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  1. The experimental school. We had all been called to a large assembly, not too uncommon since it was the 3rd day of school. Then again what was common in this school? Walking along in the crowded hall, I longed for my days before this school. So simple, hang out with friends, go bowling or to a movie, or just hang out at the park. Things were so much simpler then. And then I signed that stupid contract. I didn't have the money for a good college, I had the grades to get in but not good enough to get a ride on. I never really played sports, what I did have was a head for creativity and original things. That's what they had said got me not only accepted but desired here. Nothing about it added up. Why would you expect more out of middle level students? I'd get my degree but I had to stay at the school until graduating. Oh I got some time off campus but not much. Isolation was key, they said. No outside interference. They even restricted the TV and social media coming in. They had made their own social media platform as well. But now, I have almost graduated from this hell hole, everything I think about it my heart jumps. I was so close, one more year. I could see them trying to control me past graduation though. This place didn't let go of people. Some people had tried to quit or drop out. Each time they tried to leave without permission, they'd just turn up again on campus. Same excuse every time too. "I changed my mind, so I came back." I had asked a friend once, he gave me the same answer but when I asked why he said he wasn't sure why he changed his mind. This school was going to try and reach into my life beyond the gate. I could feel it. Whatever, it wasn't in my contract, I'd figure it out once I was free, that contract only went as far as the gates. I entered the large auditorium which doubled as a theater. It had about 500 seats in it and a stage. Long black curtains that sat at the back of the stage. On a projector screen was a welcome message that cheerily read "A time to change, and a time to be changed!" The picture in the background had students smiling and laughing. Only girls would have had the nerve to use that dumb of a slogan for the year. I knew better than to voice that opinion out loud. A girl might hear and that would definitely invoke her privileges. Probably means something about bettering yourself and others and the school or some such nonsense. Completely stupid. Last year was "Better school, better you, better world." It wasn't getting better… On the stage sat the student council, the ruling body of the school. They enacted all policies, procedures, disciplinary rules and punishments for those enrolled. Get bad grades? Then you ended up cleaning the floors. Get in a fight? Well, let's just say that wasn't happening anymore. The list of rules and consequences was quite extensive, it wasn't something one could memorize. The list was probably so long that it couldn't be memorized on purpose. If you couldn't memorize it, they could get away with whatever they decided was inappropriate. I wasn't much of a stand out, mischief maker so I rarely got into trouble. Though it had happened. I found a seat near a large group of other guys, I wasn't really in the mood to mingle and this school put a huge damper on dating, it was not a rule mind you, just not what most guys wanted to deal with. In the end, the mood for romance was kind of dead when you were not able to really have much of a say in any relationship. At least when the other side had won. Oddly enough when his side had won, I had found a girlfriend relatively easily. I tried a couple times but it just never worked out. Supposedly your "personal life" was exempt from the rules but how did that work when you were a society separated from the world and it was governed by a certain group. We lived and breathed in this school, there was no escaping it while you were in the walls that surrounded the campus. It was filling up in the auditorium and the school student secretary stepped up to the mic. "Hello, everyone!" She started cheerfully. "I know we are all anxious to start so let's hurry and find our seats. We need to start on time or we will be late for the rest of the day." She was in charge of time keeping and she was very passionate about it. She was the quintessential nerdy girl, goggle glasses and all. There were only about 300 people in this school. Its numbers kept small by the sheer fact every student had been hand picked to come here. You had to have the right personality, be willing to take a leap of faith, be creative, the list went on and on. It was more about personality than anything else, or so it seemed. Some of the students here were among the lowest scoring students in their respective high schools. I had a few friends that shouldn't have been able to get into college let alone anything prestigious. Hopefully this will be short and sweet, I thought, we can just get it over with. Boring speeches were not my thing. I waited impatiently fiddling with a pencil, we had not been allowed to bring anything with us including phones. They always cited "we should pay attention instead of playing with a phone." Like we were some kind of kindergarteners. Weren't we supposed to be self governing? That one only went as far as they wanted it to. About 5 minutes later the vice president got up and called the meeting to order. "Welcome to a new year at the Complete School of Forward Thinking." A cheer went up among the students, mostly from the girls. "I am Sarah Glockins, I will be your vice president again this year." Another pause and another shriek from the girls. She was not as bad as the others but she was still on the wrong side of the fence. "On behalf of your returning body of student leadership I'd like to welcome our new students AND our returning students to our great halls again for another year of learning and growing. Well, maybe just learning for some of us." She giggled and I caught the cryptic sense she had something up her sleeve. This wasn't good. Not in this school, surprises tended to leave you in a bad place. It never ended well, especially when the girls were in charge. I had learned the hard way that anything cryptic like that meant trouble for me. I was truly done with this school, if I wasn't so close I'd have found a way out of here. This year was going to be hell, I knew it too. Truth was, things had been getting progressively more intense over the last 2 years that the vote had gone to the girls. I was two seats from the aisle, only a little bit from the door. Girls were standing guard there. They wore something on their hip, it seemed too small to be a weapon or a stun gun. The fire escape seemed to be unguarded, but it'd probably be locked until an actual fire alarm. State of the art alarm systems would stay locked now until the alarm went off. Everything in this damnable school was state of the art too. Everything was brand new all the time. They really did have a limitless budget around here. I guess if you were doing an experiment you had to do it the best way possible. Plus, if the scope of the experiment was true we were designing a new form of government to implement in the real world, then "no expense spared" was a good slogan. Sarah rambled on about the new year and the slogan, the guy sitting next to me leaned in, "I can't believe they won again, after last year you'd have thought it was a shoe in for them to lose." I nodded. They had incorporated a few punishments that went above and beyond the normal and no one had stopped them. It seemed like the approval rating would have dropped after that. The voting system was complex and required everyone to put in a visible and tangible token. This made cheating literally impossible. It had been a landslide win again. The count wasn't even needed. The girls' tokens had filled the tube while the guys remained half empty. Of Course you never had any idea who voted for what. You were alone when you voted. Granted that had been the terms of the experiment. The students were self governing for the most part. The teachers stayed out of it and allowed those on the winning side to lead as they saw fit. The only real rules were no permanent harm or ejection from the school were allowed. In short, You had to solve issues and not just shove them aside or destroy the problem. My thoughts returned to my escape route. Best option would be to go through the stage, likely the way they wouldn't think anyone would go. Why put guards up there? Everyone would see where you were going. Applause erupted around the room as Sarah finished her monotonous deluge of annoying words. She was not one I cared to be around or listen to talk. The woman had a bad tendency to squawk when she laughed, worse she was an incessant gossip. Apparently she had introduced the lone male on the stage. He was just there to represent the losing party. "Welcome everyone, I'm Blake Townsend," he paused. "Sorry gents, we lost." Holding his hands out in mock surrender. A couple girls whistled and cheered. "But we will make do and make sure we get the better of it next year. Anyway, I'll keep it short. Keep your heads up and make the best of it. I promise it'll get better this year!" Some cheers went up from the boys, they were half hearted but still some guys were still hopeful. "We can still make it a good year. If you feel like there's any unfair treatment just let me know. I'll make sure our voices are still heard." His speech was determined. "With that I give you the devil herself, student body president, Julie Buttkiss. Oops I mean Butterkiss" He was going to pay for that. From across the stage Julie stood up. Her eyes looked amused but in a dangerous way. Her look said it all, she would return the favor and she already knew how. She was the devil though, a picture perfect one, if anyone was honest. She belonged on magazine covers. It was Likely that that was how she got the position in the first place. Too many males with hard ons that would never get anything more than Blake was getting right now. She had enacted all the policies last year that had made life a living hell for anyone who was male. "Thanks Blake, and I'm sure you didn't mean it. After all, we girls have made this experiment incredibly successful." She started, her smooth voice captured everyone's ears. It almost was transe-like. "This school was founded to change the way society works. This experiment was made so that we could develop a new form of government and social structure. Why? The old way is failing, and we have young minds that are not conformed to old ideas, we can generate a new life that is fresh and will reinvigorate our world. In the beginning we were set up clean without entanglements. Given an opportunity to change ourselves, and then change others." There it was, that stupid logo that was on the screen, I zoned out as she launched into the history of this demon infested place. If you'd been here for 3 days you'd have heard this speech 3 times. We were called because we were intelligent, could add to a constructive society, we were the creative ones that could redesign the world. And now that you've signed on the dotted line you belong to us for 4 years. I tuned back into our regularly scheduled broadcast as she went back to recapping the last few years. "In the past 2 years we have raised the average grade to almost 90%. A full ten point increase. We have seen a 60% drop in disciplinary needs." She paused as cheers went up, again mostly girls. "When this school was founded, the idea was to find out who was best at running society, who would produce the best results, and even more so, who society wanted to run society. The first 2 years it was the boys. Boys," her voice dropped to an almost conspiratorial tone, "you failed us all. In those 2 years it was chaos, and not a good learning environment. Drugs, sex, you name it, it was in our halls." I had only come here three years ago, it had been a bit rougher then, even I could admit that, but things had gone the exact opposite direction once the girls took over. "With each year that we ladies have been in charge this school has improved a hundred fold." I wondered how she was measuring that. "Since this school's founding, we have risen up from the ashes quite a bit. Last year was phenomenal, our policies brought the remaining outliers back under control. For that exact reason the polices: Feminine Judgment, Retaliation Restriction, and Corporal Punishment will remain." My jaw dropped, how could the admins not stop this? Feminine Judgment meant a girl could decide a boy or girl was misbehaving. While worded carefully to avoid sex1sm, it was definitely in favor of the girls. The result was always a disciplinary panel. They decided your fate. They were always female. Retaliation Restriction, if you were called out for negatively responding to anything educational or disciplinary you were in for it. The panel was skipped and you were basically hung where you stood. Corporal Punishment spoke for itself. It was the default now. Almost everything ended up with you bent over getting your backside tanned. It had only happened to me once but I was one of the more crafty boys. Julie continued her evidence from the damned, "70% of boys received 2 spankings last year. That's a lot for you math challenged folks." She joked, not many laughed. " 96% received one. While only 10% of the girls received one, you know who you are and we ladies expect better from you this year. In the end the measures have brought this school to being the highest functioning school in all but 2 measured metrics nationwide. Isn't that wonderful?"She never paused for a cheer or acknowledgement. "And so we will be continuing our march to bring this school to the top!" She almost shouted the last words. The top of what? The heap of annoying me? I doubted it could get much worse. The girls went wild. "Ladies calm down now. We have a new policy to enact this year. It'll be the final thing we need to push us over the top on every scale that is measured in this nation. The numbers have shown that our male counterparts are not to be trusted, that they routinely step out of line, have lower test scores and final scores than us ladies. That is to say until they've been put on a better path. Today we announce the Better Boys Behavior Beneficiance.This will allow you Ladies to properly care for and love our boys. They need a good Maternal and nurturing influence to truly thrive. Her tone was serious now, my heart was racing, and I could see a few other male faces echoing my thoughts. "Upon entering, ladies, you were given a bag and told to leave it sealed until the time came. It's not that time yet. However, we need to discuss the contents inside. First you will find a card stock paper that says "your rules" on it. You will need to read it carefully at the end of the commencement. The next is 5 sheets of regular paper, on it says "their rules." My heart was in full fight or flight now. The adrenaline in my system said "GO NOW!" but if I moved I knew nothing good would come of it yet. "These will need to be given to each of your targets today. Now I want you to know, you will not likely have 5 targets. This is just in case." TARGETS!!?! What were they going to throw at us? Bad, bad, bad! "There is a bottle you will need, please use it today. I'm begging you. Not doing so could leave you in violation of your rules and lead to corporal punishment or worse." This was getting crazy, if the girls would be held accountable like this then it had to be massive. I was already gathering myself to run. I wasn't really sure where. The contract guaranteed a free college ride but it also guaranteed you stayed put until you graduated. Once the year started you never left campus. Some families had a home here and lived with students but mostly the students stayed in dorms. The really hard part was the 15 foot wall that ran around the campus. We were told it was security but the barbs on the top were aimed to keep people in not out. Not that anyone tried to get in. "There are some other things in there including a paddle, if you need it today, and a couple other supplies for routine maintenance. The last thing in there is very important. It is the reason we all came together. It's also what you will need most today. Ladies when I say this I want you all to remain calm. Show your maturity. You see, the goal is to give boys a good example to grow into. You need to be that example, this is also not retribution but a lesson. They need to be controlled for both our good and theirs. I know you're excited ladies, but contain yourselves. If you open that bag too early it will ruin the surprise. Boys, I'm begging you, make it easy on us ladies. Please do not fight this. I promise rewards to those that are good boys. BIG rewards." That was not setting me at ease. Some other guys had already given in, just dreading it all, you could see the defeat in their eyes. Heads buried in hands. It didn't take long to be ground down if you didn't go with the flow but they had decided it was better to not be dust. Some girlfriends trying to console boyfriends, the smiles on their faces were not helping. "Those that try to resist will be punished severely." Of course they would, so far that was the only part I believed. "Now ladies, the last item in your bag is five… big… fluffy…white…crinkly… DIAPERS!" Her voice was so excited, she seemed like she was about to jump the podium. Her face was the image of a psychiatric ward patient who had been given the freedom they had wanted since being confined years ago. Everyone in the room went silent except one, his expletive echoed across the room. "What the f@*$?" He wasn't getting the "rewards" for sure. My mind latched on to that last word. She couldn't be implying the girls would be putting boys in diapers. There was no way they were that crazy. No one would allow that. As if she was reading his mind "I know ladies you are confused. I assure you this is for the best. You will be diapering the boys today. The boys have proven to be a large part of the problems here and are in need of a bit of feminine touch. Remember to treat them as well as they are behaved, they are not meat, but they are to be wrapped up today, be as loving but firm as a mother would be. Now in good faith, I will be taking care of our good boy Blake here who chose some inappropriate things to say to me. So," Reaching beneath the podium she pulled out a large rectangular white thing. I immediately assumed it was one of these diapers, "ladies, shall we begin the great diapering? You may open your bags now!" Without another word she whirled on Blake whose face had gone sheet white. I could only hear zippers from bags being opened as he protested from his seat. She went straight to work on his belt and zipper. He gave an attempt at stopping her but he wasn't fighting or running as much as he should have been. Maybe he knew something I didn't, but I wasn't going to find out. I snapped out of the horror show and looked around, girls were reading their cards, most of the guys were in a state of despair, they had just given up and were going to allow whatever happened to them happen. Being grabbed by a girl they just followed orders. A bunch were fighting back, the group around me was backed together trying to stop the feminine onslaught, the girls outnumbered the boys by a good bit and the group was being grabbed one by one and overpowered. One fool just dropped his pants and laid down grinning. Not sure what was with him. No one had even come for him yet. Some cried in defeat. Being in the center of the group of guys I wasn't in any immediate threat. I watched as girls laid boyfriends down and padded rears, each taking time to use powder, some began to administer punishments to ensure obedience, it only took a few swings to start eliciting yelps from some. The process was insane. Even outnumbered, it was taking time to work through them all. It gave me a minute to think. I needed to start my escape plan, I began to work towards a weak spot in the line trying to dissect the group around me. "John Belinger!" My name echoed from the mic. "I see you, do not move! You belong to me." That psycho, Tammy Garland. Unfortunately, she was also the treasurer. She likely had already known about this and had planned to make him hers. She'd had a crush on me for a year. My only spanking had come from her, unjustly I might add. She was intent on ruining my life. I thought I'd shaken her off last year by hitting her with a giant water balloon filled with a rancid smelling liquid we had found near a dumpster. Tammy had never given up, asking me out multiple times, I wasn't even being polite about turning her down anymore. Knowing her, She probably had a diaper labeled with my name from the very start. Seriously, the dumb girl labeled everything. I scanned around the door, the guards were still there. They had a device in hand that looked like it was designed for a medical purpose instead of anything else. I hadn't seen it used on anyone so I wasn't completely sure what it was yet. All around me boys were being diapered. Some whose pants were already at their ankles, some protesting and promising, even begging. It saved none of them. A couple girls had already diapered males sitting next to them smiling with joy. Feeling it up and down as they were inspected. Why were they so happy about this? There only seemed to be a few girls who thought this was not a good idea. They sat off to the side judging and pointing, one stifled a laugh as she watched a boy getting a beating. I could even see a woman teacher closing in on a male teacher. She was smiling from ear to ear and beckoning him with one finger and a diaper in hand. When she reached him she didn't hesitate, his pants dropped to the floor as she stripped him. She hooked his leg as he tried to back away, tripping him to the floor. His legs went up and she placed the diaper under him. I could hear a bit of his protests. "I'm a teacher not a student, we are not a part of this experiment." She, oblivious to his objections, went to work. He was powdered thoroughly and properly covered. I watched long enough to see it pulled between his legs. That psycho was probably getting close, the stage was empty aside from Blake and Julie who had finished her work and was inspecting Blake's rather puffy butt. The line of girls around me had thinned to the point where there were gaps. They had snagged enough males I could get to the edge easily. It was that moment I decided I was not going to join Blake. I'd find a new university, who cared. There was no amount of debt I was not willing to go through to get out of this. I bolted to the side of the room breaking through the girls there, and ran toward the stage. Up the stairs and toward the curtains at the back. "JOHN!" The president's voice interrupted my run. "You won't get out. We are in lock down, now be a good boy like Blake here. Tammy is going to take care of you, I promise." Her smooth voice dulled my desire to run for just a moment. She sounded sincere, calm and genuine. Blake took that moment to warn me, "John, get out, she said they will never let us out of these things, GO!" I heard him yelp as Julie leveled a slap to his thighs. "You be quiet." That was all I needed. I took off out the back. I managed to use a door in the back that led to a dressing room. Another guy was on his back here, he seemed to be enjoying the moment, at least from the state of his arousal he was. The girl simply looked me up and down "looks like you won't be getting the rewards promised." I didn't care what that meant. In the hall, I was greeted with 2 girls yelling at me to "wait where I was," yeah right. They held the same devices I'd seen on other guards. I ran on never slowing down until I was sure I was out of sight. I began checking exterior doors, one after another, all locked. I began to despair at the idea I'd get out of the school itself. I'd deal with the fence once I was free of the building. Every door and window was sealed magnetically. I would need to find a window I could break. Most of them had webbing in them that stopped being broken easily. The second floor would probably have the opportunity I needed, no one was concerned about someone breaking in up there. Maybe a fire escape, I could trigger the alarm and get out. As I ran I saw a small outlet with the a fire alarm pull. I half slid half fell and scrambled back down the hall. This had to work. I broke the glass cover and yanked on the alarm…. Nothing. Maybe it was a silent alarm. I shouldn't have been surprised, but the door wouldn't budge. I didn't wait too long to mourn the failure. I shot off like a rocket again. "There!!" A voice rang out behind me. It was male! What the hell? I was already around the corner but my surprise almost tripped me up. I recovered and flew into a stairwell. My lungs were burning as I wound my way up a flight of stairs. Into the hallway, I needed a place to hide. I had to catch my breath and get enough time to form a plan. If they'd just give me 10 seconds…. As I went down the hall I opened all the doors around corners and into new halls. I doubled back about a third of the way down a hall and went into the second to the last door I'd opened, checking to make sure they were not in sight. Hopefully that would throw them off my scent. I ducked into the dark lecture hall, there were chairs and desks in a normal row pattern. I hid myself among them. Hopefully, if they did come in they would still miss me. "He came down this hall, someone stay here, if he makes a break for it we will know. Everyone else, let's start searching classrooms." My heart froze. I could hear the click of women's heels on the hard floor in the hall. They were getting closer and closer. *click* *click* They stopped seemingly at the door. "I'll check the next one." I didn't recognize the voice. "OK, I'll check this one then." A new voice announced, I hadn't heard footsteps of two people. Then There were at least three of them and one was probably a dude. Was I screwed or what? How was I getting out of this? "John?" the new voice asked. "John, if you are in here, I promise if you are a good boy, I'll make sure you get rewarded still." I could barely breathe. My hands felt numb. "John, we want what's best for you. I promise it won't hurt at all." I saw movement, it was the teacher that had pampered another teacher. Her ankle length flowery dress seemed to be taunting me as she moved through the room checking the few hiding places. My hiding spot under the desk should keep me relatively unseen due to it being dark in the room, but she would find me eventually. "John I'll make sure you get taken good care of, even if I have to do it myself." Her voice was motherly. "John, I know you're scared, that's pretty normal, and that bloodbath in the auditorium didn't help." She seemed for all the world a sheep in wolves clothes. She sounded like the devil, everything sounded good but wrapped up a deadly intent. "But don't worry this can be good. You won't avoid it but you can enjoy it. It's up to you, John." She kept using my name, it was unnerving. If I attacked her who knew what would happen, I'd rather not deal with the aftermath of that. "Come out John, stop hiding, you can't get out. The school is locked down, the doors locked, windows are sealed, John." She was moving between the desks now, I would have to make a break for it soon. "Tammy is here too, John. She is going to be your guardian. John, she is so excited to help you. You don't understand how lucky you are. John, you need to come out." I saw her dress round the corner as far from the door as she was ever going to get again. It was the best chance I had. I chose that moment to bolt. "John stop!" The teacher yelled. She Didn't bother to run after me. It should have been a warning, but my path was already set. I Was almost through the door. I was definitely not stopping. As I passed the door, without warning I was tackled. We went to the floor of the hallway. "Just take it easy man, this'll be over soon." Was all he said. "Who are you? What kind of traitor are you? Get off of me!" I shouted and struggled. I twisted violently; it was enough to get a better view of the traitor. I didn't know him, he was blonde with a chiseled face. He was strong enough to hold me but with effort I could probably get out. "You're not seeing the bigger picture John. We males were ruining this place, they are fixing it. I sided with them to help us get better." His voice strained as he tried to keep me from freeing myself. "John, I'm going to help you accept what we are doing here." It was Tammy, my efforts doubled, the adrenaline coursing through me seemed to double as well. She held one of those devices the guards had in the auditorium. "Leave me the hell alone you b!+(#" I growled at her. I twisted the traitor off of me and sat up. It was at that point I noticed he didn't have pants on, and in full display was one of those diapers they had put on all the other guys. My mind rebelled at the thought, I tried to hurl myself away from him, but that momentary pause was all it took. I felt something pressed to my back and a sharp pain. It only lasted a second and a wave of intense numbness started to form. I didn't wait to figure it out, or atleast I tried not to wait. I made it 3 steps before whatever had been injected into me took effect. My legs stopped working all together. I dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. What nightmare is this? I began to try and army crawl away. I had to get away. What had she done to me? "Don't worry it's temporary, John." Tammy said coming up behind me, she rubbed my back, shushing me. I was just trying to escape. Not that an army crawl was going to get me out of here. I was never getting away now and I realised it. I collapsed on the floor and rolled away my legs limp and trailing behind me. I batted at Tammy to get her to leave me alone. "John, this won't last long so we need to get you in your diapers before that ends, I don't want to have to inject you twice." I laid my head back and began to sob, never responding to her. She didn't deserve a response. I was hauled back into the lecture hall and onto the professor's desk. "Don't be so intolerant, man, they are actually pretty comfortable, soft and you won't need a toilet anymore." The traitor went on. "Who brainwashed you? Or are you just this pathetic?" I yelled through the tears. "What kind of person just allows themselves to be made into a baby?" Tammy moved between my knees interrupting my tirade. She unbuttoned my pants and grabbed the sides of my underwear and shorts yanked them off. "You're being such a good boy now. John, I'm glad you're letting me do this. It's better this way, you'll see." I realized I wasn't fighting back anymore and my hands had been released. What did it matter? I couldn't run. "John, I'm going to put this on you now." Patting another white rectangle that I had become way too familiar with. "You don't know all the rules yet, and that's ok, but my rules are that your care and schooling are now my responsibility. Once I tape you in, I am your guardian." "Guardian?" I squawked, "what's that supposed to mean?" She sounded crazy.``Remember the day when you signed your paperwork so you could come here free of charge and get a degree. You were promised that degree, in exchange You also promised to follow the rules of the school no matter how they evolved?" I did remember that line but it hadn't been framed that way. "Remember this school is an experiment on how society could be. We are shaping the future of our nation, and maybe the world." For the first time, something touched my mind. They may be crazy but it could follow me wherever I go, it could infect the world. "You're all sick." I spat at her. "John, you boys are dangerous, always in trouble. The only time you are not is when you are in the care of your mothers. When you are under a good motherly love. That is when a boy is at his best behavior. We are going to put you boys back where you belong, at your 'mother's' skirts. Now be a good boy." She sighed, this was the behavior of someone who was insane, but she didn't seem crazy, she was calm and put together. "I know it's no secret that I like you." She leaned down and gave a slight peck on my cheek.``this could be so much better, if only you'd just let me do this one thing" "It's not just one thing, you want to ruin me. You're a wh0r3 like the rest of them." "John, you're so angry. It'll be ok, you'll see. Your perspective is the only thing making this bad." I knew I wasn't getting out of this, in my core I was trapped. Giving up the fight I layed still and just accepted the inevitable. "Whatever." I muttered. Tammy laid her head on my chest as if she was hugging me. I could smell her soap. It was nice. Gentle like a flower but strong enough not to be missed. My legs may be paralyzed but my arms weren't, I pushed with all I had, "Don't touch me." At least I would have this memory, the one of her surprised face falling onto her rear. My hands were immediately held in place by the teacher and the other guy. They weren't letting go anymore. I was effectively immobilized now. It took her a second to recover. "John, I'm going to let that one go, because I know how traumatic this day has been. However, anymore outbursts and I'll give you the second spank you've gotten from me." She seemed to consider something for a second. "Maybe reading your rules would help you to understand better. Maybe reading both our rules would help. Hmm? What do you think?" "That's a good boy", she produced 2 pieces of cardstock paper. Holding one up she read it like you would to a small child. "Rule one, you will wear diapers at all times, the only approved time without one is bathtime and when being changed. Rule two, the boys bathrooms are now boys changing stations, until all toilets are removed they are off limits, once they are removed they will be off limits unless you are with your guardian. Rule three, you will use your diaper at all times, if you refuse, the incontinence injection will be used. This will render you without control for a time, after 5 shots it will be permanent. Rule four, your guardian, the one who taped you into your first diaper, is in charge, what she says, goes. Rule five, if you fail in these things there is an acceptable list of punishments she may use. Rule 6, pants are to only be worn when weather requires it, your guardian needs to have access to you at all times, she will also make the decision on pants." Tammy leaned down and looked in my eyes. She did have a prettiness to her. Not like a girl who was just in it to be a "hot chick." It was more subtle, more real. She was a psycho though. So no matter what, she was a no fly zone. Placing a hand on my chest, "I have wanted to reward you for a long time, will you let me now? Will you be my good boy?" Placing the diaper on my thigh she slid her hand to my groin. "I promise this will be worth it" My curiosity never even engaged. Blake's words came back to me, and I just laid there not even sobbing or acknowledging her. My pants around my knees, Tammy turned and grabbed her bag. "These diaper bags are great, so many pockets." Producing a bottle of baby powder she went to work, rubbing it in. Making sure to hit everything, she went on for a long time, trying to get me going. "Nothing huh?" The disappointment in her voice was not very satisfying. At least not as much as I wanted it to be. "You really don't get how much I hate you." She pulled something from her bag that I didn't get to see well. She Never paused, she plunged it into my belly below my belly button. I felt the pressure of the injection, and screamed as the pain hit. I felt it burning my insides. All the sudden it was like a knot I didn't know was there just released. As fast as it started it ended. "What did you do to me?" Tammy smiled, caressing my face, "I'd say there are about 5 seconds before you find out. You're going to be a good boy. Since diapers are not a punishment but me educating you, I have levied a punishment for your negative behavior." I felt the need to pee and tried to clamp down on my muscles. Tammy quickly unfolded a diaper and laid it over me. At that moment I realized she had destroyed my continence. I had about half a second to come to terms with it before I made the first mess of my adult life. "Oh no, I guess you will need me. For at least the time being, the first time should last a week or so. The second injection is about 20 days, the third about 2 months. Number four will last close to a year, and well, number 5 will have you gloriously fluffy for life." She chuckled at that. My depression grew bigger, it was like a void opening below me that I fell into. She wouldn't have time to make it permanent but she could definitely do some damage. "Calm down," Tammy had gone back to that crazy tone where she seemed emotionless. "I have the fix for you too, a nice fluffy diaper. Now let's get you taken care of. "I hate you." I said "But I love you, and I'll make you a good boy." She smiled an almost sad smile. "I understand your anger but for now, before you make another mess, let's diaper you, my good boy." The diaper was raised between my legs as I felt a final dribble escape and trickle into the padding. It was gone as fast as it leaked out. She slowly taped me in. Chatting about her rules the whole time, I wasn't listening, I was mourning my life, I would never survive this no matter how I struggled, I'd be ground to dust if I tried… _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ I had not planned on continuing this but I have a few ideas, if it gets enough support to keep it going, I'll be motivated if not it'll die here lol. BB
    3 points
  2. Chapter 13 I awoke the next morning completely rejuvenated. For me, waking up so rested in the early morning hours was still an unfamiliar sensation, but it showed that the habit of going to bed early was at least beneficial in one aspect. I turned my head to the side, allowing my gaze to drift slowly across the dimly lit room. It eventually came to rest on my sister's bed, nestled in the far corner of the room. Her gentle, rhythmic breathing and closed eyes confirmed that she was still sleeping. This was an uncommon sight in the morning for me. I realized that for the first time since my therapy had begun and I shared a room with my sister, I had woken up before her. It was somehow strange to wake up in such total silence. Typically, when I woke up, the room was enveloped by the familiar sounds of daily life - the gentle chatter of my sister, my mother's voice, and the inevitable creaking of footsteps in the house. However, this morning was an exception; an encompassing silence reigned in the room, punctuated only intermittently by the rhythm of raindrops drumming against the window pane. From my bed, through the window, I could see a sky painted with heavy, dark clouds. The sun, which would usually have begun to spread its soft glow across the landscape by this time, was utterly concealed. The gloomy weather outside didn't match the state of mind in which I had awakened. For the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of inner peace, a sort of equilibrium that I had missed for a long time. Lea, with her speech and her kind of care, had truly managed to kindle within me a newfound hope and enthusiasm. Feeling at peace with myself and the world, I nestled deeper into my bed. I was enjoying the quiet before my mother would wake us up. Without thinking much about it, I comfortably emptied what was left in my bladder—what my body hadn't already expelled during sleep—into my diaper. The diaper, which had been cool, damp, and uncomfortable, now matched the welcoming warmth and coziness that enveloped me under the rest of my duvet. It was only after I completely emptied my bladder that I realized it would have made more sense to use my potty for my little business. Not necessarily because it would have significantly changed the wet state my mother would find my diaper in - after all, the diaper had already been wet before. It was more about the fact that in the long run, I would only get dry if I consistently tried to use the potty. Until now, I had lived by the principle that it made no difference whether I peed in an already wet diaper or not, because sooner or later it would become apparent anyway that I had not managed to stay dry. In fact, I had preferred to use an already wet diaper again instead of signaling to a caregiver that I needed to go potty - so at least my wet diaper and failure had not always been noticed immediately. But it was Lea who had opened my eyes and made it clear to me that becoming dry was a process—a process one primarily went through for themselves and not for others. Through her, I realized that every single step counted, that one mustn't relent, even when faced with setbacks, and ultimately, it mattered less what others saw or noticed, but more about recognizing one's own progress. So, instead of being upset with myself and the world as I would have been in the past, I calmly accepted my setback and simply resolved to visit my potty more consistently in the future. The soft creaking of footsteps suddenly echoed down the hallway. The sound grew steadily closer until, finally, the door to our room slowly opened. My mother peered in, offering a loving smile when she noticed I was already awake. "Good morning, sweetheart," she said gently, approached my bed, and planted a kiss on my forehead. The fatigue etched on my mother's face was unmistakable. God knows how long she had been occupied in her law firm the previous night. When she glanced at the bed on the other side of the room and noticed my sister was still asleep, she decided to let her continue resting. She then turned to the wardrobe to pick out our outfits for the day. Loaded with a bundle of clothes, she finally closed the wardrobe doors and placed the portion of clothes she'd chosen for my sister on the chair next to her bed. The remaining pieces, clearly picked out for me, she laid out on the changing table. She then gently woke my sister and asked her to get dressed while she asked me to lie down on the changing table. "So, how did it go with Lea yesterday?" my mother inquired, half yawning casually as she loosened the tapes on my diaper with heavy eyes. A smile crept onto my face as my thoughts drifted to Lea. "It was nice. Lea is really great," I returned sincerely, which brought a satisfied smile to my mother's face. "So, has Lea gained another fan in this house? So can I hire her again in the future when I need a babysitter?" she asked with a grin. I enthusiastically nodded in agreement. It was hard to believe that I was actually looking forward to the prospect of being babysat again. As my mother disposed of my wet diaper in the diaper pail, her gaze fell back on Sophie. Sophie sat motionless on the edge of her bed, still half asleep and still clad in her pajamas. Normally, Sophie was always wide awake in the morning, but the later bedtime seemed to have taken its toll on her as well. "Sophie, no daydreaming, it's time to wake up," my mother admonished her with the familiar slightly nagging tone that all mothers seem to master, "Take off your pajamas and get into your clothes!" Sophie reluctantly got rid of her pajamas. Then she picked up the first item from the pile of clothes - her Snow White underwear. Instantly, her face lit up with joy. As she put them on, a realization seems to hit her. This was going to be a special day. For the first time ever, she was going to kindergarten without wearing pull-ups or diapers. Her excitement was clear and her smile was radiant. A twinge of envy washed over me as I glanced at Sophie in her undergarments. I too owned an identical set of Snow White undergarments. It was in this moment, I yearned to don the very underwear that I, just weeks prior, had considered profoundly childish. This seemingly trivial garment had suddenly become a symbol of maturity, a status I desperately wished to attain. However, as I dwelled on it, I felt that the goal of this maturity appeared further out of reach than ever before. Rather than guiding me into one of the Snow White underwear, eagerly waiting in the drawer to be adorned by me, my mother, after a swift cleaning of my nether regions, unveiled a fresh diaper, much to my surprise. Initially, I attributed this to her being in a somewhat drowsy state, possibly mistaking the diaper for the usual pull-ups. But as she started to explain her decision in response to my surprised look, not only did my hope that it was simply a mistake fade, but also my newfound optimism regarding my situation. "Emily, I know you've always worn pull-ups at kindergarten," my mother began explaining in response to my surprised look, "but yesterday, I had a very detailed phone call with Mrs. Weber. She told me about your frequent accidents, and together we concluded that it's currently best for you to wear diapers at kindergarten, until you manage to use your potty more regularly." "But, …, but..." I desperately searched for the right words, "I don't want to wear diapers. No other girl in the big group wears diapers. The other kids will laugh at me," I sobbed, tears uncontrollably rolling down my cheeks. "Emily, no one will laugh at you. Besides, we have decided that you will be moving to the younger group for now. Many children there still wear diapers anyway. You currently need more support than Mrs. Weber can provide in the older group. The younger group has significantly fewer children, so the kindergarten teacher there can better attend to your needs," she revealed, dropping another piece of news that felt like another punch in my gut. My mother's words echoed in my ears. I could feel more and more tears streaming down my cheeks. The crushing realization that I required more support in a group that I was actually too old for than the caregiver could provide, felt like a stab to my heart. I had been well aware that I had peed my pants more often than the other children in the group, but I only now became aware of the full extent. A wave of shame wash over me that seemed to almost swallow me up. A feeling of powerlessness spread through me, making me feel small and helpless. The confident feeling with which I had awakened this morning had completely vanished. "Emily, it's only temporary, until you get better at using your potty," my mother tried to console me. Yet, her words couldn't lift the weight that was now pressing on my chest. Trapped in my sadness and frustration, I fell into a silent stupor, unable to utter a word or make a move. If everyone believed that I was a baby, then I might as well behave like one completely. From now on, I would simply not do anything at all, I decided defiantly. After my mother had tried several times in vain to get me to lift my hands so she could remove the top of my pajamas, she took matters into her own hands. With some effort, as I was not willing to move a single muscle, she peeled off my pajama top and pulled a dress covered with colorful children's drawings over me. Since I didn't move to the bathroom to brush my teeth on my own, my mother eventually picked me up and carried me there. She gently placed me on a stool in front of the sink. With a practiced hand, she squeezed a small amount of toothpaste onto my Minnie Mouse toothbrush and tried to pass it to me. Yet, all her encouraging words and attempts to get me to grab the toothbrush were unsuccessful. After several failed attempts to win the silent power struggle, a flicker of desperation filled her eyes. A quick glance at the clock made her groan; she grabbed the toothbrush and gently opened my mouth. With calm, mechanical movements, she brushed my teeth while I quietly and impassively let her. Visibly drained and at the edge of her patience, she then carried me to the wardrobe where she put on my shoes and jacket. A silent form of satisfaction filled me as my mother, with her face covered in sweat and fatigue, carried me to the car and buckled me into my child seat. However, my satisfaction quickly faded as I realized that a dress was probably the most unsuitable garment to hide a diaper while sitting in a child seat. No matter what I did, the seatbelts prevented me from pulling the dress far enough down to hide the diaper underneath. In addition, the five-point harness that held me securely in my seat constantly pressed the diaper against my skin. In the meantime, I had figured out how to release the child safety lock on the belts of my seat. All it took was a pointed object like a key, carefully inserted into the narrow slot next to the buckle while pressing the release button. But naturally, I didn't have such an item on hand. So I had no choice but to sit through the drive to kindergarten with my diaper visible to anyone who looked into the car. My gaze landed on Sophie, who was also already sitting in her child seat in the back. I couldn't help but notice how much more grown-up her clothes seemed compared to my colourful dress. Her short jeans, her simple t-shirt, and her rain jacket, unlike my clothes, bore no colourful children's patterns. And in her crotch, there was no thick diaper adorned with little princesses and unicorns, as was the case with me. Embarrassingly, I noticed that Sophie not only looked more mature than I did, but she had also behaved so this morning. While I had stubbornly resisted every action like a toddler, she had dressed herself, brushed her teeth on her own, and even went to the toilet by herself. I may have been the older of the two of us, but I had behaved like a small, whiny child.
    3 points
  3. PLAYING THE FIELD “So let's make sure that we're all on the same page here.” Once Rita stepped aside, Ian had wasted no time getting his feet on the floor. It was bad enough trying to negotiate with two beautiful and highly intelligent women, one of whom held a key to his heart and the other the key to his otherwise impenetrable diaper cover. Trying to do so when locked inside a crib that he couldn't open, a crib brimming with restraints that he perversely welcomed, was simply not in the cards. “I'll stay here until Monday morning, when someone will take me to work, where Amy will be in charge of my diaper changes until Sarah picks me up in the afternoon. I'll continue to wear this diaper cover, and will do so permanently if that's what Sarah desires. And I'll give up alcohol and drink breast milk in its place, in preparation for the day when all three of you will be breast feeding me.” “That's right, Princess, to the tune of thirty-six bottles a day.” Which will turn you into quite the little chubster, a cutie pie who will need his aunties to change his diapees at least fifteen times a day. My sweet, little Princess Poopy Pants indeed! “And in return I get regular food and drink, starting right now with a visit to your cafeteria … water and juice … soup, salad, meat, potatoes, veg … the whole nine yards. And no baby food-- no way, no how, ever!” “Agreed, with the proviso that in private your drink will always be limited to baby bottles unless one of us says otherwise. No cups, no glassware, not even sippy cups!” And your meat, potatoes and vegetables will probably be pureed, but technically it won't be baby food … Rita was determined to feed the Princess a bottle or two before the day was done; she had yet to experience the feeling of cradling Ian's head in her lap, but the mere thought of doing so was sending goosebumps down her spine. Like Vickie before her epiphany moment, Rita was still struggling with the fact that she had deep feelings for Ian, and didn't know how to process them. Lunch at the faculty club five days a week is beginning to look like a really good idea, especially if my secretary is being caught up in this nonsense. And maybe I should start accepting some of those late afternoon public lecture invites that are always cluttering up my faculty mail box … the wine and hors d'oeuvres should take the edge off my appetite. Thirty-six bottles of breast milk indeed! In your dreams! “Before we go downstairs, there are a few things you need to know.” Rita did not think that this outing was a good idea because it was about as far removed from John's order to keep Ian “under wraps” as you could get. Still, she reasoned that if he was going to have another seizure, it was better for it to happen in the cafeteria with a hundred doctors and nurses demanding that he publicly decide between Sarah and Vickie, and not wait for some headhunter to bushwhack him crossing campus on Monday morning. “First, you need to know that Gayle Soderberg in Patient Relations may show up with Harrison Knowles, her Director, in tow. If they come, you should expect them to wave a checkbook in your face. They badly need your language skills, and I'm betting that they will offer you a lot of money to switch jobs. Be polite, but tell them firmly that this is something that you have to discuss with Sarah, and that the two of you will come to a decision together. Can you do this?” “Easily. But why not simply tell them to deal with Sarah and leave me out of it?” “Because they won't believe you … unless I tell them about your seizure and what caused it. And that may come up, in which case you can tell them the truth-- that you don't remember a damned thing-- and defer to me. I'll handle it.” “This is going to keep happening, isn't it?” Ian's tone was resigned. He could see it in Vickie's eyes as well as Rita's, sorrow and pity laced with fear. “The danger is real.” Vickie's voice was toneless, and that shook Ian hard. “John is trying to arrange for campus police to protect you on Monday, but there are no guarantees, and it's a band-aid in any event. The cure lies within you.” “I don't understand ...” “We are talking about something that the public never sees,” Rita sadly admitted, “and that's the dark underbelly of the medical profession. It's money, Ian, and the sums in question are staggering. You have a remarkable skill set; indeed, you may be unique-- a man who is fluent in Khmer, Lao, Vietnamese, and God only knows how many other languages. By the way, how many do you speak? I don't think any of us ever bothered to ask.” “Eighteen fluently … maybe another hundred and fifty well enough to read the menu and order dinner. I've never counted.” “Dear God!” Vickie shook her head in amazement. “How did they miss you? How did you ever slip through the cracks?” “Who?” “The headhunters! They beat the bushes looking for talent that they can sign up, and then they make a fortune auctioning off people like you to the highest corporate bidder. It goes on in this business day in and day out … it never stops!” “But this doesn't make any sense. I commanded the Headhunters!” “What? What are you talking about?” “It was two months after Hue. They patched me up, but there was no way that I could have passed a physical, not with my shoulder so screwed up, so they didn't give me one. Instead they sent me back to Saigon, a newly minted twenty-two old Major, and they tasked me with assembling an all-volunteer company of guys from all over the map-- the US, South Korea, France, Australia, and of course ARVN regulars. Our job was simple: search and destroy. That's how we became the Headhunters. We didn't sit around in bunkers and pillboxes playing defense; we were a guerilla force that went looking for the enemy, which in practice meant that we were out there looking for the Ho Chi Minh trail. We were fighting in the shadows-- no other choice, really, because we often found ourselves in places where no American troops were supposed to be.” “But what does this have to do with our corporate headhunters?” “Everything, aunt Vickie, everything. Don't you see? There were rumors. Every time I went back to Saigon, I heard rumors about the Headhunters and their cocky CO, some young kid who happened to speak all these foreign languages. So, I didn't fall through the cracks. When I resigned my commission, the army buried my records … mine and the unit's. We simply ceased to exist. After that I became just another graduate student, lost in the shuffle of student ID numbers.” More artful evasion. You told Phil that you and the military parted ways on bad terms, and that you went back to Viet Nam as a civilian. What was that all about? “And now we've brought you out of the shadows and turned this great, big spotlight on you. God, what a mess!” “No, aunt Rita! God, no! To help Phil and Don? This was my choice, and it was an easy one for me to make because duty and honor will trump fear every time. That's why you're so wrong about heroes. It isn't just anger … it's something deep down inside that's more important than life itself!” “Reiko's samurai.” Vickie was finally ready to concede the point. “That's what she calls you, a samurai warrior from Japan's distant past. And you are … you really are. And here I've gone and fallen in love with you. Does this mean that I was a geisha in some previous life?” Ian reached out and clasped both of Vickie's hands in his own. “Geisha are renowned for their beauty, their intellect, their talent, and their charm. You would have stood head and shoulders above them all.” He pulled her close, and then tenderly kissed her. Rita let the moment linger. She and Vickie were like sisters, and had been for years. But there had always been something missing in Vickie's life, although Rita doubted whether many of their friends and colleagues sensed it. Vickie's devil may care attitude was so convincing that the hints of underlying sadness were easily missed or explained away. But they were there-- and now they were gone. Like Candy, Rita had caught it the moment Vickie walked into the conference room. Her stride was longer, her posture more erect, and her eyes intensely alive. Ian had set something inside her free, and the result was almost achingly beautiful. Reiko was right from the beginning. We all want to fall in love with a hero, but not one who walks among the gods. We want a fallen hero, someone who cannot stand without our love and care to support him. The honorable man and the helpless baby. Bian has gifted us with something truly magical. . . . . Marge wiped Don's forehead with a damp washcloth, and then gently dabbed his cheeks. His skin was pale and cold to the touch, yet he was sweating profusely. His eyes were in constant motion, darting back and forth between imaginary enemies. She was holding his hand, their fingers tightly laced. Marge had removed the mittens so that she could comfort him, but he was otherwise fully restrained. She reckoned that it had taken her twelve long hours to get him to acknowledge her presence, and to respond to her questions not with sentences but with a few disjointed words. But he's responsive, and that's the critical point. With patience and care, we can make the Corporal whole again … “What is it that you see out there?” Marge spoke slowly, and in a monotone. She was taking great care not to do or say anything that would startle him. “Suh … suh … suh … snake.” “What kind of snake?” Sitting on a stool, with the side of the crib lowered, she was at his eye level, and filled his field of vision. What he saw was a calm demeanor, and what he heard was the warmth of a maternal voice. “Cuh … cuh … cuh … co … cob … ra.” “Is it daytime, or nighttime?” “Da … day.” “And where are you? Are you in Quang Tri?” “Yeh … yeh … yeth.” “Were you working, or were you in bed?” “Bed. Red … reed … reeding.” “Were you reading a letter from home?” “Yeth.” “What happened to the snake?” “Die … die … duh.” “Did you shoot the snake?” “Yeth.” “That's good, Corporal Phillips. That's very good. You did well.” “Suh … snakes. Meeny … snakes.” “I know, and you did well. Now, I want you to eat something. How about a treat? Do you like chocolate pudding?” Marge was holding a spoon, moving it in a lazy circle inside his field of vision. Don opened his mouth, and Marge slowly spoon fed him. He swallowed without gagging, and Marge silently fed him the entire bowl. Lifting his head with her free hand, she offered him water through a straw. He got most of it down, and she used the wash cloth to mop up what had dribbled out of his open mouth. Unlocking his diaper cover, Marge loosened it just enough to slip her hand inside Don's baby pants. She was relieved to discover that he was still clean and dry, sparing her and one of the orderlies another cumbersome diaper change. Foregoing the mittens, Marge leaned into the crib to kiss Don affectionately on the cheek before raising and locking the bars in place. They were making hard but steady progress, and she wanted him to rest in preparation for an afternoon session. But now it was time for lunch, which meant a quick dash down to the cafeteria to grab a sandwich and fruit, and an equally quick dash back upstairs to take over for Rita, who had her own session with Ian just ahead. On this late Sunday morning, it was business as usual inside the Hotel California. . . . . Two down, one to go … Ian was back in the locker room, freshly diapered and, for the moment at least, clean and dry. One more door was all that stood between him and getting his life back. The problem was … he wasn't at all sure that he wanted it back. He had been in the ward less than seventy-two hours, but he wasn't about to kid himself. The man who was getting dressed to leave the ward was not the same man who had got undressed to enter it. A lot had happened inside that door, and with the exception of his lone visit to Hell's own diaper changing station, it had all been good. Helping Phil and Don … bonding with Amos and Andy … working so closely with Becky and Candy … and above all else, discovering in the most improbable of circumstances that he had fallen in love with a woman he had once casually dismissed as bar bait. The admission had hit him hard, so hard that if he had been standing on his feet, it would have knocked them out from under him. All things considered, therefore, he considered himself fortunate to have been lying in the midst of Thanksgiving dinner when the sledgehammer descended. And like any reasonably rational being who has just discovered that he has fallen in love with two women who are the closest of friends, Ian had begun instantly to second guess himself. He had, after all, been in love once before. He had married Emily, and they had ended up detesting one another, the divorce mutually beneficial. Viewed rationally, “love” was the most abused concept in the human universe. He didn't trust it. But it turned out that Maxwell's silver hammer, incarnate in the form of a turkey drumstick, was not Ian's epiphany moment. Sitting in the locker room, struggling to get his pants on over the mass of cloth, vinyl and canvas that at once protected and frustrated him, he realized that this had come but bare minutes earlier, when he was still trapped in his crib, struggling to lay his hands on a decent meal: Oh, it will take a bit of negotiation to work out the fine details, but trust me, you are not going to have to decide between Sarah and me. You will have us both, and do not think for a moment that you are going to leave Rita on the outside looking in. This was Ian's epiphany moment. He had felt it in the very depths of his soul. He had been staring into Vickie's eyes, eyes so warm and expressive, and he had caught the conviction lurking just beneath the merriment. He believed her. Just as he believed Sarah. He trusted her. Just as he trusted Sarah. He would never have entered the race except for Sarah. And he could not win it without Vickie. It was a race that he did not want to run, but it was a race that he had to win. He could only prevail if he conquered his fear, but on this battlefield anger would be of no use to him whatsoever. Worse yet, giri, the ancient Japanese concept that so defined him, with its calls to duty, honor and so much more, offered little hope. He had no weapons with which to fight. It was as he had explained it to Sarah over dinner at the Dead Zone. In the end, it came down to a matter of trust-- of which he had very little. Until now. Princess Poopy Pants alternately puzzled and amused him. If there was a female side to his personality, he was pretty sure that it was very well hidden indeed. No matter. He trusted Vickie to get this right. If she wanted him to wear a baby dress and drink breast milk from pink baby bottles, he would cheerfully do so. If spankings would keep his therapy on track, he would suffer them gladly. For Sarah, for Vickie. For himself. And maybe … just maybe … Princess Poopy Pants could fill in the gaps in his recent memories. If she was real. The gaps terrified him. Yesterday morning was gone, and yet something had happened that left Rita badly shaken. He had seen it in her eyes and heard it in her voice when she was literally pleading with him not to wander off on his own. Ian made a mental note to ask Vickie to find out whether the Princess had been home yesterday morning, and could bear witness on his behalf. If she was real, it was bloody well time to put her to work. . . . . “While he's getting dressed,” Rita murmured, “I'll duck into my office and call Manny and Heidi. Unless someone's come up with a better idea, we'll go with feeding Ian to the lions.” “Wonderful,” Vickie whispered in return. “Just wonderful. Here I've gone to all the trouble of falling in love with the guy, and now we're going to turn him into lunch meat. Some first date.” “Well, get your butt over there, sit down, give him a peck on the cheek, and then lay it out for him. Remind him that he's our patient, has a right to privacy, and that we take this sort of thing rather seriously. I'll warn Manny to go easy here, but it would really help if Ian would be willing to disclose that he was the subject of the code 2222. You know the score, Vic; around here it's all fun and games until it's not.” . . . . “Alone at last.” Vickie's smile was heartfelt. She wrapped her arm around Ian's waist, and rested her head on his shoulder. It felt good to be in love. Ian had filled a hole inside her that she had not even realized was there. “But not for long.” He reached out and pulled her still closer. “Anyway … is there anything good on the menu today?” “You men!” Vickie was laughing as she sat up straight. “Do you ever think about anything but your stomachs and your dicks?” “Not really. And a word to the wise: hungry men do not make attentive lovers.” “Then I'd go with the meat loaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans. And don't be surprised if cranberry sauce ends up on your tray, whether you want it or not. Vickie's magic drumstick, and Ian's magical tongue, have become the stuff of hospital legend!” “How about the pumpkin pie? Can I have it with real whipped cream?” “Ah, the possibilities … the endless possibilities. Rest assured that whipped cream and chocolate sauce are perennial favorites in my kitchen.” “You forgot the maraschino cherries,” he whispered in her ear. What Ian really wanted to do was drive his tongue into Vickie's ear, but the damned diaper cover was ruining his act, and it was abundantly clear that Vickie did not have the key. “I've forgotten nothing,” she grinned, knowing that his de facto chastity belt was competing with his stomach for attention. “Speaking of which, I need to bring you up to speed about what awaits you in the cafeteria. You really are a celebrity, Ian, in a dump that runs on gossip, and with a staff that's hard wired to bet on anything. Any … way, someone figured out that Vickie's crush and Sarah's boyfriend are one and the same, which got the pool off and running. Who would the mysterious Ian Grady choose to make his own? I'm rather proud of the fact that I started off as a ten to one favorite, and even after the third and seventh floors bet heavily on Sarah, I'm still going off at four to one!” “Wow! This is so cool! But how does it work? I mean … do you have a bookie or something?” “Yep. Manny Cepeda runs the whole casino out of the subbasement. He's the Head Supervisor for Building Services … and he wants to meet you in the cafeteria. He's not paying anyone anything until he's heard from you-- a public pronouncement. You should expect an audience of between one and two hundred doctors, nurses and assorted staff to be hanging on every bite of your meat loaf because this looks to be the largest pool in hospital history!” “Double wow!! Is it too late for me to get in on the action?” “NAUGHTY BABY! Vickie laughed, but she also slapped Ian's thigh very hard. “Are you looking for another spankie when we come back upstairs, hmm? 'Cause I love spanking your cute, widdle butt!” “You are coming back up with us, aren't you?” She was worried that, once free of the ward, Ian would refuse to reenter it. “I've got religion,” he responded as he reached out once more to pull Vickie close. “You and Rita, both; you've convinced me that I'm on very shaky ground. Friday morning is not here, Vix.” Ian was tapping on his forehead. “And it's scary. Which reminds me … can you ask Princess Poopy Pants if she was there? Maybe she can fill in the missing pieces.” “That's a terrific idea! Ian, thank you … you know, you would have made a great therapist! How could I have missed this?” Vickie was shaking her head in exasperation-- therapists weren't supposed to miss the screamingly obvious. “I'll send you a bill,” he chuckled. “And can I pay in the currency of my choice?” Vickie was licking her lips in anticipation, thinking about the bowls of cranberry sauce that undoubtedly awaited in the cafeteria. In her imagination, she was slowly pouring the sauce all over her chest, and Ian was stepping forward to lick it off. She was holding his head in her hands, his tongue flicking like a serpent's, first to one breast and then to the other. And the whole hospital, suitably awestruck, was cheering them on, Manny Cepeda calling out the odds on the exact minute when she would have another earth-shattering orgasm … “Are you okay?” Returning to earth, Vickie could see concern written all over Ian's face … concern for her. It felt good to be loved. “Yes and no. I was thinking about that damned diaper cover of yours. It's keeping you in, but it's also keeping me out. I NEED SEX!!!” “Well, couldn't we, like, cut it off?” “No. The lining is reinforced with steel thread, and the canvas itself is too thick to attack with scissors. We're stuck.” Vickie climbed to her feet, and pulled Ian up to stand beside her. “Let's go collect Rita, and head downstairs. Just remember that someone may ask us about the call that we made for a crash team to stand by. We can hide behind doctor-patient confidentiality, but we can't stop the rumors. Rita and I both think that it would be in your best interest simply to admit that you had an event, that you don't remember the details, and that we are treating you for it. I want our neurology unit to look you over, and this will get you in there quick.” “But I can't afford ...” “They'll lose the bill.” “How about … do I need to sign some kind of waiver to protect Rita … the … the confidentiality thing?” Vickie shook her head in mock despair. “Do you always have to be such a nice guy? Do you have any idea how hard you're making it for me to spank you? Do you? I swear, Ian; I love you, but sometimes you're just no fun at all!” . . . . Ian walked out of the ward with his tie off and his shirt collar unbuttoned. In all other respects, he appeared to be the same man who had entered the ward on Wednesday afternoon, and he knew it. But there was simply no putting the lid back on Pandora's Box, and he wasn't about to try running away from a reality that kept rising up and kicking him where it hurts. How was he supposed to ignore the face that he was now closely flanked by Rita and Vickie? Were they his babysitters, bodyguards, or both? He loved Vickie, but what was he to make of his feelings for Rita? Almost overnight, his life had become very, very complicated. In the corner off to his right, Ian spotted Phil Kettering. Phil was talking with an older couple, and the scene reeked of awkward and long overdue family reunion. Becky, sitting a bit to Phil's right and looking very relaxed, glanced up and smiled in his direction. He smiled in return, glad to see that things were going well. Ian looked up at one of the television screens overhead, and stopped in mid-stride. Wile was collecting still another package from Acme, doubtless yet one more Rube Goldberg device to be deployed in his never ending quest to catch, cook, and eat the detestable Roadrunner. Ian Samuel Grady and Wile E. Coyote were kindred spirits, but still … How is Wile paying for all this stuff? Can coyotes get credit cards? All in all, Ian was in a very good mood as they entered the elevator and started the long descent to the basement.
    3 points
  4. Made a slight adjustment to the flow of the story, this has evolved into a new story. So I will be closing this one out with one more part and opening up the next story in a new thread. PART 4 - Kylie Thompson woke up to the gentle sound of a mobile playing a lullaby, the notes soft and delicate as they reached her ears. For a moment, she lay still, eyes wide open, taking in the surroundings of her new environment. The room, once a normal teenage bedroom, had been transformed into a pastel-hued nursery, filled with teddy bears, dolls, and babyish decorations. The walls were adorned with cheerful animal prints and the furniture had been replaced with baby furnishings, including the large crib where she found herself. As she squirmed around in the crib, her mind still clouded with sleep, she became aware of a very wet and uncomfortable sensation around her waist. Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as she realized that her diaper was soaked. Panic set in as she tried to sit up, only to find that the crib's railings were too high for her to climb over. She was trapped inside, utterly helpless, just like a real baby. "M-Mom?" she called out hesitantly, but there was no response. Her heart started to race as she realized how helpless she was. Adjusting her approach, she cried out in a more babyish tone, "Mommy, mommy!" Mrs. Thompson heard her daughter's cry through the newly installed baby monitor and smiled, satisfied by Kylie's babyish behavior. She made her way to the nursery, her heart a mixture of amusement and determination. As she entered the room, Mrs. Thompson's eyes sparkled with condescension as she approached the crib. "Good morning, my soggy little baby!" she cooed, lowering the crib rail and reaching out to help Kylie to her feet. "Let's get you changed, sweetie. Can't have you sitting in that wet diaper all morning, can we?" Kylie's face turned even redder as her mother's hands guided her over to the changing table. She was laid down, and the process began. Each step was narrated by her mother in a playful and condescending tone, emphasizing the humiliation of the situation. "First, we'll undo these tapes. Oh my, someone was a very wet girl last night," Mrs. Thompson teased, pulling off the wet diaper. Kylie whimpered, squirming under her mother's gaze. "Stay still, sweetie. Now, we'll wipe you clean," Mrs. Thompson continued, her hands deftly maneuvering a baby wipe across Kylie's skin. "Then, a little lotion to keep that baby-soft skin nice and smooth." Kylie's breath hitched as the cool lotion was applied, her mother's hands gentle yet firm. The scent of baby powder filled the air as her mother sprinkled it over her, a cloud of white puffing up around her. "And now, the fresh new diaper!" Mrs. Thompson announced, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she taped the clean diaper around Kylie's waist. "There you go, all clean and dry, just like a good little baby should be." Kylie's embarrassment was complete, yet she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement as well. She was living out her deepest desires, even if it was under the stern and teasing gaze of her mother. Next came the task of picking out Kylie's outfit for the day. Much to her dismay, Mrs. Thompson settled on a pair of skirtalls with a Winnie the Pooh t-shirt and little Velcro shoes with frilly socks. "You'll look absolutely adorable in this, my little one," her mother said, her voice laced with amusement. Kylie's protest was met with a stern look. "Big girls don't get to choose what they wear, sweetie. That's Mommy's job," Mrs. Thompson said, her tone both sweet and condescending. Breakfast was another trial for Kylie. Seated in her high chair, she squirmed as her mother fussed over her, showering her with baby talk and teasing comments. The sight of a big bowl of oatmeal, filled with high fiber ingredients, made her stomach turn. "Open wide, baby girl," Mrs. Thompson cooed, spooning a mouthful of oatmeal towards Kylie's lips. "I can feed myself," Kylie protested, but her mother was unrelenting. "Oh, no you can't, sweetie. Babies need to be fed, don't they?" Mrs. Thompson insisted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now open up, or Mommy will have to make airplane noises." Kylie's father, watching the ordeal with amusement, chuckled at his wife's antics. The room was filled with the sounds of playful teasing and Kylie's embarrassed whimpers. After some more playful feeding, Mrs. Thompson wiped Kylie’s face and then put paw patrol on for the television and got another bottle out of the fridge “Now be good, drink your whole baba and watch your little show for the next few minutes while mommy gets somethings done and makes a phone call.” Kylie nodded sheepishly and began to suck on her bottle. She slowly became entranced by the colorful characters of Paw Patrol dancing across the television screen as she mindlessly nursed her adult baby bottle. Her mother bustled around the kitchen, multitasking with ease as she prepped for the day and took a few urgent work calls. The lively tunes from the TV show filled the room as Kylie's father gave both his wife and daughter a kiss on the cheek, making his way out the door. A sudden, intense pressure in Kylie's stomach jolted her attention away from the screen. She squirmed in her chair, anxiety rising within her. "Mom! Mom, I need you!" she called out, only to be met with a dismissive wave from her mother, who was engrossed in a phone conversation. The pressure grew unbearable, she clenched and tried to free herself of the confines of her chair as she struggled to prevent the inevitable. Suddenly with a mixture of shock and humiliation, Kylie lost control, lifted herself up slightly and felt a massive load of mush escape her quickly filling up the back of her diaper. Defeated and horribly embarrassed she let herself down into the chair slowly feeling the contents of her mess spread out beneath her. Her cheeks flushed beet red, tears welled up in her eyes, and she continued to nurse her bottle, confined to her high chair. Mrs. Thompson, becoming aware of the time, hastily ended her call. She approached Kylie, and the unpleasant smell hit her instantly. "Oh my, someone couldn't wait!" she exclaimed, a playful tease lacing her voice, though her eyes revealed a hint of annoyance. "I'm afraid there's no time for a change, sweetie. Ms. Daisy will have to take care of that stinky bottom." Kylie's voice caught in a whine, her embarrassment turning to desperation. "But Mommy, please change me! I don't wanna go like this!" Her mother's response was firm, condescending, and pragmatic. She popped a pacifier into Kylie's mouth, silencing her protests. "You wanted to be a baby, my dear. Babies don't get to choose when they get changed. Now, let's get you to daycare, stinky butt." The playful sarcasm in her voice did little to ease Kylie's distress. The journey to the car was a humiliating blur for Kylie. Strapped into her car seat, her mother making sure to tighten the straps between her messy diaper, she was acutely aware of every sensation. Her mother rolled down the windows, laughing as she playfully teased Kylie about the smell. "Whew! You sure are a stinky one today!" Arriving at daycare, Mrs. Thompson carried Kylie's diaper bag, her steps brisk as she led her daughter inside. Apologizing to Ms. Daisy, the sweet and playful daycare teacher, she explained the rush and Kylie's messy state. The grown-ups' laughter filled the room as they joked about the situation, Kylie's cheeks burning with embarrassment as she stood there, the reality of her babyish state settling in. Mrs. Thompson leaned down to Kylie, her playful smile belying the stern undertone. "Now, be a good girl for Ms. Daisy, and don't give them too much trouble today, my little stinker," she cooed, patting Kylie's diaper and giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. Her teasing words were laced with a condescending air, and she shot Ms. Daisy a knowing glance. Ms. Daisy's eyes twinkled with gentle mockery as she responded, "Oh, don't you worry! We'll take good care of this little one. Won't we, Kylie-bear?" Her tone was sweet, yet there was an underlying hint of reprimand, acknowledging Kylie's unusual behavior. With that, Mrs. Thompson departed, leaving Kylie with Ms. Daisy and her assistant, Ms. Emily. Ms. Daisy turned to Ms. Emily, her voice dropping slightly, "Could you please take care of Kylie's diaper while I greet the others?" Ms. Emily's eyebrows shot up, surprised by the request. "Her diaper? Isn't she a bit old for..." Her voice trailed off as she looked at Kylie, a puzzled frown on her face. "Oh, you haven't heard?" Ms. Daisy's voice was gentle but firm. "Kylie's been having some trouble being a big girl lately. She needs a little bit of extra attention, just think of her like a big baby” She offered an encouraging smile, though her eyes held a hint of annoyance. Kylie felt her cheeks heat up, embarrassment flooding her as Ms. Emily took her by the hand and led her toward the changing area. The changing table was clearly designed for much younger children, and Kylie's feet stuck out over the edge, drawing a joking comment from Ms. Emily, "My, my, aren't we getting far too big for diapers?" The diaper change that followed was an agonizing ordeal for Kylie. Ms. Emily's playful commentary, describing each motion and showering her with condescending baby talk, only added to her humiliation. "Aww, someone's a messy little baby isn’t she, doesn’t look like you’re anywhere near ready for potty training… oh well maybe one day, let's get you all cleaned up and into a new baby diaper before you have another accident,” Ms. Emily cooed with a slight air of condescension, removing the soiled diaper and beginning the large task of wiping Kylie’s messy bottom. Kylie couldn't help but protest, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm not a baby! I can use the potty!" Ms. Emily's response was dismissive, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. "Well, big girls don't mess their diapers. Now hold still, little one." She deftly applied baby powder, fastened the fresh diaper, and helped Kylie back to the floor. Kylie's initial instinct was to head for the play area, but Ms. Emily's firm grip stopped her. "Not so fast, young lady. The playpen is for you until you show us you can be a big girl." Despite Kylie's protests, Ms. Emily guided her to the playpen, handed her a rattle, and popped her pacifier back in her mouth. "Be good until class starts," she said, her voice edged with a hint of frustration. Kylie's world seemed to shrink as she sat in the playpen, surrounded by toys meant for babies. The humiliation, the teasing, and the condescension from the adults weighed heavily on her. Yet, beneath it all, a spark of determination ignited. She would show them that she could be a big girl. As she shook the rattle, a hollow sound that echoed her own feelings, she watched the other children arrive for class, each one blissfully unaware of her inner turmoil. She couldn't escape the realization that she had put herself in this position, and now she had to find a way out. The next few minutes passed slowly and Kylie was relieved when Ms. Daisy opened the baby gate of the playpen, beckoning the other small children and Kylie to come out. Kylie stood up while several of the children crawled toward the center of the room. Immediately realizing how much she stood out. As the children settled down, Ms. Daisy clapped her hands, signaling the start of circle time. "Alright little ones, gather around! Let's start our day with a song!" Her voice was melodic and inviting, yet held a hint of authority that ensured even the most restless of toddlers listened. Kylie sat cross-legged at the outer edge of the circle, feeling out of place. She felt the weight of the eyes on her - a mixture of innocent curiosity from the kids and hidden judgment from the adults. Ms. Daisy led the group in a series of familiar nursery rhymes. While the other children joyfully sang along, clapping and swaying, Kylie tried to keep a low profile, mouthing the words half-heartedly. Next came arts and crafts, an activity Kylie used to love. Today, they were painting simple shapes onto large sheets of paper. With a palette of vibrant colors before her, Kylie tried to lose herself in the activity. But her attempt at creating art was interrupted when she accidentally knocked over a jar of blue paint. The liquid spread rapidly, creating a puddle that seeped through her drawing and splashed onto her clothes. "Oh dear, look at this mess!" Ms. Emily exclaimed, rushing over with a towel. She seemed flustered, her annoyance evident. "You have to be careful, sweetie. Perhaps we’ll just stick with crayons next time.” Her comment drew snickers from some of the older kids, deepening Kylie's embarrassment. Before Kylie could clean herself up, it was snack time. The room was filled with the scent of freshly baked cookies and juice boxes. But when Ms. Daisy approached Kylie, it wasn't with a cookie. Instead, she had a baby bottle filled with milk. "Your mother left specific instructions," Ms. Daisy said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness, "You need your bottle." Kylie opened her mouth to protest, but Ms. Daisy was already settling into a chair, patting her lap. "Come now, Kylie. It's bottle time." Kylie felt a lump form in her throat as she made her way over, the eyes of every child in the room fixed on her. Kylie climbed up onto her lap, and before she knew it, the nipple of the bottle was pressed to her lips. Soon, it was time for outside play. The children excitedly ran out, eager to enjoy the outdoor play equipment. Kylie, still reeling from the morning's events, immediately went towards the jungle gym but was stopped by Ms. Emily. “Nuh uh uh, little miss, you need to be supervised so you can play with me and the other little ones. How about the swings!” Kylie was defeated as Ms. Emily took her by the hand, leading her towards the baby swing. "Here you go, Kylie," she said, her tone dripping with condescension. "I think this swing is just perfect for you." Kylie's cheeks burned with embarrassment as she was settled into the swing. Her feet stuck out awkwardly, and the seat was tight around her padded bottom, she felt so silly. Ms. Emily's face wore a thin smile as she pushed Kylie back and forth, but her eyes betrayed her annoyance. "You know, Kylie, if you show a little bit more maturity and start acting like a big girl, you can get more freedom” Ms. Emily remarked, her voice filled with playful teasing. "But since you’re acting like a baby, it’s only appropriate we treat you like one.” Kylie's humiliation grew with each word, each push of the swing. She wanted to protest, to scream that she was not a baby. But she knew that her current situation made such assertions impossible. The swing continued its back-and-forth motion, lulling Kylie into a deceptive sense of comfort. Her mind began to wander, and she allowed herself to momentarily forget her surroundings. And then, it happened. A sudden urge to pee, a sensation that caught her off guard. Panic set in as she realized what was about to occur. Her thoughts raced, a jumble of confusion and desperation. She couldn't hold it; she knew she couldn't. The warmth spread through her diaper, a feeling both comforting and terrifying. Kylie's breath caught in her throat as she realized the full extent of her situation. Her diaper was not just wet; it was leaking. "Ms. Emily," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think... I think I need a change." Ms. Emily's eyes widened as she saw the dampness spreading on the swing's seat. The realization hit her, and her face twisted into a mask of frustration and disgust. "Kylie!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief. "Look at the mess you've made! You're far too big to be having leaky diapers, why didn’t you tell me you needed a change earlier” Tears welled in Kylie's eyes as she was helped out of the swing, the wetness running down her legs, her clothes soaked. Ms. Emily's expression was a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment as she led Kylie back inside to the changing table once again, muttering under her breath. The diaper change was slow and methodical, each movement emphasizing Kylie's babyish state Ms. Emily's patience seemed to wear thin as she undid the sodden diaper, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "This is unbelievable," she muttered, trying to clean up the mess. As she powdered and taped a fresh diaper around Kylie, her commentary became sharper. “We really need to figure out how we are going to handle your heavy accidents little lady, this is getting out of hand” After securing the fresh diaper around Kylie, Ms. Emily paused, looking down at the disheartened girl. The tears shimmering in Kylie's eyes seemed to penetrate the usual cool exterior of the daycare assistant. "Oh, dear," Ms. Emily cooed sarcastically, her voice lilting in a singsong manner. "Look at that sad little face. That won't do, will it? You look like the world's just ended! Time for some cheer-up tactics, I think." Before Kylie could react, Ms. Emily's hands were in front of her face. "Peek-a-boo!" she cooed, wiggling her fingers and hiding her face, only to pop out a moment later with a goofy expression. Kylie blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in mood. Ms. Emily continued, each peek-a-boo accompanied by an even sillier face than the last. Seeing a slight curve of Kylie's lips, Ms. Emily seized the moment. "There's a hint of a smile! But I think we can do better than that." Swiftly, her fingers danced along Kylie's sides, eliciting a startled giggle from the girl. "Tickle, tickle, tickle!" Ms. Emily chanted, her voice dripping with playful condescension. Kylie's protests and laughter melded together as she squirmed beneath Ms. Emily's relentless fingers. Drawing her face close to Kylie's stomach, Ms. Emily suddenly blew a loud raspberry, making a ridiculous sound. Kylie's laughter echoed in the room, genuine and free. "There's the big smile we wanted," Ms. Emily said, pulling back and looking smug. "See? There's always a way to turn a frown upside down." Kylie, still catching her breath from laughing, looked at Ms. Emily with a mix of gratitude and exasperation. "Thank you," she murmured, "I think." "There we go," Ms. Emily smirked, continuing her tickling assault. "Can't have our big baby looking so glum, can we?" Lifting Kylie from the table, Ms. Emily gave her a gentle pat on the back. "Now, let's get you back out there, shall we? No more tears, okay?" Kylie nodded, her spirit somewhat lifted, but the weight of the day still pressing on her shoulders. As they moved back outside, she couldn't help but steal a quick glance at Ms. Emily, appreciating the brief moment of genuine kindness in the midst of their bizarre dynamic. Once back outside, Kylie was directed towards the sandbox. "You can play here," Ms. Emily said, her voice devoid of warmth. "I don't think you can make much of a mess with sand." Kylie's mindlessly began to move some toys around in the box as she watched Emily move back toward the swings to wipe up the mess. LUNCHTIME The daycare center was abuzz with the cheerful chatter of children as lunchtime approached. Tables were set, plates filled with a delightful assortment of foods that appealed to all ages. Kylie was led to a table with children her own age but was stopped by Ms. Daisy, who handed her a tray separate from the others. "Here you go, sweetie," Ms. Daisy said, her voice tinged with feigned concern. "I've made sure to include some baby food just for you, since your mom insists." Kylie's face turned beet red as she took the tray. Among the regular meal items lay a small jar of baby food and a colorful plastic spoon. The other children glanced at her tray, their eyes widening, some of them snickering. She picked at her food, the baby food jar an unwanted reminder of her current predicament. The other children carried on with their meals, occasionally casting curious glances in her direction. Kylie wished she could just vanish, to be free from the prying eyes and the unspoken judgments. Eventually, Ms. Emily came over, her expression a mixture of annoyance and sympathy. "Come on, Kylie, you need to eat your baby food too. It's good for you." Kylie's cheeks flushed even deeper as Ms. Emily scooped up a spoonful of the mushy substance and held it to her lips. She wanted to refuse, to shout that she was not a baby, but the words were stuck in her throat. Instead, she opened her mouth, letting Ms. Emily feed her. "There, that's not so bad, is it?" Ms. Emily said, though her eyes betrayed her reluctance. Kylie could only nod, tears of humiliation welling in her eyes. She felt trapped, unable to escape the demeaning treatment, yet powerless to change it. Lunchtime finally ended, a welcome respite for Kylie. The next activity was storytime, a beloved tradition at the daycare center. The children gathered around as Ms. Daisy took her seat, a colorful picture book in hand. "Today, we're going to read a lovely story about a little duckling," Ms. Daisy announced, her eyes twinkling. "And I think Kylie here should help us with the quacking sounds. What do you say, Kylie?" The room filled with giggles as Kylie's face turned an even deeper shade of red. She wanted to refuse, to say no, but the expectant eyes of Ms. Daisy and the amused smiles of the other children were too much to bear. "Quack, quack," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "Louder, Kylie! You can do better than that!" Ms. Daisy encouraged, her voice filled with false cheer. "Quack, quack!" Kylie repeated, louder this time, each word a stab at her dignity. The story continued, with Kylie providing the quacking sounds at Ms. Daisy's prompting. The other children joined in, laughing and clapping, but for Kylie, it was a painful exercise in humiliation. Once the story ended, it was time for the afternoon nap. The younger children were settled into their cribs, while the older ones spread out on mats. Kylie, however, was led to the playpen by Ms. Emily. "We've prepared a special place for you," Ms. Emily said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Since the cribs are too small, and you're still not a big girl." Kylie climbed into the playpen, her heart heavy. She was given a baby blanket and a soft plush toy. The playpen's bars seemed to mock her, a physical manifestation of her imprisonment in this infantile role. Ms. Daisy approached, a bottle in hand. "Your mom left specific instructions for a bottle before your nap," she said, her tone sweet but laced with condescension. "I think Ms. Emily should do the honors." Ms. Emily took the bottle, her face betraying her frustration. She sat beside the playpen, holding the bottle to Kylie's lips. Kylie could see the other children watching, their eyes filled with curiosity and amusement. She sucked on the bottle, tears streaming down her face, each gulp a reminder of her shame. Ms. Emily's hand was gentle, but her eyes were cold, her mind clearly elsewhere. Finally, the bottle was empty, and Kylie was left to settle into her nap. The onesie she had been changed into was snug and childish, a symbol of her forced regression. As sleep overtook her, Kylie's mind swirled with conflicting emotions. Anger, shame, humiliation – they all mingled, leaving her feeling lost and alone. The events of the day played over and over in her mind, a relentless reminder of her current reality. Kylie's peaceful slumber was shattered by a sudden, unwelcome sensation. A rumbly tummy, an urgent pressure building within her. Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself disoriented, still within the confines of the playpen, the soft lullabies playing overhead. Panic and realization set in simultaneously. She was trapped, and her body was betraying her, demanding release. Her mind raced, her thoughts a frantic whirl of confusion and fear. "No, no, no," she whispered to herself, clenching her fists. "I can't. Not here, not now." But her body would not listen, the pressure growing, the discomfort mounting. She squirmed, trying to find a position that would alleviate the sensation, but it only grew worse. She glanced around, hoping, praying that no one would notice. The other children were still sleeping, their faces peaceful, their breaths steady. Ms. Emily was nowhere to be seen, probably tending to other duties. Kylie's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the relentless push of her body. She fought it, her entire being focused on resisting, on holding back. But it was a losing battle, a struggle she could not win. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized the inevitability of her situation. She had to let go, had to give in. But the shame, the humiliation, it was too much to bear. She moved into a squatted position, her face contorted in a mix of concentration and despair. Her inner monologue was a constant stream of self-reassurances and desperate pleas. "It's okay, it's okay," she told herself, her voice trembling. "No one will know. I'll be quiet. It'll be over soon." The pressure reached its peak, and with a soft grunt, she let go. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming, the messy diaper expanding, the uncomfortable feeling spreading. She whimpered, her entire body shuddering. The relief was overshadowed by the embarrassment, the realization that she had just messed herself like a baby, in full view of anyone who might look. She sat back down into her mess, the onesie tightening, the diaper struggling to contain its contents. And then, the worst happened. A blowout, the mess escaping the confines of the diaper, spreading within the onesie. Her breath caught in her throat, a sob escaping her lips. She had never felt so humiliated, so utterly defeated. The door creaked open, and Ms. Emily's voice broke the silence. "Alright, little ones, time to wake up from your naps." Kylie's heart stopped, the terror of discovery washing over her. She looked up, her eyes wide, her face pale. Ms. Emily's eyes met hers, and then, the realization. Her face twisted in slight disgust, her voice rising in slight playful frustration "Kylie…. Did you make a poopy diaper?” She said quite loudly in a matter of fact way Kylie could only whimper, tears streaming down her face, her body frozen in place. "Oh, you poor thing," Ms. Emily said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." The other children were stirring now, their curious eyes turning to Kylie, their noses wrinkling at the smell. Ms. Emily's hands were firm but gentle as she guided Kylie from the playpen, her face a mask of controlled annoyance. "I can't believe how many diapers this girl is going through” she muttered, more to herself than to Kylie as she took her to the changing table…
    3 points
  5. I have been dating my gorgeous girlfriend for just over 3 months and I’d like to share my experience. Early on I was determined to tell her about my desire to wear a nappy as it makes me feel relaxed and safe and I wanted to give her the opportunity to walk away if she wasn’t comfortable with this side of me. I’ll tackle my journey so far in 4 parts. 1. Revealing this part of me honestly 2. Her initial response 3. Where we are now Here goes…. 1. Revealing my baby / little side This was by far the hardest thing I have ever undertaken, telling someone you really care for that you are (in some peoples eyes) very odd. It was one evening after she had told me about some of the turbulence that she had experienced in her own past. What she told me made me want her even more (not age play or fetish related) so after listening to her story I felt I just had to be fully transparent with her regarding my own issues. (All true) I don’t wet every night but it’s not too often that I wake up dry. As with most people, I had lived with a feeling of shame about this part of me but I knew that if we were to have a chance together I would have to tell her everything. The conversation started by me explaining about my bed wetting, how I deal with it (by wearing a nappy) and how it made me feel (relaxed, safe and yes, also quite excited) As a foot note, whilst having therapy for an unrelated issue my bed wetting and nappy wearing came out in the open and the therapist who was amazing helped me to realise that I wasn’t evil or a freak for the way I was. As with most accounts I’ve read, I didn’t do the best job in explaining as there was still confusion in my own understanding of this part of me. However because of my therapy I was able to explain how as a bed wetting child I wore nappies for the most part until the age of 14 and yes, I derived comfort and pleasure from wearing a nappy to bed. I think that I even had my first orgasm whilst wearing a nappy and I definitely became aroused at bedtime so the sexual link was there early on. Once I had explained as much as I could I sat in front of her waiting for her response / reaction. 2. Her response I have to say that I was floored by her response (which has taken me some time to fully believe) when she just held me and more or less said “so what” My revelation made no difference in her eyes, she still thought the world of me and my expose hadn’t changed that. Wow!! I didn’t expect her unconditional acceptance of my revelation but then all I really had to go on was what I’ve read from other people in a similar situation to mine. From that moment on I have worn a nappy to bed with her on many occasions. Sometimes I put it on myself and sometimes she has done the honours (you can guess which I prefer!!) I can say from the bottom of my heart that this woman has made me more whole than I could have ever imagined I’d feel. 3. Where we are now To start with I’m enjoying spending time with an amazing woman first and foremost. Our relationship is so strong that I still pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming!! As far as it relates to this post, I’m just so happy that she is accepting of all of me. How the relationship develops is anyone’s guess but it couldn’t be built on stronger foundations of honesty and openness towards each other and on that basis I am happily confident that we have as good a chance as any couple in having an amazing life together. Yes, I’d love to be nurtured and babied as much as she feels comfortable with. We even looked for nappies online together which felt surreal yet thrilling. I’d love to be bathed, dressed, fed, changed and all the other things that contributors have mentioned in various posts I’ve read on here. Most importantly however is that I want to make sure that I can make this love of mine as happy as she has certainly made me. I had never before felt I could be open with a loved one because of this part of me but she has proved me wrong in so many ways. So thank you my gorgeous girl (you know who you are) and I love you so so much Xxx
    2 points
  6. I believe what Mikey is trying to say is that he would not want somebody to chew up food and then spit it into his mouth for him to eat! Brian
    2 points
  7. I guess because changing diapers is sort of normal, but spitting food into people's mouth, nobody does that. I only really meant this thread as a joke to be honest.
    2 points
  8. You can make your own Pop! figures now! lol. I didn't buy it cuz its $30 but I wish I could afford it just to add ME to my Funko collection. https://funko.com/funko-pop-yourself.html
    2 points
  9. $ sudo apt-get install IncontinenceMachine Installing IncontinenceMachine... Done! $ sudo IncontinenceMachine run Setting up your incontinence... First, let’s decide the severity for urinary incontinence: "Total incontinence" Next determine the primary type of urinary incontinence: "Nonstop leaky faucet" Very good! How much awareness do you want to have? "Vauge awareness" What about nights? "Heavy wetting, frequent pee dreams" Do you want your incontinence to be reversible or permanent? Permanent Do you wish to have bowel incontinence as well? "Total bowel incontinence" Finally, would you like to add toilet confusion, thus impossible to use a toilet? Yes Thank you using this setup wizard, good day! $
    2 points
  10. How did I meet her? Online is the answer. Just a normal dating site. I had no expectations of meeting someone special but she and I clicked the first time we spoke. I didn’t speak about my baby side at first as that was not the reason I went on the site. Once I felt that we may get serious I resolved to tell her about this part of me. And it is only a part of me. I find her very attractive and am proud to have her on my arm when we are out together. I am a very lucky man / boyfriend / baby Cheers to you too
    2 points
  11. Hey! I thought that the idea that Layla should have to take the test came from you. I’m just happy that I found a way to tie that request into the plot. There are points I want to make with the story, and I think I might make it work. Yeah. I like it, too. This story is all about dogma and terminology. Maturosis is an amazing idea. The concept of plateaus and development gives Amazons the scientific proof that Littles need this kind of overzealous care. There is a system to their control, and I love the confusing aspect of whether Maturosis is real or is it manifested by Amazons. I hope that I can do it enough justice so others copy it. Amazons need to be put in their place, too. Beckie is certainly ‘diaper curious’. Let’s see how Dr. Mira helps her work through those issues. The dynamic between Debbie the stepmom and Mira the scientist isn’t going to change. Immaturosis is a condition that only affects younger Amazons (teens and twenties), and it doesn’t effect those who are older like Debbie. Beckie is confused about her feelings for Kaleb. Yes, he’s half-Little, but he’s also half-Big. He’s almost dating material, he’s almost diaper material, maybe she kind find a way for him to be both. Dr. Mira is just going to observe for another chapter. She already has plans for our sweet couple. And yes, he is drawn to her by forces beyond his control. Uh-oh. I don’t want to start trouble in paradise. Beckie was supposed to be a minor character, but her diaper based libido put her more into the plot. She may just be Kaleb’s happy ending in more than one way. ———- It took awhile to get back to the website this time around. Unfortunately, I think that’s going to be the new norm for me. There’s just less time for me to write these days, and I don’t think that’s going to change in the future. I wanted to write a new chapter every week, but it’s starting to look like every two to three weeks. I’m writing when I can, and I’m not even spell checking or grammar checking anymore, so it may be rougher around the edges for the sake of time. Anyways, thanks for reading! ——— Recessive 15 Surrender doesn’t exactly mean losing. Sometimes, it means living to fight again another day. This kind of thinking led to Kaleb’s distorted and pervasive world view. He certainly thought about views as the giant pair of breasts were heading his way. They were all he could see, and as they rubbed against his face, they were all he could feel. Still. No surrender. All of his life, he chose to kick the can down the road, putting off the inevitable diaper one day at a time. There were daily battles, some hard fought wins, others more padded losses. They’d say that he really ‘craved’ diapers, that his misbehavior was due to an ‘fixation’, and a lack of a mommy figure in his life. Amazon psychologists would give this half-in/half-out approach a name: Diaper Curious. If Maturosis was an error of the brain, a degenerative condition that led the body backwards instead of forwards, then Diaper Curious was the flame that lured the moth. In his defense, diapers ‘were’ curious things. Especially oversized ones. The wearable potties said so much about the baby, or the mommy, or whatever was fashionable or on sale at the time. It didn’t matter whether the diaper was extra thick for night time dryness, or a trainer-thin slip-on for potty training, or terry cloth with a pin for old time’s sake, or girly pink or little boy blue or covered in pastel designs with cars and trains and other baby things. The diaper defined the baby, Amazon marketing had told him that much. Kaleb had seen the commercials on the television, in cutesy internet ads, in print and on paper, and heard their head-spamming jingles on the radio. Whenever and wherever, he always seemed to notice them. He would look past the person he was talking with to see an oversized ad in the background. He'd perk his ears at the commercials on the television. He'd catch himself locked onto the flashing banners on various websites. Of course, he'd write it all off as just something silly about his personality. Kaleb could blame it on his attention deficit, or his experience of being forced into the cheapest of diaper brands at school, or being threatened with the softest of paddings at the whims of practically every Amazon adult in his life. But maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with Maturosis. Or being Diaper Curious. However, he’d never had a deep seated fascination of breasts like some of his classmates. His Big buddies would talk about women in three ways; their favorite involved their female classmates’ chests. So many words, and so many phrases, all to say the same thing: 'The bigger, the better'. That was just the Bigs, the smaller varieties were even worse. The freaking Littles would drop their jaws at the sight of top heavy Bigs, while he’d just laugh at the irony. They’d dive head first into that D-cup trap, it was in their nature to love every minute of their babyhood. And now that these huge breasts were in his face, he was beginning to see their appeal. That's what he thought about as his world slowed. The line of thinking had him actually considering an unconditional surrender. Maybe he wasn’t surrendering to the diaper, or the breasts, or the sensations, or the ceiling fan. Maybe he was surrendering to himself. Maybe Maturosis was offering him a bargain; give up potty privileges and you can get access to breasts, which seemed like a good deal — for just this one time. Surrender had a soft lure, and a tender hook. Yes. Yes. That’s right. The only way to 'get out' was to 'give in'. Perhaps victory will come at a later time maybe with better odds of success. Which makes surrender a perfectly viable strategy -- illogically. That logic stuff flew out the window around the same time Callie did. He had to considerate of his surroundings, he was lap-deep on a busty Amazon, and she was rapidly pulling herself free for him... No. He wasn't planning on surrendering, at least not right now. Maybe later, when it became more logical. Beckie tightened her grip around the back of his head. He pulled away with as much force as he could muster, and he was able to gain some distance as he pushed and pulled his upper half away from the Amazon. She was stronger. She was fighting, too. And with a desperate strength he wasn't used to. Truth be told, Kaleb was no Little. The Little guys didn't have the size, or the strength, or the willpower, to keep Beckie away. They would be helpless, and Kaleb wasn’t helpless. Not yet, at least. It took all he had to calm himself as she revealed the bountiful breasts smuggled in the cups her cute pink bra. With the same hand she used to pull up her T-shirt, she lowered the bra coverage of her left breast, casually revealing every bit of nipple. Beckie wasn't dripping milk like a leaky tap, or pushing it free like a faucet. In fact, it didn't appear that she was lactating at all. That doesn’t mean he couldn’t feel that she was physically willing and able. Her pink and puffy nipple was a bit more perky and thicker than he imagined. There was an inviting quality to its biological flushness, as her goose-pimples encircled the nipple, and her pale skin showed more color than before, like a dab of blush from a circular sponge. Beckie took a moment before she freed ‘the girls’. First it was her left breast, bountiful and overflowing, round and soft, and wonderfully pressing against his face. Then she freed her right, giving him equal access to her bosom. But true to form, Kaleb was having none of it. He used all of his power to resist the allure of her nudity. His senses picked up on every bit of his confusion, and her yearning. Beckie whispered to him, her voice husky and wanting, and yanking him free from his own fixations with a ragged breath. "Come on, Kay." No. No. No. That word was always so easy to say, but it wasn't leaving his lips. Kaleb knew as soon as he opened up to speak, a nipple would shoved between his lips. Then, what? Surrender? "Come on," she urged again, "you need to bond." Bond? That's the last thing in the world that he wanted, or needed. He didn't want to 'bond', he wanted to break free. With a quick jerk, Kaleb shook the hand grip from behind his neck. He closed his eyes to the enticing nipple and wiggled free from her firm grip around his back. Only to be surprised by the return of her hand and its renewed fervor, this was going to happen on her schedule, and not his. "Open up, sweetie." Beckie wasn't letting squirm out of this one so easily. “Come on, it’s good for you.” The Amazon was talking about his mouth. If he could control one part of his body, when all seemed lost and gone to the dumps, it was his mouth. Open and closed. Easy enough. If Maturosis had plans on destroying his brain, he couldn’t fight it, and he’d have to manage with toddler thoughts. If Maturosis planned on pulling the strength from his arms and legs, he’d learn how to crawl from place to place. If this damn disorder took away his toileting, he’d learn how to get along in diapers. But his mouth was his mouth, and his mantra would be an easy one. Keep it closed. Simple. Stupid. Easy to do. Almost as easy as making it to the toilet on time. Wait. Beckie pressed his face into her breast, slamming him boob-to-cheek a couple of times as they caught as quietly as they could. She managed to get him to a spot where he couldn’t wriggle away, clutching him tightly behind the neck and in the crook of her elbow, effectively turning herself into the most form fitting cradle in the world. “Alright, Kay,” Beckie chastised as she held him tighter. “I didn’t want to be the bad guy…” To his horror, Kaleb watched her form a pair of pinchers with their index and thumb that went straight for his nose. Like chopsticks of pain and suffering, they came for his face and he was unable to move away. “Open up, little one.” The tactile strength of the Amazons was notorious; its what kept the 'Little Proof' tapes on the diaper, the 'Little Proof' zipped on the footies, and the 'Little Proof' snapped on the onesies. Baby products may have been advertised as 'Little Proof', but it was all about the finger-strength of the Amazons, and Beckie was no different. Kaleb found that out as her pinchers reached his nose, squeezing so hard that he yelped in pain. Kaleb squealed, "Ah!" Then he was immediately muffled by a mouthful of Beckie breast, which tasted like soap and skin, and something else. There was a hint of candy flavor perfume that played tricks with his taste buds, and it’s sticky sweetness came with electric excitement and childish shame. "OH yes!" Beckie gasped as his mouth made contact. "Now, suck. Sweetie. Just suck." Kaleb shook his head and groaned, with made her breast vibrate in his mouth. Okay. It was in his mouth. No big deal. He wasn’t nursing. One thing he wasn’t going to was ‘suck’, he’d done enough ‘sucking’ all ‘sucking’ weekend. Yes, a boob was in his mouth, but he wasn’t going to suck. It was the Little things. “Let’s get that mouth to work,” Beckie softly chided as she rubbed the sides of his cheeks. “Your bottom is probably all backed up, this will help loosen things, and that diaper of yours is as dry as a bone.” As if by second nature, her cradling hand floated its way between his legs, giving the padding between his legs a good squeeze. She brought her fingers together into somewhat off cup, using her palm to caress the front side bulge. Her ‘cup’ hand did more than check his dry diaper, it lingered and caressed. It willfully hung around and encouraged him with every feather-like touch. Beckie could be mighty persuasive with her hand around his crotch. Kaleb could feel the heat rise in his face and in his diaper. The thirsty padding wrapped around him like a form fitting pillow. It felt too good to argue against, like it had the right idea, and Kaleb was the one clutching at straws to come up with an argument. Like why not let her touch him? If it felt good, so it couldn’t be bad. Illogical. Or logical. Either way, he found himself opening his hips, and spreading his thighs wider to give her more access. He also found himself doing more than just avoiding the nipple in his mouth. What harm could come if he gave it a little suckle? Beckie was doing her best to give him something nice, why shouldn’t he give something back in return? Perfectly illogical. “That’s it, Kay.” Beckie massaged his crotch with the most wonderful touch. “This is how you bond with a mommy. The textbook says so in chapter eighteen: all about mommies.” Instead of battling her chest with his hands, he found them wrapping around the boob in his mouth. One in a tightly balled fist, the other an open palm resting against her warm chest. Both hands pressed into her flesh, grabbing and pulling, as his mouth only did what was natural. His lips pursed around her nipple, which was noticeably more aroused and ready — like it knew exactly what Kaleb wanted and need, so he wanted and kneaded the breast in return. Compulsion is as powerful a drug as any, capable of pulling away even the strongest of of defenses. So why not surrender? It was only a breast. Not a bottle. Not a pacifier. All organic and fit perfectly between his pursed lips. Shoot, it was already in his mouth and he was latched and ready to go. He’d save his energy to fight the tougher fights, the ones involving soiling Mr. Teddy Bear diaper. His mind was already made up as Beckie starting stroking him through his diaper. She could feel his walls beginning to come down. “There we go, baby. Just like with the pacifier.” And Kaleb sucked — just like with the pacifier. He didn’t know what to expect as he took a long drag. There wasn't any liquid, the lack of milk was beyond his basic understanding of Amazon anatomy, maybe he wasn't 'pulling' hard enough with his mouth. At the same time, he knew he shouldn’t use his teeth; because he didn’t want to hurt Beckie, not when she was making him feel so, so good. Every bit of her touch felt like an overheated charge, sparks a-flying with every movement, his need pulsing between his legs with every heartbeat. Kaleb moaned into her breast, which made her hand move faster and his diaper was soon rustling against his bare thighs and naked belly. Electricity shot through him as he rode the carousel of pleasure. He rocked his hips up and down to rhythm of her pressing hand. He was hard. He was breathing heavy. Kaleb was about to let loose in his diaper, and he didn’t even think twice about it. Was this the dreaded ‘surrender’ he’d fought his entire life? If it was. Sign him up. Surrender felt like the first bite of a chocolate cake, and it came without calories or consequences. Illogically, of course. There was a 'naughtiness' deep within this act, and even while under the influence of Maturosis, Kaleb tried not to pass judgement on himself and let the good feelings flow. And they were certainly flowing, pleasure poured out the crotch of his diaper, blinding him from any kind of reflection. He knew there would be regrets later, but the moment took him away by storm. “Oh, yes. Oh, yes.” Beckie pressed herself against him. She was just as out of control as Kaleb. “This feels so freaking good, so don’t you dare stop!” Kaleb wasn’t planning on stopping until he popped. He wasn’t in the right place mentally, but who cared? Maturosis does what Maturosis does, and he wasn’t about to argue with biology and genealogy and other natural selection thingies. There was boob in the mouth and all he had to do was suck. “Don’t stop!” Beckie urged as she kept her hand on his diaper. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Her voice was reaching a crescendo, which meant only one thing. Someone he knew was about to get more damp in the panties, her labored breathing and excited squeals told him that much. He bucked into her cupped hand and she pressed her breasts into his face. They formed some kind of babyish 'ying and yang'. A circular rendition of a power play that went on and on, spinning as mommy nurtured baby and baby pleasured mommy, going round and round, almost like a ceiling fan. Yes. Round and round they went. Soft grunts. Heavy pets. His surrender let all of his anxieties out the window; like Callie the escaping Little, they were long gone and a thing of the past. For once, Kaleb wasn't worried about how others saw him. Mostly because they couldn't. Under the shade of the plastic pants, beneath the end table with an obscuring lap shade, they quietly connected just out of plain sight. This was almost surreal, Kaleb heard his stepmom finish up Charlotte's change, her chipper voice cutting through the mostly quiet room as she dsecribed to the teen Amazon how she was clean, sweet smelling, and ready to play. Then she wrapped up the spent diaper in plastic bag, loud and crinkling, 'whewing' away like a runaway train. "Hey, Beckie?" Debbie called out from the real world in the living room. The two of them immediately froze. Kaleb mid-thrust and mid-suck, and Beckie coiled her arms around him, freezing Kaleb in place. They were going to be totally caught now, what in the world was he thinking? Beckie responded with a clear inquisitive, "Yes?" "Could you be a doll and open up the window?" Debbie ask as she stood up from the ground. "We need to freshen up the room from Charlotte's stinky diaper." His stepmom's face rose just above the canopy, over the horizon that kept them hidden from view, and now she could see the two of them in suedo-nursing flagrante. This was going to be 100%, totally bad. When she caught onto the goings-on, Debbie's face immediately soured. "What are the two of you doing back there?" Caught! And twice in one day! This time was different, however. Kaleb could've hidden back in the corner forever. Unfortunately, the 'regrets' were beginning to tally in his mind, as this awkward moment provided the kind of reflection of a pristine lake beneath snow capped mountains. The feeling 100% sucked, even more than he did just moments before. "Um..." Beckie flipped Kaleb around and gave his butt another sniff. "I thought he was stinky, since he was hiding back here and staying really quiet, and you all know what that means. The textbook explains that when Littles seek quiet, they're usually looking for a chance to pop a squat." "Pop a squat?" His stepmom guffawed. "I'm not so sure if that's textbook talk." "Oh, that's not in the textbook," Beckie said with a cheeky grin. "That's all mommy talk, the kind we use when we're trying to help our sweet Kay adjust to his condition." "That's nice." Debbie nodded along as she lifted the plastic bag with the crumpled spent diaper. "How is his condition? Of his diaper, I mean." At that note, Beckie lifted him from beneath his armpits, standing Kaleb up on the carpet. His hands shot over the front of his diaper, since there was pretty hard 'evidence' of his good time poking through the face of a smiling Teddy on his front padding. With a pair of fingers, Beckie pulled out the waistband of his level two Detector-protector. Then she peered down the his naked backside for a moment, lingering longer than she should have, since she already knew the answer to her question. Kaleb halfway participated in the ruse. Mostly because he was frozen 'stiff'. However, as the moment drug on and on, he began to wonder why Beckie was taking her sweet time back there. Since the room sat on egg shells waiting for the news on his clean diaper. "I'm not stinky," he defended himself louder and more petulant than he wanted. "It was all Charlotte." "Are you sure?" Debbie side eyed him. "Big boys don't lie about their diapers." Kaleb scrunched his face. "I don't poop my pants." His stepmom only chuckled. "You're not wearing pants, sweetie." "All clean," Beckie killed the mystery. "It's so good that you went behind the couch to check on him," Dr. Mira said as she handled one of the Cushioning test's screens. "You never know what the little ones might put in their mouths." The seemingly ever-omniscient doctor gave the two of them a knowing look, painting an even darker shade of rosy blush on both of their cheeks. Kaleb was quick to face the corner, tapping at the crotchside of his diaper, trying to bang his boner back into flacid submission. Control. This was all about control. Kaleb needed to get his 'controls' in order. He needed to control his weiner, control his emotions, control his 'suckling', and he needed to control his potty functions. This day downward spiraled from the moment he woke up from his bed, and he needed to put everything back in order. But where would he begin? "Kaleb, honey.” Dr. Mira peered at him over her soul-scoping glasses. "I would like for you to come sit next to me." He immediately felt the dangerous undertones of that simple request. "Do I have to?" "No." Mira shook her head. "You don't have to do anything you don't want." "Then I'll stay right here," he replied, then he crossed his arms in retaliation. "I like the corner, it’s nice and safe.” "I'd bet that you do," Mira said with a laugh. "Especially when you have company." Insinuation. Plain and simple. Debbie gave him a discerning look. "Kay-Kay, I think you should go sit next to Dr. Mira." His hands shot up in the air. "Why?" "I think you would benefit with having a nice talk with her," answered his stepmother. "She is a specialist in the field of Maturosis. Maybe you can convince her that you don't have Maturosis, try to explain how this is all some big mistake. You owe yourself that much." "I do?" Kaleb felt the warm hug of optimism. “You’ll let me talk my way out of this?” It all sounded too good to be true. If he could convince the scientist that this was all some Big homework gone wrong, Layla would be the one in trouble. This was finally some good news, but he was still pretty wary. Especially since Mira didn’t seem like the those to change her mind about anything. “Of course you can,” Dr. Mira offered a space to sit with a pat on the couch cushion beside her. "We can have a good talk once we send the girls on their secret, special mission." He asked, "What secret, special mission?" “Come here so I can tell you.” Mira compelled him with a curling finger as he made a few steps towards the doctor on the couch. Just like that, Kaleb found himself making his way to the sitting scientist, drawn to her like she was a solution to his problem. Maybe his stepmom was right, a good conversation could set things straight. He'd say his piece, and she would laugh, and then he would be well on his way out of this weekend. A growing Tweener could only hope, right? Dr. Mira seemed to look at him and through him as he approached, eyeing the diaper at his waist, his halfway waddling gait, and she had a special disdain for his black t-shirt. Something told him that he'd have to have a wardrobe change by the time she was done with him. As he sat on the couch, Kaleb folded his arms together, sliding his palms between his thighs as a perfect example of placid submission. If Mira oozed confidence, Kaleb oozed surrender. He didn't dare look at her and her research, only at the ceiling fan above. No one had turned on the damn thing in all of this time. “So,” he started into his question. “What’s the secret?” “If we told you,” replied Mira. “It wouldn’t be a secret.” “Hey!” Kaleb glared at her. “You tricked me.” Dr. Mira only ruffled his hair, a reminder of who he now belonged to on this sofa. At least he got to sit on the furniture again, that was a plus. “You’re cute when you’re angry,” she said as she wagged a finger in his face. “But don’t get too fussy, we wouldn’t want to get a spanking.” No. He didn’t want that. Not at all. "Alright..." Beckie awkwardly chuckled as she side-stepped to the windows. "About them windows, what do I need to do to open them?" "There's a brass lever at the base of the pane." Debbie made a little turning motion with her hand. "You turn it counter clockwise and you'll have yourself an open window." Beckie followed her orders and worked on the window, but that baby wasn't budging. She used one hand, then brought over the other, yanking at the crank with all of her might. "You might have to use a little elbow grease," offered Debbie. "The darn thing is more stubborn than Kaleb.” Yeah, even sitting next to Dr. Mira still meant ‘catching strays’. “I’m not that stubborn,” he argued. “Of course you’re not,” said Mira at his side, she was starting to get uncomfortably ‘touchy-feelie’ with him. “You’re just learning about yourself, don’t be so sensitive to others. Childish sensitivity is a symptom of Maturosis. Your body is going through so many changes, and everything feels raw and sensitive. Doesn’t it?” Kale thought for a moment. “I guess.” “I know you don’t truly understand Maturosis, but even you’d have to admit that you’re noticing things about yourself,” continued Mira. “Things that others had said, things that were too sensitive to hear. The truth normally hurts, but we must be receptive to hear what we need to hear. Do you know about ‘cravings’ and ‘fixations’? Did you sister explain those to you?” Kaleb scrunched his face again. Layla said nothing about those things. “Can we just please stop talking about all of this? It’s giving me a headache.” Dr. Mira rubbed at his bare thigh, her hands felt warm against his cold skin. “All of this will happen in due time,” she said softly. “Not mine. Not your stepmom. It’s all about you and Maturosis, so you’ll be willing to ‘push’ when you’re ready.” He raised an eyebrow. “Push?” Giving him a sense that she knew something he didn’t know, Dr. Mira warmly smiled and rubbed her hand up and down his leg in a purely scientific and platonic way. She lowered her lips to his ear, her minty breath and sudden proximity made the hairs on his neck stiffen straight. “When the time comes… you’ll need to show me that you’re ready to use your diaper. For number one….” Dr. Mira let her whisper echo for a long torturous moment. “And you’ll learn to ‘push’ out a number two. Don’t worry, I’ll help you for other ways to use your diaper. We will ease you into everything. We don’t want you falling down to another plateau, do we?” “No….” He suddenly felt so cold and alone. “We don’t want that.” Debbie watched the two of them interact as she carried the stinky diaper to the smell-sealed trash can in the kitchen. It shouldn’t have surprised him that even their garbage can was prepared for Little visitors and their Little presents. He heard the trash can lid fall back into place, before his stepmom returned to the living room with her hands on her hips. “Are we opening the window or what?” Beckie shook her head. “I can’t move this freaking thing!” “That’s because you’re doing it wrong." All eyes went to Layla who stood at the edge of the living room, where the beige carpet met the hallway in a seamless transition. She wore the same loose fitting shirt, but her black shorts much bigger, going almost to the knees. They did a decent job of hiding her puffy level one DP. However, Kaleb could see the elastic waistline of the pull-up sneak out of the concealing shorts. It was probably worse at the butt, Kaleb didn’t make it a habit to stare at his stepsister’s rear end. The room remained quiet as she made her way to the windows, pushing her friend aside before ratcheting the glass pane free from the window frame. There was totally a tiny bulge at Layla’s butt. Hilarious. “It’s so easy…” Layla growled at her friend. “I don’t know why you’re not the Little helper. You’re the one that’s more Diaper Curious than I am.” Beckie grabbed the back of Layla's shorts and gave the elastic a nice pull and a hard snap. "Nice pull-up, Lay. Did you steal it from Callie?” Dear old stepsister didn't like that kind of insinuation. Not at all. "Well, Beckie." Layla gathered herself as she smoothed over her shorts. "Maybe you can end up in something just as nice. Miss I-get-turned-on-by-diapers. Why don't we go over his arousal meter while you were changing his diaper... or showing him how to rub one out in his pamper? I'd bet Dr. Mira would really like to get that into her Immaturosis research." Beckie scowled at her friend. "You little...." "Now, Now." Dr. Mira raised both palms up like she was softly stopping traffic with a feathered touch, putting a stop to the girl’s verbal tussle. "I'll have you know that Beckie will be helping me, since I'm well aware of certain indiscretions. As for you, I need you and your mother to run some errands. You’re going to need to do some clothes shopping, pick out some outfits for your younger brother, it will give you a chance to reveal your feelings about him. I think your mother wants to take you to a hairdresser, and we may want to escalate both wardrobes. I suggest the store “Just Like my Little”. You getting this all down, Debbie?” “Yes, ma’am.” Stepmom hesitated before asking. “But what about what we already got?” “I have plans for those outfits — don’t worry, it’ll all come out of my expenses, just like your stipend. It’s just more shopping for Layla, think of what she needs to battle through and make it cute for your princess. Also, I want her to pick some outfits out for Kaleb. Keeping in mind the various levels of plateaus. We don’t know how far he may fall before the weekend is over. We might have a newborn here.” “Wait a second,” Layla interjected. “What is going on with our wardrobes?” Dr. Mira grabbed Kaleb by chest cloth of the jet black tee, shaking him around as if he was exhibit A in fashion court. Despite her calm demeanor, Dr. Mira had quite the angry grip, with experienced hands that knew their way around an obstinate Little, or an out of place Betweener. Kaleb just let himself be rocked from side to side like a ragdoll. “Alright, Layla.” Dr. Mira clenched her teeth at his stepsister just as hard as she clenched his shirt. “You claim that you’ve done your research, but do you recall color theory and its impact on Maturosis?” Layla appeared to be taken off guard by Mira’s question. Which was weird, because it wasn’t a tough question. Still, his stepsis began stumbling back a step, trying to escape from the center of attention and all the cold stares that it entailed. “I know color theory, but he dressed himself! I would have picked out something different, but we were busy putting together our notes for Escalation notation.” “Dressed himself?” Mira glared at his stepsister with the heat of a thousand suns. “You put him in Escalation and you still let him dress himself? I’d like to see where that strategy is discussed in your textbook, because I certainly didn't write it." Layla stammered, "I can explain.." "No, you can't." Mira wouldn't let her off the hook so easily. "That's the problem with your generation. You're so busy talking that you never find the time to listen. If you want an explanation, you have to go to the active scientist in the room. You know, the one with thousands of hours of research under her belt. You knew that you weren't handling his Cushioning test correctly, and yet you still try to defend your actions as if it’s based on fact. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young lady." Layla bit at her lip and looked to her mother for help, but she only got a scowl and short shake of the head. Kaleb then followed her eyes to Charlotte who was frozen stiff on the changing pad pretending not to exist. Then to Beckie who only stepped away into the 'nursing corner'. His stepsister was left to fend for herself, so much for that patented cheerleader team spirit. "I knew that he needed to wear a pastel," Layla explained as her gaze never left the floor. "I know color theory, I just didn't want to upset him further. He just had a potty accident, and I didn't want him to fall into another plateau." "He’s rapidly deteriorating because you’re not addressing his basic needs," replied Dr. Mira, she turned to Kaleb and pinched at his blushing cheek. "Babies crave being cute. They love a thick diaper, the feeling of a caretaker’s smile. They fixate on pastel colors, smiles, shapes and feels. This shirt doesn’t cut it.” “What do you want me to say?” Layla shrugged. “I’m sorry?” “You should be sorry about the possibilities that you’re passing up. Just think about how cute and happy he'd be in a nice baby blue, or a soft teal, or a masculine pink. There are so many canary covered shortalls or purple dinosaur onesies. He'd make a cute little bear with a baby bear shirt and a baby bear diaper..." Layla looked lost. “I know, but I…” Debbie gave her daughter a dirty look. "I can't believe you, Lay-Lay." “What mom?” Debbie let her daughter have it, grabbing the torch from their celebrity scientist. “You’re not helping Kay feel cute and welcome in his new role. Listen. I don’t know all of that science stuff like you do, but I know Littles and babies, and they love that kind of attention because they’re so precious.” "What if I don't want to wear those things?" Kaleb asked as he found his voice. "I like the color black." Dr. Mira repositioned herself on the couch to give him some of his own spotlight. "Is that so?" Kaleb wanted to slap himself for opening his mouth, anything he said would be used against him in the fashion court. At the same time, he knew that they'd not stop at the diaper, there were new depths of their humiliating depravity. Ones he was not prepared to surrender to. "Yeah," he said, then licked his lips. They still tasted a bit like Beckie boob - if that were possible. "Black is slimming and goes with just about anything." He watched Dr. Mira briefly consider his opinion on his own fashion. Fashion court had its own nuance, and it appeared that Judge Mira was about to step in line with the defense. Which in this strange case was him. She smiled at Kaleb and peered at him through her glasses. The scientist then twisted her hips and went back to the research, and reorganized a few of the discarded papers and revealing one of the small devices that previously belonged to either Beckie or his stepsister. Mira pulled free a smooth black stylus and tapped the side of the screen as she prepared to interview him for some reason. "How would you describe your mental state, Kaleb?" He was startled to say the least. "Wait? What?" "Your mental state," Dr. Mira repeated. "How do you feel right now? Happy. Sad. Excited. Constipated. Remember not to lie, you're still wearing those wave readers." Kaleb gave it brief thought. Not long enough to register on the almost invisible electrodes that ran across his head, but long enough to come to some conclusions. This conversation needed to end and fast; he didn't want to get into a verbal spar with Dr. Mira the world renowned 'Little Whisperer'. "I don't want to talk about my feelings in front of everyone," Kaleb offered with a shrug. “Of course you don’t,” Mira gently let off the hook. “You're certainly not lying about that, sweetie. However, you’re far too cute to be left alone. I can see the effects of Maturosis in your softness features, in the pitch of your voice.” Without warning, Dr. Mira pulled him atop her lap and wrapped a constricting arm around him to keep him from squirming away. It was probably meant to be a hug, but it came off as more of a hostage situation. "We need to discuss where you are on your plateau, and we need to work out mode of your ‘tension’. That's the reason that we're sending everyone out of the house but you and Beckie. I think the two of you need some alone time." Insinuation in the first degree. Kaleb couldn’t believe it. His eyes shot over to the Amazon teen in the corner, she was barely containing a smile. Oh, man. He'd be lying to himself if the idea of more 'corner time' didn't give him a tiny tingle in the wee-wee parts. "You both have some explorations to do, some inner turmoil to discover," continued Mira, her words tickled his soul. "Sometimes the path out of Immaturosis requires facing whatever is holding you back. Through my new method we will remove every immature obstacle, and get Beckie on the right path.” Beckie took a big gulp. She was now just as deep as he and Layla. Yet, she didn’t seem so destroyed by the possibilities. “As for you, my sweet boy, we need to help you get to the other side of your Maturosis. Get past your potty anxiety. Welcome your new wardrobe. Recognize your new roles. We will find new games to play, and face your deepest fears, and most likely find out that it won't be all that bad. Charlotte will go home. Layla will go get a makeover. Beckie will help me with our next 'test'. And during all of that, you and I will have a wonderful talk, and I'm sure you'll start to see things my way." Kaleb looked down at the rainbow alphabet floor mat, then up at the non-moving ceiling fan. Maybe surrender wasn't as bad of a strategy as he thought, maybe then they'd turn on the ceiling fan, and it'd all go back to normal. Then again, his normal wasn't exactly as good as other's normals, since there were ceiling fans and sponges as far as the eye could see. “What will we talk about?” Kaleb peered up at the know-it-all Amazon. “I don’t know anything about anything. I don’t understand science or remember any geography. I’m useless here.” “Don’t be silly, Kaleb,” Dr. Mira replied with a soft voice. “We’re going to talk about the most important subject in the world, the one where you are truly an expert: we’re going to learn all about you.”
    2 points
  12. Well, it's that time of year when kids return to school. Kasarberang has been doing great with his femdom contests, so I am adding to the mix with one of my favorite ABDL subjects: schools. Write a story that involves some aspect of diapers or baby action that involves a school. You can create a special school if you like, or write of situations involving students wearing diapers at a "normal" school for whatever reason you can invent. I'll put up $100 for first place, $50 for second, $25 for third. Additional prizes possible. RULES; Post your original story in the Story and Art Forum. Tag it with backtoschool (see the tag on this post). Post a reply to this thread with a link to your story. Any length is acceptable, but I'd prefer it to be kept all in one thread. Remember the rule barring putting minor characters in sexual situations. I'll be traveling during the first weeks of September, so I'm giving you until September 15 to submit your stories. I'll spend the rest of the month reading them. In addition to the eligibility for the prizes, I promise a frank review of your submission. I'm looking forward to what you come up with.
    1 point
  13. As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Breastfeeding Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Humiliation Giants, aka, Amazons or Bigs Predominantly female domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. For those readers interested or do not care about the warnings listed, please enjoy the following story. So, here is the first chapter of my next story on here. I have everything all mapped out, but I might be a bit busier in the next month. My hope is to finish posting the last chapter before I go on vacation, but if not, as a warning, there might be over a week where I don't post something new. (Edit: This story also connects to the 'Tell Me More' story I wrote a few months ago now. Dr. Mengell used it's findings as a catalyst for her to change her practice toward helping Littles in need.) I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter! Chapter 1: Welcome to Project Nurture My foot tapped anxiously while waiting for another conference to end. Today was the day that would determine if the so-called ‘Project Nurture’ would have been worth something more than what it had already offered to the participating Littles and Caregivers. Of course, they had seen the immediate benefits, and each was mostly happy with the outcome we had achieved together, but I knew the Board of Directors for Diamond Technologies was something entirely different. Many were old standbys of traditional methods and had literal stock in many of them and the tools and drugs required to facilitate their execution. This experiment proved, however, that it could move us Bigs away from the old techniques of the past, which was something I was greatly in favor of. Having been a researcher in the many ways of possible regression, I could still remember what I had seen and heard in my time with other less savory projects. “Oh please, God, don’t put me under! Please let me keep my mind… just a tiny bit! Why can’t I walk? Wah dih’ you do ta ma tun? Why does my head feel so… empty… and free? Stay in, stay in, why won’t you just stay in? I can’t feel my legs! What did you do to me? Maaa bahhh!’ I shuddered a bit. Those cries of pleading and anguish from all those patients still haunted me today. In a sense, Project Nurture was my shot at a redemption of sorts. From my experience, I knew firsthand that all other techniques alone were too severe, some even being outright horrible in any dosage. The file I now held with me and was about to present to the Board of Directors represented a new path for us Bigs. The small USB device in my briefcase had the potential to change everything if handled correctly and could be worth billions if applied correctly. ‘What old Drakos at Juventas would give just to get a peek at all the data in here… probably pay a fortune.’ Still, my loyalty was with Diamond Technologies, and I knew if they only could accept what I had to offer from the experiments I had observed, the world would be better for it. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of such a change. It almost even seemed ironic to be presenting this information to a company that was now so infamous with its connection to Diamond Tours, but I knew that stain on their reputation would only favor me with the Board of Directors. Just then, the other conference ended, and several people started to quickly exit from the room. I stood up and walked confidently into the emptying room to start setting up. I clicked a few switches for the room control and ensured all the systems I would need were working correctly. I had just finished checking the RealET system when a manager from the previous conference walked up to me with a large grin. “Edgar!” Harry Carga joyfully shouted. “How are ya doin’? New presentation today?” “Hey, Harry. New presentation to the Board of Directors in a few minutes actually,” I replied while still ensuring all my slides were good to go after I had inserted my USB device. “Ah, wonderful! Wonderful!” Harry then got a mischievous look on his face. “Just between us old managers. You, testing division… me, marketing… is it about the new toy line… Mister…?” “Mister Brown,” I finished quickly for him, trying to move the conversation along to better focus on my presentation. “No, that’s another project, but,” I leaned in closer and indulgently whispered to my old friend, “I can tell you this… the Mister Brown stuffed bear line’s preliminary testing has suggested that it could be a smash success in the market. In fact,” I looked around to ensure no one was eavesdropping, “we even think the technology could be so useful, that it could be used as the basis for other animal lines as well.” “Oh? Do tell,” Harry said, practically salivating over the notion. I could already see his marketing-focused brain start to spin up with all new advertisements. “Well, it’s all still preliminary, but maybe elephants, unicorns, tigers, bunnies, and if the tech guys are to be believed… dragons.” “Oh wow! I can just see them now,” Harry said, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head from the mere thought of such a lucrative prospect. “I’m sure you can, Harry,” I said, trying to refocus on my preparation once more. “Man, with the way my Little has been behaving though… I might just be the first to get one and use one of the special features I heard so much about from the rumor mill.” I wanted to smack him in the head right then for even implying such a thing for his Little, but I just smiled and wrapped the conversation up as quickly as I could. Bigs like Harry was why Project Nurture was so important. We Bigs needed a change and today could be the solution to get rid of the need for all those special features in the first place. I continued to click deliberately on the correct icons from my computer’s screen to select the start of the presentation that I had crafted just for today. A lot was riding on it, especially seeing the long line of Board Members for the company that were now walking in with their propensity to always strive for innovation and progress, yet somehow always come off as traditional and even regressive in some ways. Knowing the Board of Directors, the outcome of today with these fair-weather types could either mean a total success or a setback of at least ten years if they had their way afterward. Our society of Bigs had been entrenched in its ideology about Littles for decades now. Bigs and Littles once lived in relative harmony in the same but slightly separated communities. Now, Bigs and Littles were integrated together fully, but the treatment of Littles had only grown more severe since the so-called ‘Inclusion Laws’ had first been enacted, as indicated by Harry only moments ago. We all knew that Littles were often kidnapped or tricked into centers for regression and then adopted out to childless couples or already large families looking to possess an always fashionable Little, but those laws increased those odds by at least 70% in the first year alone. For the lucky regressed Little, some Bigs would choose to regress them personally, rather than those awful regression centers, but this could be messy, unpredictable, and even dangerous if handled incorrectly. One Little had escaped and killed their entire adoptive family of Bigs last year. Something had to change, so I took a deep breath in to begin with what could be that very change. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” I announced in front of the room of the now-seated spectators and members of the company board. “I would like to thank you all for coming here today, and I would like to especially thank the Board of Directors of this company for green lighting this project in the first place. I’m pleased to say that your faith in our experiment was well placed.” The Board members around the desk nodded subtly and the rest of the audience behind them gave a small clap. “So, it was a success?” Ms. Beakerman asked from the back of the table, shoving her horned rimmed glasses up her bony and hooked nose. The small applause immediately stopped. “Yes, ma’am. This presentation,” I flicked off most of the lights and turned the front projector on, “will demonstrate the effectiveness of our latest round of experiments.” The screen popped on and flashed my name, ‘Dr. Edgar Thompson,’ and the title, ‘Regressing Littles in a New Way: Using a Combination of Tender Care, Threat of Punishment, Mild Hypnosis, and Company Medications to Achieve Similar Results to Traditional Methods of Mental Reversion,’ with the codename, ‘Project Nurture’ at the bottom. Gasps went out over the crowd. They had of course been informed of the project last year when it was still in the planning phases, but knowing them as I did, many had likely just signed off and only agreed with some of the more senior Board members without fully reading the document. It worked in my favor for getting projects off the ground, but their rejection rates at this stage were often much higher. “Similar results, Dr. Thompson?” Mr. Cannon asked, drumming his fingers in an annoyed manner on his rotund belly that was threatening to burst all the buttons off the white shirt he was wearing today. “Yes. Similar results, sir, as you will see.” I clicked forward in the presentation to a slide labeled, ‘Why?’ “I will get to that in one moment if you will bear with me. I promise, your question will be answered in good time.” Mr. Cannon, the group skeptic, grumbled but waved his pudgy fingers for me to proceed. “Of the past methods we Bigs have used to regress Littles, three have been go-to methods for decades; a new drug, a new surgery, or a new hypnosis method.” The board murmured in agreement; each having grown rich off this company’s profits with each of the three methods in the past. “Yes, yes. All good, but each has a downside as we know all too well.” I clicked the presentation forward, now showing the three methods and images of their various failures. “A new drug often causes mass hallucinations and mental breakage of the affected Little, which means lawsuits and negative publicity. New surgeries reduce abilities but are often expensive and permanently damaging to Littles, not to mention a stain on the name of our society as being ‘more civilized.’” The board whispered in silent and obvious ashamed agreement. “And lastly, new hypnosis methods. They are faster and more permanent when done correctly, but if ever possibly broken, many Littles need to be regressed again with stronger methods or have even been committed to an insane asylum in some cases.” I was about to click to the next slide, but one member raised their hand. It was Mr. Cannon again. “Yes… sir?” “I read an article the other day, you see… your method I’m sure is valid, and you are right about the other three, but I think you left out one.” I raised my eyebrows in curiosity, though slightly knowing where he could be going with this. “What about these nanobots I hear all this chatter about, doc?” Mr. Cannon asked inquisitively. The entire room shifted its uncomfortable focus back onto me. I knew this was bound to come out as well, having just read the article myself in the company newsletter. “Ah yes, that’s true. Newer and faster acting nanobots have begun to pop up in several markets, even beyond our own company’s breakthroughs, but we have found that these often have some, if not all, the negatives of these previous methods. We believe that one day these will be all the rage, and we have other experiments dedicated to those that even I am involved with, but there are just too many unknowns for now.” I knew that something being classified as ‘unknown’ was a dirty word to the Board of Directors. It could mean money lost or reputations being tarnished. As such, Mr. Cannon merely nodded along with the rest of the board and gave me the signal to proceed. Satisfied, I clicked the next slide, labeled, ‘Background.’ “This method was originally formed when during one of the raids of a Littles liberation camp, a psychology textbook from one of the portal Littles was discovered. At first the textbook appeared to possess only rudimentary knowledge of the inner machinations of their primitive minds, but our scientists postulated that an understanding of their minds is both genetics, or physical workings, and one’s background. Further, information discovered could be used to augment the psychological profile of the average portal Little, rather than just their physical attributes. While not necessarily a barometer or new method of regression, it was thought to be a potential key to unlocking the secrets of Little society, both here and there.” The crowd leaned in further. I knew I had their attention, and I was glad that no one had outright objected so far. “In fact, what we have just been learning ourselves had been discovered when portal Littles first came here, but society at the time had caused the government to repress the information from being released to the public. ‘Our government sources still wouldn’t say why, but I’m guessing one of the corporations had their hand in it with kickbacks and the like… not to even mention all the tech from keeping Littles regressed.’ “The government only informed us two days ago… after the experiment had already concluded, however, our findings were more extensive and conducted with more concrete analysis and less… bias,” I quickly added after seeing some of the Board grow anxious for the potential of wasted money when an experiment like this had already occurred years ago. ‘Waste’ was another dirty word to them. The Board of Directors and the other audience members before me murmured in their own ways. Something told me that my personal theory of companies paying the government off in order to sell more Little products was dead right. A few on our own Board had dealings with the government in the past but had left for ‘undisclosed reasons.’ ‘I could be talking to some of those same members who were involved with repressing the information…’ I tossed the thought out of my head, knowing it wouldn’t do me any good to dwell on, and moved forward with a click to the next slide. “Regardless, our doctors have reinforced the long-held belief that portal Littles activate a hormonal fluctuation in many Bigs which causes their protective and nurturing instincts to go into overdrive. Some estimate the reaction is almost twice as potent with portal Littles as compared to our own native Littles. So, with a declining local Little and unregressed population and the widening amount of infertility in our society, portal Littles will likely continue to be, and even grow, into one of the largest markets of Littles existing.” I switched to the next slide. “The psychological textbook theories in the captured books were combined with years of research conducted by in-depth interviews of Bigs and even some Littles, who I should point out were not coerced in any manner. Then, Little psychologists condensed and tailored all those data points into this single experiment in its entirety to test the complete validity of this revised method into practice. I…” “Why the hell would they want to help us? Seems a bit suspicious, doctor,” one of the senior and more traditional Bigs, Mr. Galpin, shot out. I knew I was going to receive at least one objection from him. George Galpin’s family stretched across Libertalia in their influence, and it was common knowledge that his brother, Robert, and his wife Emily, had just adopted a Little of their own from one of the more barbaric regression institutes in the north. “Ah, yes. Mr. Galpin… You must understand,” I explained, “that the possibility of the success of this program could mean a different treatment for all Littles potentially. Not just portal Littles.” He continued to glare at me. “You see, our native Littles know that adoption is likely for at least 90% of Littles in our world, so if it can be better for them and for us, they know it’s worth their involvement.” Mr. Galpin seemed to steam in frustration for a moment but relented and leaned back in his chair. Hopeful that I had quelled his discontent, I continued with the slides. I clicked the screen again and two subjects were shown. “Here is subject 90876A and 90876B, and this Little and Big duo will be the main focus of today’s presentation. Of the 150 test subjects in this conducted experiment, 40 occurred in this country with the same parameters beyond test subject differences. In fact, two test villages were set up in the northeast and the south with 20 subject pairs in each, just to cut down on outside variables for the initial part of testing.” I then held up one of the spare data storage devices that I had brought along with me. “When you leave today, each of you will take one of these home with you. They have been modified to be viewed by you only using your genetic code stored within company files. Each contains all sessions conducted with subjects 90876A and 90876B, as well as the remaining 149 experiments with conclusions drawn for each. We know you, as the Board of Directors for this company, are busy with other matters, so we will leave the investment timing of viewing your up to you. Further, of the 110 test subject pairings not in this country, they were divided amongst seven other countries to ensure a wider possibility of success with our method across the world and cultures.” The board murmured with greedy anticipation. In truth, we could have just remained in one section of this country, but I knew that a world market meant a wider audience, and a wider audience meant more buyers of this company’s products. Despite the varied appearances before me, dollar signs illuminated each of their eyes in unison. I clicked the slide again. “All subjects were chosen for their backgrounds, desires, and for the Big, their demeanor and current job placement. We determined that the job requirement in all our caregivers shouldn’t be too time consuming, and the subject caregiver should be able to take off if needed to complete a part of the experiment if needed. Future experiments, if approved, will test this method out with varying job parameters, but for the first round of testing, we believed that further interactions between the subjects, caregiver and Little, would be needed. We also knew that a flexibility was important in both subjects.” The board nodded their heads in agreement. ‘So far, so good, Edgar… just keep reeling them in.’ “For the Little, smaller parameters were required. Due to the theory of mentality being a combination of environment and genetics however, each of the Littles came from the same dimension. The planet is a pre-fusion society and still relies on several pollutants for fuel, so this did allow some ease of tension when Littles were inducted into our society with our various advancements in technology.” “How were they convinced?” Ms. Beakerman asked shrilly. “Ah. Yes, well, we will discuss Little involvement in due time, but we have promised the Bigs to be able to adopt their assigned Little by the end, barring negative mannerisms previously undetected or violation of experiment protocols. They were aware of the experiment being performed and realized they could have a potentially better behaved and more accepting Little than ever before as well. In fact, off the 150 total caregivers we selected, we had to turn down over 60,000.” The board all appeared shocked but then resolved once more. Everyone knew about the struggles our society was facing, so honestly, 60,000 almost seemed too small a number worldwide to me at least. “Additionally, Bigs will be paid for the care of the Little with whatever tools or implements required during the process and an extra bonus will be given in the end if all regulations and procedures were followed to the letter. We believed this contributed to the fact that only one subject was ever treated incorrectly according to the regulations of the experiment. Subject 90872A and B have been noted in your files…” “You still haven’t answered my initial question, Doctor.” Mr. Cannon growled. “My patience is growing thin.” The Board Members began murmuring in agreement soon afterward. “I’m just getting to that, Mr. Cannon. Here.” I clicked the slide. “For years, as I noted, other harder methods are wrong and likely, illegal in most dimensions. They must stop. We, as a society, are wrong.” A gasp went up among the crowd. I had to hook them in quick or they would tune me out for the rest of the presentation or even leave. I didn’t get the chance though. “You’ll never get away with this!” a Big stood up from the back of the crowd and waved a gun around. The board members and I quickly took cover behind whatever we could find. ‘Damn security budget cuts…’ “There’s an order to things,” he shouted manically. “You just can’t go about and change the book. This society needs those other services, and you’re getting rid of them! You won’t get away with this!” From his appearance and general demeanor, he was obviously an outsider. Any employee of our office knew that our company had long been at the forefront of innovation, so it was inevitable that someone would want to protest something we were doing. As such, despite their cutbacks, our security had been trained, armed, and were ready to deploy all throughout the building and its facilities within one minute. This office was closer to the main hub however, so less than thirty seconds after he had pulled out his gun, our security burst through the doors. “Freeze!” “Screw yo…!” Bzzzzt! The guard at the front of the pack quickly blasted off his stick and a charge of purple lightning struck the gunman squarely in the chest. He quickly collapsed and was neutralized. The gunman never fired a shot. As they dragged him away though, some… cleanup and air freshener were required from where the now babbling man had collapsed. Everyone in the room got back and resumed their seats once the janitorial staff had disinfected and sanitized the room. The amount of money invested in this program and the stubborn nature of each person there ensured that a single small gunman would not deter what they had come here to see. Seeing that it would take something much more to interrupt my presentation, I pressed forward, now with a lovely smell of lavender and lemon in the air. “As I was saying… harder methods of regression have been used since the beginning days of what we now know as the ‘Little Reclamation Program.’ These methods are effective in their own way but still brutal. Instead of pacifying the Little population, no pun intended,” a small chuckle emitted from the room, “these efforts have only galvanized more Littles against Big-led society. This movement includes those in this dimension and several of the ones arriving here. In fact, the Secretary of Commerce for Libertalia has even projected that tourism will be down by almost 40% next year from other portal dimensions. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. They are scared of us.” “A little fear goes a long way, though,” Mrs. Gordon, a young and suited woman, quickly pointed out. “True, but we are now experiencing the backlash of such methods.” The snooty young Board member eased back into her seat. “About five years ago, if you recall, a rebel leader of a Little resistance cell was taken and regressed through the traditional means. From the request of the government, she was almost made a near-permanent newborn in looks and abilities.” I paused and noticed that all eyes were on me. Despite the gunman and some of the more boring introductions of the presentation, all were still with me. It was a good sign. “Her cell found this out and only grew in their hate for our society and the methods the hospital had used. Not long after, the hospital was assaulted, and several were killed.” I took a sip from my nearby glass of water. “Her mother was killed in the fighting and her father later had a mental breakdown. She is now in foster care waiting to be adopted, though her prospects are slim due to her permanent vegetative newborn state… and all that is not just one isolated case.” The Board looked wary and reflective of the event, but there were so many like that story, I doubted a few of them could even remember it. “Additionally, our company has produced a lifelike doll that mimics many of the abilities and functions of a newborn. Though we should all be congratulated on our work and success with that product, adoption prospects for vegetative newborns have been pushed even further into jeopardy. We can… we must prevent these events from occurring.” “But how do you plan on that?” Mr. Galpin asked smugly, just as a light applause had begun. “I’m going to show you…” I clicked the next slide. “Using the method that you’ll soon see used for subjects 90876A and 90876B, we can lift this burden from our society. We would still be able to supply the population with a stable Little population that may even choose themselves to stay and the method wouldn’t carry the weight of our original near-barbaric methods of regression. It would be a sign for a renewal of faith in our society, rather than others looking at us like a, to put it bluntly, horror show.” To my surprise, a few of the board members clapped in earnest now. Surgeries and hypnotics were messy and almost completely irreversible as I had previously pointed out. Big society members in this dimension were looked at like monsters only yearning for fresh meat to babify, and people were starting to catch on. If something didn’t happen quickly, few Littles would ever think of coming here again regardless of our trickeries or appeal in other ways, such as our technology. Seeing a thriving space program and alternative fuel sources was nothing if said tourist came out, if at all, with the mentality of a one-year-old. Still, their reaction was at least a little surprising. “Further, we have discovered that some of our more natural tendencies are even stronger with this method. An estimated 90% of the group registered a near complete Big-to-Little bond that parents achieve with their natural offspring using hormone and chemical levels registered in the body to verify the result.” “What about the 10%?” Mr. Cannon skeptically and annoyingly asked. “Yes… well, based on our preliminary research, we have come to speculate based on our findings that despite our extensive sorting and elimination methods,” I admitted frustratingly, “many of the Bigs in the selected group seemed to only want to become caregivers based on their need for power or domination, rather than with their motivations of something like love. Further, due to the lower levels of a supply of Littles, we suspect that some of them may have taken longer to breakthrough as they may have otherwise been deemed as Dark Cliff candidates.” “Oh…” Mr. Cannon receded into the rest of the members around the table. Every Big knew of the terrible fate that awaited any that were sentenced there. ‘True tough cases if there ever were some…’ “Yes… well, now onto the main presentation. Lights, Mr. Cunningham!” One of the techs for the room quickly hit the light switch and immediately bathed the room in an inky black shadow, the projector being the only source of light with the newly designed blackout curtains all around. “Thank you. Now, knowing that these experiments would eventually be shown to you members of the Board, we decided to use RealET, or for those of you not aware of our AV department’s latest advancements, Real Environmental Technology.” Many in the room gasped at the use of something so state-of-the-art. “Using pre-installed devices during the experiment and the projectors now in this room, we can map what occurred right before you as if you were actually there. Some thoughts and feelings may be known as well, but many have been scrubbed to avoid… potential privacy issues in most cases.” “Can this broadcast the Olympics? Spartans are on at 6!” Ms. Beakerman jested, a known enthusiast of their national team and one of their most prominent benefactors. “I’m afraid not right now, Ms. Beakerman, though I can put you in contact with the head of their department after today. You never know what tomorrow could bring…” She only smiled broadly, her wrinkles stretching to their limits across her face. “Now, we shall begin with the first session and move onward. There are 42 sessions in total, but for the sake of time today, we will only show a selection of some of the more important moments from subjects 90876A and 90876B journey together. Some diaper changes and tantrums may be good to see, but more than six a day would likely become tiresome, as I’m sure some of you with Littles can attest to already,” I joked. The board laughed quietly, but I could see that each were fully entranced with the projection rendering all around them. It was hard not to with eh blue lasers rendering bits of the recording in real time. “Now, brace yourselves, this may feel a bit… weird.” I then moved over to the main control panel and as I could already begin to see my observation post for the experiment from a few months ago, I took a deep breath and pressed the lever to activate the screen. “Ladies and gentlemen of the board, I give you, Project Nurture!” Vrrroom! Pop!
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  14. I do this all the time. I blame it on my adhd. Lol under seats in vehicle, for example. Too funny
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  15. Wow Bob, congratulations on the good start, do keep the lines of communication open and take stuff slowly. I'm in a relationship where my wife does not know, and even if I did tell her today, and for whatever reason she was on board. I would suggest being very careful. Some thing as intimate as diapers needs to be completely a two way street and have a fair amount of discussions. I'll lay out a hypothetical situation in a moment. I like to wear diapers I wear anywhere from 10 to 15 A year so certainly not a lot of diapers and part of that is lack of opportunity. I only recently started exploring my " little" side Ok hypothetical part I've told my wife and to my surprise she's on board with it. A few months in to her knowing about me she tries diapers and goes Gaga for diapers. She wants to wear 24 7 and wants me to change her. Baby her etc. Would I be wrong for turning that down? while I believe diapers could be a fun part of a relationship. I don't think anything could make a couple more vulnerable and intimate to one another than both persons wearing diapers together occasionally. I also know That I would be very uncomfortable with changing her or being changed by her. Maybe I would change my mind, And maybe I would discover I just couldn't do it. Communication and willingness have to be a two way street. If you want to be babyed or changed, would you be willing to baby and change her? Occasionally,? Frequently? Everybody has different likes and dislikes. Best case you can find a common respect and place for diapers in your relationship. It can happen. But often times one side is not as willing as the other, good luck on finding the right mix. Of communication, respect, boundaries, love and diapers.
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  16. A parent / career is dealing with everything that you put into a diaper without question and with ultimate love, so why to you, is this so yucky?
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  17. i'll have to go in and make one and see what it comes out like! Brian
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  18. That's so awesome! You've been very brave and I'm pleased she is open and caring about this side of you. How did you both meet, may I ask?
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  19. Hi. I hope you enjoy yourself here and find plenty of people to talk to on here. You can message me anytime you like.
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  20. Trying a Trest for the first time tonight, I am sold on these! I am 7 hours in and it is well used but if I didnt have to go to bed soon, Id stay in it longer.
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  21. I actually went up to a 2XL Rearz Prefold, and found that the added length provided a lot more overlap between the back "wings" and the front. The back corners I can almost get to touch together in front when wrapped around my belly. I am talking upwards of about 10cm or so on me for sides, and 5cm or so above my belly button. I can _just get to the belly button on the XL, and not a lot of coverage on my hips/side. It is a _lot_ more rise than the XL tends to give me both front and back, which means I have more real estate with which to use 8 snappi's. I'm also ensuring the nappy is tight on me, and not loose. It's a lot of nappy, and it makes me feel really small and secure. No leaks whatsoever so far. I do put baby terry cloth 60x60cm nappies in as stuffers, but I just lay them flat, no folding into pads. I can't find 2XL in country after I bought out the stock that Derek had
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  22. No, but I seem to be the exception. My wife say I fit in them because I have skinny thighs and no ass...😉
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  23. I've had a package arrive to my city and state only to go to Kansas and have to come back again smh
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  24. Thanks! I'm a little shy but I'm trying to put myself out there!
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  25. Now I've only just tuned into this episode of Smackdown, but wow Baby Livy is booked incredibly strong. You gotta hope for some comeuppance at Summerslam. If Ruby loses, we Riott lol. But if Livy wins, you gotta imagine she's first in line to bring the title back to her nursery. Gotta say though I loved Aliyah with the pacifier in the backstage segment. Also Randy Orton is all over the show, feuding with both Seth and Brock? If he's not the world champ soon, he should be.
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  26. I hope you’ve had a nice summer, @Nomadic. When might we see more of baby Addy and her evolving life and family? Soon, I hope!
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  27. A parent, sometimes, if they are weaning their baby from bottle onto solid food, will partially chew the food as a way to convince their child to mimic and chew the food. It also grows the trust between the two as the baby s eating the same food as the parent. A caregiver doing this for their little is, in my opinion, a sign of love and caring and probably for their little, very babyish.
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  28. Jane needs to think about how to move things forward because if she is going to continue down her current path there are some tricky waters to navigate. If Anthony thinks he is at rock bottom he is very much mistaken. --- If you enjoy my stories and would like to help support me writing them then I kindly ask you to check out my Patreon. I post all my updates a week earlier for patrons and there are 48 stories EXCLUSIVELY on my Patreon page! All the money on my Patreon goes towards paying bills, buying food and generally keeping a roof over my head and a nappy under my butt. Thank you to everyone who has a look at my Patreon and a special BIG thank you to those who choose to support me. It means the world. You can find my Patreon here: https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 --- “Fuck…” Steven moaned as he lay back on his pillows looking up at the ceiling. Jane smiled as much as she could with Steven’s thick cock filling her mouth. The pair of them had just been on a wonderful date and, as usual, it had ended up in Steven’s bedroom. Her clothes lay discarded all over the floor and the couple were in bed with some soft music playing quietly in the background and low mood lighting the only illumination. “I mean I know I asked for all this…” Jane pulled off the cock to speak, “But it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, you know?” “Uh huh.” Steven couldn’t really vocalise much more as Jane’s mouth enveloped his penis again. He looked down to see her head bobbing slowly. Jane’s tongue flicked the underside of the head of Steven’s tool. She could taste the saltiness that came from such acts. Whilst some women were turned off by the taste or didn’t enjoy giving head for Jane nothing could be further from the truth. She enjoyed pleasuring men that she cared for like this. It was almost like her way of paying Steven back for such a wonderful date. If Anthony had given her more attention and took her out once in a while he might be able to enjoy Jane’s mouth instead of being locked in his crib. Jane paused what she was doing and let the heavy organ rest in her mouth. Every time she thought about Anthony she got annoyed. So many years spent married to that slob, so much time wasted. She had sacrificed a lot for Anthony and he didn’t appreciate it one little bit. Now he was like a ball and chain fixed to her leg. “I mean… I gave him everything. I worked a job earning far more than he did, I raised our twins and I took care of all the chores.” Jane said as she raised her head again. A thin trail of drool linked her with the tip of Steven’s penis, “Is it too much to ask for some appreciation? Some respect?” “Not at all, Babe.” Steven replied. Jane lowered her lips and took just the man’s helmet in her mouth. She ran her tongue over the swollen and sensitive spots. She paid attention to Steven’s reactions and adjusted her technique to elicit more of his gasps and exclamations of pleasure. Lowering her head Jane enveloped all of Steven’s cock. He was bigger than Anthony was in pretty much every respect and what he had in his pants was no different. Despite that Jane was able to deep throat her lover, it was a technique she had picked up before marrying Anthony though she had been out of practice until she had ended up on the dating scene again. It turned out it was like riding a bike and she was very quick to learn to control her breathing and suppress her gag reflex. With her mouth all the way down the cock and her lips pressing against the short pubic hair of Steven she found herself ruminating more. Her tongue reached out and flicked against Steven’s balls, something which made him quiver and grunt. “I don’t know why any man wouldn’t treat you like a queen.” Steven gasped. His hand went to the back of Jane’s head and stroked through her hair. “Well, you certainly no how to treat a woman.” Jane said after slowly taking Steven’s dick out of her mouth. She ran her tongue against the smooth skin the whole way. “And you know how to treat a man.” Steven joked. He reached down and very gently held one of Jane’s breasts, “But you’ve done enough. Why don’t you let me return the favour now?” “No can do.” Jane replied with a wide smile, “I pride myself on seeing my jobs to the finish.” Jane’s hands went to Steven’s dick and any argument he might’ve had evaporated in his throat. She worked her hands up and down adding a slight twisting motion that she knew drove Steven wild. She made sure to keep Steven in ecstasy without allowing him to cum. She simply wasn’t finished with him yet. “The annoying thing is that whilst he’s useless as an adult and a husband stuff like the house is in the name of his parents. They basically bought it for us.” Jane mused as she stroked Steven’s dick, “And if I really want to control the relationship I need to take those things under control myself.” “Yeah…” Steven gasped. It was clear he was having trouble paying attention. Jane was still in thought as she sunk her mouth down on Steven’s cock again. Right now Anthony was kept under control over fear of people finding out about his situation but if she really wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to go anywhere she needed more. Her head bobbed up and down on Anthony quickly and she could feel him tensing and twitching. The control was intoxicating to Jane and after so many years treated as a servant and taken for granted by Anthony she was determined to keep the new status quo going. Whilst being humiliated and fired from his job was embarrassing for him it did remove one of the things tying him down, it was one less tether and made him more likely to run away. “I think… I think I’m gonna…” Steven was gasping as he pushed his crotch up to meet Jane’s face. Jane knew what she had to do. She knew Anthony wouldn’t like it but she had to sever the safety net now. People might think her cruel but in her opinion she was just looking out for herself and teaching her husband a valuable lesson. “Fuck!” Steven exclaimed as he was pushed over the edge. Jane felt the cock in her mouth twitch and pulse and then a second later she felt the creamy explosion shoot on to her tongue. As she nursed on the dick and sucked down Steven’s cum she formed a plan that she would put into action the next weekend. Steven’s excitable organ finally finished and Jane pulled off it. She moved up to Steven’s face and opened her mouth showing him the load that rested on her tongue, then she swallowed it all with relish, even going so far as to lick her lips afterwards. “You’re incredible.” Steven said as he put a hand to the side of Jane’s face, “One of a kind. I love you so much.” Jane smiled and blushed a little as she laid down next to her boyfriend. She would have to go home at some point, the babysitters she had hired wouldn’t be there all night and she was sure Anthony would be in desperate need for a change. She didn’t want to think about any of that though. She wanted to lay next to Steven and cuddle for as long as she possibly could. But first… “I just need to send a text.” Jane said as she rolled over to where her clothes were discarded on the floor. Jane went through the pockets until she found her phone. She unlocked it and scrolled through her contacts to a number that she didn’t often call or interact with at all. It was really only there for emergencies. This wasn’t an emergency but it was important nonetheless. If she wanted to be the woman of the house she would have to take a big step. “Hi, it’s Jane, could you come over to the house this Saturday?” With the text sent Jane put her phone on silent and curled up with Steven again. --- Anthony didn’t know what was happening but that was no different to usual. Ever since he had lost his job he had been more under his wife’s thumb than ever before. With Jane working from home a majority of the time it meant that she was nearly always watching him. The brief respite from his babyhood that he had got at work was gone. It had been a few days since Anthony was babysat by Joey and Fiona. To his immense relief Jane had never found out about him rubbing his diaper. He had thought about telling her about the naughty antics of the babysitters but in the end agreed with Fiona, there was just no way Jane would believe him, even if she did the likelihood that she cared was miniscule. It was just past lunchtime but Anthony hadn’t been fed. He wasn’t particularly hungry but it was still unusual for Jane to change his schedule. He had recently had his diaper changed which meant he was getting to enjoy that brief period where his padding was both clean and dry. He knew it wouldn’t last long. Anthony was startled by the living room door opening and when he looked up he was surprised to see Jane in a business suit. Normally, when working from home, Jane would remain casually dressed but on that day it looked more like she was going in to the office. Anthony worried that this would mean having babysitters again, though a not insignificant part of him was excited by the prospect of being able to watch Joey and Fiona go at it again. “We have visitors coming.” Jane said tersely to Anthony, “Try to behave yourself, won’t you?” “Who?” Anthony asked nervously. Sitting in his playpen surrounded by toys and dressed in a cream yellow t-shirt with a smiling airplane and diaper he was very concerned about the prospect of anyone coming to see him like this. “You’ll see in about five minutes.” Jane smiled. “Y-You don’t have to show them in here, right?” Anthony fretted. Subconsciously he was pulling on his shirt as if he could cover up his diaper. “Oh I’m sure they’ll want to see you.” Jane laughed. Anthony scowled as Jane turned and left the room. It seemed the whole purpose of his wife’s brief visit was to give him some anxiety. He didn’t like the way she had left the door open, whenever the visitors arrived they would be able to look in and see him on the floor dressed as a pathetic baby. It felt like every time he thought he hit the bottom he found there was still an abyss below him. The least Anthony could do was keep his diaper dry though. A task he set his mind to straight away. Perhaps if the visitors saw him in a dry diaper they wouldn’t think he was a complete baby. It might have been a pathetic hope to cling on to but it was all he had. It always seemed to Anthony like the more he set his mind on avoiding something the harder it actually became to avoid. As soon as he started thinking about keeping his diaper dry it was as if he could feel his bladder filling little by little. His control was far from perfect these days so he knew staying dry was far from a sure fire thing. Anthony could do nothing but worry as he waited for the mysterious visitors. He wondered who Jane had invited over to humiliate him this time. Maybe Mandy would come round to see what she had reduced him to. Maybe it would be his old boss. Hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the local media had been invited to gawk at him and let the whole town know he was a useless cuckolded baby. Despite waiting for the visitors arrive and anticipating the dreaded knock on the door Anthony still jumped when the loud bell rang. His heart seemed to jump into his throat as he heard footsteps coming towards him. Jane rushed past the entrance to the living room and Anthony wondered what he could possibly do to hide from the disaster that was coming. None of his toys were big enough to hide behind. “Oh, it’s so lovely to see you!” Jane’s happy voice almost scared Anthony more than when she was upset, “It really has been too long. Please, come in.” --- If you want to read what happens next RIGHT NOW you can find the next part of the story here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/cuckolding-of-88306336
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  29. “The lungs on that one.” Dr. Rodgers said with a grimace. Jennifer and Carol both stared at the closed closet door. Jennifer’s confession had sent Evelyn scrambling to remove her daughter from the room so they could talk in private. Unfortunately, the only place to go had been her closet. Dr. Rodgers had noticed the diaper in Evelyn’s hand as she closed the door. It had been the final straw for the child. Now it sounded as if all hell was breaking loose. They could both hear the sounds of screaming, thrashing and objects crashing to the ground. “I hope there’s nothing valuable there.” Carol said before dropping her voice. “She needs to get control of her brat.” She was afraid of what Jenny’s aunt would do if she heard her tantrum. “She’s just a kid.” Jennifer mumbled. But Carol could see the panic and fear etched in her face. They were both thinking the same thing. Her meltdown was putting them all in danger. If someone didn’t quiet her soon, who knows what the Trunchbull would do. There’s no way she couldn’t hear it. Carol stood and knocked on the door. “Evelyn, you need to quiet her!” Carol said. There was another loud crash. Her eyes flicked to the bedroom door and back. She couldn’t tell if the Trunchbull was coming or not. Every bang and scream put her on edge. “What do you think I’m trying to do here!” Eve yelled back. “It sounds like you’re breaking every bone in her body! What are you doing?” “Trying to put a diaper on her, but she's not cooperating!” Eve yelled back, sounding just as alarmed. “HORTENSIA! CALM DOWN, RIGHT NOW!” “She’s going to bring that monster back!” Carol shouted. “Forget this.” she hurried to her bag and pulled out an empty syringe. “What are you going to do?” Jennifer asked. “Sedate her.” Carol said. She pulled a vial out of the box and jabbed the needle inside before pulling up the plunger. “Open the door. Let her out!” Carol shouted. “No! Don’t do that!” Jennifer said. “She’s just upset!” “I don’t have a choice. She’s putting herself in danger.” Carol froze, syringe in hand. She could hear the pounding footsteps even over the screaming child. Oh no. She braced herself. They could hear the pin unlatching, and with a violent pull of the door, the Trunchbull stood in the doorway looking every bit enraged as Carol imagined her to be. “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?” She shrieked. The wailing child inside the closet went quiet. She glared at them. “Where’s the other bitch at?” “In there.” Carol said, pointing to the closet. She tried her best to stand tall despite her trembling legs. She swallowed. “The child is in pain, please allow them to leave. I can handle things here myself.” The Trunchbull gawked at her. Carol stood between her and the closet door. “At least leave us full access upstairs. We can’t care for your niece like this. We need food, water, and access to the restroom.” Agatha scowled. “You’re a demanding old hag.” she sneered. She noticed the syringe in Carol’s hand. “What do you think you’re doing with that? Get rid of it!” “It’s for the child.” Carol said before adding. “I wouldn’t waste it on you.” “You’re supposed to be working on the whore!” She shoved a fat finger towards Jennifer. “Stop it!” Carol growled, hands clenched into fists. She wished she had pulled more into the syringe. It wouldn’t make a dent in this damn behemoth. “She’s just a child! I know what you’ve been doing to her. She’s your niece, you sick fuck!” “Don’t.” Jennifer whimpered. Agatha’s lips twisted into a smile that made the hairs on Carol’s arms raise. “She told you that, did she?” Carol watched uneasily as the beast walked towards Jenny’s bed before coming to stop. She stood besides the girl who now sat cowering on the bed clutching her blanket. She put a hand on top of the teens head before slowly sliding her fingers down Jenny’s face. “Did she leave out the part where she begs me for it?” Jenny let out a choked sob. “Get. Out.” Carol hissed. “I guess you don’t want that food then. What’s another few bodies in the attic?” “P-please stop, A-aunt T-trunchbull.” Jenny whimpered. “Wh-what’s the p-point of all th-those rations if you do-don’t use them?” “You! Who said you could talk?” She faked a hit, making Jenny cower. She let out a snicker before turning back to Carol and sneered. “Fine, but you’ll be getting the worst ones.” She strode out the door before stopping in the hallway outside. “Why don’t you show them where the bathroom is, Jenny? They must be uncomfortable.” She slammed the door before the lock slid back into place. They sat in silence for a few seconds before the closet door opened with a creak. “Is it safe?” Eve asked, sticking her head out. “If you can call this safe.” Carol said with a sigh. She looked at the trembling girl in the bed. “Are you alright?” Jenny nodded her head as she wiped at her tear streak face. “I-I don’t beg her for it.” She mumbled before looking away. “Of course you don’t. I didn’t believe her for a second.” “She just wouldn’t stop teasing me.” Jenny said, barely above a whisper. Carol gave the girl's hand what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not your fault. None of this is.” “Umm, sorry, did she say something about a restroom?” Eve asked as she stepped out, followed by a diapered and grumpy looking toddler. “Under the bed.” Jenny whispered to the blanket. With a look of confusion, Eve got on her hands and knees and peeked underneath. She reached her arm out before tossing a pair of soiled pajama pants into the middle of the floor, making Jenny groan and stretched again. “This is a bucket.” Eve said incredulously before standing up. Jenny nodded, avoiding everyone's gaze. “No. No. No. No. No.” Carol said. She snatched the object out of Eve’s hand before scooping up the soiled pajamas and threw them both in the closet before shutting the door. “The room needs to stay as sterile as possible.” Eve bit her lip and stared at the closet door. “NO!” Carol said again. “We are in a patient's room!” “But I-” “Hold it.” Carol demanded. “You are not a child.” Eve nodded glumly, a pained expression on her face. “It’s better than nothing.” Jenny mumbled. “You can use it if you need to. It’s why it’s here.” “That’s, umm, nice of you to offer, but no.” Carol said. “That’s very unsanitary.” “You had me wee in a bag.” “That’s different.” “How?” “It was an emergency.” Jennifer looked to Eve, who was shifting from foot to foot, then back to Carol. “You’re sick. No one expects you to be able to hold it.” “What if I have to wee again?” “You won’t.” “Why not?” “You have a catheter.” Jennifer gave her a puzzled look. “Your bladder’s draining by itself. See.” She held up a clear quarter full bag of urine sitting by the foot of the bed. Jennifer's face darkened. “It’s a good thing. No more painful urination, for the time being.” “What if I have to…?” Jennifer gave her a look. “Do you?” Jennifer quickly shook her head. “Good.” Carol sighed. “We’ll cross that bridge when the time comes. Just give me enough warning.” She thought of the soiled pajamas. “If you can.” Jennifer scowled, but nodded. They all went silent as footsteps began pounding up the stairs. The sound of metal clanged before the door opened a crack. In flew one box, followed by another and then a third. Finally a large jug of water crashed to the ground before the door slammed shut again. “Enjoy.” Agatha cackled, before retreating back down the stairs. Carol picked up a box and examined it. “What are these?” she asked. “War rations.” Jennifer said with a sour face. “What did she give you?” “So, there, what, MRE’s? Let’s see, there’s Veggie Omelet, Chicken A la King and Veggie Burger. The chicken one doesn’t look too bad.” “That’s because you haven’t tasted it.” “Can’t be any worse than the hospital food. Eve, have you had the pleasure of dining in the cafeteria yet? You haven’t lived until you’ve had the chicken masala.” “Never again.” Eve groaned. “Why do you think you found me with my head in the trash can?” Carol chuckled and opened the box before dumping the contents out onto the desk. “Anyone?” Eve raised her hand. “I’m starving. Hortensia, will you eat some?” Hortensia grunted. It looked like she still wasn’t on speaking terms. Carol threw her a bag which she caught with both hands. “Jenny?” “No, I don’t think my stomach can handle it.” Jenny said with a wince. Carol checked her watch. It was already nearly 9 pm. “How’s your pain level?” “A six.” “Okay, it’s close enough.” She put the MRE’s down and filled a syringe with a clear liquid. “This might make you feel a little loopy, but it’ll help you get some rest. Are you sure you don’t want to eat first?” “I'm sure.” Jennifer said. Carol pushed the plunger down into the IV line, and within a minute, she could see the teen's eyes begin to droop until they closed. “Sorry, last thing, open your mouth. Let me take your temperature.” Without lifting her eyelids, Jennifer opened her mouth and Carol took the opportunity to shovel in a forkful of the mush. “Liar!” Jennifer said sitting and coughing. “Swallow it.” Carol said. She watched the girl make a sour face before swallowing it down. “Three more bites. Then you can sleep.” Jennifer shook her head. “You need to eat. You’ll feel worse if you don’t.” Jennifer shook her head again. “It’s not that bad.” It was, but it was food. “Jenny, open your mouth. Little eyes are watching you.” Jennifer turned her head to find Hortensia staring at her. She gave Carol a dirty look before reluctantly opening her mouth for another bite. “Good girl.” … “So,” Carol asked from her spot on the floor. “Are you going to tell me how you got into this mess?” “She put an ad in the paper looking for a caregiver. Here.” Eve reached into her coat pocket Hortensia was using for a blanket and pulled out a crumbled page of a newspaper. Carol read it over. “Young mother preferred.” She read out loud. “Will pay cash.” “I thought she wanted someone who could work with kids.” Eve admitted. “Thought I’d be caring for a child.” “Evelyn, this has red flags all over it. Why did you bring your daughter anyway? Why didn’t you leave her with your husband? I see your ring.” “He left.” Eve whispered. “I was desperate and she told me to bring her. Next thing I knew she was holding her hostage.” Carol sighed. “She had this planned from the start.” “Looks like it.” Eve said. The room was quiet for a few minutes before Eve spoke again. “It’s been hell since he left.” “Hmm?” “She’s always been such a daddy’s girl, and now that he’s gone, she’s been throwing these monster tantrums and getting herself kicked out of all the daycares in town. Then her little friend went missing, and…” She went quiet. “Did she really hurt him?” “Who?” “Billy Reyes. He was Hortensia’s friend.” Carol felt her stomach flop. It could have been the stress. It could also have been the MRE, she wasn’t sure. “That’s what she told me after she sucker punched me. Said she snapped his neck.” “Do you think she was just trying to scare you?” “I don’t know. She’s certainly strong enough. Either way, mission accomplished.” Carol muttered. She felt her swollen side and hissed. Her mind went to the Vicodin bottle on the desk. Just one would be enough. “It had to be on the right side.” “Huh?” Eve asked. “What’s on the right side?” “Where she kicked me. I’m still recovering from surgery.” “She kicked you? I thought you said she punched you? And what surgery?” Eve asked, alarmed. “She did both.” Carol admitted. “I was being stupid and threatened her.” She sighed. “And I had a hysterectomy. God, these hot flashes. I want to kick down that stupid window.” Not to mention the mood swings. She had never felt so enraged before. She looked up at the sleeping girl in the bed. She had worked with victims of sexual abuse before, some even younger than Jenny. She had seen the damage first hand, but she had never felt such a desire to avenge them. She had always kept a professional distance from her patients, but everytime she changed the bandages, the anger in her reared its ugly head. “I’m sorry, I can’t take it anymore.” Eve said. Carol watched as she stood up and shuffled her way awkwardly to the closet. She sighed. They really were prisoners here. “Go ahead.” Carol said. It was one thing if they were only going to be here for an afternoon, but her watch told her it had been nearly 15 hours. They may not be children, but they were still human. She sat up gingerly and got to her feet. “My turn.” she mumbled as Eve came out. At least they had a little privacy. A pee bucket was better than no bucket at all. She needed to empty Jenny’s catheter bag anyway. Once she was done she sanatized her hands and tossed Eve the bottle. That’s when she heard a moan coming from the bed. “Ready for more medicine?” She asked the writhing teen. She looked at her watch and checked her notes. No, it was too soon. “Are you in pain?” It felt like such a stupid question to ask. The girl had third degree burns on her privates, of course she was in pain. “I need to…” Jenny whimpered. Her eyes were wide with panic and what little color her face had regained was now gone. “You need to what?” Carol asked. She had to fight back a yawn. She was so tired. She felt like she had been in a fog all day. The girl groaned and gave her a pleading look. The light flicked on in Carol’s head. “Oh.” “Bucket. I need the bucket. Please hurry.” Jenny begged. “No bucket for you.” Carol said firmly. She dug in her bag and searched for a solution. She should have thought this through sooner. It was bound to happen eventually. “Are you going to throw up?” She asked. She could deal with vomit easily. Jenny shook her head. Damn. She flicked on the main light and tore through the supplies. Nothing. She gritted her teeth and faked a calm demeanor. “Let's get these bandages off you first. She unwound the gauze in the line of fire before searching again. She had to come up with something. “Eve, I need your help.” Carol said. The woman stood and came over. “She needs to go number two.” she whispered. “I can’t think of anything.” “What about the diapers? Or a emit bag?” Eve asked. “I can’t get her in a position to make the bag work. She CAN NOT get fecal matter in her burns, diapers are out too.” “The bucket?” “We’ve already contaminated it.” Carol said. “Please, hurry.” Jenny begged, holding her stomach. “Honey, why didn’t you tell me sooner you needed to go?” “No warning.” she said through gritted teeth. “Do you think you have diarrhea?” Jenny nodded. “Do you think she can hold herself up long enough?” Eve asked. “Or one of us can hold her legs. We can just pull the pad.” “No choice, it’s going to have to work.” Carol whispered. She slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and gave the girl a sympathetic smile. She pulled her blanket and set it aside. “Ready?” Jennifer nodded but frowned at their lack of well, anything. “Where?” she whimpered. “Can you push yourself up or do you need one of us to hold you?” “What if you put her in the stirrups? It would at least give her front more clearance.” “It could make a bigger mess though.” “You could use another pad as a shield.” “That’s true. Alright. Help me move her down.” Jenny let out a soft mewl as they adjusted her until her feet were up in the air. “The good news is your anal cavity only has some minor burns. There’s only one spot that concerns me, do you think you could lean a little to your left. Perfect, hold that position.” Jennifer let out another cry as Carol held up another pad and placed Jennifer's feet over it to hold it in place. “Hurry. I can’t…” “Everything’s set on our end, sweetheart.” Eve whispered. “But…but…” Jenny stammered. “There’s nothing…” “It’s alright, Jenny,” Carol whispered. “Just go on the bed.” “What?” Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “No!” “We just have to swap out the pad when you’re done. I know you’re in an awkward position, but it’s the only way to keep everything clean.” “We’ll just sit over at the window and talk amongst ourselves.” Eve reassured her. “Just call us over when you’re ready.” She gave her head a pat before they both took a seat by the window. Jennifer let out another horrified cry and covered her face with her hands. … “Shh, don’t cry, dear.” Eve whispered as she ran the washcloth over Jennifer’s skin. “At least Hortensia slept through everything.” “Please, don’t make me do that again.” the girl choked out. “Sorry, hun, it was the only choice we had. Does your tummy feel better at least?” Jennifer made a so-so motion with her hand. “You’ll feel better once the infection’s all cleared up.” She balled up the dirty pads and stuck them in the closet with the other soiled things before stripping off her gloves. “Here,” Carol said, handing her a face mask before securing one of her own. The smell in the room was beginning to make her eyes water. “Try not to gag in front of her next time.” Eve took the mask and flashed her an apologetic wince. “Sorry, it was everywhere.” she whispered. “I’m not used to it yet.” Carol nodded in understanding. It had sounded bad. It was why she had volunteered Eve in the name of ‘practice’. Her speciality was the front end. She stood and stared out the window. The sun was just coming up. She wondered how long it would take her office to report her missing. They’d know something was amiss when she didn’t show up to work this morning, right? She checked her watch. Her morning alarm would be going off in a few minutes. “Breakfast anyone?” Eve asked, holding up the veggie omelet box. She opened the box and pulled out a bag and tossed one to Carol. “Jenny?” The teen shook her head again before giving Carol a dirty look. “Don’t you dare.” She mouthed. Carol smirked and opened her bag. Her face paled. What was this supposed to be? She looked at the picture then back to the contents inside. “I call it the vomelet.” “How appropriate.” Carol muttered. She took a tentative bite and forced herself to swallow. “Well, I’m stuffed.” She put the bag down and watched Eve’s reaction. “Yeah, no.” Eve said, looking at the contents. “Pretty sure this is what I just cleaned up.” “Aren’t you at least going to try it?” Carol teased. “Go on, take a bite.” “I-I’m not that hungry after all.” Eve mumbled. “She hadn’t been kidding about giving us the worst ones.” “The veggie burgers are a bit better.” Jennifer said. “At least it doesn’t look like your eating gelatinous poo.” They were better, not by much Carol thought, but at least they didn’t have her on the verge of gagging. Even Hortensia had taken more bites than she had last night. “Mommy, will you read me more of the story?” Hortensia begged, holding up the book from yesterday. If it would keep her quiet even Carol was willing to read to her. Eve took the book and opened it. Carol watched as a piece of torn notebook paper fluttered to the ground. Hortensia snatched it up and stared at it. “Mommy, what does this say?” “Why don’t you try reading it out loud?” Eve suggested. “You did so good reading yesterday. I’m so proud of you.” Hortensia stared at the note until it looked like she might explode as she struggled to sound out the first word. “F-F-F-uhh..hhh..” Eve snatched it away and set it aside. “What does it say?” Hortensia asked again. “Umm, it said, ‘fudge is delicious’.” Eve said before clearing her throat. “Where did you leave off?” Carol picked up the piece of paper and stared at the note that read, Fuck you Aunt Trunchbull, and smirked at Eve. “Fudge is delicious, huh?” “Very.” Eve said before turning back to the book. Carol stared at the note again and sighed. Poor kid. She looked at the sleeping girl. Must be her way of venting. She stood and made her way to the bookcase before pulling a copy of Anne of Green Gables. She stared at it in confusion. The weight felt off. She opened it and let out a chuckle. The center had been cut out to make a little hidden pocket. “Ohh, Eve check this out.” She had been hoping for more notes, but this was even better. She held up the little white object. “Is that…?” Eve asked. Carol nodded and put it back where she found it. Too bad they didn’t have a lighter. It would probably improve the smell in the room. She picked up another book and flipped through the pages. No contraband, but she did find more angry notes. “Let’s take a break, honey.” Eve said and placed the note from earlier back inside as a bookmark. “I’m sure you’re more than ready to get out of that wet diaper.” Carol softly chuckled at the girl's horrified expression. “C’mon, let's go back in the closet and get you cleaned up.” “Can I have my panties back?” “Yes, you can, but I want you to try going potty first.” She opened the closet door. “Eww, it stinks.” Hortensia complained as Eve pushed her in and closed the door behind them. “It hurts really bad again.” Jenny whimpered. “Can I have pain medicine yet?” Carol checked her watch. “Yes,” Carol said, getting to her feet and readying the syringe. “Did you get any sleep after…?” She let her words trail off. After that blowout, she thought. “A little.” “Mommy, why are you going potty in a bucket?” They heard coming from the closet followed by panicked shushing sounds. “At least she was asleep.” Carol said with an apologetic smile. The last thing they needed was the little one going, “eww” at the teens expense and making things even more awkward for her. Jennifer covered her face with her hands. “We’ll have her wait in the closet next time you need to go.” Jennifer scowled at the sound of a next time. “Hortensia, don’t leave yet. Go potty.” “Why do I have to go potty in a bucket?” the child whined. “Do you want another diaper?” Eve threatened. “Your fever’s gone down since last night, so that’s good.” Carol said after clearing her throat and adding. “I found your stash.” She smirked. Jennifer gave her a panicked look. “Your secrets are safe with me.” “They’re hers.” Jennifer said. “I just like taking her stuff when she makes me mad.” Carol gave her sad smile. “I hope you’re not putting yourself in any unnecessary danger. Your safety is my first priority. You shouldn’t be doing anything to make her an-” “There’s tequila behind the air vent cover, if you want some.” “Good girl.” She said with a laugh. She was about to push the plunger when she could hear footsteps coming down the hall. She froze on instinct. Eve hurried out of the closet. “Hortensia, stay in here until I tell you to come out.” Eve whispered before closing the door behind her. She stood guard as the lock began to rattle. The Trunchbull opened the door and stared at Carol, syringe in hand as she stood over Jenny before her eyes settled on Eve. “You, come with me.” She yanked Eve out of the room by the arm and slammed the bedroom door closed. Carol waited a few minutes, but it didn’t sound like they were coming back. She finished giving Jenny her pain medicine, before opening the closet door, only to be greeted with a rancid smell. She let the girl out before she turned and stared at the bedroom door. She hadn’t heard the lock slide back into place. Carol pulled the door open a crack and peeked her head out. She could hear the Trunchbull barking orders downstairs. She tiptoed out and into the bathroom and quickly gathered a few things to make their situation a little more bearable like a toilet paper roll, trash bags, and a can of air freshener before hurrying back into her cage. She went back into the closet and threw away the cause of the most offensive of the odors before tying it in a knot. She doubted Jenny wanted to keep the soiled pajama pants. After spraying the room, she took a whiff and sighed. “Now it smells like Shitrus.” She announced earning her a weak smile from the teen. Next she took the bucket and tiptoed back into the bathroom and dumped it down the shower drain. “I’ve done what I can.” she announced as she took a seat. “Can we play the alphabet game again?” Hortensia asked. “You should really let her rest.” Carol said. “I think I can stay awake for a little longer.” Jenny said as she smiled at the girl and patted the spot next to her on the bed. You can join me if you want Anna, we’ll change it a little though. This time, let’s see. We did animals yesterday, so this time…” she went silent for a minute before announcing, “It has to be a silly word. Doctor, would you like to play with us? It’s more fun with more people.” Carol sighed as she looked at the two eager faces. “Fine, but only if you remind me where that tequila was.” They went through a few rounds, before Jenny had to close her eyes. Carol had to hand it to her. She had a way with kids. Even with third degree burns she had more patience with Hortensia than Carol and Eve combined. She had to agree with Eve. Jenny would make a good teacher. If they could just get her out of here. She took another swig from the bottle and winced. “Can I have some? I’m thirsty.” Hortensia said. “No, sorry, this is only for adults.” Carol said. “I’ll get you some water.” “You gave her some.” Hortensia pouted. “You weren't supposed to see that.” Carol said. “You wouldn’t like it anyway. It tastes like medicine.” “Then why are you drinking it?” “Because I’m in pain. How’s your arm by the way?” she asked in order to change the subject. “Hurts.” Hortensia whined. “Let me see.” She looked at the girl's arm. It was swollen and purple in places, but she was far from a pediatrician. “Do you want me to make you a cast?” It wouldn’t be very good, but at least it would keep her from jostling it. She dumped out the rest of the Veggie Omelets and tore the cardboard box into pieces before fitting it around the child's arm and taping it into place. “Maybe when Jenny’s feeling better she can play with you some more.” “Why can’t she get my name right?” Carol had been wondering the same. Trauma did funny things to peoples memory. “I think you remind her of a character from a book. See, that big one says Anne of Green Gables. Maybe that’s where she got the name. You’re both very…energetic.” Hortensia started to reach for it, but Carol stopped her. “Let’s not touch her stuff while she’s sleeping.” She didn’t feel like explaining what a joint was. “Where’s my mommy?” “Downstairs, I think. She’ll be back soon.” Carol said. She hoped so at least. Her granddaughter was the only child she had patience for. She was also an energetic handful, but Carol adored her anyway. She was heartbroken when they had moved to the states last year. … It was nearly evening when the door flew open and Eve was shoved back inside before the door slammed shut behind her. This time Agatha hadn’t forgotten the lock. “Where hafth you been?” Carol asked. “Ugh! She made me clean the whole damn house!” Eve said, throwing up her hands. She turned back to Carol and frowned. “Why are your eyes bloodshot? Were you smoking those joints?” Carol nudged the nearly empty bottle towards her. “You’re drunk!” Eve said with a frown. “Where did you get this?” “More constrawand.” She slurred and nodded her head towards Jenny. “You could have saved me some.” Eve said. “I hope you weren't dispensing medicine like this.” She picked up the small bottle and downed the rest before coughing. “No.” She lied. She looked at the teen fast asleep in the bed. She may have given her a little more than necessary, but she had been in tears when it came time for more medicine. At least she didn’t have to give any injections. “Please don’t tell anyone.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t one of her proudest moments, but it had dulled the pain in her side and made the MRE taste like actual food. Almost. “I have a feeling nothing about this situation follows standard operating procedure.” Eve said. “That or class just hasn’t gotten to the part about being held as a hostage or when it's an appropriate time to shit in a bucket.” “I snuck out for that.” Carol said. Eve scowled. “You risked my daughter's safety for that? What if she caught you and took it out on her?” Eve demanded. “No, I snuck out to get more supplies for Jenny and empty the bucket.” She opened the closet door. “We even have an air freshener now, and toilet paper. It just so happened since I was in there anyway…” Carol cleared her throat. “That veggie burger.” she winced. “No fair.” Eve grumbled and held her stomach. “She wouldn’t let me use the downstairs restroom. She stood over me the entire time while I cleaned and cooked for her.” “If you're going to do that, put a bag down first and tie it up when you're done.” Eve scowled. “It’s better than what we had.” “I’m not doing it until I absolutely have to.” Eve said. She looked around the room. “Where’s Hortensia?” she asked in a panic. “I put her in the closet when I heard her coming.” Eve let out a relieved sigh and opened the door, only to elicit a panicked scream from the girl. Eve shut the door again and Carol gave her a questioning look. “She’s going potty.” Eve explained. “I have a present for you when you’re done.” she called towards the closet. The door opened and Eve handed her a candy bar. “Hey, where’s ours?” Carol teased. “I couldn’t risk taking more than one.” Eve said. “Besides, you got to stay up here and get drunk. You had your treat.” “I did.” Carol agreed. “I needed it in order to deal with your kid all day.” “She’s not that bad.” Eve rolled her eyes. Carol raised a brow. “Usually.” Eve muttered before collapsing into a chair. “I’m so tired.” She nodded her head towards the sleeping girl. “How is she?” “Her fever is almost gone. It spiked a bit this afternoon, and she did have a few other, umm episodes like earlier.” Eve winced. “I hope Hortensia behaved herself.” “I had her wait in the closet.” Carol said. “I brought a roll of trash bags from the bathroom. Next time she needs to go, you can just put her feet in the stirrups and hold one of the bags in place for her. She wanted to do it herself, but her hands were shaking too much. It’s awkward for everyone involved, but it cuts down on the smell and mess considerably.” “That’s good. The poor thing was so upset earlier.” Eve said. “Of course she was. You nearly threw up on her.” “I did not.” Eve rolled her eyes again. “It’ll get easier.” Carol said. “I’ve seen things that have made me nearly lose my lunch when I was first starting out.” “What made you get into your line of work anyway?” “There were more openings than men's health.” Carol said with a smirk, earning her another roll of the eyes. “No, seriously, it sounds like such an unappealing line of work. Right up there with proctology, no offense.” “It has its unpleasant moments, but it’s a necessary field. There were plenty of job opportunities, and after so many years, nothing phases you anymore.” “Not even that.” She nodded towards Jennifer. “That’s different.” Carol said with an exasperated sigh. “It’s not the injuries themselves, it’s how she got them.” “It’s why I took this.” Eve whispered. She reached into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled out a serrated knife. “It won’t help much.” Carol said. “But this might.” She pulled out a capped syringe full to the top of a clear liquid. “If she doesn’t let us out by Friday or attacks one of us again…” “Friday? That’s generous.” “Here, take it and hold onto it. If you need to use it, aim for the side of the neck.” Eve took it and stared. “Why are you giving this to me?” “Because I don’t trust myself and she’s already suspicious of me.” "I’ll do it on one condition.” Eve said as she stared at the syringe. “What’s that?” “I’m using it before Friday.”
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  30. As a high school teacher I still dispell the idea they were putting a tracking chip in each dose. I stand there, tossing my phone in my hand. While asking them to think of something that Big Brother could use to track me, learn about my shopping habits, what I'm thinking about and even my political beliefs. Makes putting a micro chip in every dose seem like a pretty huge waste of time.
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  31. Yes 🤣 Thanks for the comments! I had been getting asked for a character tree a while back. There's been enough information now that it's safe to post this. There's one thing in a couple of chapters that will update one character, but this shouldn't spoil anything, I don't think.
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  32. My Patreon page offers early access to all stories along with exclusive content and stories, with more to come soon! I have over 50 original stories planned but I can only write more, with your support so please do consider subscribing if you want more content. You can find my Patreon page at www.patreon.com/backtobabyhood. Thank you for your support. Chapter 15 Alison called Mikey down from his room, her voice carrying a firm command. His heart raced as he descended the stairs, anticipation mingling with trepidation. He reached the bottom, where Alison was waiting for him. Alison stood tall, her arms crossed, her expression a mixture of disappointment and stern resolve. The weight of her gaze bore down on Mikey, intensifying the sinking feeling in his stomach. Without saying a word, Alison motioned for Mikey to follow her into the kitchen. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension as they entered. Alison leaned against the countertop, her eyes fixed on Mikey, awaiting his confession. Mikey took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage he could muster. "I... I can explain," he stammered, his voice laced with nervousness. Alison raised an eyebrow, her tone calm but firm. "Go on, then. Explain why you lied about the delivery. And don't you even try to deny it, Mikey." Mikey swallowed hard, his throat dry. He knew he couldn't evade the truth any longer. "I... I... I was... scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Alison's expression softened slightly, a glimmer of understanding crossing her features. "Scared? Scared of what, Mikey?" Mikey hesitated, his thoughts and emotions swirling in a tumultuous dance. With a deep breath, he summoned the courage to voice his deepest fear, baring his vulnerability in the hope that it might elicit some empathy from Alison. "I...I thought that if I could just make the delivery disappear, maybe...maybe you would change your mind about making me wear the nappies," Mikey stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. "I'm scared that..." Before he could finish his sentence, Alison interjected, her tone cutting through his words like a sharp blade. "Mikey, have you been wetting the bed?" she inquired, her voice both direct and probing. Mikey's shoulders slumped, and he begrudgingly admitted, "Yes, but it's only temporary. I can stop, I'm sure of it." The corners of Alison's lips turned downward, a mixture of disappointment and concern etched across her face. She pressed on, determined to convey an unyielding reality. "Were you wet this morning?" she asked, her voice firm yet laced with a hint of compassion. With a defeated sigh, Mikey reluctantly responded, "Well, yes... but I can stop. I can control it." Alison's expression softened momentarily, her eyes reflecting a glimmer of sympathy. However, her resolve remained unshaken as she delivered the sobering truth. "Mikey, I understand you want to stop, but unfortunately, you can't simply stop it. You need nappies. If you can't control it, you need something to manage it, and that means nappies." Mikey's heart sank, the weight of reality settling heavily upon him. He had clung to the fragile notion that his bedwetting was a temporary setback, a hurdle he could overcome. But Alison's words shattered that illusion, leaving him with little choice but to try and accept his newfound reliance on nappies. With a firm yet commanding tone, Alison instructed Mikey to go upstairs to his room. He hesitated for a moment, his apprehension still lingering, but he eventually complied, trudging up the stairs with a heavy heart. Each step seemed to echo the weight of his unease. As Mikey entered his room, he was greeted by the overwhelming sight of countless boxes filled with nappies. The Betterdry packaging displayed a large nappy on the front of the pack, only serving to remind him of the nature of their contents. The room seemed to shrink beneath the weight of the supplies, the walls closing in as if to emphasise his regression, while amplifying his anxiety. Alison followed closely behind, her gaze fixed on Mikey's every movement. She directed him to start opening the boxes and unloading the nappies, her voice now laced with a hint of authority. It was a task designed not only to organise the room but also to further solidify the idea of Mikey's dependence. "Mikey, we need to create some space in here," Alison said, her tone firm but tinged with an underlying sense of purpose. "You need to start clearing some items out so we can make room for your nappies." Mikey's brow furrowed as he surveyed the room, unsure of what he could remove. He glanced at his belongings, contemplating which possessions he could part with. The thought of letting go of cherished items struck a chord within him, a reminder that his autonomy was slipping away. His frustration seeped into his voice as he turned to Alison, his tone laced with resentment. "Why did you order so many? It's your fault if there is not enough space," he protested, his words dripping with a mix of anger and exasperation. "Can't we store them somewhere else? They don't need to be in my room." Alison's response was swift, her words holding a hint of finality. "No, Mikey," she replied, her voice steady and unwavering. "They need to be in your room. They are your nappies so they need to be in here. I'll give you a few days to sort it otherwise I'll decide what stays and goes" Mikey clenched his fists, a surge of frustration coursing through his veins. It felt as if his protests were falling on deaf ears, as if he had no say in his own life. The fact that Alison answered his questions in such a frank and rational manner only served to make him feel even worse, as it was hard to argue with the logic of her responses. And then, in a moment that seemed incongruous with the strict demeanour she had displayed thus far, Alison turned to Mikey with a soft, compassionate gaze. Her voice softened, her words imbued with a tenderness that momentarily caught him off guard. "Mikey, do you know why I ordered the nappies online?" she asked softly. He shook his head, confused at where she was going with this line of question. "I ordered the nappies online to spare you the embarrassment of having to buy them in a store," she explained, her tone gentle and understanding. It was a statement that held a hint of truth, a carefully woven thread of manipulation designed to elicit gratitude from Mikey. And, in that moment, his anger waned, replaced by a subtle sense of guilt. He looked at Alison, his eyes welling with a mixture of remorse and gratitude. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I appreciate the thought behind it." Alison nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. She had managed to twist the situation once again, redirecting Mikey's emotions to align with her own intentions. In his gratitude, he had momentarily forgot the larger implications of his newfound dependence, focusing instead on the relief that he had been spared a potential source of embarrassment of having to buy the nappies in public. The room was filled with the rustling sound of plastic, as Mikey resumed his task of unpacking the nappies. The Betterdry boxes began to diminish, their contents slowly finding their place within the room. And with each unpacked nappy, Mikey's acceptance of his new reality grew deeper, as did his reliance on Alison. Mikey's mind whirled with confusion as he observed the sheer quantity of nappies that now occupied his room. His eyes swept across the neatly stacked boxes, calculating that there must have been at least 60 packs, each containing 15 nappies. A quick mental arithmetic confirmed his suspicion — approximately 900 nappies. Nine hundred days of nappies. Nearly three years' worth. He shivered as he realised that he would be nearly 21 by the time he had used all of the nappies, if he wore them every night. She had ordered far more than he could possibly need for his bedwetting issue alone. Why had she ordered so many? He couldn't help but voice his question, as he remained oblivious to Alison's covert plan to gradually immerse him in a life of perpetual nappies. "Why did you order so many nappies?" Mikey asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of disbelief. "I mean, there must be hundreds here. I don't think I'll need that many, even if I wear them every night for the next twelve months." A flicker of satisfaction danced across Alison's face, her eyes gleaming with a hidden agenda. She had anticipated Mikey's question and relished the opportunity to solidify her intentions. With a calculated smile, she leaned in closer to him, her voice laced with a mix of assurance and determination. "Mikey, I understand your concerns, but this is not a temporary solution," Alison replied, her tone purposeful and resolute. "This is a permanent thing, and you need to get used to it. Ordering in bulk is more cost-effective, and trust me, you'll be surprised at how quickly you go through them." A surge of apprehension surged through Mikey's veins. The notion that this was a long-term arrangement, that he would be reliant on nappies for an extended period, rattled his core. He had clung to the hope that his bedwetting would diminish with time, but Alison's words shattered that glimmer of optimism. "But... if these are just for my bedwetting...... I don't understand," Mikey protested, his voice laced with uncertainty and a tinge of desperation. "I can't imagine needing this many nappies. It feels excessive. There's no way I'll use all of these." Alison's smile widened subtly, masking her true intentions. She knew that Mikey's resistance stemmed from a limited perspective, one that failed to grasp the full extent of her plans. She took a step closer, lowering her voice to a soft, persuasive whisper. "Mikey, it's much cheaper to buy them in bulk," Alison explained, her tone gently coaxing. "Trust me, you'll be surprised at how quickly you find yourself going through them and you never know how things will develop" Reluctantly, Mikey nodded, a mixture of resignation and trepidation clouding his expression. The reality was sinking in, his mind grappling with the understanding that his days of independence were slipping away, replaced by a new era of reliance on Alison's control.
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  33. When the kids were young and liked to explore the whole house I used to hide my diapers, Attends at the time, above the bathroom on top of the corner closet. When we eventually sold the house I got a ladder out to make sure I didn't leave anything behind. I'm very glad I did because I found 2 or 3 that had gotten shoved back far enough that I couldn't see them from just a step stool. No one was home so I put them in my dresser for the move to the new house. As far as I know they've never found out.
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  34. 1 point
  35. 1. First, let’s decide the severity for urinary incontinence: - Severe / Total incontinence *Next* 2. Next determine the primary type of urinary incontinence: - Squirts, small bladder releases *Next* 3 Very good! How much awareness do you want to have? - No awareness of having to pee. Total amnesia. (awareness only when actively/consciously focusing/listening to it, as soon as the mind is busy/thinking on something else, no awareness at all) *Next* 4. What about nights? - Heavy wetting, frequent pee dreams *Next* 5. Do you want your incontinence to be reversible or permanent? - Permanent *Next* 6. Do you wish to have bowel incontinence as well? - No bowel incontinence (occasional voluntary use of the diaper) *Next* 7. Finally, would you like to add toilet confusion, thus impossible to use a toilet? - No *Finish* Will we install the slave driver next 🤣?
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  36. I'm working away on Chapter 3, don't you worry. Just taking a bit longer than I'd like. IRL stuff doesn't leave me with as much time to write as I would like, unfortunately.
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  37. I'm not sure what you're asking, but I suspect I'm open to all stories. If you have a student and teacher relationship I suspect that qualifies.
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  38. This is fun! Here's mine: 1. First, let’s decide the severity for urinary incontinence: - Severe / Total incontinence 2. Next determine the primary type of urinary incontinence: - Nonstop Leaky faucet 3 Very good! How much awareness do you want to have? - Vague awareness. 4. What about nights? - Heavy wetting with infrequent pee dreams. 5. Do you want your incontinence to be reversible or permanent? - Permanent 6. Do you wish to have bowel incontinence as well? - Mild/ occasional bowel incontinence 7. Finally, would you like to add toilet confusion, thus impossible to use a toilet? - No
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  39. @Kevin140 Thank you for the feedback! Also you can make additional tweaks through the advanced settings (Settings>Installation>Advanced). Happy wetting!
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  40. I wonder what's in that new hypnotic file
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  41. I lied. This is hardly the entire chapter, but given where I've stopped, there's no reason not to post it. Enjoy! ____________________________________ Chapter 13, Part 1 “What are we doing today,” Jamie asked after his breakfast or pureed fruit. It felt good to be back on something other than liquid, though he really liked the formula. Still, he missed chewing, and that was still several weeks away. “I don’t know yet,” Becky replied. “Did you have anything in mind?” “Not really.” “You’re bored, huh?” “Well, pretty much been the house since I got here, other than a couple errands.” “Well, why don’t I call Jane and see if she and Rosie want to do something with us. You can go play meanwhile.” Jamie toddled off to find Amanda, who was in the shower, apparently. Not that he’d have minded just sitting in there while she did that. Jamie didn’t think of her that way, he just enjoyed being by her side, and he didn’t have much else to do. So he went to his room and got his bear, then sat down in his chair with one of the books he got. He was surprised by it. It had, at best, young adult themes, but it was written well enough to be absorbing. “Oh, Jamie,” he heard Becky coming up the stairs. “We’re gonna go to the beach and meet Jane and Rosie. I’m going to pull our things together, and I’ll be back in a bit to get you dressed, okay?” “Okay.” Of all the places to go, the beach would have been Jamie’s last pick. Staying home sounded better. But having asked to do something different, he knew he couldn’t back out now. He liked the beach, loved it even. But here? A beach, the most public of public places. He tried to turn back to his reading, but he kept picturing himself waddling out of the water with half the ocean in his pants. “Hey! I heard you’re going to the beach.” Amanda smelled like flowers he hadn’t smelled before. “Yeah,” he feigned some enthusiasm.” “Can I come?” “Of course!” “Mom’s getting a bunch of stuff ready. How about I get you dressed?” Amanda started rooting through the closet. “Ok … what am I gonna wear to the beach?” “Well, I figured this would be a good chance to break out the sailor suit. I mean, we were gonna save it for a religious holidays and christening ships, but now that think on it, that’s just dumb. If you can’t wear a sailor suit to the beach, you might as well just have the hat and not the suit, right?” Jamie knew when he was being put on. It actually made him feel good. Kids don’t get sarcasm; it’s mean to be sarcastic with kids. That Amanda would joke this way with him just showed she respected him. “Unless you’d like to wear something else …?” “Um, how about a bathing suit and a t-shirt?” “That’s what I like about you, Jamie. You’re stylish yet understated. Let’s get you changed.” She lifted him on the changing table, and he held up his arms by instinct. She unzipped his sleeper, and as she put in the hamper he reclined on the pad. The few minutes of time without a diaper he got each day were pleasant for him. Just feeling air where he rarely felt it was nice, and that the time coincided with baths, which he also loved, and with Amanda paying such gentle attention to him was extra special. Wanting a toilet to use above anything else, he been timing his voiding for when Amanda would be around next. It didn’t always work, but two out of every three changes were done by her. It was that Becky wasn’t just as good at it. It was just that, between the two of them, he preferred in pretty much all things, and if he couldn’t choose where to empty himself, he could choose when and thus who changed him. “Um … Amanda, I, uh … I can’t swim in this, can I?” “Not unless you want to carry around about 4 liters of sea water with you. We have some swim diapers for you.” “Oh.” Was that a good thing or a bad thing? She had him in swim trunks and a t-shirt in another minute and put sandals on his feet. He already had a tan from spending so much time out in the backyard. In fact, having been chained to a desk, he hadn’t been this tan in years. “Let’s go wait in the living room for mom.” She helped him down, and the two of them went to the living room. ‘We’ turned out to be Jamie, whom Amanda lifted into the playpen while she went to go get herself ready. Jaime didn’t mind. He’d left his coloring book in there. Jamie sort of liked the play pen. If he sat against the side away from the center of the room, he could still see out through the mesh, but he was a little more hidden. Becky came crashing up the stairs with chairs; then she went back down and came crashing up with a mesh bag full of beach toys; then she went down and came crashing back up with an umbrella. This is quite the production, Jamie thought. Becky had worked up a sweat. She decided to go get herself ready next, as Amanda came down wearing a T-shirt dress and carrying a backpack. “What happened to you?” “I was getting stuff from the basement.” “I’d have helped, Mom.” “It’s alright. How ‘bout you go make us a lunch while I change?” So Amanda went and filled a cooler with water and food for them, and that went to the car, too. It wasn’t a large car. This seemed a bit much to Jamie; they were just taking a day trip to a beach, and he thought they lived near it. He told himself to remember to ask for a map. At last, Becky came back downstairs in a new outfit carrying an overstuffed pool bag in her arm, which she set down, went back down the hall, and came back with Jamie’s diaper bag. “Are we ready?” Jamie didn’t know who she was asking. “Yeah, Mom. So long as we don’t forget Jamie,” Amanda said as she came back into the living room and lifted him from the playpen. I could live with that, Jamie wanted to say. Even from his low vantage point, Jamie could see the back of the car was filled with stuff. He had a lot of beach experience and knew you didn’t need all this. Not unless you were taking kids. Oh, he thought. This presented a dilemma. Jamie didn’t feel compelled to use eight buckets and five shovels and a sifter and a net. But so much work went into bringing it, he felt he had to. As Amanda buckled him in, he asked, “Will you sit in the back with me.” “Sure, buddy!” She went around to the other side and climbed in. Becky had them headed toward the beach. “So, what did you want to talk about?” “Rose.” “Ah. You want to know what she’s like?” “Yeah.” “I used to babysit her.” “Why don’t you anymore?” “School, and because Jane’s neighbor’s daughter is old enough to now, and she’s cheaper than I am.” “So, what is she like then?” “She’s about your age.” That was confusing. “Which … of my … ages?” Did that even make sense? “Your Little age. I think she’s older than you where you’re from.” “How long has she been here?” “I want to say twelve years.” “So she decided to stay then.” “Yep. She’s always been a happy little Little.” “Does Jane have any kids?” “No, she says she never wanted any. After a while, she decided she wanted a Little though.” “But …. How is that different?” “It …” That was a good question. Having a Little was arguably more work than a kid. Kids grow up and need less care. Only a handful of Littles grow up. Some grow up a bit and then stop, and most stay the way they arrived, or even go backward. “I guess I’m not sure.” “But it is different, though, right? I mean …” He had trouble wrapping his head around it, too. Amanda tried again. “I think, maybe … maybe Jane liked the idea of always having someone who depended on her, and being able to take care of her forever.” “But, doesn’t your mom do that for you?” Such a sweet guy, Amanda thought. “Ya know, you’re right. She does. But I think every parent is torn. A part of them wants to see their child grow up and get to know the person they become, and a part of them wants their child to stay young, even so young that they need their moms and dads for everything.” That made sense to Jamie. “That makes sense. So how far is the beach anyway?” “It’s on the other side of that hill.” She pointed to the ridge on their left. “Maybe when we get home, you could show me a map of where we live.” They pulled into a sandy parking lot filled with cars like Becky’s. From his seat, Jamie could see other people unloading as much junk as they had. Jamie had no idea what time it was, but he was feeling tired and figured it must be near his morning nap time. “Chill here; we’ll get some stuff out first.” Jamie kicked his legs for no reason, his feet dangling low so they didn’t hit the seat. The hatch of the car opened, and it sounded like all but a few things fell out. Becky got the entire car seat out with Jamie still in it and secured into the stroller. She looked at Jamie and at the pile. “Can you walk?” “Of course I can.” Does she think I’m gonna forget how? Jamie found himself next to the stroller, and as much as they could fit ended up in it, under it, or hanging from it. From stroller to luggage. Still, they’d need to make more than one trip. Jaime appraised himself. This was the most normal outfit he’d worn since he got there, even if the shirt had a whale on it. The swimsuit did nothing to disguise what he had underneath, but catching glimpses of other Littles between the cars as they walked past, he counted himself lucky he wasn’t wearing a speedo, or nothing but a diaper. He remembered people taking their babies around like that in public back home, and he always wondered what possessed a parent to do that. It was hardly dignified for the child, and it wasn’t exactly polite to the people around them either: here, it said, this my child and the thing they void their bowels into; we thought you’d enjoy it more if there wasn’t even a layer of cotton to obscure the view. “And we’re off.” Amanda held Jamie’s hand as they crossed the parking lot, looking both ways. They headed toward the boardwalk. Jamie looked at the sand: white and fine. There was sand like that at home, but he’d never seen it in person. A dozen trash cans, some overflowing, were near the entrance to the boardwalk; that part he did remember from home. They boardwalk was long. Thankfully Amanda and Becky slowed down so he didn’t have to speed-walk to keep up. When they finally came in sight of the sea, Jamie stopped walking and took in the scene. He smiled; a tear fell from his eye, the good kind. “Honey, is everything okay,” Becky asked. “Yeah. It looks like home.” The two of them waited for his cue before they walked on. At the foot of the boardwalk ramp were two dozen other strollers. It was still early in the day; Jamie could at least tell that from the sun, and it wasn’t as warm yet as it would be. He wondered if things would get busier or if this was it. Jamie was handed his diaper bag and the sack of beach toys, and Becky and Amanda shouldered the chairs and umbrella and beach bag. They turned left from the boardwalk. Their feet slipped a little each time they pushed off the balls of their feet, the rubber soles of their sandals squeaking with each step. It was a little hard on the calves, just like Jamie remembered. The salt in the air; the smell of sea life; those were familiar, too. After a few hundred meters, they saw Jane wave to them. She trotted over and took the toy bag. “More toys! Exactly what we need,” she chuckled. “Good morning, Jaime. Are you excited for your first time at the beach here?” “Good morning, Jane. I am. I missed it more than I thought.” “Rosie can’t wait to meet you.” They reach the spot Jane had picked out, just above where the surf stopped; he could feel the tide had only stopped washing over the area an hour or two ago. The sand wasn’t dry; it was spongy and cool, not hard like the packed sand the waves still lapped over. Rosie didn’t pay them much attention. She was seated with her legs under her, working on something in the sand in front of her. She had an array of buckets and tools to work with. “Rosie,” Jane said as she knelt down and touched her on the shoulder, “I want you to meet Jamie.” Jane’s voice was odd, he thought. Rosie turned around, and Jamie saw what she’d been working on – a wet mound of sand. He looked her up and down. One-piece bathing suit with polka dots and ruffles on her butt, clearly padded underneath. She had black hair and olive skin. He couldn’t tell how old she really was; it was impossible to know because of the cosmetic work the doctors did, the same ones that make him lose his facial and body hair and look and feel so much younger. When she turned all the way around, he saw she was blushing, and when she spoke, she rushed the words out: “Hi, Jamie. I’m Rosie. Wanna help me build a castle?” Jamie hadn’t considered it, and no one had told him. She’s regressed, he realized.
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