stuffys-tale-and-diaper-dimension-story-chapter-15-complete/ Chapter 1: The Trio in the House “Hey there. I’m Hopper and this is the nursery.” I’m standing in a typical nursery meant for any baby boy. Fully stocked, practical and cute. Little cartoon boats even dot the walls. “It might not be a thing out of place in scores of households in other dimensions, but this isn’t the typical dimension you might have been expecting. Sure, there are cars, postmen, government issues and scandals, the weather still rains and shines alike, and the average person here looks very much like most others do, with one exception; their height. At least compared to most other places. This dimension has come to be known by many names, but I know most in other dimensions refer to this as the Amazon dimension.” I pause for a moment. “Get it? They’re super tall, and that’s the big difference here. Along with their amazing technology, they’re almost twice the size of 90% of the other dimensions out there.” I pause for a moment. “Let me know if I need to take a breath or anything. I know it can be a bit jarring for some at first.” “Me, personally, I don’t really care about those things and the vector energy pathways separating out the dimensions from one another. Leave that to the politicians claiming other worlds and the scientists bridging the gaps. I really only care about a few of my friends and the two other people who live in this house with me; Monica and Charles… well, Charley.” “Now hold still Charley,” a forceful yet calm, sing-song voice echoes through the hallway outside the nursery from the bathroom. “That would be Monica. She’s the head of this house and what people here refer to as a Big. She’s right about average at 10 feet tall and certainly turns heads when walking into a room for her regal and yet almost farmer’s daughter looks. It’s an odd combination, but she definitely makes it work. I know Charley had a bit of a crush on her at one point in the beginning… but that was a long time ago now.” I look at the darkly stained oak crib to my left, standing as just one of the monuments to the changes that had occurred since I had come into this house. I shake my head. Such ideas don’t help anyone. “Despite her being a Big, and all that entails here with the ‘mommy instincts,’” using air quotes as best I can, “she’s sadly probably one of the more level-headed Bigs one would find in this dimension. Most treat their charges as their relative heights would suggest. If that means drooling on the carpet and laughing at silly infantile games, so be it. Monica may stoop occasionally, but Charley is at least still aware of what’s around him currently.” A high-pitched laugh bounces off the corners of the house. It seems pained and joyful at the same time. “Ah… tickle time. Monica’s newfound joy in life with Charles and one of her ‘stooping’ moments.” I listen to the continuing peals of laughter coming from the bathroom. “She must really be going at him today if he’s laughing that much. Probably needed a pick me up this morning. Almost seems like he needs them a bit every once in a while now since… well, Dash.” I shake my head again, now trying to dispel his image out of my head. “Anyway, for all the normies not in the Guinness World Record books or who aren’t natives, I will assume most people you know would be classified like Charley: a Little. I suppose some of the more blessed individuals could be considered in the middle category, but if you’re below 6 feet, don’t even think about trying to pass as a Middle. The Bigs will spot those people a mile away and punish them for lying. Most of the time, by the end, the liars will care more about the rattle in front of them than a few measly inches and the possibility about being labeled as a Middle. Lying is never good, particularly with this society.” “Charley, or Charles back when I first met him, was 5’9” on a good day before he shrunk a few inches on the trip over here, so he never had a chance with the Bigs, which is how he came to be living under Monica’s roof in the first place. Some trip with sapphire? Ruby? Emerald? I can’t remember, but he became just another missing tourist statistic in that tour group. Since then, he’s been Charles, Charley, C-Man, Honey, Sweetie, baby, darling, and a dozen or more names. We’ve been together since almost the beginning, so I would know.” “Too much? That’s fine, just call him Charley. It’s officially Charles but that name went out with the rest of the items considered at all mature.” I take a breath and then continue. “It took some time for us to become friends, but once we did, we became inseparable. Going through all he did, a friend is a critical element. He sought comfort with me, more than anyone else. A bond like that can only grow from such circumstances.” I pause and try not to get emotional over talking about the past. It’s tough when viewing all the changes firsthand. “Anyway, I admired his intellect, stubbornness, reserved dignity, and strong creative streak. He admired my calm, superb listening skills, and if he will admit it or not, my fur.” I pause to emphasize what I had just said. “That’s right, my fur. You see, I’m the third in this little trio, but I’m neither Big nor Little. Not even a Middle. I’m a stuffed animal… a bunny to be more precise. Obvious when you look at me, I know, but it’s an important factor to know before I tell you anymore.” I straighten up and flex out my diminutive fluffy figure. “Name’s Hop, or Hopper. Charley named me that the first day we met. Not the most creative of name choices, but I think he just wanted Monica to leave be that night. If I’m being honest, that name was probably for the best, as it could still be used once Monica’s plans had come to fruition. I see the looks in other carer’s eyes when some of my friends are still being called adult names. A turtle named Gunther can only last so long with a regressed Little. Imagine trying to say that with a pacifier in your mouth or when your teeth have been pulled in the more extreme of cases. It’s not a pretty sight. Not that Hopper is any easier, but it’s at least more passable. But Hop, well, Hop is perfect. Definitely more than Mister Bunny, my original store name you see.” I shake my appendages out from sitting nestled against the crib for some time. “Come on with me. Daily stretching time. You see, a toy here can never be too careful to blend in. Society can’t know about toys being real and all. Imagine the paranoia.” I shudder as I begin to stretch at the mere thought. “Talk about yikes. These people are crazy enough as it is, so you don’t want to add to that pile, but still, you’ve got to take your breaks where you can.” I flex my arms out and check my fragile and more recent stitching under my arm. “Can never be too careful as a toy either. This world is hard for a Little, but it can be an outright deathtrap for a toy…” “Take that Captain Purple Beard!” Monica shouted from the bathroom. “No mommy! Never!” Tickle time had apparently ended. Playing with bath toys always came next. “Moving on… I know not all toys have this life though. When I was at the mall, I met the lost and found toys at night. Some had come accompanying children and others had been with adults or even the kids from the other dimensions. Why someone would bring their kid here is beyond me, but in they came, so losing a toy was pretty easy to do. We always felt bad for the adult toys however, because if any Big caught an adult carrying a toy… well, it’s basically a giant beacon advertising that Little wants to be adopted… Those toys were often never claimed or saw their owners again. Probably for the best from what I’ve seen. A toy can feel just as sad over a loss, you know?” “I couldn’t believe some of the toys in there. They were so high and mighty because they thought they were celebrities. Apparently, their dimension had this whole franchise about toys coming to life. It’s tough to imagine an entire society knowing that toys were truly alive, but it always got confirmed that everyone thought it was just from the mind of a really creative team and not something that could ever truly happen. That is at least once you got them talking for a bit and not just bragging. In the end, if any of those toys actually ever were retrieved, they usually never wanted to come back and preferred their own dimension over ours. Can’t blame them there.” I stretch one ear and then the other, and they flutter slightly as they both reach their furthest point. “Oh yeah. That’s the spot… where was I?” I pause for a moment and collect my thoughts. “Oh, yes! Not every toy is cut out for this dimension, but there are some pretty big positives. In other dimensions, toys are used until they break, or the child grows up. If they’re lucky, they’ll be donated to a new owner to start the cycle again or be placed in storage. The unlucky ones get dumped and ruined to the point where no child would ever want to play with them, which inevitably leads to them rotting away in a dump or worse… being incinerated.” I shudder in fear at the thought. “Fortunately, here, a Little growing up is practically unheard of. The love of a Little could last decades, and most toys only fade away after completely wearing out or if their Little passes away.” Charley laughs again from the bathroom and reminds me of how we got here in the first place. Why a nursery was even in this house in the first place. I look at the ground in shame and regret. “I can’t lie though…” I let out a big sigh and lean back into the changing table nearby, “sometimes, being a toy here is tough. All other toys’ main objective is creating joy and love in a child’s life and to be loved and cherished back. In the past five years though, toys here have another purpose. We’re now equipped with subliminal messages we have to use on the Littles. Most Bigs don’t realize the messaging is in all toys now, though many of them know at least of the possibility of having similar technology in the specially marked toys. The Mister Cuddles Bear line was extremely popular about three years ago. It alone could regress a Little in under a month after being prompted to do so by the Big. Most Littles didn’t know about the technology until it was too late. They would cling to their one unjudging friend, and it would be all over. Seek comfort after a tough day of mentally regressing and the bear would only further the cycle and send them further downward. Poor little tykes.” “Due to this new technology though, all toys now have a primary mission of using their messaging, or other bits of regressive technology, on their Littles until the desired regression has been achieved. Once it has, we become like any other toy, but our primary mission still hangs over us like a dark cloud of guilt. How could a toy profess to love and care for their Little when every day with them will just lead the Little back to their early childhood or earlier? It’s a question every toy now asks themselves and then must live with afterward. I envy anyone like you that doesn’t have to worry about that in their lives. The ones that see a Little after they’ve been regressed…” Oh god! Please help me, Hop. I don’t know if I can make it through this… Please don’t let her take me… take my mind. Oh. Oh no! Anything but that. Not now! The memory strikes deep within me. It passes in a moment but the pangs of guilt are still there. I glance around the baby blue nursery and infantile accoutrements laid before me with regret. “This is what I must live with now. It wasn’t all me, but I started the process, and I can’t escape it. This room was once classified as a ‘big boys’ room. Charles cringed at that for the longest time… until he didn’t, when he became Charley.” Despite the cartoon characters on the walls and clothing suited for someone under eight, it seemed practically adult compared to where I was standing now. A long changing table packed with diapers and everything else one needs to facilitate those with a Little; a tall and inescapable crib, a bouncer, a rocking chair strong and wide enough for any Big to cuddle with their Little on, a toy chest packed with items only Littles could treasure, and a small bookcase filled with books, where those at the top could be read by a Big and those at the bottom could really only be looked at by Littles. “I miss the ‘big boy’ room.” “I can’t say that I do…” a voice says from above. “I can’t blame you there, Sandy,” I say to the moon-shaped nightlight perched at the top of the dresser. “You only came in when Charley started getting afraid of the dark again. That was right when all this started to change.” “Yep. I would have loved to have met ‘Charles.’ But hey, at least you get to play with him…” “Very true, Sandy. Very true.” I pause and see his faint glow in the dim room of the afternoon. “Charley definitely appreciates you though.” “Right as always, Hop,” he replies back. “The little bugger loves my safety at night. Can’t blame a Little for that.” He’s right and I settle fully back against the changing table and smell the cacophony of nursery-associated smells. I focus on the sweeter ones of clean linen and baby powder to distract myself. “Anyway, regardless of what this place looks like now, I remember what it used to look like when I came home from the mall with Monica. Back before…” I gesture around the nursery, “all this.”

What a cutie pie! You look like a very happy little girl.

I suppose some of us walk about wearing our homes. ?

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@DiaperedJoe You have made a lot of progress with potty training. With continued training your capacity and control will increase. Wearing regular underwear is a worthwhile goal. Keep a picture of underwear you like to look at when you sre feeling discouraged. Accidents during the Super Bowl or other times of high excitement are common. I would consider having someone who is potty training or newly trained wear a diaper. If they were hesitant I would explain that accidents are common during times like this and they can wear a pull up after the game. The diaper takes the pressure off them to stay dry. The diaper allows them to enjoy the game without having to worry about making it to the potty

In the UK we have this thing called 'Changing Spaces' they are facilities for adults to change/have their nappies changed. Very handy.

Being disabled myself, I know having a bathroom that has a diaper changing table comes in handy because I hat having to do diaper changes on the floor.

Day 4 Part 38 As I was now about 13 and half, I could tell something was going on with my body. It seems like I was paying more attention to April when she was in a diaper. It was a different type of attention than before. I was still too young to figure out what was going on. Then that fateful day happened. When this happened, April was just about ready to become 14 years old. I was staying overnight at their house, and I woke up the next morning early needing to pee awful bad. So, I got up moving very slowly so not to wake up anybody else in the house. I opened the bathroom door and what was going on in there changed my life forever when it came to diapers. April was standing at the sink and when I came in, she turned around to face me. She was just in a diaper; it was first time in a couple of years that she didn't have a top on when I saw her in a diaper. I could tell that her boobs were starting to develop, but those were not what I was interested in looking at. I could tell from looking at her diaper and the smell in the bathroom that she had pooped herself. Before she was able to say anything to me, she turned towards the sink again and puked, as she was puking, and she was also pooping more. I know I should have been more interested in looking at her boobs. But I was more interested on how big the back of her diaper was getting. I swear that the back of the diaper expanded four times the size as it was before, I have never seen a diaper sag so much before on her. After about 15 minutes she stopped puking and pooping. She turned around and looked at me and I went wow she looked worse now than what she did when I first walked in. I told her let's get her back to bed and I will go in and get her mom. As we were walking back to the bedroom April was wadding like a toddler with a fully loaded diaper, I was also thinking how in the world somebody that small will have that much poop in them. My next thought was how was I going to get her in bed without smearing around the mess that was in her diaper. When we got to her bed, all what she asked me to do was to help get her into it. As I got her in bed, I was able to keep the mess from getting any worse, until she rolled over onto her back. Well at least I tried. When I ran out of the bedroom to get her mom, I saw that it was 5:00 o'clock in the morning. When I went into April’s mom bedroom, I went over to her bed and the blanket had fallen away from her boobs. I thought so this is where April gets the idea of not wearing a top when sleeping, It was the first time I had seen a full-grown woman naked boobs, I was not sure what to do. So, before I woke her up, I cover them up with a blanket. As it was, that was a waste of time. Because as soon as I was able to wake her up and to get her to understand that April was sick and had a poopy diaper. She jumps out of her bed and started to run to April’s room. It must of came back to her that she was naked because she turns around to look for something and then looks at me and said it’s too late now and you better not say anything about this. I stood there in shock because not only wasn’t she wearing anything on top she wasn’t wearing anything on her bottom either. That’s when I learn that women had hair on their sweet spot. I then followed her into April’s room. Her mom takes one look at April and goes wow April you really do not look very well. April was only able to look at her and kinda and shake her head no. Well honey she said I'm here to take care of you. First thing that we need to do is get you out of that poopy diaper and into a clean one, it'll make you feel so much better. I started to walk out the door and her mom turned around to me and says you're not leaving. From the looks of this diaper, I'm going to need some help with it. Plus, someday you're going to have kids of your own so you might as well find out now what you get yourself into when you do have them. First thing that I need to have you do is to get some wet warm washcloths from the bathroom, just make sure that they're not too wet. When I came back into the room with a couple of washcloths, her mom was just starting to unpin her diaper. As she lowered the front of the diaper down to see what the damage was, all that I could think was wow there's poop every place and that it was going to take forever to clean her up. she started using the front of the diaper that didn't have any poop on it to clean April’s front. She asks me to hand her a washcloth, so I did, and she continue on April’s front. After she was done with that job, she grabs her ankles and lift her bottom up and asks for another washcloth. As she was cleaning her bottom, she asks me for another washcloth. I told her that I didn’t have any, well go get some more she said. As I walk back in, she still had April’s legs up against her chest. I handed her the washcloth to her, and she went back to cleaning her bottom, after two more washcloth’s she was done. A new diaper was lay down on the bed and April bottom was laid down on it. Her mom then asked me to get the baby powder and the diaper rash ointment off of the dresser. I was able to find the baby powder but not the ointment, I turned to her and said I was not able to find the ointment. She goes alright, I think it's in the diaper bag that's in my closet in my bedroom go look and grab some. So, bedroom then I went, I was able to find the diaper bag in her closet and got the jar of the diaper rash ointment. When I got back to April’s bedroom her mom had her legs up against her chest again so all what I was staring at was April’s bottom. She asked me to come over with the jar and open it up for her. After I got it open, she stuck three of her fingers in it and started rubbing in the ointment on April’s bottom. She then stuck one finger into the jar and told me that you always need to put some between the cheeks of their bottom and always look to make sure you don't miss a spot. As she was doing this, I was thinking to myself well that's the only area that I haven't seen of April, but I've seen it now. Next, she asked me to pass the baby powder and she sprinkled a bunch on the bottom and also rubbed that in. When she was done with that area, she lowered her legs back down and open up April’s knees about and starting to talk about how you need to cover every area with the ointment so there's no chance of any rash happening. After she was done rubbing in the ointment, she then added a whole bunch of baby powder. (Before she started adding power to her sweet spot, I was able to see that April is definitely starting to become a woman, because there was hair starting to grow on her sweet spot.) At that point she pinned the diaper on to April and ask me to go and get and pick out a pair of plastic pants for her. When I got over to the dresser and opened up the dresser drawer where her plastic pants were being kept at, I was in for a surprise. I thought she only had clear plastic pants, But I found out that she had many of different types of plastic pants. I picked out the one they had circus animals on it. I walked over and handed it to April's mom and she kinda laughed and said Well you two have the same mind because these are her favorite plastic pants. After she was done, I looked at April and she had fallen back to sleep through all of this. Her mom then covers her up with a blanket and then looks at me and says we need to go to her bedroom. I was hoping that I was not in trouble. As I was walking, I had that funny feeling in my underwear again. After we entered into her room she went over and sat down on the bed and told me to sit down beside her. After I sat down next to her, I kept my eyes looking down on the floor, after I sat down, she told me to look at her. I raised my eyes up to her face and she just smiles at me. She grabs ahold of my hand and starts talking about how it was an accident that you are seeing me naked. She goes on to say that there's two things that I cannot talk about to anybody. One of them is telling anyone that you saw me naked and the other one, do not tell April that you helped me change her dirty diaper. I said to her OK I understand. She stood up and help me up from the bed. She told me I should go back to bed to try to get a couple more hours of sleep, as I go walking out the door, she says Greg there is one thing you need to do before you get into bed. I turned around and looked at her and said what was that. she is kind of smiled at me a little bit and says you need to change your underwear you're leaking a bit. I look down my front and there is a wet spot on my underwear, I looked back at it and said I'm sorry and she just smiled at me. Mark came in and woke me up saying that breakfast was ready, and mom said that you need to get dressed and come on down. I looked at the clock and I saw that it was 9:30. After I came down and started eating breakfast, I asked her how April was doing. She told me that April is asleep, but I was able to get her to drink some water earlier, but no food yet and she didn't look any better. After you get done eating breakfast why don't you go up and see if she's awake. About 15 minutes later I got done with breakfast and went up to April's bedroom. As I walked into the room, I could tell that April was still asleep and as I walked closer to the bed, I also smell a problem. I lifted the blanket up to look at the back of her diaper and I was able to confirm what I thought it was. Went downstairs and told April's mom that April has a dirty diaper again. She looked at me like I was joking, and I went no I'm serious, I looked and she definitely in dirty diaper. She said come on let's go up and see what's going on, just being sick should not cause her to be pooping in her diaper. She tried to arouse April up, she kind of woke up but she was still out of it. She told April that she was going to change into a clean diaper and for her just to lay there, April didn't say anything. While she started to change April, she told me to get the changing supplies and bring over a new pair of plastic pants. When she was done changing her, she told me to stay with April and that she would be right back. She was back in about 15 minutes and said that I needed to help her get April dressed. I asked why were we dressing her, she said I just got off with a doctor and he told me to take her to the hospital. So, I helped her dress her in a pair of pajamas, it was a good thing that April was out of it because those pajamas didn't even come close hiding the diaper that she had on. I helped to get April out to the car, she then told Mark and I to go over to my house and my mom was expecting us and she would give us a call when she finds something out at the hospital. It was hard watching them leave without knowing what the outcome will be.

I tested “positive” for bedwetting again last night. Whilst I’m well aware that I am by now a regular night swimmer, mostly these outcomes remain submerged (me so funny) in ambiguity as the fact of them is lost beneath general wetness in the pants department prior to falling asleep. A pulse check for bedwetting requires me adjust changing schedules so as to go to bed (and fall asleep) in a dry nappy or, on the very rare occasions where I have the opportunity to recover from the potential consequences, go to bed in no nappy at all. Changing just before bed is both burdensome and inefficient on nappy usage so I don’t do it much. The environmental and hard dollar cost impact of using three nappies per day however is defrayed by cloth and since Friday is a cloth day, I just changed out of my evening-shift Rearz Omutsu cloth diaper (which frankly, had seen enough action anyway) into Babykins pull-up cloth nappies and hit the hay. For some reason I stirred at around 2:30am. This is pretty normal for me (my wearable sleep tracker corroborates my opinion here). I found myself on waking to be a bit wet. There was zero risk to nappy integrity, it hadn’t been a big pee but a pee had definitely happened, the front of my nappy was quite damp both on the inside and the outside although the sides and seat remained dry. I fell back asleep. It was one of those events where there were no “pee dreams”, no dreamy waking because I could feel myself peeing, I simply woke up to discover that I had done a wee at some earlier point. Judging by the modest quantity and the fact that I’d completely emptied myself into my last nappy for the day only 4 hours earlier, it was highly unlikely that this unconscious decision had anything to do with a full bladder. It’s just something that my body does now. Checking my smart watch, it assured me that I’d spent the relevant portion of the night alternating between deep sleep, light sleep and REM sleep in typical cycles: no wakefulness. I suspect the zero pee dream score suggests that I peed either in light or deep sleep. Currently around 50% of bedwetting tests are returning positive results. For the remainder, the typical 2am stirring finds me dry and I am able to use my nappy whilst awake before falling back asleep in it. Since I’m aware that attempts to “measure” bedwetting for me tend to inhibit it (in the early days it would not be possible for me to experience bedwetting by orchestrating a “dry” test), it is possible that the 50% score reflects a reduced incidence of bedwetting. It may well be that I wet the bed every night when I don’t attempt to look for it. That’s all part of the ambiguity I guess. A known bedwetting event however always seems to put me in a better mood the next day. Whether this is due to some kind of psychological satiation or it is an indirect reflection of more solid sleep (presumably uninterrupted by my bladder) remains an open question.

This was an important chapter to understand why she wants to move back to where he was when his daddy and granddaddy played with him. I hope he wants not only to be with is Daddy that he wants to be with his Mommy ... Mom too and let her and his remaining family take care of him as a baby wearing nappies and sucking on his dummy.

That would come in handy for me because I'm actually disabled. It's probably the one time where I'm actually GLAD I have cerebral palsy. LOL!?? But I usually don't wear diapers during the day, wish I could change that though.???♥️?????

#Walking on a dream As I stepped into the examination room, I felt a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The room was filled with oversized equipment and examination tables, and I felt like a tiny boy in a giant's world. I had been transported to a new world, and I had no idea what to expect. The nurse, Emma, greeted me with a sickly-sweet voice and a smile that made my skin crawl. She was tall - easily over 2.5 meters - and looked like a model. Her long, curly hair was the color of honey, and her big brown eyes sparkled with a kind of malicious glee. "Well, hello there, little boy!" she said. "Are you ready for your examination?" I looked up at her and felt a sudden sense of smallness. Compared to her, I was a tiny speck, barely reaching her waist. My hands balled up into fists as I tried to assert my independence. "I'm not a little boy," I replied, gritting my teeth. "Oh, I'm sorry," Emma said with a condescending tone. "I forgot that you're a big boy. But we still have to make sure you're healthy, don't we?" I hesitated as Emma came toward me to lift me onto the table, but she was strong and persistent. "Come on, sweetie, let's get you up here," she cooed as she picked me up, ignoring my protests. As she lifted me onto the examination table, I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. The table was padded and looked more like a changing table than anything else. I tried to sit up, but Emma quickly restrained me with thick Velcro straps, pinning me down so that I couldn't move. The Velcro straps were covered in cartoon characters, and I felt a wave of humiliation wash over me. They were clearly designed for toddlers, not grown men. I struggled against them with all my might, but it was no use - Emma was too strong for me. I was stuck, a prisoner on this table, and there was nothing I could do about it. As Emma took my blood pressure and poked and prodded me with oversized equipment, I felt like a lab rat, stripped of my dignity and autonomy. Every touch of her hand, every patronizing word that came out of her mouth, made my skin crawl with anger and frustration. As she finished up the examination, I felt a new wave of anxiety wash over me. I couldn't help but worry that Emma was going to put me in a diaper, just like a helpless little baby. But to my surprise, she didn't reach for a diaper - she simply released the Velcro straps and helped me off the table. "Everything looks good, little boy," she said with a condescending smile. "Now it's time to go meet the Dean." I felt a mix of relief and indignation as I followed Emma out of the examination room. ❖ As I left the examination room, I followed the green pointer on the floor with a heavy heart. I couldn't believe what I had just gone through - the restraints, the condescending tone, the feeling of being reduced to a helpless child. I tried to shake it off and hold my head high, but the memory lingered like a bad taste in my mouth. I thought of my friend Lucas and wondered how he would have reacted. Would he have laughed it off and played along, or would he have fought tooth and nail to maintain his dignity? I couldn't decide which approach was better, but I knew that I had to find my own way. As I walked down the corridor, I noticed that the music was changing. It was a soothing melody, like something out of a dream, and it made me forget some of my recent ordeal. I followed the music, letting it lead me through the labyrinthine hallways, until I found myself in a park. As I walked through the park, I noticed a group of young people approaching from a distance. I could tell from their clothes that they were just like me - they had all come through from Earth. As they drew closer, I recognized one of them - it was Lucas, my friend from home. He was laughing and joking with the others, seeming to enjoy himself despite the strange surroundings. "Eric! You made it!" he called out as he spotted me. "I knew you would!" "Lucas," I said, relieved to see a familiar face. "I can't believe this is real." "I know, right?" he said, grinning. "It's like something out of a sci-fi movie. But hey, at least we're all in it together." He introduced me to the rest of his group - a mix of boys and girls, all around our age. As we walked and talked, I noticed that the music from the hallway was still echoing in my head, like a reminder of the strange, unsettling things I had experienced since arriving here. But at the same time, I felt a sense of camaraderie with my fellow Earthlings. We were all in this together, trying to make sense of a world that was completely foreign to us. As we reached a clearing in the park, Lucas suggested we sit and rest for a bit. I gratefully accepted, feeling the weight of the past few hours settling on my shoulders. "Are you okay, man?" Lucas asked, noticing the look on my face. "I don't know," I admitted. "It's just...it's a lot to take in, you know?" "I hear you," he said, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "But look around you. We're all in the same boat. And we've got each other to lean on. That's gotta count for something, right?" He had a point. As I looked around at the friendly faces of my fellow Earthlings, I felt a sense of hope rising within me. Maybe this strange new world wasn't so scary after all. Maybe we could make a life here, together. But even as I savored the moment, I knew that I couldn't forget the way I had been treated in the examination room. As we sat in the park, talking and laughing, I noticed a tall man in a suit approaching us. "Excuse me, young people," he said, stopping in front of us. "I'm the Dean of Yrugana university , and I wanted to extend a warm welcome to all of you who have come from Earth." We all stood up, feeling a bit intimidated by his presence. "I know that this must all seem very strange and overwhelming to you," he continued. "But I assure you that we will do everything in our power to make your transition as smooth as possible. We have a full orientation program planned for the next few days, including campus tours, information sessions, and social events. I hope that you will take advantage of all the opportunities available to you." He looked at us with a stern expression, like he was expecting us to behave ourselves. The Dean of the university was a towering figure, standing at least a two meter taller than me. His broad shoulders and commanding presence gave him an air of authority, and his deep, booming voice only reinforced that impression. His skin was a warm, medium brown, and his hair was shaved close to his head, giving him a clean, professional look. He was flanked by a group of assistants and advisors, all of whom were similarly proportioned to him. Despite his imposing stature, I felt a sense of trust and respect for him, like he was someone I could rely on in this strange new world. The other students around me seemed to feel the same way, nodding and murmuring their approval at his words. As the Dean continued speaking, his expression grew more serious. "Of course, we also have rules and regulations that must be followed," he added. "We take the safety and well-being of our students very seriously, and we will not tolerate any misconduct or disobedience. Any violations of our code of conduct will be met with appropriate punishment, up to and including expulsion from the university." I could sense the tension rising in the group, as if we were all acutely aware of the consequences of breaking the rules. The Dean's voice was firm and unwavering, like he was making it clear that he meant business. "But I have faith that you are all mature enough to understand that," he said, his tone softening slightly. "I know that you will make us proud and represent our university with honor and respect." The Dean's words weighed heavily on my mind, as I realized that the consequences of misbehavior could be dire. But at the same time, I appreciated the seriousness with which he spoke. It was clear that the university took the safety and well-being of its students very seriously, and I felt a sense of reassurance knowing that I was in good hands. As he finished speaking, I could see the other students nodding their heads in agreement, like they were making a silent pledge to follow the rules and be model students. It was clear that the Dean's words had made an impact on all of us, and that we were all committed to making the most of this opportunity. As we walked through the campus, the Dean pointed out the various buildings and landmarks, each one named after a famous scientist or philosopher. We passed by the Kepler residence hall, the Hawking library, and the Galileo observatory, each one a tribute to the great minds of our world's history. "This is the Copernicus science center," the Dean said, gesturing to a large, modern building with a glass facade. "It's where you'll be spending a lot of your time, studying the latest advances in science and technology." As we entered the building, I was struck by the state-of-the-art labs and equipment, all gleaming and new. It was a far cry from the old, outdated classrooms I had been used to back on Earth. "The Copernicus center is also home to our research labs," the Dean continued, leading us down a hallway lined with closed doors. "We encourage all of our students to participate in research projects, working alongside our faculty and staff to push the boundaries of what we know and discover new breakthroughs." I felt a sense of excitement and possibility as we walked through the center, like anything was possible in this new and exciting world. The Dean's words had given me a sense of purpose and direction, like I was part of something bigger than myself. As we exited the science center, the Dean pointed out a nearby building with a soaring, futuristic design. "That's the Sagan auditorium," he said. "It's where we hold our public lectures and presentations, and where you'll have the opportunity to hear from some of the leading minds in the scientific community." I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder as I looked up at the massive structure, like it was a beacon of hope and progress in a world that was full of new and exciting possibilities. The Dean cleared his throat, drawing our attention once again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to introduce you to one of our esteemed faculty members. Dr. Malcom, would you please join us?" A man stepped forward from the group of assistants, looking more like a scientist than a university staff member. He had a thin face and sharp features, with short, dark hair that was starting to gray at the temples. He wore a white lab coat over his suit, giving him a professional yet approachable look. "Hello, everyone," he said, smiling warmly at us. "As the Dean mentioned, I'm Dr. Malcom. I'm a professor of physics and a researcher in the field of interdimensional travel. I'll be here to help you with any questions or concerns you may have during your stay at Yrugana University." There was a murmur of polite applause from the students, and Dr. Malcom nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Now, I know that this may all seem very strange and overwhelming to you," he continued. "But I can assure you that we have designed an orientation program that will help you adjust to your new surroundings. You will be staying in a separate dormitory for the next few days, where you will have a chance to get to know each other and learn more about the university and our policies." He paused, looking around at us with a thoughtful expression. "I want you all to know that we are here to support you in any way we can. Please don't hesitate to reach out to any member of the faculty or staff if you need assistance or guidance." There was a sense of relief in the air, like we were all grateful for the reassurance that we weren't alone in this strange new world. As Dr. Malcom finished speaking, the other students nodded their heads in agreement, like they were already starting to feel more at ease. As we followed Dr. Malcom and the rest of the team through the bustling campus, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer size and complexity of the university. The buildings were enormous, with sleek, modern designs that looked like they had been plucked straight from a sci-fi movie. The walkways were lined with glowing green plants that seemed to pulsate with energy, casting an otherworldly glow on everything around us. We were led to a set of dormitories on the edge of the campus, a cluster of low-rise buildings that looked more like a research facility than a place to live. As we approached, I could see that they were surrounded by a lush green garden, with a fountain in the center that sprayed water high into the air. Dr. Malcom stopped in front of the entrance, turning to face us with a serious expression on his face. "Welcome to your new home," he said, his voice deep and resonant. "For the next few days, you will be staying in these dormitories, which have been specially designed to help you acclimate to our world. We call them the Adaptation Quarters, and they are equipped with everything you will need to get comfortable." He gestured to the door, which slid open with a soft hiss. Inside, I could see that the dormitory was spacious and well-lit, with a large common area and several individual bedrooms. "You will be sharing these quarters with other students from Earth, so I encourage you to get to know each other and support each other through this challenging time," Dr. Malcom continued. "We have also arranged for a series of workshops and activities to help you learn about our world and its unique features. These will be mandatory for all new students, so please make sure to attend." I looked around at the other students, all of whom seemed to be taking in the new environment with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. I knew that we were all in the same boat, trying to navigate this strange new world and make the best of it. As we were led into the dormitories, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation, like I was embarking on a great adventure. I knew that there would be challenges and obstacles ahead, but I was determined to meet them head-on and make the most of this incredible opportunity. ❖ #One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s nest The dormitories were surprisingly spacious, with each student having their own individual room. I was assigned to a dormitory with three other students: Lucas, Nate, and Tyler. Each of us had our own separate room within the dormitory. Nate was tall and lanky, with a shock of blonde hair that looked perpetually tousled. Tyler was shorter and stockier, with a broad smile that made him seem perpetually cheerful. They both seemed friendly enough, and we quickly struck up a conversation. As we explored our new living quarters, we discovered a large common area with couches, beanbag chairs, and a big screen TV. Nate suggested that we play some video games, and we spent the next few hours battling each other in a variety of virtual worlds, enjoying a nice change of pace from the stress and confusion of the past few days. Later that evening, as we were watching some cartoons on the TV, Lucas suggested, "Hey, guys, I brought a show with me that I think you'll love. It's called 'Dark' and it's a German show with subtitles. Trust me, it's really good." "Sure, let's give it a try," Nate said, and Tyler nodded in agreement. So we started watching the show, and I quickly got caught up in the complex story and the eerie atmosphere. The subtitles weren't a problem at all, and soon we were all engrossed in the show. As the night wore on, I could feel my eyelids getting heavy. It had been a long day, and the excitement of the past few days was finally catching up to me. I yawned and stretched, feeling my muscles relax as I settled into my bed and whispered, "Goodnight, guys." "Night, Eric," Tyler said, his voice warm and friendly, and Lucas added, "Sleep well," giving me a small wave. Drifting off to sleep, I felt a sense of contentment and belonging. It was weird being in this strange new world, but at least I had these guys to keep me company. Finally, for the first time since I had arrived, I felt like everything was going to be okay. The man sat motionless, his eyes trained on the bank of monitors before him. As he watched the boys in their dormitories, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He had done his job well, and the boys were all safely tucked in for the night. He allowed himself a small smile, knowing that his employer would be pleased with his work. After a few minutes, the man pulled out his phone and dialed a number. He spoke softly, his voice low and urgent. "They are ready" he said, his words barely above a whisper. The man hung up the phone and rose from his chair. He walked over to the bank of monitors and turned them off, plunging the room into darkness. On the other side, a man in his late-twenties smiled as he looked out the window of his office, enjoying the view. He poured himself a glass of one of the finest scotches available on Earth and pondered about how wonderful this special day had been so far before dealing with his phone again. Dr. Lee couldn't refrain from smiling as she watched her bank account grow. She was now part of the elite and wouldn't need to work anymore for the rest of her life. Deeply engaged in her tablet, she didn't pay attention to the heavy van passing by, nor to the two gigantic hands that grabbed her. Dazzled and confused, Dr. Lee woke up on a bench in an oversized playground, wearing nothing but a pink princess dress, and a doll screaming "I’m lost”…

It's a tough situation to navigate, for sure. If it becomes intractable, you may have to decide if your ABDL side is more important to you than the relationship, just as she has to make the same decision, more or less - does her rejection of that side of you eclipse the value of the relationship as a whole? If this is the most important factor to her, then the relationship may be doomed, and that's not necessarily a bad thing, because if she's willing to sacrifice everything on this altar, then ultimately, she's telling you by her actions that she wants complete control over her partner, and if her partner isn't willing to submit to her vision of how they should live, then she's not going to stay invested in them. That's actually good information to have, because then you can evaluate if you are willing to have aspects of your personality subsumed by the relationship, or not. There is no "right" answer to that question, and only you can answer it for yourself. I'd just suggest that you don't "live a lie" for too long - don't pretend you're okay with it, if you're not, while quietly suffering, because that will become a cancer to the relationship eventually. In my opinion, you might as well rip that bandage off quickly, and move on. On the other hand, if this person shows any willingness to work with you, then that should be embraced and cultivated, and nurtured - and the nurturing means working with her, both to define boundaries that are acceptable to both of you, and, critically, to make sure that you indulge whatever is important to her, so that she feels cared for and valued as well. You've indicated that she doesn't have any passions that rival yours in intensity, but, there must be things that bring her joy or satisfaction or relaxation. Maybe she doesn't have a hobby or a fetish, but, whatever it is she wants to do with her downtime - be it reading, watching movies, knitting ferret costumes, growing cacti, baking, whatever it may be, make sure you make space for it in your shared world, would be my advice. If she feels like she's valued and accommodated, she'll be less likely to get irritated by the fact that boxes of diapers are taking up space in the closet or whatever. You also need to set reasonable expectations for what someone who's not "into" the ABDL thing would likely be willing to accept. You may not reach the point where you have a nursery set up in the spare bedroom and you wear rompers all day, everyday, but, maybe you can quietly wear diapers most of the time, and on special occasions, get to completely indulge your little side. Just as, if your "thing" was Civil War reenactments, you wouldn't likely dress in uniform and carry a musket everyday.

Chapter 24: Resistance -Nia- Infernum Infantem – LittleFallenPrincess I wondered what they were talking about back in the kitchen. As tempting as it was to eavesdrop, I was a little too embarrassed to hear them talk about everything… so I did as I was told and went and played some games for a bit, trying to get my mind off it all. I had no idea what they were planning or scheming… but I knew it probably wouldn’t end up well for me. So I set myself up in Victoria’s study with my game and waited. Thankfully, I wasn’t waiting long, and my game distracted me enough, when I heard someone walking outside the estate on the gravel. Taking a quick peek out the curtains of the study, I saw Beatrice walking out to the car… the sporty one. ‘Where is she…’ Before I could finish that sentence, the door to the study opened, and in walked Victoria. I could hear Beatrice driving off outside, but my main attention was on Vic… who was getting closer… and closer… and closer… Standing just a couple of feet away from where I was kneeling by the window, she looked down at me with her hands on her hips. “Sweetie… we had a talk…” “And? How’d it go? Does she have any idea?” I asked, nervous as to what the Hell they had been talking about. “She… thinks it’s because of how small you felt…” ‘Well duh… that was my theory. Well… it would have been if I hadn’t been so damn anxious. I could have thought of that. It’s obvious!’ “Small? What do you mean?” I asked, despite having a small idea already. “She… ugh… this is so hard to explain. I… umm…” “Oh come on, just spit it out!” I blurted out, without meaning to. My anxiety was taking over. “She thinks you acted… young. And that bond with me… and then there’s… umm…” “Young? Bond? Huh? Vic… just say it.” Vic took a deep breath and sighed. “She thinks you’re a little.” “Umm… What the hell is that? I know I’m a bit on the shorter side, but I’m not that little…” I replied. “It’s apparently someone who… acts younger than they actually are.” “Oh so like pretending to be 30 when you’re over sixty… does that mean you’re a little?” I smirked. “...I won’t hesitate to put you over my knee again.” She warned, raising her eyebrow at me and looking generally unimpressed. There it is. My heart rate increased rapidly. My cheeks felt flushed. How did such a silly threat of a spanking make me feel like I was a giddy-fucking-schoolgirl? My tummy felt all… weird. “I… sorry…” I mumbled in response. “Good girl.” And there it is again. ‘WHAT THE HELL?’ I yelled at myself in my head. “Anyway, Nia… what she thinks is that you… you’re a little.” Vic continued. “So what does that mean?” “That… you feel comforted when treated like… a child.” My face went from flushed… to feeling like it was on fire. “I… but… no… shut up! You do!” I responded in the only way I could right now. “See… even your responses are childish.” Vic grinned once again. “SHUT UP! YOU’RE CHILDISH!” Victoria looked down at me with the most serious expression… and it instantly made me back down and feel two feet tall. “This is your last warning…” “Sorry…” I mumbled again. “Now… we’re going to try something.” “Try what?” “I’m going to treat you like a six year old.” “What the fuck? Why?” “Because when you fed the other night, you sucked your thumb and snuggled up to me. So if we get you feeling that small again… maybe we can get you feeding again.” “That’s a stupid idea. And how are you going to treat me like I’m six?” I asked her. “Well for starters… no more big girl games…” “WHAT? Get the fuck out of here!” I growled back. Before I could react, she snatched my GameGirl from the sofa I was kneeling on, and held it behind her back. “You’re going to go watch some cartoons, maybe play outside, and then when Beatrice comes back with some stuff, I’ll get you to colour me a picture.” “Seriously? You actually intend on treating me like a fucking six year old?” “If that doesn’t work… we’ll just go younger and younger until you’re able to feed.” “Wait… younger? So…” That’s when it snapped in my head. That’s when the lightbulb lit up and I knew exactly what she meant. “NO! NO FUCKING WAY!” “Right. No more bad language. Otherwise…” She warned. “Seriously? You can’t be serious!” “I am. We can’t risk you feeding and alerting Hell by having sex, at least if you want to stay on Earth. And we can’t have you starve. So if this has a chance of working, I’m going to try it.” “But…” She sighed, before sitting down next to me and looking me in the eyes. “Nia… I saw you the other day. And today. And the morning you woke up after we first had sex. The thumbsucking… the bratty behaviour… you want this, don’t you?” “I…” “Look… if it doesn’t work out, it all gets forgotten about and we never do it again. Just… try this… for me? Please?” I looked into her beautiful blue eyes and deep down… I knew she was right. When I sucked my thumb… especially that night… I felt so small… so loved… so… happy. And most importantly… I was able to feed. Maybe she has a point. ‘Question is… does she really expect me to have to go really young? Like… seriously… Do I have to go back to being treated like a baby? Wait… does that mean… I have to wear…’ I thought about what babies do and particularly… what they wear. ‘…Shit.’ Resigned to my fate, I grabbed her hand as she helped me up to my feet. “Come on then sweetpea… let’s go get some cartoons on for you…” She said, holding my hand and pulling me out of her study, my GameGirl in her other hand. I was so tempted to just grab it and go lock myself in my bedroom… but something about just sitting about getting to watch cartoons sounded… good. I never had a childhood. At least I don’t think I did. Demons are created when human souls become too corrupted. So maybe I did have a childhood? Problem is… I can’t remember it. I don’t remember my life before I became a demon. And even then, this would have been centuries ago… growing up then was much different to growing up now. So cartoons? Hell yeah I was gonna go watch the shit out of some cartoons. I gripped her hand tightly, feeling small already as she pulled me down to the living room. At least I thought we were going to the living room… she actually took me to the fancy cinema room thing. You know… the one where we watched movies together and I fell asleep. “In here? Seriously?” I asked, staring at the large, empty cinema we were standing in. “Best TV in the house. You stay there… I’ll get you a blanket.” “I don’t need a…” Before I could finish that sentence, she had already rushed off, leaving me alone in the large room. “Umm… okay then…” I said, walking over to the centre seats and sitting down, stretching my legs out and taking a deep breath. With a massive sigh, I slid down the chair until I was hanging half off it. “Well… this isn’t how I expected today to go… being treated like a six year old…” I said to myself out loud. I thought about what that may entail, other than the cartoons and colouring. It’s a bit short notice to dress me up in childish clothing. And it’s a bit short notice to… you know… get… those things… that for some reason… I can’t even say in my head… “Hey baby girl…” “I… umm…” Was what came out of my mouth as Victoria walked in, holding a blanket. But in my head it was more like… ‘AHHHHHHHHHHH WHY DOES THAT NAME DO ALL SORTS TO ME?’ “Got you a blankie…” “T… thanks?” I responded, my cheeks feeling like they were on fire once again. “Now, you get snuggled up.” She said in that maternal voice she did so damn well. “You're not going to join me?” I asked, with a hint of sadness in my voice. “I… sure.” She smiled, before walking over with the blanket and opening it up, sitting down next to me and wrapping the blanket over the two of us. I snuggled up to her arm and wrapped mine around it, resting my head on her shoulder. “You comfy, sweetheart?” She whispered down to me. “Uh huh…” I replied, whilst smiling from ear to ear. This… this was… nice? Pulling out the remote control from somewhere, she pointed it back towards the projector and turned on the giant screen, quickly flicking through the channels until she landed on one she thought would work. “Classics? What’s so classic about them?” I asked, reading out part of the title. “They’re ones from when I was a kid. Figured they’d probably be more up your alley… as they’re still enjoyable as an adult.” “Oh okay… cool.” I was genuinely interested now that I knew she grew up with them. I wanted to know what she experienced growing up all those decades ago. I just really wanted to know more about her. And so, snuggled up with her… I lost myself in the cartoons, losing all track of time and everything around me. The only thing that mattered right now were these cartoons… …And her. I had no idea what time it was or how long we had been watching cartoons for when I heard Beatrice walking through the halls. At least I assumed it was Beatrice, Victoria had made no mention of anyone visiting today and we hadn’t had sex today so Hell wasn’t expected. A few days ago, if I had heard someone coming whilst I was snuggled up like this, I would have jumped out of the chair and pretended it never happened. But right now, I was so comfy and relaxed and… happy… that I refused to move, even if it meant I would have to deal with the embarrassment of being caught here like this, snuggled up to Victoria’s arm. The door to the room opened, and there stood Beatrice, with a few bags… one of which was pink and… baby… baby… babyish… ‘WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK’ I screamed in my head. I was about to leap up and run for the hills, but Vic must have sensed it, because she squeezed me tightly, making it so I couldn’t run. “It’s okay, baby girl…” She whispered. “You promised you’d try… didn’t you?” “I…” “Hey you two! Look who got all snuggly without telling me! Oh, Vic… I got some stuff. Do you want to come look?” Beatrice asked, waving her over. “Maybe later. She’s all snuggly right now. I don’t want to disturb her.” Vic replied. “Has she been to the potty yet?” “WHAT?” I yelled. “I… I don’t know…” Victoria shrugged. “Do you need to go tinkle, sweetie?” Beatrice asked me, with zero hesitation. “I… I…” I froze like a deer in headlights. “Why don’t you go tinkle whilst I show your Mummy all the stuff I’ve brought…” “I…” “Go on sweetie… Make sure to wash your hands…” Vic joined in now, making my heart beat faster and my cheeks blush. I nervously let go of her arm, removed the blanket from me and got up, walking over to the door, walking past Beatrice as she stared and smiled at me. Once out, I waited around the corner for a second. “Laying it on a bit thick aren’t you? That’s a bit too quick, Beatrice…” Vic scolded Beatrice. “Look, is it the Mummy thing? Sorry, but it’s how I’m used to dealing with littles. If she really is one… she’ll be calling you that in no time.” “I know… but… as nice as it feels being called her ‘Mummy’... I don’t want to scare her off or make her feel ashamed for any of this. After all, we don’t even know if she really is a little. Sure, she’s childish… and she sucks her thumb… but maybe she isn’t one? Maybe she’s just that… maybe all she is is childish?” “If that’s the case, that’s okay. But we still need to get her to feed. So we need to get her feeling comfortable enough to feed from you without having sex. Which means regressing her. Did you manage to get her to feed?” “Not yet. She was snuggly, and I felt a slight tug on my life force… but it wasn’t enough.” “She needs to be treated a bit younger I think. She’s a brat for sure, but I think for you… she wants to be your good little girl.” ‘Good little girl… me? A demon? Yeah right…’ I thought, as I rested against the wall in the hallway. ‘But… I think she’s right… I do… like when she called Vic my Mummy… that just felt so… right. I felt so… good. What the hell is wrong with me?’ “Look, I’ll keep trying this, as long as she’s comfortable. But if she shows any sign of not wanting this… I’m backing off. And I trust you can hold back on the baby talk?” Vic warned Bea. “Oh Vic… that was nothing. That was me talking to a little… who isn’t a baby.” Bea replied, laughing gently. “Fine, just… don’t freak her out, okay?” “I promise. You know I only want what’s best for the both of you, right?” Bea replied, in a calm, caring tone. “I know. I just want to make her happy.” “And she is. But if she can’t feed from you… maybe we need to think about making her a toddler instead of treating her like she’s six?” “Does that mean…?” Vic was about to finish her sentence when Beatrice cut her off. “No, we don’t need to put her in those yet. But it may help eventually. Whatever she’s comfortable with.” “Let’s talk to her when she gets back. I need to make sure she’s comfortable with it all before we move on.” “Sounds good. So… whatcha been watching?” Bea said, changing the subject. ‘I… maybe this is something I want… maybe this is something that could make me happy? I mean… so far those moments worked… I’ve never felt so happy and safe and loved before… and for some reason, being called a baby, the thought of wearing those… things… and her being called… M… M… you know… that thing… made me feel squirmy and happy inside. But I had no idea what the reason was.’ It was at that moment that I realised I really did need to tinkle… ugh, I mean piss. I needed the bathroom. So I quickly rushed off to find the closest one. But I had an idea for when I returned… ========================================================= I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Please leave likes and comments and all that fun stuff, I love reading them! Thank you to all my patrons for their support! Don't forget, the next 4 chapters of Infernum Infantem are available on my Patreon which can be found here if you go for the second tier. You get two weeks early access to chapters of Infernum Infantem. New chapters of Infernum Infantem every Wednesday/Sunday! Also just a quick note: I don't mind people saving this story for personal reading. But I'd appreciate it if people didn't post it elsewhere, even if you're just suggesting it to other people. If you want to show others, please send them a link to the first page of this post! Thanks!

I love my paci because it's a really simple way for me to feel little. Wearing a nappy,colouring or preparing a baba has a lot of effort involved. With a paci, all you got to do is put it in your mouth and start sucking, put it away when finished. Is there any simple things that make you feel little?

@Apache Raccoon Oh Really? Let's see how funny it is when this idiot that's making these ridiculous statements ends up dealing with people that need to wear diapers because they have to! people that are incontinent have no control over anything going either direction! just because you wear a diaper doesn't mean that you are mentally ill or somehow deficient! there are a lot of individuals that wear diapers every day and they live very very productive lives, and anything that makes them look like they are ill mentally physically or anything like that, makes it look real bad for the community and for the poster. the community understands, so we can just ignore how ridiculous whatever they say is, But there's people that wear diapers all the time and they're not mentally ill. People that wear diapers wear diapers for a reason! they are not mentally deficient mentally ill or defective! I stand on that because that is the truth! far too many times people will make up stories and believe what people say, and it just turns into fodder because that's what people like this wanna do, they want shock value, so they'll make up things like this. I don't even wanna watch that video, I'm just pointing out that the person who made this comment is the one that is somehow being unfair, because if she had to wear diapers 24/7 365 because she had no control, or if she had to be in a place where mentally ill people are, where they're locked up 24/7 or 23 out of 24 hours, she wouldn't be quick to make stupid statements that I believe can't be founded in reality And most of these things that they put out you have, you have to question the of the source. anybody that make students like that needs their head examined And they're the ones that have the problem not our community! They always say don't knock it until you try it! I'd love to be able to take all these idiots all these all these know it alls and all these people that think that we're all mentally ill and diaper every single one of them and make it so they don't have any control over anything, they can't move, they can't do anything without help, and then we'll see how funny it is and how ill we are when we're sitting there laughing at these idiots because of their stupidity and causing trouble. I guarantee you if people were to teach these guys a lesson, they wouldn't be so quick to do to decide people are ill or whatever. my brother for example wore diapers because of his disability, but he wasn't mentally ill or defective or any of that! this makes me a little mad, because how can somebody make that statement statement or say that people wear diapers are somehow deficient or mentally ill! there are many people here on daily diapers that are very smart individuals and they do what they do You love people and they show people respect, and they're not mentally ill, They have a lifestyle that they lead, and nobody should have the gall to say anything about how a person wearing a diapers is, because they haven't traveled traveled one iota in someone's shoes. As I say in my story I've worn diapers on and off all of my life, wearing diapers is not bad and does not make people deficient. People wear diapers because they cannot control their bowels or their bladder, This has nothing to do with their brains or their mental stability or their ability to understand things are comprehend things! where in heck do they get off making statements like this? I say tie them all down and diaper them all up and make sure they been sitting there in their own mess for a day and a half! we'll see how funny it is after they Don't get changed for awhile and they have to sit in their own mess! maybe a good whipped butt is exactly what these guys need! Maybe if they didn't have any control of their bladder or bowels they wouldn't be so quick to tell us that we're all mentally ill. I'm laughing at this because it is the correct thing to do rather than to be upset and have a problem because they call us mentally ill. I have a disability that's neurological and it's not gonna cause me to be crazy or anything like that, so how can they say that were mentally ill? the people that are making these statements are the ones that should be taken down about 5 steps! i'd love to see a bunch of girls take these idiots and cause them to have to lose control and wear diapers for a long time, and make them feel helpless so they have to understand what it's like to be changed and cleaned up and everything else, then they would understand the life the lifestyle or what happens with adults, it's more than just wearing diapers It's the idea that some idiot makes blanket statements that doesn't have anything to do with anything at all, only for shock value. I bet you if I ended up taking a lot of girls that understood exactly what was going on I mean I wanted to get even, This would be a perfect example to use to show people don't know what the heck they're talking about, and if they don't they should end up having to be exposed to exactly what it's like to wear diapers and have no say or control over anything, that would quickly turn this around and people wouldn't be so quick to judge and make negative life-changing statements to the negative to somebody else's detrement! i'm sorry guys but this kind of stuff makes me a little angry! I know that there are people that do it everyday and they wear diapers But when people make statements like that, it just slaps in the face of something that makes no sense! can I laugh now? Brian

@newpad101 *******I walk into the room, and agree that you are a happy little girl, because I like happy little girls, I start tickling you and you start laughing! Then I hug you and ask you what you want to do? ???? Brian

@Jessica1965 I would agree! Jessica is so cute that all I'd wanna do is run in there give her a hug and have fun with her! *****hug***** Brian

Yes, that's my preference too. I like to hold it a bit and then have a big solid poop in my pants or diaper .I love the feeling of having a big load in my pants or diaper when I can. I got used to holding it too long as a kid I guess, I hated going toilet especially away from home, and while I mostly had pee I accidents I went #2 in my pants a lot too. The feeling when finally going, even if I had to go in my underwear, was quite memorable. I try to get that feeling in my diaper now.

“Wh- what n- no please i’ll be fine!” She cried cause she just realized she had a babysitter! She knew things were going to be bad for a week already cause her step mom is friends with the nurse and told her all about Kayla and the baby treatment and the nurse said she’d be happy to feed her bottles and baby food.. If after the week she was good and the grades were up then she could be a normal teenager but if not she would remain a baby! “Owe!” Kayla yelled as the first blow landed without warning.. She kicked and tried to put her hand behind her back to block it.. Now she was crying real tears not from what was happening earlier in the fear of the spanking she was now crying from the spanking! “Pl- please!” She cried begging “I’ll be good I’ll be good Yes yes I’m a naughty little baby!” She said crying as the spanking hurt she would say or agree to anything just to get it to stop!! “Yes yes thank you Aunty Luz for punishing me!” She cried like a newborn

“Oh you’ll be wearing a diaper to school for a week? So the potty ban will be in place there for an entire week? Good for your mommy to decide that” Luz stopped rubbing the brush across her cheeks ”Now you’re going to stop calling me Luz and address me as Aunty Luz and you’re going to ask me to spank your bare bottom. If you don’t do it then I’ll punish you even worse” She resumed stroking the cheeks across her lap

“Quit with the baby talk!” She cried as her diaper was removed then she felt the new diaper being slide under her but everything was baby talk and it was driving her crazy! Kayla found the baby talk so sweet and nauseating!! It was like eating a piece of chocolate cake and you go for the second piece and it’s so rich and you don’t feel so good afterwards or when the frosting is too sweet!! She watched in horror as the diaper was pulled up tight between her legs and taped into place.. ”No I don’t this is stupid!” She said looking at her babyish diaper! She was just happy none of her friends would see her like this..

That's a great little sign.

Scene #203 I had to basically fight off Mary. That’s always fun when it’s cuz she’s thirsty, but this was more along the lines of, “We never go to dinner parties. Lemme dress you up.” She was giving off serious mom vibes, specifically my mom who would always insist that for any remotely special event, she decided what everyone wore. But I can dress myself just fine. I was pretty and everything. I mean, it wasn’t even a fancy dinner party. Even calling it a dinner party overstates how formal it was meant to be. It was just a get together at which dinner would be served. Mary’s main contribution to our preparation, other than fussing over me like a mother hen, was watching me bake dessert. The woman is a bottomless ocean of wholesome kinks. “Ooo,” she said before I could get my measuring cup into the flour, “wait a sec.” And in a flash, she was putting an apron on me. Not that I’m criticizing cuz Mary in an apron makes me feel these weird feelings, but do I really just sit and watch her cook when she wears one? (Yes. Yes, I do sometimes.) Aproned and baking, Mary took the time to pat me on the head and tell me what a good baker I am, and I took the time to say, “A girl baker.” “Mhmm.” “A good baker and a girl baker. That would make me a …” “A good girl baker.” “Shorten it.” “Good girl.” Squee! Not to be bragging or nothing, but my wife thinks I’m a good girl. All to say that the day was delightful and no one, not even me, started out with any attitude. “It would be a shame,” I hinted as subtly as Mary when she warns me about my (alleged mis)behavior, “to share this cake with others when we could eat the whole thing ourselves. I mean, I’m already sharing it with you.” True story – if Mary ever goes back to work in an office, I’m gonna bake and eat entire cakes while she’s gone. “We’re going to the party. End of story,” she declared. If either of us was in a mood prior to the party, it was Mary in a declarative mood. “That’s not what I was suggesting.” “Then what we’re you suggesting?” Crap. Think quickly! “That we, uh, could get a store-bought cake to take with us.” Of course, it would then be a shame to share that cake with others … My life needs more cake. Mary’s I-don’t-believe-you gave. “Uh-huh. You wanna tell me why you don’t want wanna go?” “It’s not that I don’t wanna go. It’s just that … I’d rather stay home. Which is different … because reasons and stuff.” “You’re always saying how bored you are and you wish we saw our friends more. One offers to host a nice get together and you wanna stay home.” “I’m a woman of contradictions … I have layers.” “We’re going, and you will have a good time.” Would t’were so simple. If all it took was a decree from Queen Mary So-And-So (first of her name, empress of all the lesbians named Daphne who live in our house), I’d have no excuse for ever not having fun. I’d just say, ‘Mary, do you mind decreeing I have a good time?’ And she’d so degree cuz she likes me and stuff, and a good time would be had by all. But t’wis not so simple. “But Mary,” I said, “new people.” Didn’t whine. Did not whine. I didn’t whine all day, which adds plus-one days to my infinity streak of not ever whining. “Ann and Jo aren’t new. We know them.” “In the context of … bilateral relations. It was just us and them. They’re gonna be there with our friends, and the group dynamic will be different, and … newness.” “Newness is good,” she’s reminded me. “You know that.” “Yeah, but …” “But what?” “Nothing. That’s all I got. ‘But …’” And I only went on offense cuz I was feeling defensive for no reason out of nowhere. “Then I’m wearing whatever I want.” “Okay.” “No diapers.” “Alright.” “Or pull-ups.” “Fine by me.” So we both went there in perfectly perfect moods fully prepared to have a good time. Really. But that’s not what happened.

Luz smiled as she heard Kayla call her name, she left the computer room and locked the door, putting the key back safe. On her way out of the living room towards the stairs she picked up the hairbrush which has been laying on the table and headed upstairs. As she entered Kayla’s nursery she frowned. “You should be sat down in your crib not stood up, what if you had fell? Looks like you need a diaper change too, you did a good job making it all wet for me Baby Kay Kay”

Kayla had listened to the mobile and watched the teddy bears go round and round and soon feel asleep.. She woke up wet even more she had no idea why but her mommy had been putting things in her bottle to make her wet and she couldn’t control it.. Kayla woke up looking at her nursery she stood up in her crib.. ”Lue I’m up!” She said to the baby monitor

“D- don’t tic- tickle me!” She squealed.. Kayla couldn’t believe she was laying on a changing table getting her diaper changed how could this be happening! She thought to herself.. How long can this last will I ever get used to this! Kim didn’t like her conversation with Amber and wondered what was going on she had to find out..

Awesome story and enjoyed reading. thank you

Kayla decided not to push it but she was still trying to be Luz’s equal but all that went out the window as Luz scolded her about telling her mommy.. ”Fine whatever!” She said getting mad.. ”Don’t laugh my mommy is crazy and soon I’ll be an adult again.” She said trying to intimidate Rue with a hint of I’ll be back so you better watch out..

Kayla finally settled down and began drinking as she had no choice.. ”Spanking!” She said trying to sit up and protest but Luz kept her down.. ”I’ll be good please!” She begged as she kept trying to spit the nipple out but her babysitter wasn’t letting her! Kayla heard the last few drops leave the bottle and now she would have to beg not to get a spanking after she was allowed to sit up and the nipple removed from her mouth.

Kendra glared as she saw Kayla was making fun of her. She let out a sigh. 'Ya." she said. She looked around. She did not want to get any toys. She wanted to go home and get out of the damn diaper. When Kayla asked about what she was holding. "tiggie and beaw." she said. "Driwk your baba Kay." Rue smiled as he looked at AManda. "Both of you should come over for dinner. I am sure Kayla would like that." said Rue. He put the bottle in Kayla's mouth. "Stay hydrated baby. You need your baba." said Rue. Rue brought both girls a few stuffed animals, soft blocks, and a ratte for both of them. "Here you go." said Rue handing Amanda the bag for Kendra. "T'ank you." Kendra said in her best baby voice.

“There we go, a nice warm baba of formula for baby Kayla. As soon as you’ve finished, I’ll take you up to your bedroom, put you in bed and let you nap. Then after your nap I’ll change your diaper and give you a spanking because you keep giving me attitude. Then we’ll get you dressed and diapered again” She stroked Kayla’s face and held the bottle as she watched the formula slowly draining from the bottle. ”You must really like this stuff, it’s going down very quickly”

PART SIX Cassidy didn’t realize the problem until they were parked on the extensive grass lot outside the Renaissance Faire. She didn’t bring any street clothes to change into! How could she have missed that? Between the two sisters, Audrey was the only one carrying a purse with both girls’ personal items. With empty arms and no bag, Cassidy really should have noticed that something was missing when they got into the car. But she was too distracted by the bangs that Audrey had given her; throughout the entire drive, Cassidy had to deal with the new way her hair was brushing against her forehead. She tried to bring it up a few times as well, mostly to bitch about it, but Audrey just kept shutting her down and telling her to stop whining. It was already done. It would grow back. Cassidy’s sister had more or less the same attitude upon the discovery in the parking lot. “It’s fine, Cassie,” she said, “You look super cute. And we’re already here; just suck it up, okay?” “Audrey-” “Hush. You can go spend a bunch of money renting a costume, and then pay full price for your ticket. Is that what you want?” Of course not. The whole point of putting on the horrid pink costume was to save money, and bailing now would mean that she went through the childish process of disguising herself for nothing. “No, but-” “No ‘buts,’ sis. Do you want to take my car and drive all the way home? You can, if you want, but I’m not coming with you. We’ve wasted enough day already, and I’m ready to head in.” “Well, no . . .” Cassidy muttered. Because her sister was right. That would be the biggest waste of time, and nothing was more frustrating than making a drive because you forgot something, especially when the round trip would take a full hour. Audrey just made one of those ‘duh’ gestures with her hand. “I’m giving you options, Cassie. Be a cute fairy, rent a different costume, or change at home. Pick one, okay? Either way, I’m going to get my ticket.” Cassidy bit her lip. It was less indecision, and more reluctant acceptance. If she blew all her spare money to rectify the situation, there wouldn’t be any left for the vendors inside. And driving all the way home would be such a pain. Which only left one option. “I’ll wear this,” she sighed. “Good girl,” Audrey said. She patted Cassidy’s head, then took her hand. “You’ll be the cutest little sister! Come on, Cassie.” Correcting the immature nickname was getting more and more difficult. Now that Audrey had gotten on her case so much about whining, saying ‘It’s Cassidy’ over and over made her feel self conscious in a similar way. There were only so many times you could bring something up before it started sounding annoying. Even if she was in the right, and wasn’t particularly fond of the cutesy version of her name. And now that her entire look was cutesy, it was more difficult to protest. Buying their tickets made Cassidy nervous, of course, because she was a nineteen year old girl masquerading as a tween. It wasn’t until they were actually at the booth that it really hit her. The child tickets were for kids TWELVE and younger. She knew that before, of course, but seeing it right there on the sign was a different kind of realization. If this succeeded, it meant that she could pass as a girl seven years her junior. And it worked. Audrey did all the talking, and they were through the main gate without anyone batting an eye. Although Cassidy wanted to save money, part of her had hoped that this whole disguise thing would have blown up in their faces. Just for the validation of seeing that people knew she was really a college girl, rather than a little kid holding her sister’s hand like a lost puppy. She tried to take solace in what Audrey told her earlier–that it’s not like the minimum wage staff was looking that closely. The main area was as chaotic as ever. All kinds of people meandering about; mostly first timers who were getting their bearings. Some in costumes, some in normal clothes. Under normal circumstances, Cassidy would have broken off from the crowd. She and Audrey rarely had a game plan; the normal ‘strategy’ was to just start with the outer paths and get some shopping done before checking out a show or two. But her sister hadn’t let go of her hand yet, despite how Cassidy gave a small tug or two to hint that she didn’t need the patronizing contact. “Bathrooms first, little sis,” Audrey said, “Let’s get that out of the way first.” What? That wasn’t what they usually did. “Later, Audrey,” she said. As in, when she actually had to go. Belated hearing the repetition of the phrase from outside, Cassidy scowled. “And don’t call me that.” “Call you what? Little sis? Look at you.” Audrey nodded down at the girly, childish ensemble, then gave Cassidy’s hand a squeeze, “You’re going to be my little sister today, alright? That means I’m in charge.” “Audrey, no. That’s stupid.” “Cassie, yes. Or else I’m going to flag someone down and tell them that I found a little girl who lost her parents. I bet they have somewhere to hold kids who get lost until they’re reunited with their family.” “Audrey-” “You seriously think anyone will believe you over me?” Audrey winked, “Last time I checked, you don’t have anything to prove your real age. So what’s it going to be, little sis?” Cassidy didn’t know what to say. Was this all a set-up?? Or was Audrey just taking advantage of the situation now that they were here? Either way, it was totally unfair. And not funny in the slightest. “Audrey-” “Audrey! Audrey! Audrey!” she replied in a mocking tone. “I’m not kidding, Cassie. Play along, or spend the day with the other lost little girls and boys.” With another squeeze of her hand, and a smirk, Audrey shifted to face Cassidy and looked down into her eyes. “What’s it going to be, sis?” ----------------- Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my Patreon: www.patreon.com/user?u=73056590

That's if you can even understand them through the thick accents. How many "Alan"s live in Ranchipur's sister city Pispur?

So I have read that entire thread and definitely I'm going to give it a try. But first I'm going to work on being comfortable putting the catheter in and taking out. Have already ordered some intermittent catheters so I can practice the insertion. Then I will try a modified foley. I can't wait to try my first 24-hour incontinent diaper dependent day.

An addendum to the above... still recovering from the short trip to the West Coast, which didn't really have me adapt fully to the time zone there, but, which has also left me feeling slightly sleep-deprived, I decided to take a lunchtime power nap in my office, which is something I pretty much never do - I'm not much of a napper. But I have to drive in crappy weather later and I also wanted to be a bit more rested for a deep dive I have to do into a project, so I thought I would test the waters of claims made by some that a short nap can be just the ticket. I happened to be wearing jeans because I'd been outside wrangling recycling containers, and I don't sleep in jeans, so I took them off, and lied down on the couch for a few minutes with a blanket over me. My wife must have felt a disturbance in the Force as I relaxed, because at some point she became possessed with a desire to print stuff, so she came over to my office, shortly after I'd fallen sound asleep. I woke up to the sound of her walking up the stairs, lifted my head, and said something like "Oh, hello...", around my pacifier. I felt strangely embarrassed at being "caught" sleeping in the middle of the day, even though it was lunch time, and not that I really have set hours for such things at work, anyway - it's more or less only important that what needs to be done, gets done - I could work at midnight if I wanted to, and sleep during the day like a vampire, although that might make collaboration harder. She naps all the time, so it's not like putting your head down for a quick snooze was new territory for her. Then, I sat up on the couch, judging that trying to fall back to sleep with her puttering around wasn't going to get me anywhere. Then, I realized that I only had a diaper on from the waist down. Again, not exactly a shocking revelation for her - that's typically how I'm dressed in bed and for the last couple of hours of most evenings. Still, it felt slightly weird, in the middle of the day. Of course, she needed help figuring out how to orient a double-sided page on the printer, so I had to get up off of the couch and walk over and fart around with the printer for a minute, all in my stark white, slightly-saggy, fairly crinkly Inspire+. I'd thrown my jeans in a heap onto a chair, and as I was adjusting the paper trays, she walked over, picked them up, folded them, and then carried and hung them over the railing by the staircase at the other end of the room, rather than, say, handing them to me or draping them over my office chair. I eyed them slightly longingly, but kind of felt like going over and putting them on would somehow highlight that fact that I wasn't wearing them. Just as picking my pacifier up off the coffee table in front of the couch would have highlighted its presence, even though it was the only thing sitting on the table, a slightly absurd, sparkly blue artifact. Our conversation drifted over to buying arm chairs, and we ended up walking back to my desk, and I sat down, and we browsed some options on my laptop, talked about this and that, and then she turned and headed back downstairs after hanging around for twenty minutes or so. It was interesting to just sit there in my diaper in the middle of the day with nothing said about it. Maybe it's a precursor to what life might look like once the kids leave home?

Oh, I've got a lot of memories of occasional accidents. I was constipated very often as a kid and had accidents every now and then throughout my primary education years, but once I got to middle school, it stopped and never really came back. But, I was already a DL by then and still enjoyed messing my pants in private at that point. I remember one day when I was like 6 or 7 on the blacktop after school at the YMCA, and I really had to pee. I hated using the school/public bathrooms (I still do), and so I tried with all my might to hold it just standing outside, but I lost control and peed from one coat cuff out the other, and never got any in my pants. Very surprising, and convenient. When I try to think back if I had other actual accidents in school, I can't instinctively remember specific ones, but I'm sure they happened. I also at age 11 was so constipated daily that I was always hunched over a bench or table at recess or lunch trying to hold in a mess and succeeding (never actually messing), but by the end of the day, my pants would always be brown from the constant struggles. I often wished I just relaxed and let it go in my pants and dealt with the consequences, because it really did take up a lot of my time in 6th grade. That's where one of my stories comes into play. It's a fictional revision of that story but alternate reality where the kid actually decides to not let the constipation rule his life and just decides one day to relax and mess himself and deal with the consequences. "The Kid That Wanted Relief Above All Else" is the name of that story, which is still a work in progress. I like descriptive writing about the act and feel of messing, because that's always been my fixation.

I never had pants accidents at school because I always wore nappies. In primary my parents would come in and change me at lunchtime, or if I had a messy accident or leak and they needed calling in. None of the staff would change my nappies. It does mean I was always pretty waddly as lunch time came. For PE, my teacher would help change me into my PE gear - my wetting is related to further spatial/motor skills issues so dressing myself has always been a bother. More annoying than the nappies was the special pencil and paper, being taken out of class for physical therapy lessons. The kids were very nice, I was like their mascot. By secondary school pullups were out, so I wore those. I was slowly learning to change myself in proper nappies but pullups were easier. I had some spare clothes in case they leaked also. Again, everyone was very nice about it and some friends encouraged me to use the loo when I could and would guard cubicles when I changed.

Here's a short story I've been occasionally working on for a couple of months now. Please let me know what you think. ----- The future was not looking great for Hannah. She was 4 weeks into her first term of college and was already failing three of her four classes, with the fourth hanging on by a mere three percent. She knew she was in trouble but just couldn't find the motivation to go to class or do her homework. She tried researching online to see what she could do to get herself motivated, but often she lacked the follow-through to actually follow the guides. While making her way through the dining hall after lunch, Hannah came across a poster that caught her eye. "Failing your classes?" the large title read. Just below that in a smaller font was "Need help finding motivation? Need a helping hand to help keep you going? Call the number below for help!". At the bottom of the page was a phone number. Knowing that she was running our of time and options, Hannah took a photo of the number and went back to her dorm. When Hannah arrived back at her dorm she was the only one home. Her two other suite-mates must have been eating lunch or at class. Hannah's relationship with them was fairly normal. She wouldn't really consider them friends, but they all got along and could maintain conversation with one-another. After going into her room and closing the door Hannah called the number from the poster. After a few moments of ringing a woman answered, sounding not much older than Hannah herself. "Hello, Christa speaking." The woman said. "Hello! I'm Hannah. I'm calling about the poster at Henshaw University." Hannah responded, a little nervous. "I see. Are you looking for assistance with passing your classes?" "Yes, I am. It's my first term of college and I'm failing almost all of my classes. I just can't seem to force myself to want to pass." "That's perfectly normal for someone like you. College is a big adjustment and some people just need a little extra help getting their feet on the ground. What do you say we meet in person at the Henshaw dining hall in a couple of hours and talk a bit more in person?" "That sounds great! I get out of class at 3:00pm and can meet you right after." "Alright Hannah, I'll see you then. Bye bye." Christa said has she hung up. ----- Hannah was nervous all throughout her 2:00pm U.S. history lecture. She was having trouble paying attention most of the time, and when she actually tried she was so lost that it almost wasn't worth it. Once the class was over Hannah made her way to the dining hall, having absorbed nothing. When she arrived at the dinning hall she spotted a tall brunette woman standing right outside the cafeteria. The woman was wearing business casual clothing along with short heals, giving her an almost intimidating look. Hannah's gut told her that it was Christa. 'Hello. Are you Christa?" Hannah asked as she approached the woman. "Why yes, I am. You must be Hannah. It's nice to meet you in person." Christa said, reaching out to shake Hannah's hand. Hannah shook Christa's hand and took a moment to analyze Christ further. She seemed to be somewhere in her mid to late twenties. Her long, straight brown hair was hung up in a ponytail. Christa probably had a good 7 inches of height on Hannah, which contributed further to her intimidating aura. "Well, why don't we take a seat and we can talk about what you need and what I can provide." Christa said as she lead Hannah to empty table. Hannah sat down across the table from Christa. Hannah was having trouble making eye contact due to her nervousness. "Let's start with why you called me." Christa started. "W-well, as I said on the phone this is my first term of college and I'm failing nearly all of my classes." Hannah explained. "I see. And why is that?" "I have a hard time paying attention in class and I can never bring myself to do my homework. Every time I try I end up getting demotivated and can't focus." "Is that so? I'm thinking that my services would be a good fit for you. What classes are you taking?" "College Algebra, Beginners Writing, Art History, and U.S. History." "And what are your grades like?" "I have a 27% in math, 49% in writing, 72% in Art History, and a %36 in U.S. History." I answered, a bit embarrassed. "Oh, wow. If you don't get those up you won't be looking good for next term. It's a good thing you are taking action now. Midterms are next week, so you may still have time to turn this around. What I think this boils down to is a lack of discipline and motivation on your part. I'm guessing your parents helped keep you on track in high school?" Christ asked. "That's right. My mom and dad were always checking my grades making me do my homework. They're hundreds of miles away now, though." Hannah explained, realizing a little how much she was missing them. "And that's the case for a lot of people like you. You've had someone watching over you and making you do your school work your whole life. Without those hands pushing you to succeed, you're losing pace and falling behind. What I do is act as that hand. I'll give you the motivation you need to keep your grades up while also helping you develop routines and self-discipline so that you can be your own pushing hand. Do you want to know more?" Christa asked me. It was honestly all starting to make sense to Hannah now. Back in high school her parents were always threatening her with groundings for not doing her homework. They were always checking her grades and questioning her about low scores or missing assignments. When she had that her grades were fine. But her parents were hundreds of miles away now, and she had only herself to rely on. Realizing there wasn't any immediate consequence for failing, she let myself slip into a cycle of bad habits. "Yes. I think this might be exactly what I need." Hannah answered. "I think so too. Now, I will warn you that my methods are fairly unconventional. I have found that it's better if I don't explain them until it's time to implement them, as my clients sometimes get cold feet after hearing my plan. I want to assure you that I have a very high success rate though." That made Hannah even more nervous. What could be so bad about what Christa does? Would she also get cold feet if she knew what they were, she wondered? In truth it hardly even mattered to her at this point. If she couldn't change course then she was going to sink. This could be her only chance to turn her future around. "I'm still interested. As I see it this might be my only chance at staying in college." Hannah stated. "Then I think we have come to an agreement. I have some paperwork here for you to sign. Once it's complete I will work with the school to bill your financial aid account. I charge a flat fee of $60 a week and require payments for a full term." Christa explained as she handed Hannah multiple pieces of paper. The first form was a general information form. It asked for Hannah's personal information, as well as her student ID number and dorm room number. The second, third, and forth pages were all legalese, which Hannah was having a hard time understanding. Eventually she gave up, assuming it to just be consent to let Christa bill Hannah's account and other mundane information. At the very end it asked for Hannah's signature, which she penned in without a second thought. "Very good. I look forward to working with you Hannah. We'll get started tonight. I am going to come over to your dorm at 6:00pm. I want you to eat dinner beforehand and be ready for me, with all your uncompleted homework. I also want you to setup proxy access to your account for my email address, so that I can monitor your grades." Christa instructed, handing Hannah a business card that listed her email. "Alright. I'll see you tonight then!" Hannah said as she left, proud of herself for finally getting her act together. ----- When 6:00pm arrived Hannah was incredibly nervous. Honestly she didn't know what to expect. Was Christa going to act like a tutor? What were her 'unconventional' methods? Was this going to be worth the money? She had done everything that Christa had asked of her. Her homework was either sitting on her desk or pulled up on her laptop. She had granted Christa access to view her grades as soon as she got back. Hannah was waiting in her room when there was a knock on the door. Hannah got up to answer it, but one of her suite-mates who was lounging in the living room beat her to it. "Hello. I'm looking for Hannah?" Hannah heard Christa ask from the other room. "She's in her room right now. I'll go get her." Angie, Hannah's suite-mate, said. Angie didn't have a chance though, as Hannah left her room to welcome Christa inside. "Christa! Hello! Please, come inside." Hannah said as she approached the door. "Ah, hello Hannah." Christa replied. "Angie, this is Christa. She's going to help me get my grades up." I explained. "Wait? Christa Morris? I think you may have helped my sister when she was in college. She has never told me much about it, but she said you're the reason she got through college." Angie stated. "I am glad I was able to help her! What is her name?" Christa asked Angie. "Elanor Grace." Angie answered. "Oh I remember Elanor! Yep, I helped her get through her sophomore year. I'm happy to hear that she made it all the way through. If you see her please tell her I said hello!" Christa requested. After a little bit more idle chatter Hannah led Christa back to her room. Once inside Hannah shut the door and Christa placed the bag she was carrying down onto the bed. "That's a big bag. What's in it?" Hannah asked. "Just some supplies. You'll see when we get to it. Is that all of your homework on your desk?" Christa asked. "Oh, yes. I also have the online assignments pulled up on my laptop." "Very good. Now, let's get down to business. If you remember, this afternoon we talked about you having a lack of motivation and needing a pushing hand. Well, that's exactly what I plan on giving you. Tell me, Hannah, how did your parents discipline you when you were having trouble in school?" Christa asked. "They usually grounded me or at least threatened to." Hannah answered, a bit embarrassed. "I see. Well I am going to take a similar approach with you. Have you ever been spanked Hannah?" Christa asked with no hesitation. "Spanked?!" Hannah responded, a bit startled. "Yes. Has your parents or anyone else ever given you a spanking?" Christa asked again. "N-no!" Hannah answered, almost a bit defensive. "It's okay, you don't need to get worked up. I found in the past that groundings are too hard to enforce on a college student. That, along with numerous other reasons, is why I opt to use spankings as a punishment. Bad grades and missing assignments earn my clients a spanking, with the duration and intensity being decided by the severity. It helps give them a motivation to succeed, so that they can avoid future spankings. I think that's where we'll start tonight." Christa said, as if it was completely normal. "Y-you're going to spank me?" Hannah asked, her heartbeat rapidly rising. "Correct. Come on over." Christa instructed, taking a seat in Hannah's desk chair. Hannah was scared. She had never been spanked before and she certainly wasn't expecting them to be a part of this. Christa's reasoning made sense to her but she just couldn't imagine herself being spanked. Spankings were for kids and Hannah was an adult. "Come on Hannah, let's get your spanking out of the way. We have a lot to do tonight" Christa said, patting her lap again. "I-I don't know, Christa. Isn't that a little extreme?" Hannah asked, scared and embarrassed. "Nope. In fact, I think it's exactly what you need. Now come on. Don't make me drag you over here." Christa threatened. Hannah gulped as she slowly started approaching Christa. Once close, Christa took hold of her arm and gently guided the small girl over her lap. Due to Hannah's short stature she was left dangling well above the ground. Hannah's breathing and heartbeat increased even more once she was positioned. She felt like she was two feet tall. Hannah yelped when she felt Christa's fingers slip beneath her pants. Christa wasted no time in sliding them down to Hannah's ankles. Hannah blushed as her panties were exposed to the older girl. That couldn't compare to how embarrassed she was when she felt Christa's fingers hook onto the back of her panties. "H-hey!" Christa said as her panties were slid down to her ankles. "Spankings are given bare-bottom, Hannah. Now I'm going to explain how this is going to go. You'll be spanked one minute for every grade of yours below a 'C' and half a minute for every 'C'. Once we're done with that you'll get a paddle swat for every missing assignment you currently have. It looks like tonight's spanking will last three and a half minutes with 9 paddle swats afterword. Do you have any questions before we start?" Christa asked. "Will it hurt?" Hannah asked, more nervous than she'd ever been before. "Yes, Hannah, it will. The pain will help motivate you to do better and avoid more spankings in the future. You should think about what earned you this spanking and what you're going to do to avoid another one." Christa said, taking on a more domineering tone. "W-wait! Won't Angie and Sierra hear?" Hannah asked, trying to think of a way out of this. "I would be surprised if they didn't. Don't worry though. Once we explain to them that it's for your own benefit I'm sure they'll understand. Maybe in the future they will be willing to help with your spankings as well." Christa answered. "C-can't we think of something else?" "No, Hannah. Now no more stalling. I'm going to set my timer and start. Are you ready?" "N-no." "Well you have a few seconds to prepare." Christa rested her arms on Hannah's back while she set a timer on her phone. Once it was ready she clicked 'start' and used her right hand to deliver the first smack to Hannah's bottom. The first spank caused Hannah to let out a small yelp. The small girl clearly was not ready for what was about to come. Christa steadily delivered swat after swat to Hannah's exposed butt. Each one sent a jolt of pain through the smaller girl's backside and caused her to let out a whine. As the spanking continued the swats became harder and the speed picked up. It didn't take long for Hannah's whines to turn into expressions of pain. Hannah was terrified. She had no clue how long had passed since the spanking started and her bottom felt like it was on fire. Each swat was more painful than the last. Before long she could feel tears begin to well-up in her eyes. Not long after they were streaming down her face. Suddenly Hannah's door opened. Both Hannah and Christa looked up to see Angie standing there, flustered. "O-oh! S-sorry to interrupt! I was wondering what all that noise was!" Angie said before quickly closing the door. The interruption did nothing to stop Christa's flow. Hard swats continued to rain down on Hannah's defenseless bottom. Hannah's crying and embarrassment was worsened by Angie witnessing her being spanked. Hannah felt like she was half her age. How could she hope to see herself as equals with her roommates after being seen in this state? The spanking continued on with Hannah's whining growing even louder and more desperate. Her bottom was absolutely on fire with a pain she couldn't remember ever experiencing before. Eventually she was fully pleading with Christa for her to stop. unfortunately for Hannah her requests fell on deaf ears. Hannah had no idea how much longer the spanking went on for before she heard Christa's alarm go off. Relief washed over the smaller girl as the slaps to her bottom ceased. The pain was all still there though, radiating an intense heat from her bottom. "Now that that's done we'll move on to the paddle strokes." Christa said, motioning for Hannah to stand up. The intensity of the spanking had caused Hannah to forget all about the nine paddle strokes her missing assignments earned her. A new dread entered her mind as she was reminded. Christa helped her up off her lap and onto her feet. Hannah's legs were a bit wobbly so she had to try her best to maintain her balance while trying to rub the pain out of her bottom. Her balance wasn't helped by her pants and panties, which were still pulled down around her knees. The pain prevented her from recognizing how exposed she was. Christa went over to her bag and pulled out a large, long paddle. When Hannah saw it she became even more scared of what was about to happen. It looked like something you would see used for hazing new pledges in a college movie. When Hannah noticed the grid of holes on the head of the paddle her fear worsened even further. "Okay Hannah, go ahead and bend over and grab your ankles." Christa instructed. "Christa please! I can't take anymore! Can't we just get to studying?" Hannah pleaded. "No Hannah, not until we've got your discipline out of the way. Now bend over, or I may have to add more strokes." Christa threatened, getting a bit annoyed at the younger girls whining/ Hannah gulped as she slowly started to bend over. Her bare bottom becoming more and more vulnerable. When she was and low and she could go she grabbed hold of her ankles and did the best she could to brace herself. Her anxiety grew as she heard Christa approach her. "Tonight you're getting nine paddle swats. One for each missing assignment you have. I want you to count each one out loud. If you miscount or forget then we'll redo that swat. Understand?" Christa explained. "Y-yes." Hannah said, very much unready for what was about to happen. With no warning Hannah suddenly felt pain explode through her bottom. The spankings she got from Christa's hand earlier were nothing compared to what the paddle could do. Hannah involuntarily let out a scream in shock. "One!" Hannah yelled, not wanting any more awful strokes than what she was already getting. Christa drew the paddle back and harshly brought it back down. A loud 'THWAP' quickly followed. Hannah shot forward from pain. She was trying her best to mitigate it with a death grip on her ankles, but it didn't seem to be helping. "Two!" This rhythm continued for the next several swats. Each one drew more tears and painful screams out of Hannah. She was now truly understanding why Christa was so effective. Who the hell would want to suffer this every week?! "Eight!" Hannah cried out shortly after the paddle hit her. Just one more and she was done. It was all she could think about. "Nine!" Hannah yelled right after the final stroke made contact. Hannah instantly removed hold of her ankles and moved on to rubbing her butt. No matter what she did, she couldn't get rid of the pain though. If she thought it was bad after the hand spanking, then this feeling was truly horrid. "Now that your spanking is done we cam move on to part two." Christa said as she went back over to her bag. Hannah could have never guessed what Christa was about to pull out. Out of the bag Christa brought out a large, pink package. Hannah couldn't immediately tell what is was until Christa placed it down onto her bed and she could see the logo. It was a package of children's pull-ups. "W-what are those for?" Hannah asked, still trying to get her sobbing under control. "They're for you." Christa said, as if this was normal. "What? I don't need diapers!" Hannah exclaimed, almost sounding offended. "First off, they're not diapers, they're pull-ups. And second, they're the second part of your punishment." Christa stated. "What?!" Hannah almost yelled. "Calm down Hannah. The spankings serve to give you something to dread. They are to help motivate you to study and do your homework by making you fear a more painful spanking. The pull-ups are used to accomplish the same thing but in a different way. Until you're grades improve and your assignments are turned in your panties are going to be entirely replaced with these. The thick padding and childish designs will embarrass you, motivating you to study and do your homework so that you can earn your big-girl panties back. You can think of them as punishment panties." Christa explained. This was too much for Hannah. Not only had she just been spanked like a child, now she was expected to wear diapers meant for potty training toddlers? The logic behind it made sense to her in a way, but she was a college student for god sake! She was much too old to be spanked and wearing pull-ups. And calling them 'punishment panties' didn't make it any better. "Christa is that really necessary? I'm 18 for crying out loud. I'm way too old to wear those! They probably won't even fit me!" Hannah exclaimed. "Oh I bet you they will. And age has nothing to do with this. I don't expect you to pee in them or anything. They're just there to give you a goal to work towards and keep you motivated. The pain from a spanking will fade in a day or so, but these will always be there to remind you of what you're working towards. Now come here, we've wasted enough time already." Christa ordered. Hannah was trapped. She knew there was no way she was going to talk Christa out of this. Her only hope was that the pull-ups wouldn't fit and Christa would abandon the idea. Shamefully, Hannah waddled her way over to her bed where Christa was sitting. Christa started by pulling down Hannah's pants and panties even farther. She had the smaller girl grab hold of her shoulders while she worked the pants off of her. Next came the panties, leaving Hannah completely exposed from the waist down. Christa then ripped open the package of pull-ups. She pulled one out of the package and allowed Hannah to get a good view of it. The pull-up was all pink. On the front there were several Disney princesses and just below them was a white oval containing an outline of Cinderella's slipper. A wetness indicator. Christa pulled the pull-up open and slipped her hands through the leg holes. She stretched open the object and brought it down towards Hannah's feet, clearly intending for her to step into it. Praying that they wouldn't fit, Hannah hesitantly slipped her foot through the first hole and then the second. Christa then began to work the pull-up up Hannah's legs. To her horror, there was little to no resistance as it got higher. Hannah felt utterly defeated as Christa removed her hands and the pull-up conformed to her body perfectly. "See, I told you they'd fit. Now, as I said before, these are to be your only panties until your grades improve. The only time you're allowed to remove them is when you're showering or using the toilet. I don't care if you're sleeping, going to class, visiting your parents, or whatever else. Your punishment panties stay on. Understand?" Christa said. "Yes Christa." Hannah lightly said while starring down. "Good girl. Now let's get to work. Get started on your math homework and let me know if you have any questions or need any help." Christa said. Hannah was going to put her pants back on to try to hide the pull-up but was forbidden to by Christa. Humiliated, Hannah brought her padded bottom to her desk. The pull-up was much thicker than her normal panties though. As she walked she noticed that it was slightly forcing her legs apart. Not enough to give her a waddle, but enough for her to notice. She also noticed that every movement resulted in a slight crinkle sound. Hannah wasn't ready for the wave of pain that shot through her as she tried to sit down. The pain from her spanking earlier had minor subsided and became relatively unnoticeable as her attention was focused solely on the pull-ups, but when she tried to sit down it was reignited. Hannah quickly shot back up and began rubbing her butt through the back of her pull-up. "Sit down, Hannah. The pain will fade soon." Christa ordered. Hannah slowly lowered herself back down. She winced as her butt made contact with the chair. She kept going though until she was full seated. The pain was horrible at first, but like Christa said it slowly faded. Not enough to not be painful, but enough to where she could divert her attention away from it. Hannah began working on her homework as ordered. She was interrupted minutes later though when she heard activity behind her. She turned around to see Christa going through her dresser, removing all of her panties. "What are you doing?" Hannah asked Christa. "Confiscating your panties so that you aren't tempted to wear them. Don't worry, I'll give them back once your grades improve. Now try to focus on your homework" Christa explained. Hannah turned back around and tried to focus on her homework. She'd occasionally steal glances back at Christa though. At one point she noticed that Christa was filling up the dresser drawer with pull-ups out of the package. There wasn't enough room for all of them though, so Christa just left the half full package exposed on top of the dresser. Hannah could have never imagined herself like this. She though college was her chance to show that she was an adult, yet here she was wearing what was essentially a diaper for toddlers after being spanked like a little kid. The worst part was that she was PAYING for it. Hopefully in the end she would actually be able to pass. It was going to be a long seven weeks.

http://www.paruresis.org/FAQ/faq_page_23.htm This link explains the breath holding method. The patients practices breath holding, breathing in deeply, then exhaling 75 percent of this breath. First it is held for 10 seconds, then for 15, then 20, etc. This raises Blood C02 levels. Between 45 and 60 seconds, the muscles of the pelvic floor drop, and many feel an irreversible relaxation of the urinary sphincters. I have tried this in the shower, it works. Of course I wore jeans just to make sure that it could override my potty training, this is precisely what happened.