Leaderboard

Chapter 96: In the Can WE TOOK A short break before returning to the scene we planned to start with at ‘Grandma’s house.’ Fortunately, that was a pretty short scene that didn’t involve a lot of cast or resources. Beth was involved in the scene for the first time that morning, but her parts were minimal. Meanwhile, I’d had another wet diaper changed to maintain the continuity that my character hadn’t had one… ‘I’ll probably be visiting those changing stations this week,’ I admitted. There had been no reason to meet the HoloCaretakers I’d heard about from the other Littles in murmurs occasionally the past couple of weeks. They were better about changes than the Bigs. Still, some of them had actual nanny programming, and I’d heard pacifiers and forced bottles happened to a few Littles. I sighed and shook my head, clear of those worries, as we moved to film what was probably the worst scene of the whole project for me. I knew it was also the one that would probably make non-Littles wish they were me! At the action call, I followed behind Charlotte as she cradled a sleeping Beth. Beth’s performance as a sleeping child was quite believable, even as she was nursing a pacifier. We stopped filming at the base of the stairs, started again for the stairs twice, and finally reached the nursery our characters now shared. Charlotte placed Beth on the changing table and changed the artificially wet diaper she wore before dressing her in a purple nightgown. She was tucked into bed, still sleeping, even as I stood by and watched. That particular scene had to be filmed a couple more times so they could get Charlotte’s goodnight kiss just right. It was kind of a cool shot because they filmed her from one side, placing her down on the bed, before virtually removing the wall to let a prepositioned camera get the view from the other side with the wall gone. “Action!” was finally called in the last part of the scene. Charlotte turned from the bed and whispered, “Come here, Brianna.” My not-so-dry diaper was exchanged for a dry one before I was dressed in a miniature version of Beth’s nightgown. As soon as she was done changing me, she carried me from the room and downstairs to the living room. A comfy rocking recliner was against one end of the living room, with a baby blanket waiting on the top of the headrest. Charlotte wrapped me inside of it before I heard, “Cut!” “We good with all of that?” Sebastian asked Will. “It should? I think that worked well. The lighting was good, and we had good coverage as Charlotte carried her down.” “The footage from the camera on the dolly looked good and smooth, too,” Sophia noted. “Okay, Charlotte, go put on the MamaSkin, everyone else, take five!” “MamaSkin?” I asked Sophia as Charlotte sat me on the recliner and walked away. “It’s kind of like the bodysuit Beth has been wearing, but meant to be for an actress playing a nursing mother.” “Meaning?” I asked. “Meaning it’ll prevent you from getting a dose of breastmilk if Charlotte is lactating,” Isabella said from beside me. I blanched, “So I really am supposed to…” “Nurse?” Isabella asked before nodding, “Yeah, and unless you really do want to nurse Charlotte’s boobies, this is the only way to film it and have it look right.” “Not that most boys probably don’t dream of that,” Sophia joked. I rolled my eyes, but as I saw Beth descending the staircase, I asked the important follow-up question: “So what am I drinking?” Gary showed up right then, “Just some plain cow’s milk,” he said. “Promise?” Beth asked, coming up right then. “I even brought the sealed container to show you before we load her with it,” he said reassuringly. When Charlotte returned, I watched as they placed a couple of ‘bladders’ on either side of her that fed into hoses that least to nipples on skin that I would have been convinced was real if I couldn’t see the seams at close inspection. My limited time of seeing nipples in photos led me to believe it was as realistic as something could get. “Comfy enough?” Gary asked Charlotte. She shrugged, “Honestly, this is pretty weird.” “Better than giving the audience a look at your real chest?” he asked. She rolled her eyes, “Trust me, this will look real enough! I’m not sure which would be worse between the fake CGI images and this. I admit I always thought I’d make a lot more money for my first nude scene!” Everyone on set laughed at that. “Someone hand me my little girl, and let’s get this show on the road!” Charlotte said after getting her top back and settled into looking modest and normal. I was placed on her lap, and she gave me a reassuring squeeze as we waited for the crew to finish getting to their places. “Quiet on the set!” A moment later, I heard, “Scene twenty-six, take one!” “Action!” Charlotte made eye contact with me, and it felt like we had an exceptional connection at the moment as she soothingly said, “You’ve probably saved our company, Brianna.” I squirmed as if I was embarrassed and replied, “Hopefully?” “If nothing else, now I know who is responsible and to go after. I’ll call my lawyer first thing in the morning and get them to figure out how we get the police involved.” I shook my head, “It’ll have to be the Feds in this case. Rob and the others are looking at all sorts of Federal charges.” She nodded, staring at me for a moment before giving me a quizzical look. “You know, you could have just told me you couldn’t fix this, right?” I shrugged, “You’ve always been good to me, even before this.” “Even by me forcing you to be my adopted little girl?” “I could have run the other night...? I didn’t have to say yes?” Charlotte pulled me in tighter, “Why did you?” I chewed on the side of my cheek for a moment, looked down, and quietly said, “I knew you were a great mommy?” I looked up at Charlotte and saw several tears streaming down her face. I reached up and wiped one from her face as she gave me a small smile and choked back a sob. “I hope I can be...” she wiped the rest from her face. She suddenly looked down at her shirt, and as I followed her gaze, I realized there must have been another squib-like device, as a couple of moist spots appeared on either side of her chest. She looked down for a second before looking me back in the eyes. “I said I would give you a treat later?” “You already did? I thought that was the restaurant? I’ve never gotten to eat at any place like that before?” I paused, “The food was amazing!” Charlotte laughed, “For good reason, the only Littles there are adopted!” She smiled at me and tickled my stomach teasingly. “No... I had something else in mind that could help you adjust for these last couple weeks before we try potty training Callie again.” “What’s that?” Charlotte smiled at me as she said, “It’s a special mommy gift to you!” I forced my face to move to a panicked expression as if I had just figured out what was happening, even as Charlotte unbuttoned the shirt. I stared for a long moment before she physically adjusted me and placed my face at her nipple. I didn’t latch on right away, having been told to wait until she forced a latch on my mouth. As soon as I did latch, I began sucking away at the now-warm milk. “Cut!” I moved my head away from her chest and reassured myself based on the fact I could stop that it wasn’t breastmilk. “How was the take?” I asked as Charlotte straightened her top. “I think it worked,” Sebastian said. “I don’t think it would go any better if we did it again,” Will agreed. “Charlotte?” Sebastian asked. She looked thoughtful for a moment, “No, I think it worked fine. Let’s get me unhooked from this. Gary, can you get Beth and Carly into their last costumes, and we’ll film the final scene?” She looked at a clock high on the wall, “I think we might be able to get it all finished and in the can in an hour if everyone can hold off on lunch?” “Sounds good!” Will said. “Then take ten, and let’s finish this final scene!” Sebastian said. Charlotte gently leaned forward and let me down onto the ground. I walked with Beth and Gary back to the wardrobe room. My diaper was dry, so I managed to get onto the toilet and successfully went for the first time that day before being changed into a new diaper by Sophia and dressed in a grey sweater dress that was covered with a tessellating embossed series of hearts in the same color. The columns looked like lines from a distance, but it was cute. A diaper cover was pulled up my legs over my diaper, and I was turned over to Isabella. She had just finished putting Beth’s hair in a cute style with two little braids coming to the back of her head and a large bow to hold it in the middle. “There is no way that would last through a day of daycare,” I laughed. “With the nanites, it would,” Isabella said as she lifted me onto the chair we had been doing hair in for the past few days. “I forgot about that stuff,” I admitted. “It’s such an odd thing to use something so advanced on,” I told her. She shrugged, “We’ve had nanites commonly used for over thirty years; I don’t think any of us think it’s that advanced anymore?” “Huh,” I said. I felt Isabella working and knew she had to be making my hair match Beth’s. When Beth appeared in a matching grey dress herself, I knew we were indeed pulling the sisters’ look one last time in the film. BETH FOLLOWED CARLY out to the set as soon as Isabella finished with her hair. As much as she hated the look on herself, she couldn’t help but believe Carly looked absolutely adorable like this! The grey worked amazingly well with their hair and eyes, especially since everything in the playhouse and the daycare was so bright and colorful! As they came out to the soundstage, they discovered both the indoor classroom of the daycare setup and a play yard with the play house were set up and ready to go. Cameras were set up inside the playhouse, and it looked like one was set to do the same trick of making the wall go away that they’d used with the bedroom scene. She saw Charlotte just coming out of what Beth was pretty sure she had arrived in for the day. “Ready to wrap this up, you two?” “Definitely!” Beth said, “I never want to wear another of these outfits again!” Charlotte giggled at that, “I don’t blame you!” Ten minutes later, they began shooting with her, Carly, and a HoloCharacter inside the large playhouse. The HoloCharacter was about a foot taller than Carly but still shorter than she was. The character was playing with a toy pan on the stove, as Beth had Carly sitting in a ‘play’ high chair that was probably just one of those short convertible ones. She tried to spoon a fake spoonful of a jar of baby-pureed peas into Carly’s closed mouth. “You’re the baby; you have to eat it!” she whined at Carly. “But why am I the baby?” Carly whined back. “I’m older than both of you?” The HoloCharacter walked over and wore the sternest expression ever worn by a two-year-old girl, “You littlest, you baby!” Carly looked back at Beth, pleading with my eyes, but Callie said, “She’s right, you’re the shortest. Now sit in your high chair and let Mommy feed you.” Carly was about to fight more when she added, “I’ll tell Mommy on you if you don’t!” With a sigh, Carly pretended to eat the play food and did her best not to let the fake spoon hit her mouth. She managed to actually land it inside twice, though, and Beth smirked as Carly made a face as if she had sand or something in her mouth. When enough time passed that she would have seemed to get bored of it, she said, “All done! What a good baby!” Beth grimaced internally but forced herself to smile as she suddenly squatted and activated her PooPloder. A moment later, Isabella came in to play Miss Terry. “Oh, did you finish feeding your baby, Callie?” Beth smiled and bounced a bit, “Uh-huh! She’s a good baby!” Isabella knelt down, smiled at her, and then turned her around to check her diaper. “I bet she is. Since you’re done feeding her, we’d better change Mommy into a fresh diaper, huh?” Beth looked at her with a confused look, “Huh?” “You’re poopy, dear!” “Nuh-uh,” she started to argue but made a face that sold her suddenly realizing she was. “Bree, come?” “Sure,” Isabella said as she grabbed both girls’ hands and led them inside the daycare. “Cut!” Sebastian called. “Will?” he asked. “All good, I think?” “Charlotte?” He asked. “I agree, I can’t see anything worth refilming. Beth and Carly did a great job with that scene. I thought I was going to lose it when the spoon went into your mouth, Carly,” Charlotte said. Carly stuck her tongue out at Charlotte, “I’m just glad it wasn’t a real play area… can you imagine how gross and how many germs would be on those things?!?” Charlotte laughed, “Babies don’t care though, huh?” “Almost done, everyone; let’s get this final scene in!” Sebastian said. There was a flurry of activity on the set as they reset cameras and relocated a few dolly tracks to smooth out some camera movements. Finally, they stood on the other side of the door to come in, and the call to action was made. Beth awkwardly waddled and followed Isabella to the changing table with her fully loaded diaper. Beth held her arms up even as Isabella leaned over to pick her up and placed her on the changing table. As she placed the safety strap on Beth, she looked down at Carly beside her. “Seems like you’ve got your work cut out for you here, Bree? But I guess you get to start potty training again next week!” Beth heard Carly’s sigh, “Mommy did say that.” Beth frowned deeply, “No wanna use potty!!!!” She then kicked her feet up and down at the end of the table in defiance! “No kicking, Callie!” Isabella warned. “Why not Callie? Being a big girl is fun! And using the potty isn’t a big deal?” Carly asked as if trying to defuse the misbehaving sister. “It’s boring! You have to stop playing!” “But…” Carly was about to argue when she went silent. Isabella was pulling the diaper cover down and the dress out of the way as she looked down at Carly. “Well, maybe you’ll both just have to find out how much fun you can have when you don’t have to stop playing to have your diapers changed!” “Bree, you still there?” Beth asked. Isabella patted her on the head, “She’s fine, she’s just having her own poopy moment.” “Bree poopy too!” Beth giggled. They filmed Beth being let down and Carly being placed on the table in her place. She winced as the contents of the PooPloder-filled diaper were pressed against her. Isabella quietly muttered, “You may never get out of diapers if she keeps that attitude up.” Beth watched from the side as Carly said the final line, “Don’t I know it!” They filmed the completion of the diaper change for good measure before Beth heard, “Cut!!!” Several minutes later, after reviewing the footage, Charlotte said, “That’s a wrap, everyone!” Cheers filled the room, as the crew felt they had done a lot of work to get there the past few weeks! “Okay, Connor, let’s go get you back to being Connor,” Gary said suddenly from beside them. “Cast photo first!” Charlotte insisted. “I guess,” he agreed. All of the crew crowded into the nursery part of the daycare and staged themselves, holding toys and rattles. A few even put pacifiers in their giant mouths. It was a cute photo they showed Beth and the others before they went to get changed. ‘I just hope we can get Carly figured out…’ she thought. Back in the wardrobe room, they helped Carly sit in the hair styling chair, and Beth watched Isabella first deactivate the hair nanites. A bow was still holding the hair in the back of her head. Still, the color seemingly instantly reverted to her usual dirty blonde, and her hair was a little more lifeless. Gary then came over with the tablet that controlled the gender nanites. “Okay, hopefully, this fixes everything here, Connor; you ready?” “Go for it,” Beth heard Carly say. As soon as Gary activated the system, Carly shouted in pain even as she briefly convulsed! When she stopped moving, everyone froze. It looked like nothing had changed!!! ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading! Please press the Like Button! I have some time off this week, so hopefully, I'll be able to get a bigger lead on chapters than I have right now. At a certain point, I may have to cut back to one a week to keep the flow going when my life gets nuts again in the fall. (It's always nuts, but sometimes it's worse than others!) Anyway, if this gets 25 likes by Sunday, I'll give you a bonus. If that one gets that, I'll probably be in the mood to give a third next week. This chapter answered many of your questions, but of course, some remain unanswered. Answers come in those next chapters! (Some of them, at least!) As always, if you enjoy my works, please consider purchasing the completed ones on Amazon Kindle! http://amazon.com/author/babysofia

Chapter 8: Equals Grace clasped both of her hands over her mouth, holding back a muffled reaction that might have otherwise woken up the rest of our family. My hands remained on the front of my pajama pants, as pointless as it was to remain in the posture as I wasn’t able to fully conceal how I had peed myself. Neither of us moved. I couldn’t take my eyes off of my sister. As much as I had worked to avoid it, I had known that it was a possibility that Grace might find out about my faked bedwetting. As a former bedwetter herself, my older sister would be attuned to the signs that something might be off about me. And it was certainly better than having my younger brother or friends discover this secret. But of all the ways Grace could have discovered my fake bedwetting, this had to be among the worst. I had anticipated something much less dramatic and certainly much less embarrassing. I couldn’t stand in front of my parents’ bedroom door forever. That was not a feasible plan. There were only a couple of directions I go could. Returning to my room wasn’t an option. Doing so would require going toward my sister. I was definitely not going to do anything to wake up my parents at this point and turn my bedwetting incident into a whole family affair. Running down the stairs in the dark wasn’t an option, either. That left the bathroom. I dashed inside it with a few quick steps, closing the door as gently as I could while also shutting it quickly. I was safe. Safe, but trapped. I listened at the door, hoping that Grace would go back to her room and give me some privacy to get back to my bedroom and get cleaned up. At least let me change into a dry set of pajamas. I was having no such luck. I flipped on the light switch. Even if I hadn’t peed quite as much as last night, my pants didn’t appear any less soaked. Enough time had passed, and the wet clothes were already beginning to get uncomfortable as the initial warmth faded away. The expression on my older sister’s face had left no doubt that there had been enough light in the hallway for her to notice how wet my pajamas were. And she had been a bedwetter. If it had been Jackson instead, I perhaps could have tried to say I had just spilled a glass of water on myself. My six-year-old brother might have been gullible enough to fall for that, especially if he was still a bit drowsy. But Grace? No, she knew exactly what wet pants looked like from having wet the bed. I heard footsteps in the hallway. I held my breath. Then there were two soft taps on the bathroom door. There was some faint whispering from the other side of the door, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. I breathed out. Grace wasn’t going to let me avoid having this conversation. I leaned forward and pressed my ear up against the door in an attempt to make out what my sister was saying. There was another series of soft taps on the door, followed again by my sister’s voice. This time, I could make out what she was saying, if just barely. “Is everything OK in there? I can help. Promise I’m not going to judge you or anything.” If I hadn’t known about my sister’s previous bedwetting, it might have been harder to trust that statement. But I figured that I could. She had actually gone through what I was only attempting to fake. I stepped back and pulled the door open. Grace at least had the courtesy this time to not stare down right at the wet spot on my pajama pants. But what was she thinking as she was looking at me? Did Grace see a reflection of herself from six years ago? If I were to go back and look at our old family photo albums from that vacation, it would be plain to anyone that I was almost an exact carbon-copy of her when she was my age. I realized that I probably looked the same to her as she had looked to me when I had watched her walk up the staircase in her wet pajamas six years ago. “I can help you get things cleaned up, but I really need to pee first.” I had been so absorbed in my own embarrassment and concern about what my sister was seeing and thinking that I hadn’t noticed how she was a bit fidgety herself. Had she perhaps woken up just in time to avoid having an actual bedwetting accident herself? Graced squeezed past me into the bathroom as I stepped out into the hallway and made a beeline back to my bedroom. That we hadn’t woken up our parents or Jackson was a minor miracle with how we had been going back and forth in the upstairs hallway. I used my shirt to pat myself dry after taking off my pajama pants and underwear. It wasn’t nearly as good as hopping in the shower to get myself washed off, but it would have to do for now. I turned and stared at my wet bedding. I just had to remember that it wasn’t like Grace hadn’t seen anything like this before. This had been her own nightly reality for years. The toilet flushed in the distance. I kept my back to the bedroom door. My hands were starting to shake. I tried to keep my mind focused on the prize at the end of the road. Soon, I’d be wearing pull-ups to bed each night. I’d only have to endure the embarrassment of peeing on the bed for a short while before I’d get those pull-ups. And then it would be incredibly easy to discreetly continue faking the bedwetting. The handle on the bedroom door rattled behind me as Grace made her way into the room, shutting the door behind herself. This was rare territory for my sister to be in. We typically respected the privacy of each other’s rooms, only opening them a bit if there was a message that needed to be passed along. Graced walked up beside me with her eyes fixed on the aftermath of my fake bedwetting incident. “Do you need a hug?” I nodded, leaning in toward my sister as she pulled me into a firm embrace and rubbed her hand on my back. My hands were no longer shaking a few seconds later. “It’s nothing to worry about,” Grace said. “I promise I’m not going to tell anyone about it.” I waited expectantly. Surely, if there was any time for her to bring up her own history of bedwetting, this would be it. It would make sense for Grace to use that as a way to try to comfort me. And that would be my chance, the chance to ask all of the questions about her bedwetting that I had been dying to ask the past few years. But, for whatever reason, Grace didn’t seem willing to bring that subject up. “So,” Grace said, her gaze again turned toward the bed. I thought back to the question Mom had asked me the other night. She had asked me if I had a dream about going to the toilet while I was asleep. That seemed like a plausible excuse to give to my older sister, though I provided more embellishment than I did with Mom last night. I described an elaborate, made-up dream to Grace, one that I hadn’t thought was a dream at the time, so when the urge to pee happened, I hadn’t realized that I needed to wake up to avoid peeing the bed. “So yeah,” I said, concluding the tale. “I thought I had made it to the toilet in time, but then I felt something wet, and I woke up.” “You probably had too much to drink this evening.” “No, I didn’t.” Grace gave me a bit of side-eye. “I recall that someone refilled her glass a couple of times at dinner.” “Yeah, that’s just the stir-fry was spicy.” Grace rolled her eyes. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad. So, anyway, were you going to tell Mom and Dad about the accident?” There was a truthful answer for me to give to that question. “I… I was going to ask for help with getting things cleaned up. But I decided I’d rather take care of it on my own.” “I can help bring things down to the laundry room. But you can’t go to bed before getting the mattress cleaned up. I’ll have to see if there are some cleaning chemicals that would work for it.” I helped Grace strip the bed. Like last night, there was a sizable wet spot on the mattress. The thin, cotton mattress protector wasn’t up to the task of handling things when an entire bladder was emptied onto it. There was no sign that Jackson or our parents had been disturbed from their sleep as we ventured out into the hallway and made our way down to the basement. Grace was carrying most of the bedding while I held my wet pajamas in one hand and my phone in the other to light the way down the stairs. How would I be reacting if I had actually wet the bed without intending to do it? I decided to try to play down the bedwetting accident. “I really don’t know what happened,” I said as I tossed my wet pajamas into the washing machine. “I’ve never had anything happen like this since like when I was a baby.” Grace gave me that look. The one that said she knew that was a terrible liar, which, a lot of the time, was true. “You didn’t wet the bed last night as well?” I tried to make my response sound as indignant as possible. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Grace put her hands on her waist. “So, all of your bedding was in the dryer before breakfast for no reason at all? Like I said, it’s not a big deal. You don’t need to lie about it.” My face suddenly felt rather warm. Here I was, thinking I had been quite sneaky in managing to get my bedding back up to my room without being caught. And Grace had known about it all day long and hadn’t said a single word to me. Grace’s curiosity was beginning to get annoying. Time to turn the tables on her. “So what? You were a bedwetter until you were my age.” Grace’s face momentarily blanched, and then she regained her composure. “Me, no. I don’t know what you are talking about.” It was my turn to get annoyed at my sister for not being truthful with me. “It’s not a big deal. You don’t need to lie about it.” It was Grace’s turn for her face to go as red as mine had a few seconds earlier. “How? That was forever ago?” I recounted the tale about how I had accidentally stumbled across the scene of her having wet the bed that time we had been visiting our grandparents six years ago, from overhearing her conversation with Mom to watching her walk up the stairs in obviously wet pajamas. The expression on Grace’s face told me that she remembered that fateful night as well. “Mom and Dad caught me after you went upstairs. They made me promise to not tell anyone about it,” I said. “They said I wasn’t to ever say anything about it to you, either.” My voice dropped off at the conclusion of the tale, and we stood silently as the washing machine begin rumbling after having filled up with water. My shame at having my bedwetting discovered had dissolved now that I had forced Grace to admit her own bedwetting past. We were equals now. I was now burning with curiosity. There were so many things I wanted to know. Chief among them was if Grace had ever worn pull-ups to bed. I desperately needed to know if that was something my parents had ever used with her. But there were other things I was curious about as well, such as information that could help me better fake my own bedwetting in the coming weeks. How often had she wet the bed? Did it typically happen at certain times of the night? Did she usually pee a lot or a little when it happened? It was as if Grace could read my mind. “I don’t want to talk about it, OK?” she said. “Let’s just get your mattress cleaned up, and then we can get some sleep.” I silently accepted her refusal to say anything further on the matter. With our secrets now revealed to each other, perhaps I’d get another chance to talk with Grace about it once she had gotten over the fact that I had known about her bedwetting for the past six years. We returned to my bedroom, stopping at a closet while Grace showed me which cleaning supplies would be best for removing the urine stains and odor from the mattress. She walked me through the process of drying and cleaning the mattress. That was going to be helpful for future nights when I would preferably be handling this process all on my own. “That should do it,” Grace said as she finished dusting the wet spot with baking soda. “That will need to be brushed or vacuumed off in the morning.” She turned around after taking a couple of steps toward the door. “You really should hop in the shower before you get in the sleeping bag. Otherwise, you’re going to wake up smelling like pee.” I suspected that this was advice Grace had learned from experience. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com

(Inspired by works of alteredstates14, with permission. https://www.deviantart.com/alteredstates14) “How much longer are we going to stand for this injustice!? I’ll tell you how long—not one more day! We are not little girls! We are not toddlers! We are grown women! And not even our mothers can take that away from us!” The women’s resistance group had all rallied behind Eri’s speech. Why shouldn’t they? Their country’s legislation was getting completely out of hand. Every day, it seemed like there was a new law being passed, all for the sole purpose of putting them down. No drinking, or smoking. There was even a nationwide curfew for women under a certain age. It was like a prohibition on their adulthood. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. Projected on the screen behind Eri was a newspaper article, showing one of their country’s young women dressed to look like an oversized toddler. Some of the audience recognized the young woman in the photo as one of their former members, who had been noticeably absent during their recent meetings. The article itself was nothing short of slander. It reports woman under a certain age will be mandated in the future to have their maturity officially tested. From doctor’s offices to government buildings, no place would be safe for them. The group knew they needed to mobilize their protest soon before more people got caught up in this ridiculousness. Eri banged her fist on the podium. “We are eighteen years old, not eighteen months! Pampers and playdates are parts of our past, not our future! I refuse to let these ridiculous laws turn that around!” The crowd of young women cheered, echoing Eri’s sentiments. They agreed to take their protest to the streets soon. In these trying and political times, the resistance meetings had become a beacon of hope for those attending. As today’s meeting came to a close, one young woman in attendance was feeling especially inspired. She had approached the group leader, Eri, at her podium while she was busy packing up. “That was an amazing speech you gave today,” said Hana. At her petite frame and short stature, Hana was the perfect target for the country’s propaganda. By the judging eyes of many, Hana didn’t look at all old enough to take care of herself. It was an unfortunate notion she found herself being reminded of frequently. “It needed to be said. I’m not going to let some new BS laws rule my life. These types of things don’t change unless someone speaks out against them. I refuse to have my voice be pacified by some pompous lawmaker.” Eri spoke with complete confidence. That was not a hint of doubt in her voice. Eri fully believed she was on the right side of history. It was that same sense of righteousness that struck Hana so deeply. Hana didn’t simply admire Eri. Her words were beacons of hope in these changing and confusing times. It was reassuring to hear someone echo her thoughts so brazenly. “To be honest, I was starting to have doubts myself.” Hana couldn’t muster up much courage and didn’t consider her turn of phrase nearly as compelling as Eri’s, so she decided to cut to the chase. “When I told my mother I wanted to study abroad, she nearly popped a gasket. All she would talk about is how I’m still too immature, or that I don’t know anything about the outside world.” Hana shuttered at the possibility of incurring her mother’s wrath. The thought alone made her uneasy. She shook her head, lifting herself back up. “But you’re right, Eri! I am an adult! I don’t need anyone’s permission to go out and see the world. This semester, I’m traveling overseas, whether she approves or not!” Just saying it aloud was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She only wished would be around to join her friends when the protests took the streets. Eri nodded. “Hell yeah. That’s what I like to hear. That’s real progress at work. None of that baby propaganda they spout all day. You go for it, show your mama just how wrong she was about you.” Young women were finally gaining their independence back. And the mothers of this country would not be having it. It was clear a change had to be made. It was not clear how they found out about the meetings. Perhaps one of the young women had tattled to their mothers. Perhaps one of them had their clothing chipped the night before. Whatever the case, the parent soon formed together their meeting, to stop their children from plotting under their noses. One way or another, the resistance would fall. All the mothers in attendance promised to make sure of that. *** “Jun, could you come downstairs? There is something important I need to discuss with you.” Jun yawned and stretched, making a groggy descent downstairs. A year, and some change, of unemployment had made her used to waking and sleeping at odd hours of the day. She tried to be more organized, and more mature, like her friends had preached. The change proved a challenge to her, all the same. Deal with it tomorrow, she said. There was always tomorrow… “Yeah, mom? Did you need something?” As Jun climbed down the stairs, she could hear the voice of a familiar radio hostess entering through a clear signal. “…Yes, well that’s a great question. Thank you for calling us. I think oftentimes we, as parents, second guess our judgment the older our kids get. We’d like to think that their judgment improves with age, but that sometimes isn’t the case. To answer your question; no, you are not a monster. No, you are not out of line. No, there is nothing wrong with wanting to put your daughter back—” *CLICK* Her mother turned off the radio. A look of deep contemplation was etched on her face. She let out an exhausted sigh and resumed her work. She was folding laundry in the kitchen, nothing even turning or pausing to face her daughter. “Do I need something?” Mother’s tone was stiff. The casual question was shot back like a lethal round. “There isn’t anything you want to tell me?” “No…?” Jun’s voice trailed off thoughtfully. She tried to remember anything she had done recently to warrant such a reaction. Whatever she did, or did not do, she started feeling guilty. Mother was not budging. If anything, she looked more agitated, like her daughter was trying to hide something in plain sight. “You know how much I value honesty, Jun. I put up with your habits because I trust you will eventually grow out of them. And, that you will always be honest with me. I am going to give you one last chance. If there is anything you have been hiding from—anything—tell me now.” There was one thing she could think of, but that was… “Mother, please. I’m not hiding anything.” Mother didn’t respond. Not with words, at least. Instead, Mother decided to drop her retort on the kitchen table between them both. A laundry basket was overturned, and out spilled Jun’s discarded bedsheets. Mother slammed an open plan on the kitchen table. “So, you were never going to tell me about this? About how you’ve been hiding your wet sheets from me? You don’t even do your laundry, for goodness’ sake. I was going to find out soon enough.” Jun was floored. She was caught red-handed, sheet-soaked. She had gotten lazy, in this case, with her hiding, and was now paying the price for it. “I…ahh…” Jun wanted to say something, but the stained sheet said everything for her. Her voice failed her, delivering only weak gasps instead of clever lies. But before Jun could even fester up a retort, Mother sharply snapped back. “Don’t even try to lie your way out of this one. I know what bed-wetting looks like. This isn’t my first rodeo. At least when you were little, this sort of thing was expected. But now… Well, what matters now is we make changes for tonight.” Mother said, dropping a package on the table. The soft teal and white package featured a grinning young woman, who couldn’t have been any older than twenty, lifting her shirt, and flashing her underwear. Except, calling them underwear was giving them too much credit. The product she was promoting guaranteed easy checks, wetness indicators, and overnight protection. It was a package of Snuggles brand pull-ups. “These are what you will be wearing for the next few nights. I already have everything planned out, and I don’t want to hear another word. Snuggles brand has an entire regiment on their website for this sort of thing. I’ve been keeping up with the news, but I never would have thought that it would all be true.” Mother shook her head “Young women from this country are regressing, that much is true. I just never imagined it would happen under my roof. What is wrong with this generation? No matter. If this is what it takes for you to start acting right, then so be it.” Jun could feel tears welling up. Becoming like one of those diaper-clad girls on the street and the news was just what she was trying to avoid. Now she was being sent down the same slippery slope as them. “Shhh. It’s okay.” Mother came around the table, comforting her with a hug. “I know it feels like I’m being harsh, but this is for your benefit. I only want to protect you. Please trust me on this.” Trust or not, Jun did not have much of a choice. Her fate fell in the hands of her mother, like so many other women in their country. All the girl could hope was that this would end soon. “…Jun. Did you wet the bed this morning?” All the girl could do was sniffle and nod her head. After her daughter was dismissed and returned upstairs, Mother went back to her chores, her pace slowing. She still wasn’t sure if she had done the right thing. It was true that her daughter was one of the few reported to be attending the resistance meetings. It was hard to think of Jun as passionate about anything or having the motivation to start a great change. Whatever the case, she knew she had to keep her daughter safe. She wished she hadn’t had to resort to such tactics, like drugging her daughter’s dinners to jump-start the nighttime accidents. She was only doing it to keep her Jun safe. Just being caught going to one of those meetings was a serious crime punishable with jail time. If a few accidents were what it took, then so be it. When Jun realized the limits of her maturity, she would hopefully give up these resistance dreams. *** “…Baby? Are you up yet?” Mother creaked the door open ever so slightly, enough to hear a possible response. Still snoozing and snoring. Go figure. Her baby always was a heavy sleeper anyway. Still, the day had to start eventually. Mother tiptoed to her daughter’s bedside, illuminated only by the glow of the smiling night light. She pulled back the blanket and pulled up the waistband of the pink unicorn pajama bottoms. She stuck two curious fingers into the back of her girl’s nighttime underwear, giving Mother all the confirmation that she needed. Her baby was always a heavy wetter, too. A change could not wait, definitely not. Mother shook her daughter on the shoulder, whispering into her ear. “Wake up, dearie. It’s time to start the day.” And when that failed to raise her, Mother leaned in closer and said, “Come on, now. I know you’ll feel much better once we get you into some dry undies.” The persuasion must have worked. Not even a moment later, the daughter’s eyes popped open, and she was face to face with her grinning mother. “M-mother?!” “Rina!” “Mother!” Rina scurried back to the head of her bed frame, pulling her covers close. “P-please, stop doing that!” “Oh, calm down, Rina. You act like this is the first time I’ve woken you up for a diaper change. It’s not even the first one this week.” “M-mother! I asked you not to call them that!” Mother didn’t see anything wrong with her word choice. Diapers are what they were, after all. They were designed to catch accidents of those not mature enough to prevent them themselves. However, her girl was still insistent on pretending they were something else. It was cute. Even at her age, her daughter still got wrapped up in games of pretend. “Oh, pardon me. Your ‘protective undergarments’ need a change this morning. Now, I don’t suppose you plan on keeping them soggy all day, do you?” “No,” Rina replied with under grumble. Rina didn’t have the strength to argue this morning. She instead chose to lie back in her usual position, on top of her bed covers, while Mother got to work. “Pe-yew!” Mother said, pinching her nose and fanning the air. “When was the last time my girl bathed herself? Before we do anything today, we need to take a trip to the tubby-tub.” “Oh, come on now.” Rina wanted to scream into her pillow. She knew that needed protection during the night, which put her on the same level as a younger class. But did her mom need to make everything sound so infantile? “I’ll go take a shower myself, okay? Just leave me alone already…” “Rina.” “Like it or not, I am still your mother. Like it or not, you still live under my house, under my rules. And one of those rules is no back sass. Now, if that’s too much for you, I can exercise my right as your parent, and check you into a certain facility that excels at giving mouthy little girls an attitude adjustment. Is that what you want?” “That’s my girl.” “Now then. Starting today, Mother is going to bathe you, and I won’t hear another word about it. After all, how can I expect you to keep your little tushy clean if you can’t even walk it to the bathroom at night?” “Aww, don’t pout, sweetie. Mother will have you squeaky clean in no time.” For Rina, the words were no comfort. Neither was the act of being scrubbed down as a grown woman while sitting in a bath of lukewarm water. Still, that was what happened. “We’re going out today.” Mother confirmed. “It is fair too nice for you to stay cooped up inside all afternoon. Trust me, we’ll have a great time. Now, lift your arms sweet pea. There we go!” Her daughter sufficiently seen as squeaky clean, she was toweled off, and the pair returned to Rina’s bedroom. However, Rina soon found herself pushed back on top of her bedspread.” “Ah, ah, ah. We aren’t done yet. What kind of parent would I be if you didn’t replace your wet nappy with a fresh one?” It was at that point that Rina finally noticed her mother going for the package that now rested on her nightstand. The familiar pack of pull-ups was only meant to cover her nightly accidents. So why was her mother pulling out another one…? “But, you said I didn’t have to wear diapers during the day!” Rina yelled, sitting up in a panic. Mother’s hand came to her chest, pushing her back down. “Ah-ah. I’ve been paying attention to the news, young lady. New research shows that girls who wet the bed five nights or more in a row are twice as likely to have accidents during the day.” “That’s not fair! That stuff is all speculation! I haven’t even had an accident today!” Rina had to get her emotions under control. She knew these outbursts were not helping her case. How else was she supposed to put up a fight? “Well then, you should be more than happy to try and prove me wrong. I would be proud to have an outlier in her household. Until then, I am exercising my rights as your parent, and taking proper precautions.” Mother’s words were coated in sweetness, despite the sour look on her daughter’s face. Rina had no way to argue. Try as she might, she could not stop her mother from hiking the bulky pull-up legs. That also meant she had no way of stopping her mother from picking out her daytime outfit, a breezy sundress, and a pair of sandals. After all, why stop there? If she already decided how her daughter should bathe, she had enough sense to decide how her daughter should dress. And, after all, if she was in charge of bathing and dressing Rina, she should also be in charge of feeding her… “Mother, I told you can—urp!” Rina’s protest were being policed by spoonful after spoonful of plain oatmeal. She felt truly at her mother’s mercy during breakfast time. “Yes, yes. My big girl can do it all, I’m sure.” Mother replied, rolling her eyes. “But we don’t have time for you to wade through every single bite. I know how much you love your breakfast, but we have a schedule to adhere to.” Mother continued her feeding, smiling on the while. “Here you go, baby! Here comes the rest of your juicy-juice!” Mother shoved a sippy cup filled with amber liquid into her daughter’s mouth, not stopping until it began to drain. While breakfast was served, the radio was still on, filling in the family on the latest news story. A familiar radio hostess was live and laughing with her co-host, before returning to business. “In other news, COMFI has just previewed their latest line of summer wear for young women.” COMFI has been interviewing mothers across the country for notes and possible improvement. This year’s line promises better durability, more varieties of pastel colors, and adjustments to allow for easier diaper checks. These newest designs are the cutest! I know where I’m shopping for my niece’s birthday…” “Oh, that reminds me. We still need to seamstress soon. Those clothes I had mended should be ready now.” Mother thought aloud, the mention of easier checks lighting off mental fireworks. “We can swing by while we’re out today. Doesn’t that sound nice?” “Uhhh…bleh…” Rina was in no mood state right now. She was far too stuffed to put up a fight. She looked ready to fall straight to sleep in her car seat. All Mother could do was smile at her precious daughter. She simply couldn’t help herself! Sure, the circumstances that caused their relationship to shift so drastically were less than ideal. Resistance meetings were a big no-no in her household. She knew her Rina would never admit to such a secret. She knew just as well that she was so easy to read, and that she was more than ready to have another round of memories with her baby girl. This time, she was going you enjoy every second. “Tee-hee! I don’t even know why I bother asking.” Mother said ideally, whipping the food specks from her daughter’s mouth. It isn’t like you have a meeting to go to!” *** “Goodness, Mai. Will you stop fussing for one second?” Mai huffed and tugged her skirt down every few seconds. She had a hunch that her undergarments were peaking from under the skirt of her shortalls and did not want to give anyone a free show. Mother, please! You can’t be serious. You know I’m far too old the dress like this.” “How many times must I say this? There is nothing wrong with you having to wear a leash while we’re out. We already passed two other girls wearing them today. Besides, I can’t expect you not to wander off on your own.” Mother tugged the leash handle, causing her daughter to fumble forward. “Now stop dawdling. We’re losing daylight. You can grumble all you like, but it won’t change things.” Mother had no patience for Mai’s attitude. She was still steamed that her flesh and blood had been sneaking out to a resistance meeting, to plot heaven knows what. It was disgraceful. The face that was not willing to confess only boiled her more. Mai, on her end, was nearing her limits. She couldn’t wait for her friends to take to the streets and begin the protests. Soon enough, crap like this would be outlawed, and mothers like hers would be exposed for the tyrant they had become. The wait for that day was hell. Be she was strong enough to endure it. They finally stopped in front of a plain-looking storefront. Mother saw a nearby bench and decided to tie the handle of the baby leash to the bars, much to her daughter’s ire. “You wait here for a moment. Mother has to go inside and make a few reservations. Don’t go and try anything. Understand?” Mother commanded with a finger wag. She did not wait for her daughter to answer. She instead went to the store, leaving Mai alone with her thoughts. Tied to a park bench like a dog, Mai could only sit around and wait. She sulked, knowing that any passerby would see her as another helpless and immature girl. How bogus. How bogus and wrong and unfair and unjust. Call it what she liked. Mai was still stuck here. Soon enough. It would all change soon enough. Her attention was suddenly caught by a peculiar commercial playing on a set of TVs behind a glass window… We were there for her when this all started.” Glossy text over a white backdrop was how the commercial opened. Fade in, showing scenes of a mother playing with her baby daughter. Blissful music accompanied the pair as they went through the motions of life. “Now it’s time for her to go back.” The next set of scenes paralleled the first, with one key difference. Both the girl and the mother had been aged up considerably. The mother had aged fairly gracefully, with crow’s feet and spare gray hairs only noticeable by the keenest of eyes. Given a time gap of twenty years, the daughter was now college—age, a young woman. That didn’t change the fact that her overall aesthetic had not been updated. She was still crawling around her home without a care in the world. She was still being bottle-fed on the couch, cradled by her mother. And, for the purposes of promotion, she still had a pair of Snuggles diapers taped to her butt. A new scene was added, showing the woman asleep in her crib. Pacifier in her mouth, a nighttime Snuggles on her rear, the woman looked to be in complete. That was until a close-up of her face showed the woman grimacing, followed by a look of relief. Right in cue, Mother entered the nursery right on cue. A pat on her girl’s diaper, and a knowing grin, were the tell-tale signs of an upcoming change. The message was clear. “We know she’s not going anywhere. Neither are we.” This proved to be a perfect segway for the commercial to boast all the features the latest line of Snuggles would provide. Improved tape durability. Faster fading wetness indicators. Extra back lining for maximized rear support. The diaper promised to be the number one item for every young woman experiencing youth renewal. All the while sounds of coos, tapes scrunching, and diapers crinkling accompanied the soft music and vital information on screen. “SNUGGLES: GENERATIONS OF COMFORT” Mai’s blood ran cold. The commercial shook her to the core, all while being broadcast to homes across the country. She had no idea it had gotten so bad so fast. At this rate, would her friends even be able to make a difference? Her forehead was wet with sweat. Wet. Mai squealed, pawing at her diaper, realizing she had an accident during the commercial break. How had she not noticed!? Had a simple commercial made her that afraid? “Let’s go, Mai. It’s almost your lunchtime.” Mother said. Her eyebrows raised when she saw her Mai tug at her skirt, face beat red. “What’s the matter with you? Look, the park is right down the street. You are probably cranky because you didn’t eat enough at breakfast.” Mother was soon surprised to have her daughter so quiet for once. She did not fuss during the feeding, despite how crowded the park was that day. Still, Mother was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Yes, that’s right. No, that date is fine. For the price of shipping? What about the price of construction?” Mother was busy taking a phone, promising to play with her in the park after business was taken care of. Mai still needed time to digest her meal, after all. Any attempt Mai made to move was met with a swift pull of her lease. The repeat offenses were not doing her gut any favors. She could feel the tension growing. The urges grew and growled in her gut. She had to escape. The park restrooms were oh-so-close. “Mai!!!” Her mother howled, “You get back here this instant!!!” Mai stopped in her tracks, hunched over. Not because of her mother’s raging voice. It was the roaring in her bowels that she was too late to stop. The warm mess made its way to the backside of her diaper. Mother’s yells already turned all eyes on the young woman, currently in the middle of filling her pants. When the act was finished, Mai was on the ground, sobbing. “Well, do you feel better now?” Mother was already looming over the fallen young woman, diaper bag in tow. “It’s a good thing I didn’t change you when you wet earlier. That would have been a waste of a diaper. Now, come on. Let’s do something about that stinky bum of yours.” With no care for privacy, Mother changed the sobbing mess that was Mai right there in the middle of the park. The young Mai could not even produce words anymore. The only thing she had left was weak sobs to convey her shattered emotional state. “I swear, this is too much work. To think that my daughter would still be acting like a toddler in her twenties. You can’t be trusted to watch over yourself either. Today has sealed the deal for me. I think a long stay at Sunshine Bay is just what you need.” *** “Hello? I’m here for a pickup. My daughter is supposed to be released today.” The mother said, standing in front of the receptionist’s desk. She handed over her ID, already expecting the possible question “Which little cutie is yours?” In turn, the receptionist responded with an easy nod and a smile. She returned the ID, clacked away at her keyboard, and thumbed her clipboard at the schedule attached. A bright look of realization lit up her face when she saw who this lucky Mother was. “Ah-ha! You’re here for little Chie! She’s become quite the local success story around here. I think you are going to love her progress.” Smiling brightly the receptionist turned to the phone on her counter and began to dial away. “I’ll call up the doctor right now. You can go and take your seat over at the waiting area. While you wait, could you also sign this release form? Thank you.” The mother nodded and turned to the waiting area. Stiff metal chairs and white walls that dulled the senses. It made the entire area feel clinical. Why is it like this last time? Perhaps that was why Chie was so apprehensive in the past. It felt like only yesterday that she was sitting in this room with her girl next to her. She remembered the look on Chie’s face as the orderlies took her away. Back when she first checked Chie into Sunshine Bay. That look of shock, of horror. The way her yells instantly stopped when she crossed the double doors. That memory from ages ago, which felt just like yesterday. Everyone she spoke to agreed that she had done the right thing. When she researched online, the place had nothing but perfect reviews. Not a single parent had sent their child there, coming back unsatisfied. Her only regret was not visiting Chie during her stay. But even that choice was ultimately for the best, the mother believed. To think that her daughter was going to resistance meetings! She had to stop Chie before things got out of hand. That she wasn’t going to let her own child walk all over her. While she was busy with her paperwork, a TV was playing, suspended in the corner of the room. It looked to be a talk show, with all the hosts deep in political discussion… The woman in black opened. “Well, I think that this is an open-and-shut discussion. Mothers should be allowed to regress their daughters if they see fit.” “I concur.” Motioned the woman in red. “Statistics show that mothers with regressed daughters display better moods, have better health, and perform better financially. Furthermore, as the number of regressed daughters increases, there is an inverse growth in crime rates.” “Now, how do you think the government should be spending money towards this?” The woman in blue proposed. “They have already spent a lot of money, mainly from taxpayers, helping businesses and establishing facilities for regression treatments. It’s clear that they plan to support this lifestyle in our country for years to come.” “Can we have discussed the term ‘regressed’ for a moment?” The woman in green proposed. “I feel the word does not create a welcoming narrative and is often stigmatized. We need to be mindful of these things. Our girls aren’t going away anytime soon. We are doing everything to make sure of that We should be using terms that make the process feel more comfortable for them.” Black pressed Green, “What alternatives would you prefer?” Green answered. “I think the term ‘renewed’ and its associates are much more inviting. It is a ‘renewal’ process. It is not the end. It’s the ‘renewal’ of youth.” Blue agreed. “I quite like that. I think I saw that used recently. In a national report earlier this week.” Red mused. “We should have an official polling for mothers on what they find most appropriate.” Black nodded. She turned her attention to Green. “Now, your daughters have been going through youth renewal as well, correct?” Green answered, now looking very proud of herself. “Well, as you all know, I am a mother of two girls myself. They are both entering their second year of youth renewal and we as a family could not be any happier.” “That’s right. It’s very important early on that they know the process is completely natural, as well as non-negotiable.” “No, what do say about the claims that youth renewal causes long-term resentment?” “Resentment? No, I don’t believe so. There’s a reason the saying ‘mother knows best’ has stood the test of time. When your child is young, you must fight them on studying, doing chores, and going to bed on time. You do it because you know what is best for them. Convincing them that it’s time to go back to diapers, playtimes, and other fun things, is no different.” The women continued their one-sided debate. Their views and thoughts echoed across the entire country… She tried not to focus on the TV program, instead on the clipboard in her hands. While the ladies on the screen preached their piece, she had her paperwork to take care of. It was nothing worth noting. Simply require signatures to clear the facility of any possible legal backlash for what happens with her girl. Chie. She wondered if Chie would even want to her, after all this time. “Mommy!!” Bursting through the double doors like a bat out of hell, came a pure bundle of excitement. She was dressed appropriately for someone of her maturity. A pink shirt and blue denim overalls covered her body, with the skirt stopping short of her undergarments. Pink striped socks on her feet and bubble ties in her hair accessorize to further bring out her youthful side. She ran down the hallway—more of a waddle really, given the wide duck-like steps her padding forced her to take—her brightly colored sneakers lighting up every step of the way. “Oh-oh! Chie!?” She couldn’t remember the last time her daughter called her “Mommy.” She couldn’t even remember the last time her daughter hugged her. She could feel a burst of tender emotions bubbling up in her chest. She welcomed this return to form with open arms. She eagerly welcomed the idea of being “Mommy” again. “Yes, that’s right. Mommy’s here for you,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Now, now, Chie. What did we say about running off?” The doctor strode past the double door and into the waiting room, approaching the family reunited. “I see you two have found each other. We told Chie she was going home this morning, and she has been a big bundle of energy ever since.” Mommy nodded. In truth, she could hardly remember the last time her daughter was excited about anything. Let alone seeing her. The thought alone melted her heart. “Well, I’m happy to see her as well!” Mommy hugged her daughter even tighter. “I hear that Chie was a good girl during her time here?” “Oh, yes. Chie got along famously with the other little patients. There was some trouble at first, but that’s to be expected. Nothing a few months at Sunshine Bay can’t fix.” From a white paper bag in her hand, the doctor pulled out an orange pill bottle. “Now, then. Chie will need to take two of these pills every morning. It’s only a nutritional supplement, to keep her healthy and regular.” “Regular?” “That’s right. Chie uses her diapers like clockwork. We already fed her lunch today. She’ll no doubt have a present ready for her mommy in an hour. Rest assured, she isn’t one to fuss over a change or a messy pair of Snuggles.” The doctor glanced at the girl, who was already dosing off in the cradle of her mother’s arms. “We packed your medication in the same bag. You’ll have to talk this over with your doctor, but the insurance will cover the refills.” “Medication? For me?” “Yes, that’s right. If I am reading your files correctly…” The doctor flipped through the binder, landing her pen on a page near the back. “You said in the past that you were interested in breastfeeding?” Mommy’s eyes lit up with the bright sparks of realization. “Oh! Oh, yes, of course!” She greedily snatched the medicine bag, clutching it like a priceless jewel. “Thank you so much, doctor!” Her voice peaked like she was on the verge of tears. “Oh, please, think nothing of it. Fixing families is what we do at Sunshine Bay! Just take one a day, and the lactation should start in a week. She’ll still need to eat solids, but a familiar treat will bring the two of you closer than ever.” Mommy and baby reunited, and the family left the waiting room, ready to start over. “They seemed so happy. Pickup days are my favorite.” The receptionist was still swooning over the heartwarming display. “With how well business is going, we’ll get to reactions like that all the time.” “I believe we’re planning on expanding soon. The number of parents turning in applications has been skyrocketing in the last few months. Still, I’m more than happy to do my part in getting our country on the right track.” The doctor and receptionist continued their small talk for a while before returning to work. All until the next pickup arrived. Business as usual for Sunshine Bay. “…Oh yes, of course! Little Mai is leaving us today. She’s one of our recent success stories. You’ll be happy to see the progress she has made. Why don’t you take a seat while I phone the doctor…” *** M-mother, please!” Hana squealed as her mother tugged by the arm through the clothing section of the mall. “I already said I was sorry! I promise I’ll do better next year!” Unfortunately for Hana, there wasn’t going to be a “next year.” Not if Mother had any say in the matter. And, given that their country’s laws had returned more power to the parents during Hana’s blunder of the semester, Mother most certainly did. Infinitely more than Hana. Enforcing her rights as a parent was exactly what she intended to do. “I’ve already made plans for next year, and none of them involve you running off to college. I don’t want to hear another word about it. “Here we are. We finally made it, despite all your squabbling.” Pink. Suffocatingly pink. Everywhere she glanced. It was as if the words “kawaii” and “adorbs” barfed all over the storefront. Design fit for Lolita cosplay hung on every rack. No self-respecting young lady to wear such designs willingly. But, that did not factor into the current arrangement. The pair went inside, one much more willing than the other. Mother pushed down on Hana’s shoulders, seating her on a fussy hot pink seat. “I have an outfit for you on layaway. Be a good girl for once, and don’t you go anywhere.” Mother said with a huff. Heels clacking, she strode off to the pickup desk. Hana was now left alone with her thoughts. Alone to think about her impending future. Mother had already told her she was having Hana’s room redecorated to “fit with the rest of the changes.” She had no doubts that a nursery was waiting for her back home. She sighed, now fully realizing how far she had fallen. She had left her country, hoping to prove its wicked stereotypes wrong. To be a trailblazer like a certain friend she admired. All she proved was fleeting her sense of maturity truly was. What would the other members of the resistance think of her now? Just as she was diving deeper into her pool of memories, Hana had the sinking suspicion she was being watched. She looked up, baffled when she saw who the culprit was. “…Eri?” The girl let a high—pitched “Eep!” and ducked back behind a rack of playdresses. Her pale face had turned beet red in an instant. She finally emerged from the rack when she realized there was no point in hiding. It was Eri. Tragically, her sense of fashion had a major overhaul since they last met. Gone was her make-up, her loose jeans, her small shirts that flaunted her midriff. Now was the age of frilly pastel dresses, buckle flats, and white stockings. Her distinct pixie cut had been downgraded to a girlish set of pigtails. There were two more subtle factors of Eri’s dress, that chilled Hana to the bone. The first was the harness, strapped and buckled tightly around her. It was a baby leash, sized to fit her perfectly, decorated not to clash with the rest of her ensemble. The crinkling. That noise sounded off like a siren warding off any sense of lingering maturity. From the spread of her stance, Hana didn’t have to try hard to figuring what her old friend was wearing down there. “Eri-baby,” Sang a mature and playful voice, “Where are you trying to waddle off to~?” Eri’s face turned pale. She let out another girlish shriek, with her leash being tugged back. Luckily, Eri fumbled back and landed in the waiting embrace of her smiling mama. “There’s my blushing bambina!” Said Mama. “Do you see another plushie to add to your collection? Maybe one to go with that big doggy you got the other day.” When Eri’s mama looked up at what grabbed her girl’s attention, she was left smiling ear-to-ear. “Well, well, well! If it isn’t little Hana! Your mommy said you would be coming back home soon. Guess you weren’t ready to leave the nest after, hmm? That’s okay! Plenty of little girls just like you make the same mistake.” Mama here was exceptionally eager. Like she didn’t see anything wrong with the current situation. Then again, why should she? Countless younger ladies here were getting the same treatment as Eri. It was the norm, the golden standard. If anything, Hana was the oddball here. She was the one who left home, wasting time on an ultimately pointless college venture. Before Hana could even make her case, She felt a familiar hand land on her shoulder. “So, you do know how to follow instructions. Good girl.” Mother said. In her arms, she carried several store bags of newly purchased clothing. Shades of pastel peaked out, leaving no doubt to anyone who they were for. Mother turned and politely greeted the other woman. “Good day to you, Ma’am. Fancy meeting you and your daughter here.” “Well, Eri and I just had to get out of the house today. I was very insistent on it. You know how hard our girls always try to resist.” Eri’s mama laughed to herself, which, indicated by Mother’s smile, was a natural response. Whatever the joke was, the two little girls in the room were not in on it. “ “Yes, that’s correct. I still need to go a pick out some new underwear. I forget to bring a diaper from home, what with me rushing.” “Oh, you can use one of Eri’s. I insist! She has plenty more back home. Plus, it’s always important to teach our girls about sharing.” “W-wait! I don’t need to—” One swift swat to the rear was all it took to silence Hana. “Hana! How many times have told you not to talk out of turn!? Now, you thank you properly.” Another swift swat was all it took for Hana to remember her manners. “Ahh! T-thank you for the diaper, ma’am.” “You are so welcome, dear! Now, why don’t I show you and your mommy where the changing rooms are? They are very modern. The benches have enough space to be used as a changing table.” The dressing process was just as mortifying as she imagined. She would be going in, for the final time, as a budding young woman, then coming out as Mother’s precious baby girl. Eri’s mama was right about the changing room. The two older women laid Hana on her back, making sure that the first of many future diaper changes went as smoothly as possible. The change was easy work for the two women. Mama had plenty of recent experience looking after Eri in her current state, evident by the brimming diaper bag she carried. Hana’s outfit was just as demeaning as her former idol. Her dress was just as gaudy and girly. Her socks were just as frilly. Her baby leash was just as tight. The diapers produced the same obvious crinkling. Hana always wanted to be more like Eri. She never imagined her dream would turn into such a nightmare. “Ah, would you look at time?” Mother looked down at her watch, smirking. “Hana and I have someplace we must be heading now. You don’t mind giving us a ride, do you?” “Oh, of course not. I have two car seats, after all. Besides, we’re going to the same place, no?” Mama said, snickering. Whatever the gag was, it was no doubt preplanned before Hana arrived. When they exited the mall, Eri put up no fight, no resistance as her mama strapped her into the waiting car seat. Hana herself was no better, once more following in Eri’s footsteps. Hana shifted in her car seat, not daring to mess with the buckles and straps. She looked over to her left, and still could not believe what the girl beside her had become. Pacifier bobbing in her mouth, hands idly swinging at the trinkets above. They did not speak a word to one another for the entire car ride. Eri was always one to speak her mind, but now Hana wasn’t sure if that had become a dead language to her. “Here we are! Right on time, too!” Hana looked out the window to her right, and her heart sank. Despite its colorful new paint job, she instantly recognized this building. It was the old rec center that Eri used to rent out for their chapter meetings. The once dull and unassuming building was now painted a bright and obvious sunny yellow, with large child drawings of barnyard animals on the outside. The inside was no better. The place had been turned into a daycare center, plain and simple. Toys, cubbies, marked play areas, childish decorations, changing stations. “Don’t be shy, dear. Look, all your little friends are here to play too. Don’t you recognize them?” She did, unfortunately, recognize her friends here. Jun was napping on the ground; her yellowing diaper bare to the world. Rina had her nose in the corner, clearly on punishment for something. She spotted Chie and Mai, rolling a ball back between each other without a care in the world. Their diapers were crinkling up a storm, all while the backs flashed obviously from their comfy playdresses. Hana took it in, her stomach churning, all while she and Eri were pushed forward, to go and co-mingle with old friends. This was it. Their special hideaway, the last beacon of their maturity, had been snuffed out and destroyed. The base had been compromised. The mission had intersected. The resistance had fallen. *** “Good morning, everyone!” A bubbly reporter began. “I am currently standing at the newest community daycare center, ‘Little Dreamers’. What used to be a run-down old shack, has been completely transformed by the hand of a few passionate parents. Despite being such a recent addition, Little Dreamers is already bubbling with new members. With a location like this, it’s impressive that this secret spot wasn’t found out about sooner. One thing is for sure. All the mothers who frequent here could not be happier. Their daughters spend all day here, under the proper supervision. After visiting here in my free time, I can safely say that these little dreamers won’t be growing up anytime soon. Oh, there’s a mother with her daughter right now. Let’s see if we can stop her for a quick interview…”

Katie Ann What do you do when you look seven years old but you’re actually a college student in your late teens? For Kathleen’s entire life, she had fought against people treating her much younger than her actual age. Feeling obligated to grow up fast to show people she wasn’t the age of her size, Kathleen never let her inner child out. Tired of fighting against the world, she explores the adult submissive world. What she finds, however, is an enjoyment of regression. Had she made a mistake? Would life be better if she just let people treat her the way she looks at seven years old? By Becky Anne ©2018-2024 ~o~O~o~ Chapter Thirty: Girl Scouts The next morning, a sleepy Katie was woken up by Ally, “Rise and shine, little girl. It is time to get you dressed for school.” After a quick diaper change, a white tee with orange long sleeves featuring a unicorn and a few pumpkins on the front was dropped over her head. She was offered a pair of tan corduroys to put on herself and some ruffled socks. After she was dressed, Allison sat next to her and put her hair into curly pigtails. Ally continued with tying two orange bows into the regressed girl's hair so that her ears were being tickled again. Both of them soon headed downstairs, where they found Daddie gathering up Ally’s bags and a few other items in the mud room. Katie didn’t recognize any of her items in the pile, except it appeared her laundry basket was being used as a convenient place to put multiple bags when she tried looking in the room before her roommate ushered her to the high chair. After strapping Katie in the chair and placing a bib on the regressed girl, Allison set a bowl of cereal on the tray before getting her own bowl of cereal. After both bowls were done and the little girl had drunk her sippy cup, Allison led her charge to the car after cleaning the messy face. Allison was busy strapping her regressed roommate into her car seat just as Daddie was putting the last bags into the back of the car. Heading down the road, he asked her where he was dropping her off. Allison said, “My first class on Mondays is actually the same class as Katie.” “Okay, you will find your stuff in your dorm room, Allison,” Daddie said. Ally tried to say thank you, but Katie asked how he was going to do that. All the regressed girl got in response was Ally reaching back and putting a pacifier in the little girl’s mouth. She then said, “Thank You, Adam. Please keep in mind what I told you yesterday on the way home from church.” “I haven’t forgotten about it. I am not sure if I will be able to deal with it this week. It may require me to order some stuff online, Allison,” Daddy said. When they got to the building that both of their classes were in, Ally got out of the car and opened Katie’s door. She then took the pacifier out of the regressed girl’s mouth and put it in her own pocket. She finally released the trapped girl before both of them went to the back, where Daddie was waiting with two backpacks. He handed Ally her backpack before handing his daughter a pink Disney Princess backpack, not her purple backpack. “Sweetie, I will pick you up directly from your eleven o’clock class at twelve-thirty to forty-five. You will find your college ID in the front pocket of your new backpack,” Daddie instructed his daughter. “Where are my keys and my phone, Daddie?” Katie asked. He answered, “You don’t need either one today. You are just going to be away from me for just under four hours, Sweetheart.” Shrugging, Katie just hugged him before grabbing the hand that Ally was holding out for her. With that, both of the girls went in for Literature class. “Allison, is it bring your little sister to college day?” A fellow college student asked in the hall. “In the spirit of the season, I have dressed my roommate quite young since she lost a bet, but if you excuse me, if we dilly dally, we will be late,” Ally told the student. Seated in the classroom, Katie and Ally talked to their fellow students quietly while they waited for the professor to arrive. Soon, she entered, and, while facing the whiteboard, started with, “OK, class, we will continue our discussion about Mark Twain we started…” before trailing off and staring at Katie, as she turned around, “... Kathleen, is that you?” Blushing, Katie meekly said, “... last I checked.” Shrugging, the professor just continued with teaching the class. ~o~O~o~ At twelve forty, Daddie picked up Katie from where she was waiting for him. She soon found herself back in the car seat and started to read the book she had found in the car activity bag while Daddie was placing her backpack in the now empty back. Once they were back in Riverville, after a quick stop at Wendy’s for food, they both went up to her bedroom to change her bottom. “Sweetheart, why don’t you do your homework in the turret before you go to Stacy’s house for Girl Scouts,” he said as he handed her the princess backpack. “Girl Scouts?” she asked as she set up on the window seat. “Yes, Stacy and Aunt Sara invited you,” he mentioned. ~o~O~o~ Katie packed her homework back up after she was done and then took her backpack and the sippy cup downstairs. She didn’t find Daddie in the main parts of the house, so she screamed, “Daddie, where are you?” “Katie Ann Telgenhof, inside voice, I was in my home office. You can put your nose in the corner for screaming,” Daddie said, coming into the parlour where she was standing. She decided not to argue and just put her nose in the corner as requested. While she was standing in the corner, she heard what sounded like a bus stop nearby. Soon after the bus left, she was released from the corner with, “Katie Ann, you may come out of the corner, go to the mud room, and put your shoes on, and then you can go next door. Let me know before you walk across the lawn so I can watch you,” Daddie told her. Walking to the office, she found Daddie on the phone discussing business. She patiently waited for him to be done. When he was, she told him, “Daddie, I am ready to go next door.” She was escorted to the front door, where he watched her cross the two lawns. Ringing the doorbell, she was greeted by Auntie opening the door. “Katie, come on in. Stacy is doing homework in the kitchen,” Auntie Sara said as she let her adopted niece in. She continued, “Adam always dresses you in the cutest outfits, Sweetie.” “Thank you, Auntie, but Ally dressed me today,” Katie corrected her Auntie as she walked towards her friend. She looked at the homework that Stacy was doing. It appeared the homework was two-digit addition math. “Eighteen plus fourteen is thirty-two, Bestie,” she told Stacy. Stacy jumped and said, “Katie Telgenhof, I didn’t see you come in. You scared me,” as she gave her best friend a hug. “Kathleen Annabelle Telgenhof, let Stacy do her own homework,” Auntie said as she gave the regressed girl a quick swat on her padded bottom. The swat caused Katie to jump and rub her bottom. It really just hurt her pride. There was no real pain. “Katie, while Stacy is doing her homework, you can do your own homework,” Auntie Sara continued. “My homework? I did my college homework already, Auntie Sara.” “Not that homework, Katie. It's your second-grade homework,” Auntie pointed out, and she handed the little girl a stack of books. Looking at the books, Katie saw that they were second-grade workbooks, specifically math, reading comprehension, geography, science, and one simply called scholar. Flipping to the front of one of the books, she saw that the owner had been pre-filled out with ‘Katie Telgenhof.’ Shrugging, she just sat down quietly next to her best friend at the breakfast bar. “I want you to do ten pages, at least one page in each book, and I will be grading them,” she was told as she was handed a pencil. As Katie was working on the first page of the math book, she felt Auntie playing around with her hair. “Auntie, what are you doing?” “Changing the color of your bow so it will match your new Girl Scout outfit when you eventually put it on,” was the answer received. After she was done, she told both girls, “I am going to grade my own students’ homework. Let me know if you need help or when both of you are done,” and walked out of the room. ~o~O~o~ “Mommie we are done,” Stacy pointed out to where her mother was working. She handed her homework to her mother and waited while it was checked over. “Very good, Sweetheart,” Auntie told her own daughter before walking over to where Katie was waiting with her books. After receiving the books from her nieces, she also checked them over. Auntie told her niece, “Very good, Sweetie. OK, both of you, head up to Stacy’s room and change. Stacy, your clean uniform is on the head of the bed. Katie, your new uniform is at the foot. I will be up soon to change your bottom.” When Katie got to her friend's bedroom, she saw two brownie uniforms sitting on the bed. Going to the one that Auntie said was hers, she started to change her blouse and put the skirt on. After that was done, she took a look at the vest before putting it on. It had the normal starter items on it, with no badges earned. Lastly, she turned to face Stacy, who was dressed similarly to her, except for her friend, who had a few badges. When Auntie walked in the room, Stacy was sent downstairs while Katie’s bottom was dealt with. Katie noticed that the diaper bag was different than the one Daddie used, and having Allison’s weekend discussion fresh on her mind, asked, “Auntie? Did Daddie provide that diaper bag?” “He offered to, but I bought everything myself. You are over here enough for me to need my own.” “Why do you do it? I am technically not incontinent. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind diapers, but everyone has been jumping at the chance to diaper me.” “I do it because that is who you are, and I love you for who you are. On the other hand, I seem to remember that you said your pull-ups are not staying dry at college,” Auntie said, helping her niece up. Katie turned bright red and, not knowing what to say, just walked out of the room with Auntie to wait downstairs with Stacy for the other girls. The two girls were not alone for long. Soon, other girls started to show up. When Becka showed up, she asked, “Katie, did you join Girl Scouts?” “I am not sure,” Katie said. Looking at Auntie, she continued, “Auntie, did I join this Girl Scouts troop?” “I would love to have you, but I don’t think I or your mother can manage the hour journey one way every Monday, so you will only join us on the rare occasions when your Dad is watching you on Mondays. Sorry, Sweetie,” Auntie said. Katie mumbled quietly, barely loud enough for Stacy to hear, with a frown, “Which is almost never!” Auntie continued, “Maybe if you enjoy this, I can help you find a troop at home,” which got a smile out of Katie. When all the girls had arrived, Auntie told them all, “Welcome, girls. We are going to get started with the promise before singing a silly song. Eventually, we will be walking to our previously scheduled volunteering at the nursing home, and finally, we will close back here for your parents to pick you up. As you may notice, we have a guest today that you may have met on Saturday. Katie give everybody a wave, and everyone say hi to Katie.” Katie just shyly waved as a chorus of girls said hi to her before joining the girls in the Girl Scout Promise she remembered from her past. ~o~O~o~ “Do I have all the girls here in the lobby?” Auntie asked as she counted the gathered girls in the lobby of the nursing home. She continued with, “Nine troublemakers, I believe that is everyone, please group up into groups of three, and each group hold hands as we cross streets, like how we got here.” With that, she led the girls back towards her house. When they got back to the house, one or two cars were parked in the driveway, with patiently waiting parents in them. Auntie ignored them and led the girls towards the house, where she had the girls gather into a friendship circle as a closer. Once she officially closed the meeting, she released the girls to their parents. Katie just milled around until the rest of the girls had left before Auntie and Stacy escorted her to her house next door. She walked in the door, letting the Bullards in behind her, to find Daddie watching another sports game, which caused her to respond with her normal eye roll. Daddie greeted them soon after they entered, “Hello girls, how well behaved was she, Sara?” Auntie replied back to him, “She is always an Angel, Adam, well other than trying to do Stacy’s homework for her, but I quickly nipped that in the butt. Here are her clothes, and she probably is only damp. I changed her two hours ago, just before the other girls showed up.” While this discussion was going on, Katie blushed and rubbed her bottom, which her Daddie did not miss. Handing her the bag, she was sent upstairs to change into the pajamas she wore over the weekend. She returned downstairs to discover that the Bullards had left, and Daddie was cooking dinner in the kitchen. “Come sit down. The food is almost ready. After dinner, we can find a Disney movie to watch before bedtime, Sweetie,” Daddie told her.

Surgery went fine. She’s still sleeping. Doc says probably tomorrow for discharge

She lifted him up and settled him in Sawyer's lap, and she untied him and removed his gag. As soon as he could move again, he curled in close to her, and hugged her, causing more awws and laughter from the women. Sawyer rubbed his back. "Good baby. You have fun diaper girl?" "Yes mommy," he said. "Did you learn your lesson?" "Yes mommy." "Good baby. Now, I think its bedtime for you so mommy can have fun with her friends, ok?" "Yes mommy," he said. "Say goodnight diaper girl, and thank them for helping you learn your lesson." "Goodnight!" he said. "Thanks for helping me learn my lesson." "Goodnight diaper girl!" they all responded, except for Jordan, who still referred to him as "poopy pants." Sawyer attached his leash to him, and led him, crawling, into another room. There, she sat on a chair, and patted her knee. Still obedient, he got up and settled down. She giggled. "Jeeze, you really do stink there diaper girl," she said, and waved her hand in front of her nose. "I know mommy." She reached beside the chair and took out a bottle of clear fluid. He stared at it nervously. She noticed, and said. "It's water. You can relax now sweetie. We are done humiliating you for the day. You will need water after everything you went through." She put the teat in his mouth, and he began drinking, happy to see it really was water. "So, are you going to do anything like that again?" He shook his head. "Good boy. Now, you have a choice." "You might be tempted to try to rat us out or report us to someone. However, first of all, we will respond with the evidence you've been stalking us, and charge you. Since I can DEFINITLY afford a better lawyer then you, and we will win." He nodded. The thought of trying to prosecute them had come to his mind, but he figured something like this would happen. "Next, if you try anything, we have countless videos of you crawling in diapers, wearing dresses, and begging to be humiliated. That will find its way online, and we will make sure you end up looking bad in each video." "So, for now, I'm going to put you in perfect adorable baby girl pajamas, and send you to bed. Tomorrow, you will have a choice. Either, you can get up, shower, go home in your regular clothes, and we will forget this happened. Or..." He listened attentively while drinking his bottle. "Tomorrow, if you wake up, call me mommy, ask nicely, and promise to behave, we can have more fun. I will send you home in your stinky diaper. There, you will film yourself cutting up each pair of naughty big boy boxers in your shelf and replacing them with more diapers. Then, you will pledge to me. If you do that, I will pay to have your stuff moved in here, and you will live as my permanent pamepered submissive. You will obey me, do my chores, do anything to please me, and I will punish you at will. In return, I will keep you in diapers and skirts tease you constantly since you clearly love them, and I will reward you whenever I think you've been a good baby." "Ummm..." he said. "Don't answer now," She said, and kissed his forehead. "Go to bed, we have a nice comfy cage for you to sleep in, and you will respond in the morning. Ok?" "Ok. Mommy, can I get changed now, orrr..." She laughed. "No, you're sleeping in that." She pressed a hand against the front of his diaper and rubbed it into him. "You are still being punished. You are going to sleep in your poopy diaper, laying all night in it as you get a rash, and wake up smelling worse then ever. I want you to be reminded of tonight every time you sit down and feel the painful diaper rash and spanking we gave you, and remember you are the only grown man who still has to worry about having a diaper rash on public." She pressed harder. "Plus that way, if you do decide to go home in it, you'll will have to wonder if anyone can smell your dirty, disgusting diapers, and know what a tiny, pathetic baby you are, and you can... He gasped and started panting. She looked at him with wide eyes. "Well, that was surprising. I guess I kind of know what you'll decide."

I also recommend trest. But please, please don't spend all of the extra money. Take advantage to save some of it for whatever life throws at you in the future.

My underwear is called a diaper.

This is also a function of what age range (Baby, Little, etc) you are. Even the "little" can be divided into two: 4 to 7 ; Very Little and 8 to 11; Little). The former still had some baby characteristics like bedwetting and for girls, being diapered on long trips the '50's to the '70's was not monolithic. In 1953, if you wet the bed, you had a rubber sheet covering your mattress if your parents had any brains. '57 saw the beginning of mattresses with built-in waterproof tops. Glass bottles were becoming a thing of the past by 1964, replaced by translucent colored polyethylene. I never saw tights before 1957, ditto "rhumba" panties or "Fancy" Pants. As far back as 1950. little girls had these plaid dresses with white collars. Being diapered for long trips up to age 8 started to go away with the rise of the Interstate system beginning in 1957 since this made trips that took all afternoon an hour and a half ride by adding 1/3 to the average speed and sometimes being more direct and avoiding citiy slowdowns along the way. The idea of what a "babydoll" was changed between 1952 and 1964, depending on where you were and the wearer's age; it was far mor nuanced than a "boy", of 50 would know that I do, being over 75 and very much exposed to girl; expeicially little girl, things. By 1969, very little girls were dressed in things that would not have been tolerated only 10 years earlier that were, by the middle-aged, considered sexually explicit or downright trollopy. Things also varied by region. What did not go in New England could have been perfectly acceptable in New York or California. What was tolerated for a 9 year old may not have been for a 5 So the '50's to the 70's" was far from static or even the same from region to region

I suspect that at some level, it is their security that is potentiating my bed-wetting. My infancy was the late 1960s and cloth was the go-to product. Back when my nappy use was purely recreational (and intermittent), I only used cloth. I started using disposables when I began using nappies to deal with longer flights. When I switched to 24/7, as I was working and traveling a lot, cloth nappies wouldn't have been a viable option and in any case, my beloved regards disposables as (fractionally) less repellent to her than cloth. I've gotten used to disposables. If it's anything like the Babykins terry-pullups I have, they are only good as boosters for other, heavier pull-up cloth nappies or at least as one of a multiple number of layered pull ups. They are good for what they are but the elastics fail long before the terry material does. The sensation of wetting a cloth nappy is different for sure. You really DO get wet. https://littlesdownunder.com.au/shop/terry-toweling-square-cloth-nappy/ They are expensive but cheaper if I pick them up (I'm local to this vendor). Some folk just make them, buying terry towel lengths at a fabric shop but firstly, I don't own an overlocker and secondly, you don't seem to really save that much money. In any case, they last for years. I was thinking about lashing out and just buying a new half a dozen and a few pairs of plastic pants (use the "high waist" for these nappies) but the Australian Tax office has just let me know that they have a different plan for my savings so THAT will have to wait 😒

TO CATCH A DIAPER THIEF (OR, AS THE LATE PAUL HARVEY WOULD SAY, "THE REST OF THE STORY" “What d'ya think, Tip?” Cindy had turned off the main road onto the residential street, which was lined with single family residences on their right, and a run of four multi-story apartment buildings on their left. There were still more apartments and detached garages inside the sprawling complex, everything centered on a large clubhouse with adjoining pool and tennis courts. The clubhouse, they knew from reading the listing in the Yellow Pages, even featured an indoor racket ball court. “This close to the airport? Looks like a stew zoo to me.” “I meant the street. There's not a single car parked on this entire block.” Cindy was driving slowly, looking up the driveways leading into the parking lots behind the buildings. If they spotted the beater that they had dubbed “the cannon mobile,” it was mission aborted. “Pull into the next driveway, and let me out. I'll walk back, like I'm coming from the clubhouse or something. I'll scout out the premises, locate the diapers, and see if there's anybody hanging around. At this hour of the day, everyone should be at work, so if I run into anyone, we are outta here. I want you to turn around at the end of the block and park, but leave the engine running. It'll look like you're waiting for someone. When you see me come out, pull up. If the coast is clear, we'll make the switch.” “Sounds like a plan. Let's do it!” . . . . Julia hated stakeouts, especially in the wintertime. You froze your butt off, and you emptied an entire thermos of black coffee trying to stay warm and keep awake. Then your bladder started to make its presence felt, reminding you that it was time to make a toilet run. The longer you ignored it, the more you squirmed, and unlike the guys, a lady couldn't exactly stand up in the middle of a high school parking lot and take a leak. Julia was miserable. Maybe, she thought, I'm getting too old for this. Maybe I should be wearing a diaper and a nice, cozy pair of baby pants like the professor. Then I could just piss myself and be done with it. Or maybe I need to take up a new line of work … Julia hated stakeouts. . . . . Tippi walked up the sidewalk with her head down and her gloved hands deep inside the pockets of her heavy winter coat. A stylish woolen cap made her even more anonymous; to anyone watching, she would appear to be a resident returning to her apartment from the rental office or clubhouse. Once inside the four story building, she discovered that there was no elevator waiting to send her aloft. Grimacing, she began to trudge up the stairs, her plan being to start on the top floor and work her way down. Her mood brightened when she exited the stairwell on the second floor. At the end of the corridor, she could see the bag of used diapers propped against an apartment door. Strolling casually, she went to the end of the corridor and peered down to the ground floor. She could see the small lobby and the door leading out to the parking lot. The lobby was empty, so she retreated and picked up the bag, trying to gauge its weight. Tippi nodded to herself and smiled. The bag of old rags that were sitting in the trunk of Cindy's car was identical to the bag outside the door, and about the same weight. Making the switch would be easier than she thought. She proceeded down the stairs and opened the door just enough to peek outside. Tippi was looking not only for the old beater that had stalked them yesterday, but for anything that seemed out of place. Seeing nothing suspicious in the lot, she trudged down the corridor and left the building. Less than five minutes later, she was back up on the second floor, scoring what she guessed would be some two to three dozen very, very smelly adult diapers. Whoever lived in that apartment, she surmised, was paying rent for a toilet that wasn't being used. Tossing the soiled diapers into the trunk, Tippi climbed into the passenger seat and turned the heater on full blast. It was a miserable day, but the first part of the Great Diaper Heist of 1979 had gone off without a hitch. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for Lullaby's truck to show up. They would find an empty slot in the parking lot of the adjoining building, and settle in to await its arrival. With the radio on and thermoses of hot chocolate and coffee to keep them warm, it was time to kick back and relax. . . . . Wheeling her cart through the vast warehouse, Janis Marsden was in awe. It was one thing to realize that the hospital was running like a finely tuned watch, and another to pull back the curtain and actually look behind the scenes. Trolling the aisles, gawking at bins filled with everything from q-tips to bed frames, she now understood why candy stripers never returned empty handed when their supervisors sent them to collect supplies from a storeroom. From the basement to the top floor, the complex operation to which she devoted six hours of her life a week was a well oiled machine. At lunch in the cafeteria, she had initially refused to go along with Tippi's plan to locate the source of Professor Grady's diapers, and casually help herself to a handful or two. Janis liked her job, and was seriously considering becoming a business major so that she could get a foot in the door of hospital administration. She didn't want to risk being excommunicated before she even got started, but as Tippi pointed out, sororities were notorious for their rituals, and if caught she could always excuse her behavior as just another initiation treasure hunt. No big deal. In retrospect, Janis was glad that she had finally caved to Tippi's pleas. Her supervisor had been only to happy to send her to the basement, shopping list in hand, so that the young candy striper could learn at first hand how the hospital really ran. One of the items on her shopping list? Adult diapers. Armed with a detailed floor plan furnished by a friendly young man at the check-in counter, she had had no trouble finding the mother lode. The bin was huge, the diapers neatly folded and stacked by unseen hands, just sitting there waiting for her to wander by. Row after row of adult diapers called out to her, each stack at least a few dozen high. She was staring at hundreds of the enormously thick diapers that Tippi had described … hundreds of them! Janis Marsden was in diaper heaven. She took what she needed to fill the order, then helped herself to an additional dozen. Her plan was to stash them in her locker, and at the end of her shift make two trips out to her car. Her backpack was large enough to hold two, and she would wear a third under her dress. Four trips at the end of two successive shifts would see her prizes safely back to the house. Before she returned to the ward with a cart piled high with fresh linens, Janis ventured off to raid one more bin-- the one containing the vinyl pants that patients in some wards wore over their diapers. She stuffed several of the transparent baby pants into the pockets of her pinafore, taking care to get a variety of sizes. Curious by nature, Janis decided to wear one of the baby pants over her diaper when she headed out to the car for the second time. The thick cloth made it impossible for her to walk normally, her stride now reduced to a toddler like waddle. Would anybody notice? Back at the house, when she took off her coat, would anyone comment on the bulge in her pants? A shiver ran down Janis's spine when she climbed into the car and started the engine. She gave it a minute to warm up, and used the time to wiggle around in the seat, trying to get the diaper to hug her body more comfortably. The child of hard working, conservative parents, Janis was quiet and obedient by nature. She had never done anything this daring in her whole life, and she was enjoying every moment of her criminal escapade. . . . . And more or less right on time,” Cindy crowed as she sat up straight in her seat, “here comes de truck, here comes de truck!” The two girls watched the Lullaby delivery van pull into the parking lot, and come to a stop opposite the entrance. The driver got out, and walked around to open the sliding door on the right side of the vehicle; a few moments later, he disappeared into the building with a lone bag bulging with nice, clean adult diapers. “Now's the moment of truth,” Tippi muttered more or less to herself; “will he spot the switch, or not?” She calculated that it should take him not more than ninety seconds to return to the van. Silently, she began to count backwards. She had just counted down to twenty when the door opened and the driver reemerged-- carrying the stash of oily rags that the girls had loaded into one of the identical bags that they had stolen on Monday morning. Tippi had added a few tokens harvested from Blofeld's litter box to give the rags a more authentic odor. “Looks like we passed the smell test,” Cindy laughed. The driver had tossed his noxious cargo into the back of the truck before driving off, exiting the lot onto the same side street that they were using for their heist. “Now we wait,” Tippi announced, crossing her arms to emphasize the point. “We'll give the old lady and her beater ten minutes to make an appearance. If she doesn't show, we'll make our move … same as before.” “Works for me,” Cindy agreed. “If Janis comes through with some of those super thick diapers that your professor wears, come the morning we'll be ready for business!” “I want to lay my hands on one of those locking diaper covers the prof wears,” Tippi replied. “Maybe Janis can track some down tomorrow. Imagine … keeping a guy in diapers 24/7, taking away his toilet privileges, giving him no choice but to pee and poop himself because his diapers are locked inside a pair of escape proof pants. You'd have a slave to do your bidding for as long as you wanted!” . . . . CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … At first, Julia was fascinated by the tracking device, and the precision with which one could follow its movement. When it was three miles away, it was barely audible, a single ... CH............................E..................................EP... hard to pick up over the sound of passing cars. As the diaper delivery van drew closer, however, the signal became stronger and more focused, and when it turned into the parking lot immediately across the road, it sounded much like the sirens that delivered a continuous blast all over the Twin Cities at one in the afternoon on the first Wednesday of the month. CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … Even the short distance that the driver had to traverse as he carried the bundle of fresh diapers from the truck to the building's second floor was enough to alter the signal … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … And so it went, second by second, minute by minute, the mindless noise assaulting her brain, over and over and over again. No end to it. Julia dug into the glove box, desperate to find aspirin … a forgotten flask … anything to ward off the assault. She found nothing. Julia hated stakeouts. . . . . “Time's up,” Tippi declared; “fire her up.” Cindy obligingly turned over the ignition, and backed up, and drove slowly up the road. She exited the lot onto the side street the same way that she had entered, and drove slowly up the road. As soon as she parked alongside the building, Tippi was out the door, dashing off to collect the prized diapers from their second floor perch. She was back in less than five minutes. With the diapers safely hidden away in the trunk, Cindy turned onto the main thoroughfare and headed north towards the interstate-- towards the interstate, and home. The Great Diaper Heist of 1979, brilliantly planned and masterfully executed, was drawing to a close. . . . . CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CHE …. EEP, CHE …. EEP, CHE … EEP … CHE …. EEP, CHE …. EEP, CHE … EEP … Julia didn't realize that she had been nodding off until the signal pattern changed. They've taken the bait! Startled into full wakefulness, she mentally reviewed what the professor had taught her about his little toy. A shorter, stronger return meant that the target was approaching. A longer, weaker return meant that it was moving away. The signal was definitely fading! Can't be south or east … the beep would have become stronger, not weaker, as the diapers went past me … Julia pulled out of the parking lot, and headed north on the broad boulevard toward the beltway, some three miles distant. There was another interstate less than a mile to her west, but she had decided to ignore it. The two highways crossed at one of the busiest interchanges in the state, so the odds were overwhelming that thieves bound for Minneapolis to the north or one of the wealthy suburbs to the west would take one route or the other. If she could catch up with them before they reached the interchange … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … Closer! Triumphantly pounding the steering wheel with her fist, and gambling that she could speed in the light, late afternoon traffic without risk of being pulled over, Julia worked to close the distance between herself and a group of vehicles a couple of hundred yards ahead. Catching the few traffic lights on the green helped, and when she finally eased to a stop, it was to make the left turn onto the ramp that would drop her down to join the rush hour traffic heading west on the beltway. There were three cars ahead of her … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … It's one of these three vehicles … the thieves are in one of these three vehicles!!! . . . . “So, who gets stuck washing the dirty diapers that are stinking up my trunk?” Sitting at the light, Cindy was wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I'll do the honors,” Tippi shrugged. She sniffed her hands, and then suddenly thrust them under Cindy's nose. “Oh, yuck,” Cindy screeched; “you smell like a diaper pail! What'd you do, open the bag and rummage around in there just for the thrill of it?” “Light's green,” Tippi answered nonchalantly. “I don't mind changing a dirty diaper; I just don't want to wear one!” Traffic on the beltway was moving, but slowly. “Shitty traffic,” Cindy complained. “It'll thin out once we get on the interstate … should be clear sailing all the way back to the house.” “Are you really going to wash these shitty diapers yourself?” “Sure. I did a lot of diaper duty when I was younger. But you know who's diapers I really want to change? The professor's. The guy's hot, and so, so submissive. I'd give anything to be his girlfriend!” Tippi held her fingers up to her nose, and inhaled deeply. “I'd keep him locked up just the way he is now, but every time I changed him? I'd tease him … keep him guessing whether this would be the day he got lucky … make him beg for it. Like I said earlier, don't think about the poop and the smell, Cindy; think about the payoff! Think about having a guy's cock under lock and key … think about the power that comes with owning his cock! Imagine him on his knees in front of you, begging for the privilege of pleasuring you, all in the hope that in a moment of weakness you'll unlock him and let him cum! You'd be a goddess!” “Geez, Tip … you are one seriously screwed up little girl! But I love it! Why stop at scalping the profs? If we lock their dicks up, none of the other houses will be able to use them to rack up points!” Making the turn to head north toward the city, Cindy smiled broadly. Tip was right: the traffic had thinned dramatically. Smooth sailing, she thought; smooth sailing all the way home! . . . . Julia was impatiently drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change, when her car phone rang. She groped for the handset, her eyes never looking away from the signal. “Hey, Mom! Just calling to see how the stakeout is coming. You staying awake?” Julia ruefully shook her head. Car phones were convenient, but why did someone always have to call when she was in the middle of a pursuit? Couldn't they at least wait until she was entertaining her husband in the back seat at a drive-in? Technology will be the death of us all ... “Northbound on Nicollet, approaching the interstate,” she said in her most businesslike voice. “They took the bait, Pris; I'm fourth car in line at a red light, and the tracking device is in one of the three cars ahead of me. Have a listen.” Eyes still glued to the red light, wondering if the damned thing was ever going to change, Julia waved the handset at the receiver. CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “Julia, you're too close! Way too close! Back off a quarter of a mile before they spot you in their mirrors!” Julia was so surprised that she almost dropped the phone. “Ian? What are you ...?” A thousand thoughts cascaded through Julia's brain, and none of them were happy thoughts. Where the hell are you, and what the hell are the two of you up to? I swear to God, if you are playing Happy Couple with my daughter … Still staring at the red light while simultaneously strangling the telephone, Julia somehow managed to get her emotions reasonably under control. “Never mind ... It's a left turn, and I'll lose them on the interstate if I miss the light!” There was a hint of panic in her voice, and she prayed that Pris and Ian would attribute it to her fear of missing the lousy red light. And to make matters worse, she really, really did need to pee. Does anybody in one of those car chase scenes ever need a toilet break? How the hell did Steve McQueen manage to stay dry bouncing around San Francisco that way? Oh, hell, he was probably wearing a diaper … “No, you won't. If they're heading for the junction and you take the wrong highway, the signal will change dramatically. Remember, with both vehicles on the move, it is far more sensitive than it was with you stationary in that parking lot.” And just where did you field test this doohickey? Behind the Iron Curtain? “But the rate of separation … I'll lose the signal in a matter of seconds ...” Priscilla … baby … what have you got yourself into? “Doesn't matter. Reverse course at the first off ramp, and give it the gas. You'll reacquire it when you close in. Worst comes to worst, you set up a search pattern using city streets. Trust me about this, Julia … it's not my first rodeo.” Oh, trust me, that's obvious! Now, where, oh where, did that 'aw shucks' shtick of yours get to? Riddle me that, Batman! “Hold on! Light's changed … got to go!!” Julia dropped the phone, willing the light to stay green as the vehicles ahead of her inched their way through the slush to start down the westbound ramp. As it turned out, hers was the last car to make the turn, and she got a good look at the drivers in the three vehicles ahead of her. You have got to be kidding me ... Holding onto the steering wheel with one hand, her foot dancing back and forth between the accelerator and brake pedals, trying to keep her eyes on the road … Julia felt around for the phone. “Pris … Honey, are you still there?” “Still here, Mom. Just giving my Secret Agent Man a hug and a kiss for a job well done.” “Young lady, I will talk with you about Professor Grady later!” Lord, give me strength! Would someone care to explain how, in a span of less than seventy two hours, my hitherto calm, sensible daughter has gone and fallen madly in love with a crippled vet who's spent years wandering the world doing God only knows what for his country ... “Right now, I need you to call your father. It's unbelievable. I ran into two girls yesterday when traipsing around town in the wake of the Lullaby van. Well, guess what! They're driving a different car, but it's them! They're the diaper thieves! Call Dad, and tell him that I need a local address for the girl he ran through the DMV yesterday-- Tippi Anne Bjornsen of New Ulm!” And what do they call your boyfriend at headquarters … Double Oh Diaper Man, Licensed to Kill? Who should I call first … Rod Serling, or Mike Wallace? CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “No need to bother Dad.” CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … Julia knew that her daughter was laughing her head off, and she could have sworn that she could hear Ian doing a play by play in the background. “Ian … um … Professor Grady … is pretty sure that he knows the young lady in question. She's a student, Mom-- and a sorority girl! So, congratulations! You've cracked the case, and now you get to inform Spats Belmondo that he's the victim of a typical sorority stunt pulled off by a bunch of enterprising juvenile delinquents!” Oh, lucky me … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “Julia, head for sorority row; we'll meet you there.” Well, at least he hasn't forgotten how to issue orders. Nice to meet you, Major … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “Pris can read them their rights, maybe place them under arrest. I'm thinking that a night in the slammer would probably do this crew some good!” “Book 'em, Danno!” It was a great line, but unfortunately Ian had already hung up the phone. Julia increasingly had to concentrate on her driving. Heading north on the interstate, there was now only one car separating her from the target vehicle. If it changed lanes, she would be fully visible, and the Bjornsen girl would no doubt recognize her beater if she bothered to look in the mirror. Julia slowed down, willing another car to slide in front of her. CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … When the phone rang again, it was with a sense of genuine resignation that Julia picked up. She had a pretty good idea who was calling, and what she was going to say. “Mom, I just got off the phone with Chief Mischof. I've got an address for you. Ready?” “Fire away.” Priscilla did so, and promised to meet her there, but she went on casually to add that first she had to take Ian upstairs and change his diaper, which was certainly wet and possibly poopy. Remembering her conversation in Rita's office just a few hours earlier, Julia was sorely tempted to ask her daughter if she would need a few extra minutes to feed him his ba bas as well, but she decided that this was a conversation best not conducted while driving fifty five miles an hour on the interstate. But it is a conversation we are going to have, daughter of mine; oh yes, we are! “Aargh,” Julia screamed as she repeatedly pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Is she kinky? Is she kinky, and we simply missed it? CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … And where is this relationship headed? CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … Where...? CH.....E.....EP ...

Sorry for not posting, been busy and the new chapters were not ready to post. I was able to get a few chapters edited. But only a couple. Hopefully I will get time soon to edit some more chapters. ~o~O~o~ Katie Ann What do you do when you look seven years old but you’re actually a college student in your late teens? For Kathleen’s entire life, she had fought against people treating her much younger than her actual age. Feeling obligated to grow up fast to show people she wasn’t the age of her size, Kathleen never let her inner child out. Tired of fighting against the world, she explores the adult submissive world. What she finds, however, is an enjoyment of regression. Had she made a mistake? Would life be better if she just let people treat her the way she looks at seven years old? By Becky Anne ©2018-2024 ~o~O~o~ Chapter Twenty-Nine: Punishments Allison was directing two short sleepyheads to the breakfast table the following day, where Daddie had already prepared plates of bacon and eggs waiting. He was in the process of pouring four glasses of orange juice before digging Katie’s tablet out for his daughter. She helped her regressed roommate in the highchair before strapping her in and placing the tray on the chair. Ally continued to the counter to grab two bibs, placing the first one on Katie before going to where Stacy was sitting. She said, “Stacy, place your arms down and look up, please.” When the little girl had done the requested items, she tied the bib around the exposed neck, which just got a shrug out of the second-grader. Ally asked while they were eating breakfast, “How much time do we have before church? I would like to curl the girls’ hair if possible, and where are the girls’ dresses?” “You have just under two hours, and they are the matching dresses in Katie’s closet. They can decide who wears what color,” Daddie answered. He continued jokingly, “You are trying to replace me, aren’t you, Allison,” which caused the college student to blush in response. After breakfast was done, Ally cleaned both the girls’ faces before removing the bibs and helped Katie out of her highchair before directing both the girls upstairs to Katie's room. Handing Stacy a clean panty, she sent her to the bathroom to use it. Meanwhile, the older girl was changing her roommate’s bottom. “You sure soak your diapers. I am surprised you don’t wake up wet at college,” she told the regressed girl. “Umm, my pull-up has been wet when I wake up for a few days after I get back to college from visiting here this past month,” Katie nervously said. “And you haven’t told Tiff, your Daddie, or me why?” Allison demanded while she was putting on Katie the white tights she found in the dresser as Stacy walked back into the room. “I didn’t want to worry anyone,” Katie meekly answered as Ally handed Stacy some white tights and black Mary Janes that Sara had packed. Ally turned to the closet and pulled out an orange dress and a dark yellow dress. Both dresses had white trim and black embroidery, and a bag was with them. She handed Stacy a full petticoat slip from the bag before putting the other one on Katie. “OK, don’t fight girls. Who wants what color?” she asked. In the end, Stacy ended up with the dark yellow dress, and the regressed girl ended up with the other one. After buttoning up the black buttons on both girls and tying the black sashes, she directed the girls next door to the room she was staying in to curl both of their heads. After about thirty minutes of curling and an entire can of hairspray, both girls had a head of curls with a matching hair bow in their curls. She finally told them to play nicely in Katie’s room while she got ready for church herself. “And don’t get dirty,” she told their departing backs. When Ally came back in the room to lead them downstairs, Katie asked her, “Why did you have a full can of hairspray and curling iron? You personally decided to braid your own hair.” With a red face, Ally replied, “I have been looking forward to curling your hair for a while.” “Allison Maples! You have access to my head anytime I am not here, which is most of the month. All you have to do is ask. Heck, don’t ask. Tell me you are going to do it, for all I care,” Katie told her roommate as they went down the stairs. “But at college, you are an adult,” Ally pointed out, coming off the steps. Katie thought of that statement and said, “You better ask Tiffany if I am an adult at college. She will disagree with you. I disagree with you, too. The only time I fully feel like an adult anymore is while I am in class, and that is because I force myself to be one.” Daddie walked into the kitchen when that discussion ended and said, “Stacy, what side of the car are you sitting behind, Allison or me?” “Katie’s normal spot again, please, Uncle,” she answered, which caused Katie to just look at her best friend, and Daddie and Ally just shrugged. When they got to the car in the garage, Daddie helped Katie into the booster while Ally was strapping Stacy into the car seat. Leaving the driveway, they actually followed the Bullards' car to church. “Mr. Olsen, sometime today, I need to talk to you privately without little ears around to hear,” Ally finally got up the nerve to broach the subject. He said, “Call me Adam, Allison, and I am assuming it will be about one of the two in the backseat,” causing Katie to blush. “Ok, Adam, it is, and yes, you are correct,” she said as they parked at the church next to the Bullards. Soon after the car stopped, Sara opened both passenger doors and set to work, releasing Stacy from the chair. “Mommie, you need a key to release me,” Stacy told her as Ally handed her the key. Ally said, “That was the second time she has requested sitting there. The first time, she ran to the car to beat Katie for the seat. She apparently doesn’t mind being trapped in the seat,” as Sara helped Stacy down. The six of them headed towards the church, with Adam and Mr. Bullard opening the doors for the four ladies. The greeter wondered who Allison was and got an answer of a family friend from Adam. While this was all going on, Katie and Stacy wandered to where Becka, Heather, and Jennie were milling around, bored. Heather said, “Matching dresses again? Matching themed costumes yesterday. I think you two are secretly sisters.” The two adopted sisters just blushed in response before being directed to a pew by Allison. After the preacher released them to the children’s church later in the service, Auntie released the two girls to the aisle, and they headed down to the classroom with the rest of the children. ~o~O~o~ Coming back from the classroom, Katie happens to look in the infant nursery to see Allison bouncing a fussy baby. She pointed that out to Stacy as they continued on to the common room, where they only found the two daddies. She waited patiently for Daddie to notice her before handing him her artwork and then going to sit next to Stacy on the velvet bench. After about fifteen minutes, Auntie directed the two girls toward the Bullard's car. Noticing the spot where Daddie had been parked was empty, Katie asked, “Where is my Daddie?” “He and Allison left already. Something about getting the food ready and a private discussion without little ears,” Auntie answered as she made sure everyone was seatbelted. “I'm not sure why it has to be private. I know she wants to talk to him about me waking up with wet pull-ups at college. What exactly does she want to do about them? I am not sure,” Katie ranted. “How long has this problem been happening at college, young lady?” Auntie asked pointedly at Katie. Meekly, Katie said, “Since the beginning of the month, but only for the first three to four days after I leave here.” Soon, they arrived at Daddie’s house, and Katie let them into the house via the backdoor, finding it unlocked. Walking into the kitchen, she found Allison mashing potatoes while Daddie was setting the table. Grabbing Stacy’s hand, she went upstairs to keep themselves occupied until dinner. Auntie soon called the two girls down to the dinner table, where once they were seated, Katie had a bib tied around her neck by Ally, and Auntie did the same to her daughter. After grace was said, everyone dug into the roast with potatoes, carrots, Brussels sprouts, and buns. “Adam, this roast is excellent today. It's very tender, and the mashed potatoes are great, too,” Mr. Bullard said. “Thank you, but I can’t take any credit for any of this meal, Allison did it all. She did give me a heart attack at about seven this morning. I heard someone in my kitchen. I thought it was a burglar. Instead, it was her in her pajamas cooking up carrots. She put all of it in the slow cooker this morning before church, except for the buns. Actually, the only thing she hasn’t done this weekend is kick me out of my house. She did two meals and did the primary watching of the two angels, too,” Daddie told the Bullards. Blushing, Ally pointed out, “You did do breakfast today.” “That is because I snuck in to do it while you were distracted with waking the girls up. Don’t take me wrong, Allison, I am really just teasing you. I will eat your cooking any day, but I don’t want you or anyone else to think I am taking advantage of you,” Daddie pointed back to her. “How did you cook the potatoes and Brussels sprouts in the slow cooker?” Sara asked Allison. “You basically steam them by tying them to the lid with a clean cloth, or in this case, two clean cloths. Thankfully, Adam’s slow cooker was big enough to do that,” Ally taught. After the plates were clean, Allison brought out six portions of vanilla pudding, which caused one shocked face and delighted faces on the rest. “Where did I have vanilla pudding, either premade or in powder, Allison?” Adam asked. “You didn’t, but you had all the ingredients to make it from scratch, including the vanilla extract,” she answered. “This is homemade?” Sara asked. Smiling, Allison answered, “Yep.” “I would tell you to marry her, Adam, but Kathleen might get a little upset by that,” Sara told her neighbor. Looking at the red with anger regressed teenager and red with embarrassment, Allison, Adam said, “Yes, that would make her upset enough to make me ten thousand dollars poorer, but I need more than food to live in this life, and I think I would rather prefer taking care of someone than someone taking care of me.” “May I be excused to my bedroom, Sir?” Katie asked before she made a fool of herself, crying all over the table. Sighing, he said, “Yes, you may, Buttercup.” With the bib still on herself, Katie ran up the stairs towards her bedroom. She thought she heard a disembodied voice say, “Walk please, sweetie,” half up the steps. She forcibly shut her door, fell on one of her turret seats, and just let her tears flow. Adam might replace her with her own college roommate, the nerve of both of them. She must have fallen asleep because she woke up with Stacy rubbing her back. “Stacy! How long have I been asleep?” she asked while she tried to wipe her face with her bib, which only made it worse. “For about thirty minutes, everyone has been worried about you. My mother is beside herself, feeling guilty for the whole mess. Allison tried to get someone to take her somewhere called Girard and said she was dropping out of college,” Stacy said, the last bit causing Katie to run out of the room. Running into the parlour, she found three of the four adults, “Where is Ally?” she demanded. “In the kitchen,” came Ally’s hesitant, disembodied voice. “Katie Ann, your face is a mess,” Daddie said. She replied, “I am well aware of that, but I currently have more important stuff to worry about.” With that delivered, she ran to the kitchen, which caused three disembodied voices to yell, “Walk!” “Ally, you can’t drop out of college,” Katie told her roommate forcefully as she hugged her. Ally, relieved, said, “Well, that isn’t the greeting I expected. I expected to be led to the guillotine because someone suggested I steal your man/Daddie. I have calmed down, and I am going nowhere. You are still stuck with me if you will have me.” Continuing to hug her roommate, Katie said, “I was mad at the world, but I am calm now after I have cried myself to sleep. We both are stuck with the other one.” “You are a mess, and you have made my dress a mess. I think it is time we clean you up, little girl,” Ally said, taking the bib off her regressed roommate. Then, she took her roommate’s hand tightly and led her towards the stairs. While walking through the parlour, Ally said to the gathered adults, “I am going to go upstairs and change this mess back into an angel.” “That is fine, but we have some stuff to discuss when she is done,” Daddie told both of them. Once in the bedroom, Ally set a changing mat on Katie’s bed and promptly changed the little girl’s bottom before using wet wipes to clean the messy face and her own dress. “Where did you fall asleep, little girl?” “In the turret,” Katie hesitantly answered. With that statement, Ally sent Katie downstairs for that, awaiting discussion, saying that she was going to stay upstairs to do her homework. The last the little girl saw of her was her scrubbing the cushion where the regressed girl fell asleep. Walking into the parlour, Katie said, “Here I am, Daddie.” “Where is Allison?” Auntie Sara asked. “She said she was going to do homework,” Katie answered. “What is her full legal name, Sweetie?” Daddie asked. “Allison Madison Maples,” Katie said meekly. “ALLISON MADISON MAPLES, DOWNSTAIRS NOW!” Adam screamed up the stairs. Allison came running down the stairs and, after skidding to a stop, said, “Sorry, Sir, I thought you just wanted to talk to her.” “Now that both of you are here, I want to apologize to both of you and Adam. My joke was out of line. It had further-reaching consequences than I envisioned. It was just supposed to be a fun joke,” Sara started. “I hope your two's relationship hasn’t been changed by the joke. I also hope that Katie’s and Adam’s relationship hasn’t changed. If they have been changed, I will help repair them. Now I think it is time I leave. I have done enough damage for one day,” she continued before turning to the door, only to find Allison and Katie blocking her way. “Our…” both the girls started before Allison decided to let Katie speak first. “Our relationship is fine now, and as far as I know, my relationship with Daddie is fine too. Please stay and stop beating yourself up, Auntie,” the regressed girl said. “We both care a lot for each other. I think our relationship is fine. It was already changed this weekend, but that has nothing to do with the joke. Whether Katie likes it or not, it is now more of a babysitter and child relationship than a two teenagers' relationship,” Ally said, that last bit causing Katie to blush and look a little bit concerned. “Allison, you’re not going to drop out of college?” Adam asked. “No, I think I will stay in college,” Ally answered. “Katie, you’re not going to use the joke against me?” Daddie asked. “No, Daddie,” Katie answered while hugging him. “Sara, are you going to stay and enjoy yourself? Everything is back to where it was before.” Sara hesitantly answered, “ I guess I will. I am glad that Katie doesn’t hate me.” “Now I have some punishment to give out,” Daddie said, looking at the two college girls. “Allison, you can find a corner for your nose for your dropping out of college temper tantrum. Katie, you can find one for running in the house. Sara, you better find one too, for starting the whole mess. Stacy, you can find one if you want to, but you haven’t done anything punishable,” Adam said, with a smirk at the last one. Coughing with surprise, Stacy said, “Nah, I think I will cuddle in my Daddie’s lap,” as the other three quietly and without comment went to an open corner. After five minutes, Daddie said, “Katie, you may get out of the corner, and you two girls can go up and play.” As the two girls started up the stairs, he said, “Buttercup, you might want to eat this upstairs,” before handing her a covered bowl of pudding. “Yes, it is very good,” Stacy told her friend. Once in the bedroom, Katie suggested Play-Doh, which Stacy readily agreed to. They had been playing for about thirty minutes when Ally walked into the room with her homework bag. “Hello, Allison. Have you just got out of the corner?” Stacy asked as the college student went slowly to the turret to work on some homework. “Five or ten minutes ago, he released me from the corner,” Ally answered as she sat very carefully as if she had a sore bottom. Katie, with a shocked look on her face, pointed out, “You were in the corner for about thirty minutes, Ally, and I have never been in the corner for more than five minutes. Is your bottom also sore? Exactly how bad was this temper tantrum you had while I was sleeping?” Stacy started coughing, and Ally got about fire engine red and said slowly, “It was a doozy, and I might have taught Stacy some new colorful words, too. It wasn’t because of the joke. It was because of what I figured to be a ruined relationship between us two. And I was serious about dropping out of college at the time, too. Also, yes, Katie, my bottom is quite a bit sore. I was offered either more time in the corner or a spanking.” Ally continued while rubbing her bottom, “I foolishly chose the spanking.” Stacy asked, “What about my Mommie?” Ally replied, “She was still in the corner when I left; I have no clue, sweetie.” With that discussion over, the girls returned to the Play-Doh, and Ally turned to her homework. ~o~O~o~ After a few hours, Allison turned to the two girls, who were still quietly playing in the room, and said, “Would you two like something to drink? I'm going to see how many I am cooking for tonight.” “Yes, please,” both of them said at almost the same time before returning to their coloring books. Ally walked out of the room, taking Katie’s dirty bowl with her. Soon after she left, Mr. Bullard walked into the room with two glasses of iced tea to say goodbye to his daughter. “Stacy, I have to get back to Harrisburg. Have fun this week. You too, Katie,” he said while hugging her. Twenty-five minutes later, Allison’s voice filtered up the stairs with “Stacy, Katie, supper!” Once they got down at the table, Katie saw the high chair had returned, and though Mr. Bullard had already left, Auntie was still there. “Sweetie, let me help you in your chair,” Daddie said before lifting her up and setting her in the highchair. He then strapped her in and put the tray on. Allison took grilled cheeses with ham out of the kitchen and set one on each of the five plates while Auntie tied a bib on each of the two girls to protect the dresses they were still wearing. When Supper was over, Auntie made Stacy say goodbye to everyone. It was a school night, and they really should get home before both of the little girls were up way past their bedtimes. After Stacy had left, Katie was led upstairs by Allison to the bathroom for a bath. After the bath was done, the regressed girl was placed back in a thick nighttime diaper and the same one-piece pajamas as yesterday. “I hear you make an excellent rag doll or teddy bear, I was really tempted to make you into one and sleeping with you, but that would make tomorrow too complicated,” Allison teased her roommate. Daddie walked into the room and said, “Allison, you don’t mind if I tuck her in today?” “No, do you want me to leave, Adam?” “There's no need to. You can stay around if you want to,” he said as he tucked his regressed daughter into bed. “What time is it? Is it nine thirty already?” Katie asked, shocked that it was already her bedtime. Ally said, “Nine ten, but you had an emotional day. An early bedtime will do you good,” while Adam searched for a book and then started reading it to her.

It's my birthday and Final Fantasy 7 Rebirth just came out, but I'm still taking time to give you all an update. You're welcome XD This chapter was really fun to write, and I hope you all love it as much as I do! Chapter Fifteen Ms. Akiyama was having a very different afternoon. About the time Rei was first finding Riley on the patio, Ms. Akiyama was pulling her car into a spot directly into front of a colorful, three-story concrete building. The outside walls were a continuous mural of girls of various ages playing. There was a large, wooden privacy fence that extended out from one corner of the building before wrapping around and connecting at the corner diagonal from the first. As she stepped out of her car, Ms. Akiyama could hear the gentle cacophony of girls playing from the other side of the fence. A large neon sign hung on the façade of the building with “Brighter Days Academy” spelled out in a rainbow. A smaller, more professional sign hung below that read “Institute of Behavioral Therapy for Young Adult Girls.” Ms. Akiyama walked through the tinted glass front doors into an immaculate and brightly-lit lobby. There were a few plush chairs set around the perimeter of the room that looked as though they had never been sat in, and neat piles of uncrumpled magazines sat on end tables by the chairs. There were wooden doors with spotless silver door handles to Ms. Akiyama’s right and left, and a reception desk directly in front of her. The desk was occupied with a young woman who clearly was the most organized receptionist any office had ever seen. Everything on her desk was neatly laid out and organized, not a thing seemed out of place, and everything seemed to have a place. She sat behind the desk, back straight, in a white blouse that left her warm beige arms bare. Her smile crinkled the corners of her brown eyes and showed off pearlescent brilliant teeth. Her nails were short but well-manicured, and her black hair cut in a shoulder-length bob. “Akiko” was printed on a name tag that was pinned to her chest. “Hello, welcome to Brighter Days Academy,” she chirped brightly. “How may I help you today?” Ms. Akiyama smiled at the young girl, vaguely wondering if she was old enough to be working as a receptionist in the first place. “I had an appointment for a consultation? Under Hana Akiyama?” “Fantastic,” Akiko replied as she turned towards her computer and began typing rapidly. “Yes, I see that appointment in the system. Thank you so much for coming in today, Mrs. Akiyama; we’re very excited to meet you and your child’s needs!” “Oh, Ms. Akiyama,” Ms. Akiyama corrected. “Oh, I’m very sorry,” the girl turned towards the computer, hit a few keys, and turned back, “I’ve corrected that in our system so it won’t happen again. Now, I see that,” she glanced towards the screen, “Dr. Welles will be your consultant today. I think you’ll like her; she’s very brilliant and will definitely be able to help you. I’ve already notified Dr. Welles that you are here, so she should be with you soon. Might I get you something to drink while you wait?” “A water would be wonderful, Akiko,” Ms. Akiyama responded with a smile. The young girl was so bright and cheerful, it was contagious. Ms. Akiyama couldn’t help but wish Rei could be more like that. “Excellent, I’ll—” Before Akiko could finish the sentence, the door on Ms. Akiyama’s right opened, and a fit woman with brown, curly hair wearing a white lab coat over a tight black dress emerged with a clipboard in her hand. “Ms. Akiyama, I presume?” “Oh, um, yes,” Ms. Akiyama couldn’t help but be caught off guard by their promptness. “Yes, that’s me.” One thing was certain about this place; it was efficient. “Are you Dr. Welles?” “Please,” the woman said, extending one arm to shake Ms. Akiyama’s hand, “call me Emma. If you’d like to follow me, we can get started!” The woman couldn’t match Akiko for bright and cheery (and who could?), but she was doing her hardest. “I’ll bring your water in to you,” Akiko said as Ms. Akiyama began following Emma Welles through the door. The door led to a short, carpeted hallway with walls adorned with what looked like the art projects of children of various ages and proficiencies. At the end, the hallway turned left, and Ms. Akiyama found herself staring down a much longer hallway with doors along each side. “This is really just the administrative wing,” Emma explained, “the real fun stuff happens through the left door. But still, we need offices to get some work done, right?” She said it with the cadence of a joke, but Ms. Akiyama wasn’t sure she got the joke. She chuckled politely anyway. “Thank you for coming in today,” Emma continued as she led Ms. Akiyama down the hall, “I’m always excited to help new clients get started on reaching their goals. And I’m sure you’ll find that we are well equipped to help you reach those goals, regardless of what they are.” “Well,” Ms. Akiyama replied, “I’m not really sure what my goals are, yet…exactly…” “And that’s okay!” Emma exclaimed. “We can help you with that, too. Here we go,” Emma stopped at one of the many doors, swung the door inward, and gestured for Ms. Akiyama to go ahead. The office was darker than what Ms. Akiyama had seen of the rest of the building by far. In contrast to the bright white, fluorescent lights of the hallway and lobby, Emma Welles’ office was lit by a few table lamps and the natural light streaming through the tinted windows that spanned the wall across from the door. A large desk made of dark wood dominated the room, flanked by shelves absolutely brimming with books. “Please,” Emma said, gesturing to one of the two plush chairs in front of the desk as she made her way around the desk to sit at the high-backed leather chair behind it. Ms. Akiyama noticed there were three more chairs pressed against the wall: all wooden, hard-backed chairs that looked better for your posture than your comfort. “So, Ms. Akiyama,” Emma said as she settled in to her chair, “tell me about your daughter.” “Well,” Ms. Akiyama started then stopped speaking for a long beat, trying to figure out where to begin. “What’s her name?” Emma prompted when Ms. Akiyama was coming up short. She was used to this from new clients; so many of them were just in so over their head that they needed to be guided by the hand. “Rei.” “What a pretty name,” Emma managed to keep it from sounding like a practiced response, “and how is she?” “She’s nineteen.” “Ah, what a magical age,” Emma smiled warmly and began typing on her laptop, recording Ms. Akiyama’s responses. “And I assume she is not emancipated?” “Correct.” “Excellent,” of course, it wasn’t truly a barrier since parents could revoke emancipation at any time for any reason, but Emma always liked to get any potential complications out of the way first. “Does she attend school?” “Yes, Greenham Community College.” Emma made a disapproving sound in her throat as she typed, “mm, that’s risky, you know. She could be getting exposed to all sorts of…problematic ideas there. I don’t want to make any official recommendations until we’ve talked about your goals, but I definitely recommend removing her from the college setting. Most girls Rei’s age can’t handle that kind of environmentl; they aren’t mature enough to make the right choices, you know?” Ms. Akiyama smiled awkwardly, “it’s just…she likes school, I feel bad taking it away.” “Oh!” Emma exclaimed, “well, that’s wonderful. We love a little girl who loves school; but there are a lot of healthier options that will be better for her and her development into a happy adult that we can explore, okay?” “Oh, well, okay,” Ms. Akiyama said uncertainly. “Don’t worry, Ms. Akiyama,” Emma reached across the desk and gave Ms. Akiyama’s hand a reassuring squeeze, “I’m here to help and guide you through this. I know it’s a lot and that it can sometimes seem hard to make these calls. So many of the clients I see come in and tell me that they feel like bad parents, but you know what I tell them?” “What?” “That just by walking through those doors they’ve shown me that they are a great parent,” Emma smiled reassuringly. “Just by walking through that door, they’ve shown how much they care about doing what is right for their daughter, and isn’t that what makes a great parent?” “I…I guess so…” Ms. Akiyama had to admit it did make sense. “I know how hard it is these days, Ms. Akiyama. Things are so different than when we were kids; the parenting lessons we learned from our parents just don’t apply anymore! Even the things we learned as parents don’t seem right anymore. I’m a mother myself, Ms. Akiyama; I know how it can feel like you’re lost and don’t know how to be a parent anymore. But you’re still that great parent you always were; you just need new tools to deal with new problems. Don’t worry, we’re here to give you those tools and teach you how to use them.” Yes, that was exactly what Ms. Akiyama needed. She nodded, feeling a sense of resolve; she was doing the right thing. “Thank you, Emma,” she said, sincerely, “you don’t know how hard I’ve fought with myself over the decision to come here today.” “Well, we’re glad you’re here, and, more importantly, you’re going to be glad you’re here. And most importantly? Rei is going to be glad you came here, I promise. This can often be a rough road, and especially if Rei is used to being in college, she’s likely to throw a temper tantrum or two, okay? But every girl I see come through here leaves happier, healthier, and better adjusted.” “It’s a relief to hear you say that.” “So,” Emma said, turning back to the matter at hand, “Rei is 19 and attends community college. Is she…willful?” Ms. Akiyama chuckled, “a little, yes; she can be very hard-headed and stubborn.” “Mmm, I see,” Emma typed for a moment, “and does she get good grades?” “Oh, yes! Like I said, she loves school. If anything, she studies too much.” “Mmm, yes, we see that a lot in girls like Rei,” though Emma didn’t say quite what she meant by ‘girls like Rei.’ “Does she have a father figure?” Ms. Akiyama shook her head, “her father died of cancer some years ago.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” Emma gave her a consoling smile. “Any other guardian or caretaker figures in her life?” “No.” “Any behavioral problems?” “No…well, not really, but…” “Go ahead, Ms. Akiyama, you can tell me.” “I recently found out she was taking a gender studies course—” “Goodness!” “—and she lied about it too.” “Oh my,” Emma shook her head, “that’s troubling. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what kind of filth those classes fill young girls’ heads with. I simply don’t understand why they still allow them to be taught. I’m glad you came in when you did, Ms. Akiyama; it sounds like Rei is need of major intervention.” “Well,” Ms. Akiyama said nervously, “I don’t know about major. I was thinking more of…well, just something to curb her worse tendencies and make sure she stays out of trouble.” Emma turned away from the computer and fully towards Ms. Akiyama. “Let me ask you this: what are your goals for Rei? What do you want for her, ultimately?” Ms. Akiyama considered the question for a moment but gave the answer that had come to her immediately: “I just want her to be happy and safe.” “Girls like Rei have often already been exposed to ideas and radical leftist propaganda that can make it hard for them to be happy. Call it the legacy of so many years of misguided feminism. There are still some fringe elements pushing that feminist narrative, but we, as a culture, have moved past it, thank God. We know now that all the feminist dreck pushed by unhappy women was exactly what was making them unhappy; but some women refuse to accept that, and they push it on to young girls, girls like Rei, If you want Rei to be happy, you have to help her realize that all that stuff her college has put in her head is the reason she’ll never be happy. To put it bluntly, girls like Rei will never be happy until they accept their place in the world.” Before Ms. Akiyama could finish processing everything Emma had just said, there was a polite tapping at the door. “That must be Akiko with your water,” Emma said before calling out for the girl to come in. The door opened to admit Akiko, who Ms. Akiyama now saw was wearing brightly polished Mary Jane shoes, black knee socks, and a pleated black skirt that came to mid-thigh. She was carrying a small tray with a glass full of ice and a bottle of water that was sweating with condensation and walked with a bit of a waddle that explained the rustling Ms. Akiyama could hear from under the girls’ skirt. “Ms. Akiyama, your water,” she said as she set two coasters on the table before setting the glass and bottle of water down on top of them. Tucking the tray under her arm, she picked the bottle back up, cracked the seal, and poured it over the ice. “Is there anything else I may get for you, Ms. Akiyama?” “No, thank you so much.” “You are very welcome,” she beamed at Ms. Akiyama, then turned to Emma. “Dr. Welles, may I get you anything?” “No, thank you, Akiko, you may go,” Emma smiled as she watched the girl leave, then turned back to Ms. Akiyama. “Akiko is one of our students; she’s part of a work education program through her extended high school program. She’s a lovely girl.” “She seems so…happy,” Ms. Akiyama remarked, “I almost wish Rei were more like her,” she added giving voice to her earlier thoughts. “Rei can be,” Emma smiled, “after all, Brighter Days is responsible for molding Akiko into the girl she is today. It takes a lot of work though, Ms. Akiyama. You were saying you weren’t sure if you wanted to do any kind of major behavioral therapy for Rei, but I’ll caution you now that, based off what you’ve told me about Rei, she’s going to need more than just some minor adjustments to make sure she stays out of trouble.” Ms. Akiyama considered this for a moment. “What do you suggest?” she asked at last. “Well,” Emma leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers, “as I already said, I think the first and most important step is getting her out of college.” Ms. Akiyama’s brow furrowed, “Rei won’t be happy about that.” “As I said, Ms. Akiyama, temper tantrums are just part of the process. Think of it this way: if she reacts poorly, that’s a sign that she’s not mature enough to handle herself.” “That…makes sense…” “And like I said, we love little girls that love school! We certainly don’t want to squash that love of learning and education; we just want to make sure it’s nurtured in a safe and healthy way that will help her grow up into a well-adjusted adult.” “Something like an extended high school program?” “Extended high school programs are really best for girls who are already on their way to growing up to be happy, healthy adult women. I recommend them most for girls whose parents are choosing to extend their teen years. It can also be a good starting point, a way to test the waters, if you will, for more drastic measures, or to see if they really are necessary in the first place. I’ll caution you, however, that this often isn’t enough for girls like Rei. If you really want to make sure she learns and more important accepts her place and grows up to be a healthy and happy adult, I highly recommend incorporating other behavioral therapies. In fact, in girls like Rei, we often see the problem behaviors become worse if you don’t use other behavioral therapies.” “Like what?” “Well,” Emma leaned forward in her chair, “potty training regression is certainly our most potent tool.” Ms. Akiyama nodded; she had expected this conversation to come up. She tried to picture Rei in a tshirt and diaper like Megan had been and just couldn’t muster the image. “I’m just…not sure about that…” “I understand, Ms. Akiyama, it seems drastic. But girls like Rei often need drastic measures.” “Rei is a good girl though, really,” Ms. Akiyama said. “She’s a little misguided right now, but she’s a good girl.” Emma gave her best reassuring smile, but she couldn’t keep all of the condescension out of it. “With respect, Ms. Akiyama, we here at Brighter Days have a lot of experience in these matters, and we’ve found that potty training regression is the backbone to any behavioral therapy treatment. While it’s true that it was once considered a radical technique, it’s not considered quite mainstream! Really, it is! Over 80% of young girls ages eighteen to twenty-eight wear pull-ups or diapers. Here, see for yourself.” Emma reached into her desk and produced a glossy pamphlet that she slid across the table. Ms. Akiyama picked the pamphlet up: the cover featured a girl in her early twenties whose body language spoke of a desperate need to pee and a older looking woman standing behind her with a knowing smile. The pamphlet was titled “Fast Facts About Potty Training Regression Therapy.” “To be honest, Emma,” Ms. Akiyama said, setting the pamphlet back on the desk, “I just don’t get it. It’s really only been lately that I’ve even considered any kind of…regressive behavioral therapy for Rei; I never quite understood why other parents thought it was good for their children. I think I’m finally starting to see the benefits of this kind of therapy, but…” Ms. Akiyama sighed and shook her head, “I just don’t understand why it’s necessary to put Rei…back in diapers.” Emma nodded understandingly, “Believe it or not, many of our clients have only recently begun to think about this therapy, and many express that same sentiment. You see, the whole reason we see so many behavioral problems in girls in the eighteen to twenty-eight range is that they still see themselves as adults. They have notions of independence and freedom that girls their age simply aren’t ready for. That’s why they are so susceptible to all the feminist drivel we were talking about earlier, right?” She chuckled dismissively. “So, you see, potty training regression is a way of kind of…dissuading them from such ideas. It’s hard to think you’re an adult who is ready to make decisions for themselves when you can’t keep your pants dry; I mean, just imagine that. Of course, that’s just the main benefit, there are numerous other benefits as well. For example, potty training regression strengthens the bond between mother and daughter by creating a feeling of dependency, and being reliant on mom for diaper changes can minimize time spent away from home. Not to mention, it discourages intimate behavior with boys.” Ms. Akiyama had picked up the pamphlet again and was scanning over the pages of the pamphlet as Emma spoke. What she was saying made sense, but…could she really do this? “I don’t know,” Ms. Akiyama set the pamphlet down again and looked at the woman across from her. “I guess this is a silly question but…is it…permanent?” “Oh, no, of course not,” Emma waved her the very notion of the idea away with her hand. “Once a girl is old enough and ready for it, she can always be re-potty trained. Of course,” Emma laughed, “some girls do have more problems with re-potty training than others, but that’s no different than the first time.” Ms. Akiyama smiled fondly and laughed lightly, suddenly she was a mom just gossiping about her kinds to another mom. “Rei was such a hassle to potty train; she’d die if anyone knew, but she was accident prone until she was 12 and wet the bed until she was 15.” Emma giggled and nodded, “that’s actually excellent news! Girls who were late potty trainers and/or bedwetters tend to be more susceptible to potty training regression. It suggests you will have excellent results!” Ms. Akiyama’s smile faded and she sighed. She was silent for a long moment; Emma recognized that thoughtful look from countless clients before Ms. Akiyama and gave the woman time to think. “Let’s say,” she said finally, “that I was actually considering doing this, and, really, that’s all I’m doing right now, how…how does it even work?” Emma grinned from ear to ear. “Well, Ms. Akiyama, we have so many tools and resources to help you with this process. And it is a process! While most of our clients see results within the first thirty days of starting therapy, you can’t expect results overnight. With the proper tools and strategies, most girls do see regression fairly quickly, but for some girls that first accident can take weeks. More importantly, the process is unique for each girl. For example, for some girls its enough just to put them in pull-ups and inevitably they give in themselves; that, of course, is not the kind of girl Rei is. For girls like Rei, it’s best to start with inducing accidents, making her doubt her own potty training, and leading her to pull-ups or even diapers from there.” “But…inducing accidents? How do you even start to do that?” “Well, if you decide to buy a therapy package from us, we will individualize a plan for Rei that will include a mix of methods, mostly likely including some medicines that will help loosen up her bladder, white noise induction machines for bedtime that will encourage bedwetting, a regiment of diuretics, and actionable plans to keep her distracted from using the toilet. If we couple this with enrollment at an extended high school program, we can write doctor’s notes instructing teachers to reinforce the therapy through prohibiting restroom breaks during class and other such strategies.” And that brought them to the question Ms. Akiyama had been dreading, “and, uh, how much do these therapy packages cost?” Emma smiled warmly, “there’s a misconception that these kinds of individualized behavioral therapy programs are expensive, and that’s because, well, that used to be the case! But the fact is, insurance companies are actually required to cover regressive behavioral therapy under the Hayes Act! You’ll pay a small copay depending on your insurance, and any prescription drugs we prescribe as part of your therapy plan will be covered as per any prescription. Of course, that is not to say there aren’t some financial burdens to this kind of therapy. For example, insurance companies usually do not cover things like new furniture for Rei’s new lifestyle and most other supplies you’ll likely need.” “Furniture?” “Oh, yes, you know, things like playpens, cribs, changing tables.” Ms. Akiyama shook her head, “well, I don’t think Rei will be needing any of that.” “Mm, of course not, but it’s good to know what’s covered and what’s not, just in case you decide to change your mind. And as for the other supplies, while insurance doesn’t cover things like bottles, sippy-cups, or pull-ups or diapers, we at Brighter Days partner with many manufacturers to offer starter packs and discounts on regular purchases. We can even sign you up for a delivery service that will keep you and Rei stocked in pull-ups or diapers. Or a mix of both!” Ms. Akiyama sighed, “I don’t know, this is a lot, isn’t it?” “It is,” Emma leaned forward in her chair and gave Ms. Akiyama a sympathetic look, “and that’s why we are here to help.” “I’m just not sure that Rei needs all of this…” “This can be a difficult decision for many parents, Ms. Akiyama, but keep in mind that the longer you wait, the more drastic the measures you may have to take.” Emma let that sink if for a minute, then continued, “Ms. Akiyama, may I make a suggestion?” A little hope flickered in Ms. Akiyama’s eyes amidst the confusion, “yes, please, I just…don’t even know where to start.” “That’s natural, Ms. Akiyama,” Emma said as she reached into her desk and pulled out a thick three-ring binder, “and that’s why so many parents come to us. This may all be very new and overwhelming for you, but we here at Brighter Days have seen it all and been through it so many times with children of various levels of resistance to this kind of therapy; we’re experts! You may not know where to begin, Ms. Akiyama, but we do.” She gave Ms. Akiyama her biggest, most confident smile and opened the binder to exact page she wanted (it was one of her most frequently used selling points, after all, so why not have it marked?). The top of the glossy page read “So, you’ve decided you want a daughter who wets the bed.” “Bedwetting?” Ms. Akiyama asked. “Bedwetting.” Emma replied confidently. “This is an excellent starting point, Ms. Akiyama. It can be perfect for minor attitude adjustments; so, if you’re right and Rei just needs a little push in the right direction, this might be all you need to get her there! It doesn’t impact her life outside of bedtime, still allows her to be independent and feel like ‘big girl,’ but still gives her that little bit of a nudge towards being the obedient daughter you are looking for! And if the worst case scenario happens and Rei needs a little stronger push, this establishes the foundation for further behavioral therapy perfectly.” “I suppose…I suppose that does make sense,” Ms. Akiyama replied after a moment of thought. She sighed. “I guess…my biggest reservation is that I’m still not sure how this all works. It’s not like she doesn’t know that this kind of…therapy exists, won’t she immediately suspect what I’m up to when she walks up one morning to find she’s wet the bed?” Emma smiled reassuringly, “that’s a concern many parents have. That’s one of the reasons why for so many girls, it’s best to introduce diapers and let the girls come to using them on their own. But as I’ve said, we’ve dealt with girls of varying levels of resistance to therapy; that’s why each plan is individualized for each girl, so that we can figure out ways to keep them from suspecting anything until it’s too late!” Ms. Akiyama shifted in her seat a little, slightly uncomfortable with the ‘until it’s too late’ part, but…who was she kidding? The phrasing might be blunt, but it wasn’t incorrect. “Thankfully,” Emma continued, seemingly unaware of Ms. Akiyama’s temporary discomfort, “with Rei, we have a perfect, shall we say, alibi for you.” “We do?” Emma nodded, “After all, didn’t you say Rei wet the bed until she was fifteen? It’s certainly not inconceivable that she return to that little bad habit, don’t you think?” Emma got a mischievous smile, “It’s especially common in girls who are dealing with all the pressure and demands of college. Of course, you’ll have to do your part to sell her on it, but we can include it as part of her nighttime induction to make it easy for you.” “You mentioned this…nighttime induction earlier. What is it?” “Oh!” Emma reached into another drawer and brought out a small, white plastic appliance, about the size of a digital alarm clock. “The first night you start treatment, you’ll put this in her room, plug it in,” she swivel in her chair a bit to plug it into an outlet behind her desk, “and turn it on,” she pressed a button and a sound like falling rain filled the room, “and it will play this white noise. However, while what you are listening to right now is, I assure you, just harmless static, Rei’s will have subaudible suggestive inductions playing underneath the static to help plant ideas in her head.” “Subaudible suggestive inductions? Like…hypnosis?” “Well,” Emma replied, smiling with a hint of condescension, “it’s not dissimilar from hypnosis, but hypnosis is, well…it can be effective, sure, but its powers are very limited compared to what most people believe. For example, no amount of hypnosis can truly affect a sleeping person; contrary to popular belief, a person must be conscious and capable of hearing hypnosis in order for it to work. Subaudible suggestive induction is a patented technology perfected by Brighter Days scientists that can do everything hypnosis can, but better and without the patient ever knowing. The downside is that, like the name implies, it’s just a suggestion, so we must reinforce it while the patient is awake in order to cement the idea in place. Here,” Emma pulled a brochure out of the top drawer of her desk and handed it to Ms. Akiyama, “you can read all about it in this, but the bottom line is that it’s completely safe and very effective.” Ms. Akiyama took the brochure and glanced over it for a moment before putting it on the desk. “Is all of this…reversible?” “Oh, yes! Behavioral therapy targets cognition, not the physical body, so it is very reversible. However, that is not to say the body isn’t affected; once girls stop using those muscles that keep them from having accidents, those muscles tend to start to weaken, hence why re-potty training is necessary. That said, when a girl only experiences potty-training regression in the form of bedwetting, it typically only takes two or three weeks for the bedwetting to clear up once treatment has stopped. Of course,” Emma added, “as I said, how easy a girl was to potty train the first time remains a good predictor of how quickly they’ll recover, so, for Rei, it might be a couple months, but it will definitely clear up eventually.” “Does anyone ever…not recover?” This was one of Emma’s least favorite questions to answer, but she smiled and did her best, “Well, Ms. Akiyama, the truth is that, yes, some girls never quite recover their potty training. But I assure you, the number of girls who are unable to fully re-potty train is really, truly statistically insignificant, and our behavioral scientists believe these cases to be more related to an emotional or cognitive resistance to re-potty training rather than a physical inability. That is to say, some girls don’t seem to even want to re-potty train!” Emma’s laugh was a little forced. “I don’t know…” Ms. Akiyama sighed. She thought back to when Rei was still wetting the bed. It had been a huge source of embarrassment for the girl, especially in the later years when regressive behavioral therapy started becoming mainstream. She had been so happy and relieved when she finally stopped. Could Ms. Akiyama really do that to her again? But, then again, if it could keep her from filling her head with all sorts of impossible ideas that would prevent her from finding happiness in this new world or, God forbid, falling in with the wrong crowd and getting herself in serious trouble… And after all, Rei may have been embarrassed by her bedwetting, but she was still able to live a normal life outside of that, just like Emma had said. And that was when most of her peers didn’t wet the bed, technically Rei was in the minority for not wetting the bed now. Ms. Akiyama took a deep breath and nodded, “okay, let’s do this.” Emma grinned, “I think that’s an excellent decision, Ms. Akiyama. Now, let’s talk details and make an action plan. Because each induction machine must be program specifically for each child, you won’t be able to get started until tomorrow, but I’m confident you’ll be changing Rei’s wet sheets before the weekend is over.”

Kaden waited outside the door, staring at his watch. "Come at 7:46. That is 7:46, not 7:45, or 7:47. You will wear exactly what I send you in your messages. If anything is off, you will be punished. Understood? " he had said. 7:44 Kaden bit his lip. Of course, he had agreed. Why wouldn't he? He was being paid to, and had to admit to himself he loved the orders. 7:45 and 30 seconds. He was wearing exactly what he had been told. Most of it was normal. A dark blue suit, with a lighter blue tie, the kind of thing anyone else would wear to the same job. Someone looking closely might notice it was far more expensive then he should have been able to afford on his salary, but it wasn't that strange for high level lawyers like Edward Greyan to buy clothes for their secretaries for looks. Traditionally those secretaries were women, but especially in the modern era, no one would question a separate choice. If someone looked even more closely, or, say, took some of the clothes off as Edward was wont to do, they may have noticed a few other things. They may have noticed the small, thin collar hidden under his tie. They may have noticed the tiny lock on his belt, which Kaden had attached at home knowing Edward had the only key. They may have noticed something else, which was what made Kenyan blush the deepest when he thought of it. 7:46. Kaden opened the door and walked in. He walked down the long hallway bordered on both sides by mirrors. Seeing himself, an his own shy, awkward stride, only made him more nervous as he approached the main office. "Good morning sir," he said as he entered. "Good morning Kaden" Edward replied. Kaden sighed in relief. No anger yet, so that meant no punishment. "Kaden, can you come into my office for a minute?" Edward said. Kaden closed his eyes and swore in his mind. Something was off. He entered the office to see Edward facing away from him, going over a pile of files on his own desk. Edward was everything Kenyan wanted and wished he could be. Successful, smart, and with the confidence and air to show it. While Kaden walked in short, shy steps, Edward strode with long, broad movements. He stood straight, suit and hair maintained perfectly, and spoke with an authoritative voice his clients had come to trust. Kaden stopped at the door. The instruction was "into my office," no further, and he was careful to follow it exactly. Edward shuffled through a few more papers. He picked a few out of the pile and laid them straight on his desk. Finally, he let out a quick sigh and began. "Kedan, what time is it?" Kaden swallowed. "7:46 sir," he said. He looked at the clock on Edward's wall to confirm. "Is it now?" he smiled. "And what is wrong with that?" "Ummm..." "Well?" "You said come in at 7:46." Edward turned to look at Kaden, who flinched at his gaze. "I did. And did you arrive then?" "Yes sir," he said. He paused. If he had, Edward probably wouldn't be asking. "I think so sir?" Edward sighed. "How long have you been standing there?" "Maybe a minute sir." "So if you've been standing there for a minute, and it is now 7:46, what time did you come in?" Kaden panicked. "But I checked my wa... Edward cut him off. "What time did you come in?" "7:45." "And what time did I say to come in?" "7:46 sir." "So you didn't follow my instructions. That is ten." Kaden flinched. "Yes sir."

I was chugging water a few hours before the Trest cap maxxed out and then proceeded to drink a few beers. My normal use case for a Trest is 6-8 hours with moderate fluid intake

This has been a week of business travel, excess coffee consumption, beers or wine with dinner, difficulty falling asleep... and wet nights, intriguingly. I woke up with a wet bum three times this week, and I only have a recollection of one of the occurrences. I recall being woken up feeling like I needed to pee, with that "it's right at the tip" feeling that males of the species get when you're already partially letting it come down (and do let me know if people with anatomically female plumbing get that feeling too... I've never thought to ask). I am not sure of the exact anatomical mechanism of this - I really should study up on my urology so that I can talk knowledgeably about it, but I'm sure many of you could school me. I suspect that some of you are urologists. It would kind of make sense, that people into "this" would get called to that profession. But I digress. I think the internal sphincter, the one that is not under motor neuron control, had agreed to the release, but the other one, which I believe is the external sphincter, the one that my brain control directly, was holding out. So I rolled over onto my back, made sure "Mini-me" was pointed downward, and then drifted back to sleep. The other two times likely went the same way, except that I have no memory of it, any more than I have any memory of moving around in my sleep. I don't think that the executive suites were consulted, but I'm sure that I rolled onto my back to do it, because I didn't leak into the sheets, and all three times, the diapers were gratuitously wet. One was a Mega Barnyard, and two were BeDry nights, if memory serves. I can check my diaper can if I really want to confirm, I guess. So... coffee in the afternoon or evening leads to poor sleep (at least in me), but wine with dinner somewhat counteracts that, although not a lot of wine, because I always had to get up and do it all again the next day, and sometimes also had to drive home after dinner. Somehow, that's the formula for waking up wet. I'll have to attempt a regression analysis and see if I can corelate anything. Maybe it all comes down to wearing black socks - I was in black socks the whole time. I got a funny look from my wife once, when I came home in dress pants over a slim diaper - a Tranquility ATN - that I had been in for a few hours, and I went up to my bedroom to change, and I realized I had nowhere else to be, so I put on a Rearz Mega Barnyard but then just pulled the same pants back on, because I needed to get back to my desk and finish some notes before I forgot what I'd seen. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, wearing dress pants and a golf shirt (it's been decently warm for Canada in March), and that incongruously big, puffy diaper was bulging all over the place under the relatively thin, tan pant material. She raised her eyebrows and said "You wore that?!?", and I didn't immediately clue in to what she was referring to, thinking she meant that something was wrong with my shirt or something. "What? What's the problem?" I inquired, and then my daughter, who was at the sink said, "Your gyatt, dad - she means your gyatt." I have had teenaged daughters long enough to know that "gyatt" is slang for your butt, or at least, it's a word they say to express surprise or admiration for a large butt, so I realized that they were talking, at least tangentially, about my diaper. "Ah, no, I just got changed, I didn't wear this to the meeting."

I know you all could see it coming! 😛 That's okay, a little trope is fun sometimes. I do plan on surprises you don't see coming down the road! Don't get complacent! 😈 Thanks for commenting!🙂 Thanks for that, I'll go get it corrected later!

You would probably have to got to eBay and input "vintage baby items 1950's". They have many print advertisements for baby panties. I do not know that much about baby apparel/accessories save the rattles, bottles, rubber panties, rubber sheets and the quilted lap pads. I know more about the childrens' things. You can go to Surveys and look up my remarks on the "What Are Your Priorities" Survey At one time, whe had a "Diaper Musieum" But that has gone away. Some 10 years ago, Mikey brought up the idea of updating it before it vanished. Some of us had pix of things from earlier times. It seems that idea disappeared into the aether. I still have some of them. I also created the BabyDoll personal care items, which have the real baby smell, you can find them in my albums. I sort of became an expert at using modern things to stand in for what no longer exist and have not for almost 70 years. I got my hands on a very good stand-in for a tea set, which I actually used for a "tea party" back in the 1990's. The pictures of it are in my About Me. Look at the pictures in my signature to get some ideas

I already know that. It justifies nothing. There is the issue, by flashing or other exposure, of forcing your kink on the unwilling; i.e. non-consenting, adult or children. I follow the standards set by DPF; do not involve the unwilling or minors, as reasonable. Remember, it started to go south for DPF when they includied letters from minors in the newsletter even though they did not identify the authers of said letters. And look at the kefuffle we got into with some of the diaper companies because they used images of children on the package of their product to make the package look realistic about a dozen years ago. And who can forget "[that site]"? Jack Texeira didn't think he'd get in hot water for publishing classified material on the 'net. Do not start what somebody else can finish. And the best way to figure that out is if what you are contemplating has "self-absorbed douche move" written all over it

There is no acceptable public exposure. Once you start, it becomes a slippery slope that quickly descends into exhibitionism and in fact, has exhibitionism built in, with the thrill monster demanding more and more overt action, ultimately ending in the standing healine MAN AREESTED WEARING ONLY DIAPER. What makes it wrong and a subject of police action are these. There are many, if not most, ABDL who understand the private nature of this asin the old anti-drunk driving campaign "Your lifestyle is your business, but if you take it on the road, it becomes everybody's business", and wish to live in peace with the rest of the world and exhibitionists give us all a bad reputation along the lines of "Oh, yeah; ABDL's. Aren't they the ones that go 'round sticking their diapers in everyone's face?". I do not and I do NOT want to be associated with those who do. Given the tenor of the times, this could have legal or metnal health ramifications Then there is the issue of being in the area of real children. Finally there is they issue of being a flasher with diapers being considered undergarments. The best way to not have to deal with all of this is not to start. We are a tiny minority who had to fight for what we got so let us not throw it away by being dumb. Who ever thought Roe V Wade would go down? But it did

Femme, but like plain and simple. Shortalls, with crotch snaps of course. Spinny skirts. Snap crotch onesies.

Product of my environment, I guess. I like things, pre 70’s. Simple juvenile looking clothing, furnishings, nursery/bedroom. The kind of items you may see, in older movies or tv. And when I say simple juvenile clothing, I mean kids looking like kids, not kids in adult scaled down clothing.

I would have loved having brothers who wet the bed. I used look forward to my cousin coming to stay as he as hardly ever dry at night and slept in nappies until he was 17.

Wearing them for the last 5 years has turned down the volume on that part of my psyche, but not completely euthanized it. I actually think that part of this 24/7 "mission" was to normalize this to the point where it was just a background pleasantness, like being outside on a nice day, not a huge thrill, but, it makes everything else you're doing a bit nicer, it puts a little spring in your step. I still get turned on by wearing a diaper sometimes but it's impossible to be turned on all the time. I had to squeeze between my wife and her desk in order to check a printer cartridge for her, and when I did that, she smacked my diapered butt - that turned me on a bit, not gonna lie.

@Reddy im so glad you are on the other side. I hope i can fulfill my lifelong desire of being incontonent as you have done i know right no you have to be cathed becaused of the scar tissue (which sucks!) But hope your recovery is pain free and that the strictures subside so you can be you! On a side note ive had a burning desire to be incontinent my whole life im still pressuing ways to achive it but my mind is made up...id love surgical way but tbe strictures sounds like it kills it 😭 why is it sooo hard to be incontinent!! For all you nay sayers please kindly f@@k off! Well done mr.reddy

Hi and welcome to DD. Nice to meet you, glad to have you join us. A video game with an AB/DL theme sounds like it might be fun, and interesting. Well, come on in, make yourself at home, relax, have fun, and enjoy!

Very vintage. Simple monochrome color schemes, wooden furniture, glass bottles, '50-early 70s animation.

When we had moved to my dad's, we lived a block from the closest neighbor , and on 7 acres. So the clothes line would not matter . And the mattress my brothers slept on was a king so getting it downstairs would not bee easy so they did stand it up against the wall on occasion . I think to be a bed wetter and live in a close nit community would be a really bad thing to deal with as a kid. My brothers were teased all the time. I wanted soo much to share that bed . With the divorce and all I could have started to pee the bed if I only knew then what I know know??? I could have had some of the soaked pee bed to sleep in....

Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! I absolutely had a blast writing this story. Penny was such a throwaway character when I wrote her. But after just one chapter with her in it, I fell in love with her. When Maria goes on her little speech about "I loved this guy and this girl" and it says "I loved Penny the moment I laid eyes on her"... that's how I felt. I started writing her and I immediately fell in love with her. I do think you'll have a very fun and unique experience reading M first, then the others! You'll see a lot of the behind-the-scenes stuff that would have gone over your head if you'd read those ones first. I'm excited to hear what you think. ~Mia~

Ava is checked out for the aftermath of her attack, and takes refuge with friends and family. ----- 17 Little Adjustments The doctor’s office was a Type-III. It had the fancy but informal decoration style of a specialist’s private practice but was well worn from age. Ava was perched on the only up to date furniture in the room, a sanitized exam table. For days with fewer tests, she preferred to curl up in one of the small armchairs that sat kitty-corner between the exam table and the doctor’s small desk. There was a window too high to look out of or into and a spider plant trailing down a cast iron coat rack. As offices went, Ava found it better for comfort than a Type-IV, which was the same thing as a Type-II but new. Both were preferable to a Type-II, which was a regular clinical office with its almost-white walls and blue-speckled linoleum. The higher-numbered types, like community health clinics (Type-VI) and dedicated procedure centers (Type VII), were much further down the comfort scale. Type I’s – hospitals – were just a no in all ways, but at the top of the chart because they were inevitable. For Ava to pick out details of the exam room she was in and map it to her classification system meant she’d been in the room alone for a while. The doctor was busy, but she couldn’t complain. It was at least partially her fault. After her adventures in not breathing, the doctor had kindly fitted her into an already packed schedule. A knock on the door was followed by Dr. Adams making her entrance. She was an older lady but showed no signs of slowing down. Ava was glad for that. She didn’t know what she’d do if she couldn’t ask her grandmotherly, white-haired, broad-bodied tank of a doctor for help. “Hi, Dr. Adams.” “Sorry to keep you waiting, Ava. You know you can call me Leda if you want.” Leda plopped her laptop on the desk and tapped away on the keys. “I know. I’m feeling – not confident today, I guess.” The breezy exam gown Ava was wearing contributed to that feeling, but the real culprit was the medical pullup she was wearing. After all the ABDL stuff she’d been doing with Briana, the pullup’s lack of cute print was no barrier to feeling Little. “That’s understandable after your incident.” Leda put a hand on Ava’s arm, gently squeezing her. “Do you feel like your body betrayed you?” “All my body does is betray me, bit by bit.” Ava sighed. “There’s some good news.” Leda turned the computer so that Ava could see her EKG readout. “Your heart function is strong. Cognitive tests came back as sharp as ever. I know that’s important to you.” Ava breathed a sigh of relief. “It is. But what about – my bladder?” Leda smiled sympathetically. “You’ve lost some function there. It’s not enough to list incontinence as a diagnosis, but there’s been negative progression on your partial continence.” My girlfriend doesn’t care if I wear diapers. She’s rich, pretty, and – has a boyfriend. Blinking away tears, Ava plucked at the waistband of her pullup. “You’re saying it’s a good idea for me to wear these more.” “I’d suggest it any time you’re going out of the house for a significant period, mostly to avoid embarrassment.” Dr. Adams’ face was so kind and sympathetic that Ava couldn’t be mad at her. She wanted to be angry. Nothing would feel better than screaming and imagining throwing rocks at Lord Hanuman’s temple – for five minutes anyway. Past that, the bitterness would only make Ava feel worse. She’d fallen into that trap many times before growing out of it. “Are you suggesting that to the point of being willing to prescribe them?” Leda nodded. “I’ve been willing to do that to help you with the cost for a while.” “I guess – go ahead and write the prescription.” A trio of tears dripped onto Ava’s exam gown. It was a slight loss, but she was in a battle where you didn’t get victories. All you could do was delay the losses as much as possible. “Done.” Leda stood up and gave Ava a hug that she gratefully leaned into. “Do you have someone to pick you up? I’d hate to see you go home alone, as you’re feeling today.” “Rohan is supposed to pick me up, and I have Ollie waiting in the lobby.” “Good.” Leda gave Ava another squeeze before packing up her laptop. “I know today was bad news, but overall, your progression is excellent. You’ve got many good years ahead of you, Ava; you’re lucky in that regard.” Not as lucky as people who get the full set of years – but she’s right. “I know, thanks, Dr. Adams.” “Can I help you get down from the examining table or help you get dressed?” “Just hand me my crutches, please. I want to do the rest myself.” “I’m proud of you,” Leda said, handing Ava her crutches. “It’s not easy to put in the work every day, but that’s a big part of why you’re doing so well.” ~~~*~~~ To no one’s surprise, Ollie offered to accompany Rohan and Ava back to Ava’s apartment. Ollie’s concern was less about Ava’s bad news and more that Rohan’s shoulders would go un-oggled, but she appreciated the company anyway. Her brother’s height, shoulders, and classic Indian good looks had captivated many of her friends. Ava was used to it. Having friends crush on her big brother was a fair trade for Rohan being such a good big brother. Case in point, when they arrived at Ava’s apartment, Rohan helped her out of the car but didn’t offer to carry or help her in the door. He stuck close enough that he’d be able to catch her at the slightest tumble but didn’t make it obvious. Instead, he teased Ollie in their ongoing game of “let’s wind Ollie up about his crush on Rohan.” “Servant boy.” Rohan tossed Ava’s keys to Ollie. “Open the door for us; that’s a good lad.” Ollie caught the keys, rolling his eyes. “Why do I let you treat me like that?” “Because you’re such a good person,” Rohan smirked. “You’re personally making up for decades of British imperialism.” “Yeah, that’s the reason.” Ava giggled, nodding to Ollie imperiously when he held the door for her. While Rohan let Mango out of his cage, Ava went to the kitchen. “Are you two hungry? I’ll fix some lunch.” Ollie bit his lip in concern. “It’s okay, you don’t have to…” “Tangi, great idea,” Rohan said, using the Kannada word for sister as he always did. He flopped onto Ava’s couch. “What are we having?” Opening the fridge on crutches was always awkward – Ava didn’t bother with the crisper drawers at the bottom. Two plastic containers – one full of delicious brown-sauced pork, the other a thin white batter – were within easy reach. “I have some coorgi pandi left over. There’s batter ready for neer dosa. The dosa will be ready by the time the pandi heats up.” Ignoring Ollie’s hovering, Ava put a pot and pan on the stove, grabbing an onion and vegetable oil. “Delicious!” Rohan declared. “Dosa? Don’t you have to stand for a while to fry those?” Ollie’s voice was full of concern – annoying concern. “If you’re going to complain, you can help instead.” Rohan had Mango on his forearm and was feeding him bits of dried fruit. “Heat the pandi – but no snacking until lunch is ready.” “No promises.” Ollie dumped the spicy, curried pork into the pot and turned on the burner. “Is this your mom’s pandi?” “It’s her recipe, but I made it.” Ava set up a station for cooking her dosa. Next to her pan was the batter, with the oil and sliced onion on the other side. On the counter but still within reach was the cooling plate. After ensuring she was well-braced on her crutches, she waited for the pan to heat. “Oh, Ollie won’t like it then.” Rohan chuckled. “That’s slander.” Ollie stirred the curry slowly. He didn’t need to, but it kept him in the kitchen in case Ava needed anything. He might be more annoying than Rohan with how he watched over her, but Ava appreciated it all the same. Not that she’d admit that to Ollie. He’d go way overboard if he thought she liked having someone on standby. “Amma’s pandi,” Ava said, slipping into the Kannada word for mom in her brother’s presence. “Is really good. I’m not offended – much.” “Yours is better.” Rohan grinned at Ava. “As long as you never tell Amma that. Ollie doesn’t have the experience to tell the difference.” “Are you sure about that? How many dinners have you eaten at my parents’ house, Ollie?” Ava grinned up at her friend. “It’s not my fault I was born into a British food family,” Ollie laughed. He’d always been a fan of her amma’s cooking. Though the number of dinner invitations he’d contrived to get went up significantly after Rohan had his high school growth spurt. The banter and the meal were a slice of home that greatly warmed the sad spots in Ava’s heart. She dropped oil into the pan, rubbed it across the non-stick surface with the onion, and poured her batter. As always, lacy gaps formed in the rice batter, which she quickly filled before putting a lid on the pan. Thin as a crepe, the dosa almost drifted onto the cooling plate. Ava oiled the pan again, poured more batter, and folded her freshly cooled dosa. Around the third dosa, Rohan came into the kitchen to give Ava a hug and Ollie a noogie. He left with plates and cups to set the table with. The three of them were seated in front of a stack of delicate dosa and a pot of glorious-smelling pandi long before Ava’s legs could tremble. Without Ollie present, Ava would have asked her brother about his boyfriend, Neil. Given how enthusiastically Ollie was praising her pandi, Ava took mercy on her friend and asked, “So what’s new with you two? I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever.” “That’s because all your time is going to your new friend,” Ollie said through a mouthful of pandi-topped dosa. Rohan good-naturedly tossed a napkin at Ollie’s mouth. “New friend? This is the first I’m hearing,” Rohan said. “Her name is Briana, she’s uh – a girlfriend, I think.” Ava kept her eyes on her plate to avoid the boys’ reactions. “You think she’s a girlfriend?” Ollie had the good manners to ask with his mouth empty. “Tangi, I’m curious too.” “I figured you would be, Anna.” Using the Kannada word for older brother with Rohan felt natural- and Little. Still padded and proudly dry, Ava was halfway into that headspace anyway. “It’s complicated because she’s poly – and has a boyfriend.” “Is that okay? I don’t think you’ve dated anyone poly before.” Rohan put his big arm across Ava’s shoulders. “I don’t know; I’m still figuring it out.” Ava sighed. “You dated a poly guy once, Ollie, but we didn’t discuss it much. Any advice?” “Uh, I don’t have a lot of super useful advice. We were gay dating, not lesbian dating. There weren’t so many long walks in the park. It's more like getting texted, “You up?” at eleven at night.” “That’s not how lesbian dating is.” Ava stuck her tongue out at Ollie. “You didn’t even mention flannels.” “You’ll need to communicate a lot,” Rohan said. “And you can still get hurt. What about this girl makes her so special?” “She’s…” Ava munched on her lunch while she tried to find a way to describe Briana’s effusive Little personality without bringing up ABDL. “Briana is the most open, enthusiastic person I’ve ever met. She’s all or nothing – once she decided we were friends, she was in my life.” “In a good way, though?” Rohan asked. “Yeah, I don’t mean she was pushy – well, she was a bit pushy – but I couldn’t resist hanging out with her. She’s a lot of fun.” Ava leaned against her brother, taking refuge from bad memories in his strength. “Also, she’s tiny, but she shouted down the mob that knocked me over.” “That’s brave. Crazy, but brave. I’m glad she didn’t get hurt too.” Ollie saluted Briana with his water glass. “You sound like you’re falling for her.” Rohan squeezed Ava and returned to his lunch. “Does she know that?” “I don’t know. She’s already said she loves me – and said I didn’t have to say it back, but it feels weird not to.” “I’ll get your apartment packed up.” Ollie chuckled. “There, was that the right stereotype?" “Yes, very good.” Ava chuckled. “I don’t know what to do with her. I like her, but she’s such a pain in the ass. The first time I met her, I thought she was this ditzy rich girl who’d never been to the crazy mansion I was looking after.” “She’s a Rasmussen?” Rohan raised his brows. “Don’t start with your poly-sci stuff, Anna. Yes, she is, she’s adopted. Like, within the year. So she’d never been to the mansion for a good reason, but she still belongs to a mansion-owning family.” “I don’t think Appa and Amma would hate that about her.” Rohan chuckled. “So she’s Michelle’s daughter?” “No – Veronica’s.” Ava rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you know more about my girlfriend’s family than I do.” “Veronica? Michelle’s daughter is her mom? How old is Briana?” “My age. She’s in Microbio.” Ava threw up her hands at Rohan. “Don’t ask. It’s a whole thing, I don’t get how their family works.” Ollie was watching Ava suspiciously. She was sure he didn’t believe her and had an idea of how it worked for Briana to be Veronica’s daughter. Thankfully, he wasn’t the sort that would out her as ABDL to her brother. “I guess old money can do however they like.” Rohan shrugged. “It works the same way in India. Rules are for us peasants.” “If you’re a peasant, how do you get away with calling me servant boy?” Ollie grinned triumphantly. “That’s how low your station is.” Rohan laughed. Ava joined in, glad for the topic-switching save. “Nobody answered my question; what’s going on with you two?” “I’m thinking of hopping companies again,” Rohan said. “Where are you going next? Google? Amazon?” Ollie asked. “Neil and I are considering getting into a startup with our friends.” “Isn’t that risky?” Ava frowned. “It could be, but we have a lot of money saved up.” Rohan shrugged. “If it pans out, I wouldn’t have to work for a few years.” “Yeah, but a startup in Boston?” Ollie shook his head in mock disapproval. “Shouldn’t you move to San Francisco for that? You could make a thing of it, get an apartment in The Castro.” “Living vicariously through me again?” Rohan winked. “The Castro is way more your neighborhood." "I have to live my truth – so I’m either moving there or to Hell’s Kitchen when my doctorate is done.” “Because those places have a lot of work for Psychology post-docs?” Ava giggled. “They’re big cities, and gays are notoriously in need of therapy. I’ll become a counselor or something.” “Or something?” Ava poked Ollie in his side. “I have at least two years before my dissertation is done. Plenty of time to figure things out.” “Speaking of time…” Rohan got up from the table with his plate in hand. “You have to go back already?” Ava sighed. “Sorry, Tangi, I do.” Rohan leaned down to nuzzle Ava’s head. “Ollie, do you need a ride anywhere?” “I’d just take you in the wrong direction, and I have some errands to run downtown. Thanks, though, Rohan.” “I’m glad you’re okay, Ava.” Rohan returned from rinsing his plate off to hug Ava. “The police had better find the guy who pushed you over.” “Briana used the power of her family name when talking to the cops, so I think they will.” “Good.” Rohan ruffled Ollie’s hair. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late. Take care, Ava, and call us if anything else happens.” Ava and Ollie waved goodbye as Rohan left, both sighing the same wistful sigh when the door closed – though for entirely different reasons. “Okay, Ava, I’ve gotta ask – that Veronica that’s Briana’s mom – is she the same Veronica Rasmussen that’s a post-doc in psych? The one working on ABDL therapy?” “I guess?” Ava blushed and sat back in her chair. “I didn’t ask her mom what she did for work when she uh – was uh…” “Babying you?” Ollie chuckled as he gathered up the rest of the plates. “Changing me.” Ava looked down at her shoes. Thankfully, Ollie didn’t scoff, even as a joke. “Huh, so Briana is like her test subject or…?” “Veronica loves Briana. I don’t know how they met or how Briana got into ABDL, but – it’s obvious how much Veronica loves her.” “I’m just saying, is she going to experiment on you?” “Ollie, don’t. I got bad news related to that from the doctor. She said – I should have protection on all the time now.” “Oh, hell. I’m sorry, Ava.” Ollie was by her side in a flash, holding her tightly. “Thanks. I didn’t want to – to…” “I know.” Ollie bonked his head gently against Ava’s. “Brightside, though, it’s not a problem for your girlfriend or her mom.” “Yeah. I guess – she has incontinence issues, too. We have that in common, I guess. Woo.” “You want someone to hang out with for the rest of the day? I can do my errands some other day.” Ollie picked up the rest of the dishes, rinsing them in the sink. “No, it’s okay. Thank you. I need to relax. Maybe I’ll call Briana.” “The offer’s open any time.” “Thanks, Ollie. You know, you’re a good friend for a horrible, bitchy queen.” “You’re a good friend too. For a baby.” Ollie laughed at the same time Ava did. “Honestly, though, Ollie – Hell’s Kitchen?” “I wanna be in the center of it all!” Ollie did his best flaming voice, complete with an equally flamboyant pose. Once he’d gotten a laugh from Ava, he dropped the pose and switched back to his regular voice. “What about you? Any plans after your dissertation?” “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll stay here. It’s friendly to ABDLs – or used to be. Ardenthill has good resources, and I could try for a postdoc position in the department.” “I thought you wanted to move to Boston to be closer to Rohan.” Ollie peeked out from the kitchen with a big grin. “Maybe there’s someone else you want to be close to? Someone whose name begins with a B?” “Maybe. Plus, if I have to always wear protection, I might as well have fun with it.” Ava looked over at Ollie nervously. “Right?” “Yeah, dummy. Of course, that’s right. Whatever makes you happy, go for it!” “I don’t know if it does, but it’s worth a shot.” With her legs giving her a warning tremble, Ava made her way to the couch and took a seat with her feet up on the cushions. “Thanks for cleaning up lunch.” “It’s the least I could do, you cooked.” Ollie came over for a hug before grabbing his backpack. “If you need anything, text or call. The Ollie Express isn’t far away.” “If I need to, I will, but I should be fine. Thanks, Ollie.” “See you, Ava.” The door closed, leaving Mango and Ava on their own. Not that Mango was good company at the moment. Rohan had overfed him snacks – he was sleeping on his perch with a chonky belly. Though she was enjoying the silence, talking about Briana so much had Ava missing her girlfriend. She snuggled under a lap blanket and sent her girlfriend a text. The reply came back near-instantly, full of rainbow and cat emojis. Ava giggled and settled down for a chat with her silly girl.

I consider myself a "diaper-sexual" who is also attracted to the female form. So yes diapers are a huge turn on for me.

Great update. I've found a similar level of increased comfort peeing in bed in the last month that I've ensured I was in an ultra absorbent disposable. I've considered cloth to close that metaphorical and physical gap in my protection, but I don't know where to start. I grew up well into the disposable era so I never saw a cloth diaper as a child. I had a terry pull up a few years back that I used as a diaper cover, but it was pretty useless for full voids. The sensation of wetting it reminded me of the fake towel diapers I'd make as a kid (and still do when I am really desperate and separated from diapers, which is probably just a few days a year) -- not unpleasant but not the glorious chemical thirst sensation that SAP diapers have imprinted deep inside me. Where do you get your cloth diapers?

After a few recent weeks of re-discovery, I’d like to pay homage to the simplest type of nappies that I own: my humble pinned, terry towelling squares. 60” x 60” white (well, mostly white: most of them have dealt with one or more “incidents”) towel-like garments, kite folded and pinned under voluminous milky-white plastic pants. Old school. They’re years old. I don’t even know how many years. Some of them are more translucent than others, having sacrificed a reasonable percentage of their mass to the demanding gods of tumble-drying but even those can still easily be augmented with a laughably-cheap 24” x 24” baby’s terry nappy as a “booster” pad or, in the possibility of foul weather being encountered on its voyage, a liner. I use cloth nappies 2 -3 nights per week in a way similar to someone devout might give up jelly beans for lent hoping to atone for a lifetime of mortal sin (clue: they’re wasting their time. Sin is the stock-in-trade currency of most religions and legions of highly inventive priests, prophets and pastors will be working hard to maintain market liquidity). I use cloth (when convenient) in the forlorn hope that doing so will offset my recreational bent for peeing into non-biodegradable, fossil-fuel-sourced plastic bags filled with pulverised tree-and-chemicals before tossing them into landfill. Twice per day. That and cloth is cheaper. Having realised that re-engineering my nappy cadence to go to bed dry and thus “catch” myself bedwetting was doing little more than re-training me at night, I’ve put the various less-than-12-hour-solution cloth “nappy garments” I have back into a holding pattern in the cupboard and dug out my trusty old towelling squares for some long-haul (12 hour) overnight flights. They work. Like an old Cleveland 351 V8, they’re not sophisticated and they can smell a bit but they absolutely will get the job done. They’re not for the faint-hearted though. From a sartorial elegance perspective, they’re more “Baby Huey” than “James Bond”. Your bum really WILL look big in them. Then there’s all of the modern odour suppression technology that we associate with cloth nappies: none at all. Pee at your peril. Secure fitting plastic pants will help mute, but not erase olfactory evidence of your misdeeds. At some point you WILL smell like a toddler, even if you think you don’t. Terries will also stretch a little when wet, a tendency that unfortunately misaligns with a tendency for them TO get wet. They can then get saggy (I can’t fathom why this wasn’t a problem for Baby Huey). Compression pants help a bit (and will additionally, obscure some of the worst of the bulk) but pinned terry nappies are probably not your weapon of choice if you were planning on going out for a run, or, if the mood takes you, a bout of pogo sticking. Bed is definitely where they are at their best. There, their visual bulk is utterly irrelevant (at least to most of the world) and their orientation towards the horizontal mutes the siren song of gravitational attraction. Bed also showcases their greatest negative virtue. Assuming anything short of criminal negligence, leaking is practically impossible in them. You’re wearing padding ALL the way around you with none of the impoverished “plastic only” bad-lands that disposables have. You’re literally wrapped in thick cloth and furthermore, that cloth, has superb “wicking” capability. Wicking (capillary action for the technically inclined) is that mysterious process whereby moisture (that’s pee in this case) is rapidly transported from “ground zero” to be dispersed across the whole nappy. This to the point where sometime after an initial wetting, the nappy at “ground zero” has de-saturated sufficiently to cop another round of fire without incident. Wicking works in defiance of gravity as it relies upon inter-molecular forces between pee and nappy fibres to transport fluid. (I’m betting that “intermolecular forces” and “nappy” don’t typically cohabitate the same sentences very often – this is how we push envelopes in our strange world). These are the ONLY nappies I have where I can lay on my side in bed and completely dump a whole bladder-full into them feeling nothing more than a comfortable warm wetness spreading down to whichever of my hips is the one on the downhill side of my position in bed and a warm glow of confidence that this warm wetness is inside my nappy and not inside my mattress. They feel wet when they get wet (in the manner of cloth) but I don’t find it at all uncomfortable. The whole “nappy wetting” sensation is probably a little more vivid in cloth and after the deed is done, it’s more of a distinctly clammy warmth in the relevant parts but even if I disliked that, the sensation fades soon enough, or I stop noticing it. I’m not sure which it is. Folded cloth nappies are relatively easy to launder. They compare and contrast nicely with some of my “all-in-one” style cloth nappies. Whilst similarly absorbent and similarly good at wicking as my folded/pinned cloth nappies, those monocoque-chassis construction adult cloth garments can pose challenges on laundry day. All that thick-core absorbency that suffered in noble silence at pee time, exacts its revenge at wash-and-dry time. Regular necessary use of anti-bacterial additive to the wash suggests that there’s some memory lingering on inside them and irrespective of whether it is pee or simply wash water, it can be very, very hard to get moisture back OUT of them. They are a LOT easier to wet than they are to dry. Folded and pin towelling nappies do not suffer from this issue. Although suitably thick whilst worn, once unpinned and unfolded it is no worse than a towel to launder. They last for years. For the last few weeks I’ve had these back on “high rotation” as a part of my weekend cloth nappy dictum. Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights have been spent pinned into these old-school nappies and I’ve noticed something. I think I’m “wetting the bed” an awful lot whilst wearing these. I’m currently reflecting on why this might be so. Standby for updates.

Y'all are making me feel like a giant at 5'7" --- Sam has suffered a disaster on the bike ride and now she needs to deal with the aftermath. That mean more than just cleaning up though as Nina comes to have a heart-to-heart. --- My writing is my passion and my income. I'm only able to write as much as I do because of the wonderful support from my subscribers. With the ABDL purge on Patreon hurting my income dramatically I have set up a couple of alternatives. If you enjoy my work and want to support me there has never been a time where I need it more. For $5 you can see every update to my stories one week before anyone else and for $10 you get early access PLUS access to 50+ stories EXCLUSIVE to subscribers. There are other rewards and tiers available including discounted commissions. To find out more please consider visiting one of my subscription sites. Prices, rewards and eveything else are the same across both https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy Thank you for reading and supporting me and my work ❤️ --- Walking beyond the line of trees Sam looked for a spot that would give her some space. After walking a few yards into the forest it almost felt like she had entered a different world. It was darker and cooler as the tall trees blocked the sun. Sound seemed to be dampened as well. The trees blocking off everything that wasn’t in the tiny clearing Sam now stood in. It would’ve been beautiful if it hadn’t been for the smell. That wasn’t the forest’s fault though. The floor was soft thanks to the dead pine needles that littered the ground creating a natural pillow. Sam let go of the bag and decided this was as good of a place as any. She pulled out one of the clean baby diapers and placed it on a stump nearby. Grimacing, Sam crouched down to untie her shoes. It meant feeling the messy waste in the back of her pants spreading further as she lowered herself. It was gross. Sam looked around to make sure there was no one watching and then finally pulled down her pants. As she stepped out of her clothes she checked to make sure there was no leakage, thankfully the diaper seemed to have contained everything. She felt a little impressed at how much punishment these disposables could take. “Alright.” Sam muttered to herself as she looked down, “How am I going to do this?” It was a legitimate question. Sam knew that there would be quite a mess in that diaper and she wanted desperately to avoid getting any of it on her clothes or hands. Holding up her shirt and cleaning at the same time seemed like it would be very tough. She thought about how babies were changed on their backs and decided she would give it a go that way, at least it would make it easier to keep her shirt out of the way. Sam laid down amongst the pine needles and foliage. She pulled her shirt up and out of the way before reaching for the diaper tapes. With the toilet roll at the ready she started to pull the tapes away from the front of the padding, the smell seemed to get worse with each one. When the final tape came away the front of the diaper slumped against her. She tentatively lifted it and was pleased that none of the poop had seemed to have migrated to the front of the disposable, it seemed like that would make clean up slightly easier. Getting to work Sam scrunched up her face as she tried to clean herself. It quickly became apparent how difficult it would be, it seemed like every time she cleaned one area another would be smeared, she couldn’t see behind herself either so had to tentatively try to clean whilst blind to how bad things were. Sam had no idea how long she was in that clearing working away but it felt like forever. She felt slightly panicky that she would be left behind, that her friends would just leave her there. They would see this as their chance to break away from her. It was completely irrational but she didn’t feel like she was in a rational situation. She stood up and bent over to try to finish cleaning the last hard to reach places. Finally, with the last of the toilet paper, Sam wiped all over her behind and between her legs. When the paper came away clean she let out a deep sigh of relief. The diaper was still laying open on the ground but she had been around the smell so much that her nose was actually getting used to it. She had tried to drop all the used paper in the diaper and she made sure not to leave anything behind as she folded the diaper up and taped it closed. It felt like a miracle that, as far as she could tell, she hadn’t dirtied her clothes or hands. “Sam?” Nina’s voice called out through the trees. Her friends were looking for her. Sam froze and then a second later Nina stepped out from behind a tree. She looked around and then saw Sam and the scene of the change. The small woman grabbed the diaper she had taken out for the change and used it to cover herself up like a shy toddler. “Oh, sorry.” Nina said as she spun around, “We were just starting to worry you were lost.” “It’s fine.” Sam said with a long sigh, “If you give me a second I’ll be done.” “Sure.” Nina replied. She walked over and picked at the bark of a tree and making sure not to watch Sam. Sam opened the diaper and laid it on the ground. She sat down on it and then lowered herself so she was on top of it. She looked to the side where Nina was still pointedly looking away as if the tree in front of her was the most interesting thing in the world. The temptation to ask Nina to help was strong but she couldn’t, she had blown that with her constant stream of embarrassing situations and there was no need to cause another one now. Reaching down between her legs with a grunt Sam pulled the diaper up and quickly taped it closed. It was a skill she was quickly getting good at. She sat up with loud crinkling that Nina seemed to be pretending not to hear and then she put her pants back on. “You can turn around.” Sam said as she hopped up on to a log at the back of the clearing. Nina turned and smiled as she looked around the clearing. She walked over and sat on the log net to Sam. For a good half a minute they just sat in silence listening to the birds singing above them and the leaves rustling as the wind blew through them. It was peaceful. “Been a crazy day, huh?” Nina finally said. “Things have been crazy ever since we got here.” Sam replied, “I’m really sorry about… everything.” “What? No! You have nothing to apologise for.” Nina said quickly “I feel like I do.” Sam shrugged, “You guys just want a normal holiday with friends and I’m here turning everything into a complicated mess. I’m a massive burden.” “None of it has been your fault.” Nina said, “I’m the one who should be sorry.” “Why on Earth would you need to apologise?” Sam asked. “You were right behind me on this bike ride.” Nina kicked the ground. The frustration at herself leaving a small scrape in the dirt, “You were going through all that shit and I should’ve been there to help. I should’ve heard you or checked on you or… something.” “First of all, did you mean that to be a pun?” Sam asked with a small smile, “Secondly, you couldn’t hear me. There was nothing you could’ve done. I should’ve remembered to use the toilet before we left. Even if you saw the trouble I was in what would we have done? It’s not like there’s an overabundance of bathrooms around here. It’s not your fault.” “I’ll agree it wasn’t my fault if you agree it wasn’t your fault either.” Nina said with her own smile. Sam held out her hand and Nina shook it a second later before both girls laughed themselves to silence. Sam sighed as she looked over at the balled up diaper still laying in the middle of the clearing. She found herself wondering what they were going to do with it, they couldn’t leave it there after all. “And you’re not a burden.” Nina broke the silence, “I don’t want you to ever think like that, OK?” Sam nodded her head a couple of times but didn’t really believe Nina. It was easy to say that she wasn’t a burden or that nothing was her fault but it was a lot harder to believe it. She knew that if she had stayed home the other three would be having a much smoother time. She couldn’t blame them for resenting her. She resented herself. “Besides, I don’t think I’d have come if you weren’t here.” Nina finally said. She was looking pointedly away from Sam back at the tree that had captivated her as Sam had changed. “What!?” Sam was shocked. “I’m serious.” Nina said. “But… Why?” Sam frowned as she looked at Nina. Her cheeks were red but how much that was because of the recent physical exertion Sam couldn’t know. “Because you’re my closest friend!” Nina laughed, “I would want to be wherever you were. Here, back at the dorms… Heck, I’d probably follow you home to your family in the summer if you let me.” Nina laughed but Sam was feeling a flood of emotions. The wave of affection she had felt earlier was back. She felt like she was tingling all over and she was worried she was about to faint. Nina turned to look at Sam and then did a double-take when she saw Sam was looking right back at her. The air was still and even the birds seemed to have stopped chirping. Sam climbed to her feet on the log and closed the distance to her much larger friend. She held her arms out and before Nina could say anything she wrapped them as far around Nina’s chest as they would go. She leaned against Nina’s clothes as she closed her eyes. She didn’t know what she was doing, all she knew was that she had a lot of emotions and they needed to be expressed. She didn’t trust her mouth to say them so she fell back on something a lot simpler. Just as Sam was about to pull back she unexpectedly felt Nina’s arms around her as well. Her heart fluttered as the hug was returned. No words were shared but it felt like that one physical embrace communicated more than any of their conversations had ever done. They could’ve been wrapped up there for one minute or one hour. Time seemed irrelevant to Sam, it faded into the background along with the trees around them and the sound of nature. All that existed for Sam was what she could feel. Eventually Sam felt Nina’s hands gently take her arms. They separated but Sam didn’t look away from her friend’s face. She wondered what was about to happen as her heart felt like it was about to burst. Almost imperceptibly Nina leaned forwards towards Sam. “Nina?” Amy’s voice cut into the clearing. Sam jumped and both she and Nina scooted away from each other. Just a moment later Amy came walking into the small clearing in the same direction Nina had. She looked over at the two on the log and smiled with relief. “We thought you were both lost!” Amy said, “Chrissy is just-… Are you two alright?” “We’re fine.” Sam and Nina said at exactly the same time. “You just look a little…” Amy paused to find the right word. That was quite something for Amy who seemed to know more words than the dictionary, “Flustered?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nina said. She almost sounded convincing, “I was just helping Sam.” “Right…” It sounded like Amy suspected something was going on but didn’t know what, “Anyway, you guys missed a bald eagle swooping over the lake and grabbing a fish. It was so cool!” Sam smiled. Amy started gushing excitedly about the wildlife encounter and as happy as Sam was that her friend was excited she was happier that it had distracted from asking more questions. They started making their way back to the clearing. Nina scooped up the messy diaper from the ground, she pulled out a plastic bag she had in her pocket and slipped the used disposable inside. She placed the plastic back in the backpack she had let Sam borrow and managed to do it all so smoothly Amy didn’t notice as she led the way. “Finally.” Chrissy said as the other three emerged from the trees, “I’d run out of people to send in looking for you.” “Sorry.” Sam replied with a timid little smile. “Is everything alright?” Chrissy asked. “Everything’s fine.” Nina answered, “Now let’s get eating. I’m starving.” --- If you want to find out what happens next you can do so RIGHT NOW at either of the following links: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/lplyymi677/chapter/fc4760f5-ef1f-4dd2-a4e5-7a38eaa28a2d https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1200075

Chapter 4 “Sandra, Sandra–” The elf sat up, groggy and worn from the fight. Or…from the spanking, really. She had a hard time thinking of it as a ‘fight’, she’d been a hero of legend right up until she became a humiliated peepshow. At least she didn’t wake up with a pacifier gag of confusion in her mouth. Hadrian knelt over her, tapping her face. To someone out of her view, he called, “Healing potion, come on! How many times do I have to say it?” She blinked a couple times, winced, and sat up. Her thighs and butt stung like wildfire, but someone had done her the dignity of pulling her diaper and pants back up, so that she was at least covered up. “I’m fine, don’t need a potion,” she said, moving her jaw around a bit. There were people moving about, either caring for the wounded or taking stock of their injuries. The bartender was up, too, in the middle of returning a health potion to its shelf. “Take it we won?” “Six people are down,” Hadrian said. “Not dead, but disabled until we find a way to remove those cursed gags.” “Damn.” Standing, Sandra tried to make it look like she wasn’t just taking weight off her butt to reduce the constant burning there. Though she couldn’t see, she imagined she had an impressive bruise down there. “Tell me we at least caught–” The summoner flew through the broken doorway and into the room, carried by an impressive throw at Quinn’s hands. Cuffed, gagged with a cloth, bare skin exposed all over, and most notably, no longer inside a fluffed up latex animal costume. She landed with a heavy thud on the floor, but lay still, unconscious. “We got her,” Tarja said, waddling through the door, her gait a little wide and awkward. She wasn’t lacking in dexterity, the waddle was from aversion to the load in her diaper–it’d only been a few minutes, then, since Sandra passed out. Quinn was right on her heels, a big of swagger in his hips on account of the successful takedown. “Once we hit her a few times, the wolf costume thing kind of just…melted away.” “That was her eidolon, I think,” Sandra explained. “Some summoners, they can fuse with their Eidolon and share a form, but…I’ve never seen one that restrains its host like that.” “That’s the wizard’s work,” Hadrian said. “Finding ways to make everything a little more messed up.” Stepping over the summoner’s unconscious form, Sandra nudged her with a foot. She had on a collar, buckled around her throat tightly, giving off a faint aura of magic, with a name printed on it–‘Kitty’. (Okay, maybe not a name, just a label.) Her armor was scanty, little more than a leather bra and a thong, exposing dark skin and a well toned body. For someone who spent most of her time casting spells, while bound on all fours, she was fit and athletic. (At least it isn’t chainmail,) Sandra thought, looking over her not-really armor. “Let’s get her into a room. A soundproof one–I’ve got questions.” Quinn didn’t need to be told twice. Hefting the summoner, he threw her over a shoulder, taking her upstairs. “Do I have a second–” Tarja started to ask, cheeks growing a little pink. “Go change,” Sandra said. She to follow after Quinn, but winced as her diaper and pants chafed against raw, tender thighs. Glancing at the bartender, she said, “I will actually take that health potion now, if you’ve got one.” … They took no chances. The summoner clearly had experience with restraints, and Sandra didn’t want to risk a slip-up. They tied her legs to a heavy chair, shackled her ankles together, cuffed her arms behind her back, and tied the cuffs to the chair too. For good measure, they wrapped a few coils of rope around her whole body, too, binding her so tightly there wasn’t any room to move. Hadrian stayed in the corner of the room, counterspells ready. Tarja sat to the side, bow in hand, while Quinn loomed by the door. Only a few candles existed to cast light in the room, lending it all a shadowy, intimidating atmosphere, and Sandra loomed over the chair with a knife in her right hand and a leather glove shrouding her left hand. Only once all that was in place did Sandra pour her healing potion down the summoner’s throat, giving her just enough rejuvenation to wake up. Sandra held the dull back edge of her blade against the summoner’s throat, a threat to keep her in line. She expected surprise, or even shock, but when the summoner woke up, she just blinked a couple times and took in her surroundings. Then, she began to purr. “Mmm,” the summoner said. “I’m sorry, mistress, was I naughty?” Sandra blinked, her grip on the knife shaking for a moment. “I’m sorry?” The summoner turned her head to nuzzle against Sandra’s arm. “No, I’m sorry. Did I earn a punishment? Am I going to have to please your friends one at a time, or are they all going to use me at once?” Yanking back her hand as though burned, Sandra tried to figure out how to respond, lowering her knife. “What–what can I call you?” “It’s on my tag!” The summoner said, giggling. “Kitty.” “Alright, Kitty,” Sandra said, trying to regain control of the situation. “You’re going to tell us what we want to know, or we’re going to make you regret it.” “Bold talk,” Kitty said. “If you think you can–I haven’t even felt how hard you hit yet.” Unsure what to do next, Sandra glanced at Hadrian, but he only shrugged. She didn’t want to actually torture the summoner, but it really seemed like threats weren’t working. Kitty tilted her head to a forty five degree angle, feigning surprise. “What? You don’t want a little struggle first? I figured you’d like the game–if you just wanted a compliant hole, I left you plenty of those downstairs. But, please–you can use the sharp side of the knife, I don’t mind a little blood.” Sandra looked down at the blade in her hand. Kitty had noticed the empty threat, the dull edge. “We want to know where the wizard took everyone from the Calistrian temple,” Sandra said, “And from the other temples he’s hit, too. And we want to know why you attacked us tonight.” “That’s all?” she asked, grinning up at Sandra. “Hmm…alright. My safe words can be map coordinates, then–if you think you’re hard enough for me?” “Hadrian,” Sandra said, holding out her hand. She’d put on a leather glove just for this, to prevent skin contact with the cursed object. Hadrian carried over one of the cursed pacifier gags, passing it to her. She held it up for emphasis, just a couple inches from Kitty’s face. “If you don’t comply, I’m going to jam this in your mouth and you can say goodbye to your mind.” Kitty went a little cross eyed looking at the gag, but then her vision shifted back to Sandra and she made an overt effort to roll her eyes. “Stick that in my mouth, I can’t give you the information you want, can I?” Sandra frowned and stepped back, tossing the collar off to the side. She looked around again, to her party. It really seemed like torture would be the only option, if that even worked, if they could deal enough punishment to make a hardcore masochist break. “Eh…” she started. “Guys? I don’t know if I really want to just–” “I’ww doi’,” Tarja said, drawing the room’s attention to her. “D’aww,” Kitty sneered, mocking Tarja’s lisp. “Da widdle baby is gonna have pwaytime wiff me? Gonna piddle your pants so you can be a big bully?” Hesitating, Tarja shook her head, focused on enunciating. “I don’t need to stand to make you hurt.” Kitty’s sneer faded slightly, and her eyes widened when she realized the threat wasn’t impotent. “Eh, heh.” “Are you sure?” Quinn asked, standing up a little straighter. “You don’t have to.” Sandra stepped back. “Don’t–” “Let me do this,” Tarja said, to both of them. “If you need to step out, I understand, but this bitch took six minds today. I don’t really have any qualms about this.” Sandra backed up to the door. She was uncertain about the methods, but she couldn’t argue, and they needed the information. “Eh…do it.” Tarja nodded, shut her eyes, and focused for a moment, loosing a bit of ranger magic without so much as sitting up. From the floorboards, small, narrow vines began to sprout. Weak at first, they wound their way up Kitty’s bare legs, through the cuffs, and up her body, tying, tightening, squeezing. Kitty chuckled nervously. “I’m already tied up, what’s–aaah–” Thorns, wicked and sharp, shout out from the vines. None were long enough to cut deep, but there were dozens, hundreds, piercing Kitty’s skin and drawing out tiny droplets of blood. The vines kept growing, creepy, needles moving up Kitty’s bare tummy. As they grew, they twisted, slowly rotating so that the thorns were pulled through her skin, more lacerations than Sandra could count. Kitty took a deep breath, steadying herself, a flicker of a smile playing across her mouth. For all the pain being inflicted, she still enjoyed it. “Your leader said it best. Harder,” Kitty whimpered, flashing a smirk at Sandra. Tarja complied. The vines clambered higher, underneath the leather bra that barely qualified as armor, and by the way the material bulged, Sandra could tell the vines were coiling around Kitty’s nipples, tightening, cutting. She winced sympathetically, glancing away for a moment. Kitty squeezed her hands into fists, balling them up so tight that her nails cut her own skin and blood dripped down from her palms, but her vicious smile only grew stronger. The vines grew higher, towards Kitty’s throat, wrapping around her neck to squeeze. They pulsed, reducing circulation, stifling the supply of blood to her brain. It never lasted long enough to let her pass out, just enough to fog her brain, to send her into an unconscious panic mode she couldn’t resist. Tightening further, the vines applied the barest amount of pressure to her windpipe, so that even breathing caused pain. “Hhhc–” Kitty said, trying to look back at Tarja. “That all you–got?” Forcing the vines tighter, Tarja wrapped them around Kitty’s chest, limiting the summoner’s ability to suck in air. She could only take short, ragged breaths, and those were each accompanied by a staccato of pain. Sandra had to turn around completely. She couldn’t watch the rest–she just had to wait it out. Kitty’s words grew blurrier, less clear, but she continued to fight, to sass, to brat. Demanding more, until her words were gone completely, and she could only gasp and moan and yelp and groan. Still, she didn’t break, reveling in the pain. Tarja grunted, then, driving the magic harder. A minute passed. Two. Kitty’s pitch grew and her moans gained volume. It didn’t sound like she was being tortured, it sounded like she was being fucked, drawing incredible sexual pleasure from the violence. Sandra wanted to step out, but she’d already shown enough weakness by looking away, she didn’t want to give Kitty the satisfaction. But, still… “Stop,” Quinn cut in. The room fell silent. “I can go harder,” Tarja said. “I can do this.” “I believe you,” Quinn promised, “That’s not my issue. We’re going about this wrong–we’re punishing her with the carrot.” Kitty laughed, her voice sultry and ragged all at once. “No, no, please–I was just about finished. A little more.” Quinn was right. They weren’t torturing her at all, they were just giving Kitty what she wanted. Looking back, Sandra asked, “What do you propose?” “Kill the vines,” Quinn said, walking up to Kitty. “Please.” Tarja was reluctant, but complied, releasing her magic. The vines crumbled, and for just a moment, Sandra could see that they’d sprouted roots, digging into Kitty’s– Trying not to gag, Sandra just accepted that it was over. “Here’s the deal,” Quinn said, kneeling in front of Kitty, so that they were at eye level. “You’re going to tell us what we want to know, and if you don’t, I’m going to make your life a hell that you, personally, can’t stand.” “Really?” Kitty asked, leering up at him. Even covered in a thousand wounds and bloody all over, she managed to look confident, even cocky. “How are you going to do that? Throw me in prison? Maximum security, let the guards ravage me at their will?” “We know plenty of churches and orders,” Quinn said. “I’ll find one of them–a sweet, nice one–and I’ll put you in their care. They’ll be able to make sure you can’t use your magic.” “Sure, who cares?” Kitty asked. “I’m not hearing a threat, sissy boy.” “They’ll take care of you,” Quinn continued, smiling genuinely when Kitty’s eyes widened. “Every day–make sure you’re eating healthy food, getting plenty of rest. Taking time to meditate and focus on yourself, in self-fulfillment. Finding satisfaction in the mundane, in simple acts of goodness. And I’m sure they’ll let you masturbate as much as you want, as long as you’re not hurting yourself…” Kitty’s face was panicked. “No,” she said. “You–you can’t.” “I can,” Quinn promised. “I wonder if you’ll prefer gardening or knitting?” “I–” Kitty started. “I–” Sandra, finally, saw her moment to step in. “We know a good therapist who will happily take time for you, too.” Kitty swallowed. “Fuck.” “Or,” Quinn said, reaching out to touch her leg, squeezing hard enough that she could feel his strength. “You tell us what we want, and we’ll throw you in a dirty, awful little hole, full of prisoners that can’t wait to take advantage of a helpless, pathetic, powerless summoner. I don’t know if they’ll want to take turns or use you all at once, it’ll probably depend on the day. You’re going to be imprisoned one way or another, so you tell me–which would you rather have?” Kitty swallowed. “You bastard.” “Where did the wizard take the prisoners?” Sandra asked. “And why did you attack us?” “You broke a promise,” Kitty grumbled. “Interfered with my master’s affairs–helping his victims. He wanted to remind you that promise-breaking has consequences. As for the locations…Master has strongholds he’s built, places to tuck away important things, important people. Your priests are stuck in a few of those. I know one is underneath Drakefire Mountain, the volcano north of here. Promise that my cell won’t have a toilet, and I’ll mark the locations of all his temples on a map.” Sandra exhaled sharply through her nose. Quinn’s plan had worked. “We’ll get that map. One more question,” she said. “Your collar–what does it do?” “It’s a compulsion,” Kitty explained. “It–how do I put this. It makes everything feel so good, and it makes me obey my master.” She blinked. “Wait, it’s…like, an obedience collar?” “You could put it that way,” Kitty continued, nodding. “My master makes me wear it, so I’ll be a good Kitty for him. And I want to be a good Kitty for him, so I always do whatever he asks me.” “Ah…” Sandra said, guilt suddenly gnawing at her. “So you didn’t choose to come out here, and hurt these people–” “No, no,” Kitty said. “Not at all. I did it because the Wizard told me to, and I can’t say no to him.” “Fuck,” Sandra said. “We–we just tortured someone for something she couldn’t consent to.” The room fell silent. “I should have thought of that,” Hadrian said. “No shit he’d have compulsions on his servants, making them act–don’t blame yourself, Sandra.” Tarja shook her head. “But, she–she liked it, right? Even if she’s not responsible for the fight…” “She was mindfucked into liking it,” Sandra said, pacing the room as guilt washed into her. “We…oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” Quinn stepped in with the important question. “Kitty, do you know if someone else can remove your collar?” “My master told me not to remove it, so I can’t,” Kitty said. “But someone else should be able to–but please don’t! Master would be really upset.” “Don’t worry, Kitty,” Sandra said, shaking her head. “We’ll get your head free. You’re going to be better, soon.” Reaching up, she unbuckled the collar. It fell free, landing in Kitty’s lap, breaking the compulsion spell. Instantly, Sandra felt better. She’d done something good, rescued another victim of the wizard. Everyone else seemed to relax, too, sighing in relief. “Sandra,” Kitty said, moving her head around, stretching out her neck. “Thank you for that–I mean it. You’re a good girl.” There was something odd about her tone, but Sandra couldn’t identify it. And, besides, the words caught her interest more than the inflection–‘A good girl’? It struck her as an odd compliment, but maybe Kitty had just spent so much time around the wizard that her word choice was warped. Besides, it was a nice thing to say about someone. “I’m sorry for being a bully,” Tarja said. “That was mean, I don’t like being mean.” “It’s okay,” Kitty said. “Could someone untie me, please?” That seemed fair–she wasn’t much of a threat anymore, and she was nice. Crouching, Sandra inspected the knots and cuffs. She knew how to untie these–rabbit goes around the hole, into the weeds, then out…right? “Gimme a second,” she said, frowning over the knots. “Take your time,” Kitty said. Behind her, Hadrian said, “We’re gonna…beat up that wizard for this.” “Yeah, he’s a jerk,” Sandra agreed. The knots perplexed her. She’d been the one to tie them, but they looked so complicated. Sweating, she pulled at one of the threads. “Erm…this is tricky.” Tarja got to her feet, waltzing over to help Sandra, crouching to help. “Huh…you tied this?” “I know,” Sandra said. “It’s…funny.” “Hey,” Kitty said. “It’s okay, I can get it.” “Oh,” Sandra said, nodding agreeably, sitting down and scooting back to give Kitty room to work. “Okay. Sure!” Sitting down, she scooted back a little and watched Kitty wriggle her hands, fidget a few times, and finally drop the cuffs from her wrists. From there, she worked her way up to the ropes, maneuvering her body one joint at a time until she got free of the bindings on her arms. “This would have been way harder if I had to do it while you weren’t looking,” Kitty explained. “Thanks for that.” Sandra tilted her head. “How come you couldn’t?” “Well, you would have stopped me,” Kitty explained. “But now we’re friends, so it’s okay!” “Oooh, okay!” Sandra said, happy to hear that they were still friends after she’d been such a meanie. “Uh…” Quinn said, looking down. Sandra could practically hear the blush in his voice, and she giggled when she looked up at him–he’d peed his pants! “Hah!” Sandra announced. “Quinn went potty!” “So did you,” Tarja pointed out, snickering. “Potty pants.” Sandra glanced at her, then, finally, noticed that Tarja wasn’t shaking at all. “Hey, you too!” “You can all be potty pants,” Kitty said, shaking herself off and getting to her feet. “It was nice talking, kids, but I’ve got places to be. Have fun, you should come to your senses…oh, eventually.” “Huh?” Hadrian said, raising his hand, his tone a little whiny and high. “Hold on, you’re not supposed to be going no place–Sandra, she’s not! Tell her she’s not!” “Hey, yeah,” Sandra said, looking up at Kitty. “Where’re you going?” “I have grown up business to take care of,” Kitty explained. “I may have mislad you a bit, earlier–I do what my master says because I want to, the collar is just something I asked for because it’s so much fun to not have a choice. And the insurance policy we worked in? That’s extra helpful when I’m in a room full of dupes.” Sandra blinked, and then her eyes went wide as she understood, sort of, what’d been said. “H-hey! You fibbed!” Hadrian tried to conjure magic, and managed to throw up a magical barrier over the door, though he looked puzzled as he cast the ward. “Nuh… not going noplace. Stay here!” “Mhmm,” Kitty said, crouching and waving her hand over the pacifier gag on the floor. “I know, I’m an awful fibber, but I really can’t stay.” Floating up into the air, the pacifier turned, identifying its prey–Hadrian. Diving at his face, he only had time to yelp before the bulb jammed itself in his mouth. His eyes rolled back, and he sunk to the floor, suckling mindlessly. The ward over the door vanished, and Kitty crouched down, smirking at Sandra. “Your friend’s gonna be all hazy, but I bet he’d like if he got a makeover, so he could look pretty when he wakes up!” That…seemed wrong, but Sandra couldn’t spot an issue with the logic. Hadrian did already have heels and his pretty, shiny outfit–why wouldn’t he like a makeover? “Okies,” Sandra said, nodding happily. “Thanks, Kitty!” “Thanks, Kitty!” Tarja repeated. “No fair,” Quinn pouted, no longer trying to hide his accident. “I want one too!” “You can all play,” Kitty suggested, waltzing out the door. “Just remember this, next time you think you’re good enough to try and beat the wizard–even when you win, you really just lose.” Sandra remembered the words, but she didn’t really know what they meant. That was okay. She had her friends to play with. ... Replies are always appreciated! If you're able, support for my writing is always a massive help. I wouldn't be able to do this without the awesome patronage of my readers on Ream and SubscribeStar. https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

A normal morning for me, although normal, the pleasure never diminishes for me when I mess my diaper. Each poopy diaper is as unique as a snowflake. I wet my Cushies Ultra diaper during the night and messed 60 minutes ago while in the kitchen getting coffee and checking emails. Now I am enjoying hot coffee with a warm, messy, squishy diaper. I won't change right away and will get my morning exercise in my wet and poopy diapee. I'll clean up and put on a Bambino Classico V2 diaper for work where I'll wet throughout the day without anyone knowing that I have a wet diaper. For now I'll enjoy the warm unique potty in my diaper.

Her mom was crying. Hortensia’s mind was going blank from the stress. She sat across from her at a table in the prison visiting center. “Why didn’t you tell me?” her mom asked, doing what she had referred to as “ugly crying”. Hortensia sank down, glad for the nappies extra cushion on the hard bench seats. She was trying to hide her watering eyes. She didn’t want to do this in front of everyone. Miss Honey, Brian, Matilda, Hazel, Zach, Nick, Aiden, Cynthia, Mrs. Rodgers and a police woman with a notepad were all here, having a “brainstorming session.” It was her moms idea, like a police interrogation with everyone, all at once, pointing fingers at each other and a cop taking notes. Her mom wanted to feel involved in the investigation and the warden allowed it given the “special circumstance”, so long as the officer in charge of the investigation was present. She wanted to meet them all before her transfer in two days. Wanted to meet Brian. And anyone else male Hortensia had been spending time with. All four of them had tested negative. She couldn’t believe her mom had made an eleven, and thirteen-year old get tested for an STD. Now everyone knew. And they demanded answers. Answers Hortensia didn’t have. “I don’t know.” Hortensia mumbled for what felt like the hundredth time. She looked down, chipping away at the fake wood table’s finish with her fingernail. “Sometimes, I just hurt.” There were specific times she could point to where something hadn’t been right. Like that summer a handful of years ago. She kept… sharting herself. That happened sometimes when she farted, but it had been happening worse than usual that summer. And her arse had been killing her. They had even sent her home from camp over it, and lectured her about her personal hygiene. “That’s why your fanny hurts so bad; you're sitting in poo and your skin got irritated.” The camp nurse had said. Her mother had not been happy to drive four hours round trip to pick her up. All because she’d been sharting herself and not wiping properly? But she couldn’t help it. The pain had been unbearable. She couldn’t stand the thought of one more hot and sticky, bug infested night in the forest. She couldn’t do any camp activities. She couldn’t sit for meals, and she couldn’t sleep. Finally, she had broken down in tears mid tennis match and demanded to go home. Everyone told her it was because she wasn’t wiping properly, but Hortensia had been sure the pain had started before the accidents. No one ever took her seriously. It made her blood boil. She had always wanted people to listen to her, and now that everyone was here hanging on her every word, Hortensia wanted to duck underneath the table and hide. This week had been humiliating. So many questions. So many people in her personal space. When would this all end? “You must have some idea!” her mom said. “I can’t.” Hortensia mumbled. “Tens, no matter what you say, you’re not going to get in trouble.” Jennifer said. “You wouldn’t believe me.” This meeting had been a mistake. Everyone had been at each other's throats. Her mom blamed Brian and Jennifer, Jennifer blamed Aiden, and Aiden and Cynthia blamed just Jennifer. “You’re the one who needs to be tested!” Cynthia shouted, pointing a finger at Miss Honey, who gawked. “I would never lay a hand on her!” Miss Honey hissed. “Never lay a hand on her?” Cynthia scoffed, “your hands have been all over her this whole time!” “That’s not the same thing!” Miss Honey argued, but Hortensia could feel Miss Honey remove her hand from her back just the same and put them under the table. Hortensia reached for it, and Miss Honey gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “What do you have against her?” Hortensia demanded. Cynthia looked surprised. They both gave Miss Honey dirty looks. “Why’d you make me beat up her car?” “Nobody made you beat up her car, you’re just refusing to take responsibility for your actions.” Cynthia said. “Aiden hit me in the face and told me if I didn’t make her quit he’d have the guards beat up mom!” “Oh, not this again!” Eve groaned. “It’s stories like this that make us not believe you.” “There’s no way for me to even get the guards to do that even if I wanted to. Your story telling needs work.” Aiden said, with his massive arms crossed across his ginormous chest. “Yeah it is! You could bribe them or something, I don’t know!” Hortensia said. “With what money? My business just went under!” “There was a day we found Hortensia with a bloody lip right before the incident with my car.” Miss Honey said. “I had assumed it was a teacher she had had an altercation with, but the teacher denied it.” “And we saw you at her house right before she went mental.” A voice threw out. All eyes turned to Zach and Nick who had remained quiet until now. “He’s the massive bloke we saw fighting with her.” Nick chimed in. “No! Th-that wasn’t me!” Aiden said. “How many 300 pound Islander men are there in this town?” Mrs. Rodgers asked. “Quite a few.” Cynthia growled. “His whole extended family is here!” “So you're throwing your own family under the bus?” Mrs. Rodgers asked, eyebrows raised. Cynthia went quiet. “I’d like to know what you have against Jenny as well. This whole time you’ve been dragging her through the mud. It feels personal.” Hortensia could see her mom’s eyes flicker between her and Aiden. “You were telling the truth?” Eve asked so quietly, Hortensia wouldn’t have heard if she hadn’t been staring directly at her. Hortensia nodded. She turned to Aiden. “Why did you tell my daughter to break Jennifer’s car?” “You can’t believe this garbage, Eve, you know how she is. She has those temper tantrums and loses control.” Aiden said. “And I didn’t tell her to break her car!” “They saw you there.” Eve said. “You aren’t someone who can be easily mistaken.” “I was just there checking up on her, and she got mouthy.” “So you hit her in the face?” Eve asked. “A spanking I could understand, but…” “It was a slap! Open palm!” Aiden said. “She was bleeding.” Miss Honey said, glaring daggers at him. “My ring must have caught her lip.” Aiden mumbled. Her mom stared at both Aiden and Cynthia as if seeing them for the first time. “Honey, what did Aiden tell you, exactly?” “He told me if I helped him get rid of Miss Honey he could keep you from getting transferred, and if I didn’t, you’d get hurt.” “Why?” Eve asked him. Hortensia could see the cop in the corner furiously scribbling down their conversation. “Because she’s a dyke who shouldn’t be allowed to run a school full of children!” Cynthia spat. “All that work to get rid of the first dyke, only to get replaced by another!” The room went silent. “Why does everyone think I’m a lesbian?” Miss Honey asked. “Everyone knows you had an incestuous relationship with your aunt!” Cynthia said. “My aunt abused me!” “You know,” Mrs. Rodgers said calmly. “ I really have my doubts that Jennifer's sexual orientation has anything to do with this. See, the only reason you’d know Jenny was being abused is if you saw a certain letter they found in your best friend’s safe. So either you helped Eve blackmail Agatha Trunchbull, or you two are the ones who did and framed your best friend. How about you tell us about this company that went under? You wouldn’t happen to be in the publishing business, would you?” Hortensia could see the color drain from both of their faces. “What was that company called again?” “A.C.R Publishing.” Miss Honey said. “Ah, yes, and that wouldn’t happen to stand for Aiden and Cynthia Redding Publishing, would it?” Mrs. Rodgers asked. “We don’t have to sit here and take this bullshit anymore!” Cynthia shouted. They both stood up. “No, my mistake.” Mrs. Rodgers said. “It’s not Aiden and Cynthia Redding Publishing, is it? It’s Aiden and Christopher Redding Publishing.” She pulled a folded up piece of paper out of her pocket and tossed it on the table. “Jennifer, did you know there’s this thing called the internet where you can look up almost anything? Like businesses, and criminal records.” Hortensia picked up the piece of paper and blanched. It was a mugshot of a familiar looking man. “You leave my brother out of this! He’s turned his life around!” Aiden shouted. Cynthia was trying to pull him away by the arm. “Hortensia, what was it you were going to say?” Jennifer whispered in her ear. “You said, you didn’t think anyone would believe you? Now’s the time to say it.” Hortensia nodded, took a deep breath, and shouted to be heard over the arguing. “Do you remember that time you sent me to summer camp?” Everyone stared at her. Hortensia sank down in her seat. “When you had to drive four hours to come pick me up because my arse hurt.” she mumbled. “I remember that!” Eve said, but then frowned. “You don’t think it happened there, do you?” “I don’t know.” Hortensia said at the table, but it was her best guess. “I just woke up after the first night hurting.” “Camp Summercrest?” Matilda asked. Hortensia stared at her. “How’d you know?” “There was a shirt for it in the lost and found box. I was wearing it when you had to take me home that one time when I…” Hortensia let out a weak chuckle. She saw Miss Honey reach for the paper next. “It’s him.” Miss Honey said, dropping the paper as if it burned her. “Who is he?” “His brother.” Mrs. Rodgers said. “And?” she was staring at Hortensia and motioning with her hand for her to continue. “The youth pastor at our church.” Suddenly the room exploded in a cacophony of voices. Her mom and Cynthia were screaming at each other. Aiden had run. The cop taking notes was yelling for guards to stop him. Hortensia put her hands over her ears. She wanted to go home. Her stomach cramped. She could feel the nappy filling with hot liquid and she began to cry. … “You did good, sweetheart.” Jennifer said. “I know it’s hard to answer all those questions, but I’m so proud of you for being brave.” They had just gotten back from a real police interrogation where they both gave victim testimonies. She wiped her hands clean with a wet wipe and bunched up the soiled nappy before tossing it into a garbage bag. “I don’t remember.” Hortensia said. “I do.” Jennifer whispered. She knew he was the one who had assaulted her all those years ago. “There’s something called DNA. When you were in the hospital, and they did all those invasive tests, they took samples from you. They found male DNA inside you, and they’re going to test it against the samples they took from him.” “Okay.” Hortensia said softly. “And you know who else is in a lot of trouble?” Jennifer said, a slight grin on her face. “Cynthia and Aiden.” Hortensia smiled slightly. All thanks to Hortensia’s drawings. Jennifer had finally peeked at copies of them at the police station, but they hadn’t been what Jennifer had expected. They were horrific, but it wasn’t a story of Hortensia’s abuse, it was of Billy’s. The story featured a young blonde girl riding on her daddy’s shoulders. She liked being up high, and being able to see things she wouldn’t normally see. Like the inside of vehicles. And as the father and daughter were walking down the street, the little girl noticed something strange. “Daddy, what’s he doing with Billy?” The little girl asked. The tall, blonde haired man looked to where she’d pointed. He quickly removed her off her shoulder and put her on the ground. “Run home as fast as you can.” The man said. The little girl ran, but not home. She ran behind another car and watched. She saw her daddy nearly rip the door open and drag the man out. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Her daddy screamed. But the man pulled something black out of his pocket. There was a loud bang and suddenly, her daddy was on the ground. There was a red puddle forming around him. He stared up at her with wide vacant eyes, with a hole in his face. One of his eyes was gone. Jennifer knew that face well. She had seen it all over the pages of notebooks. The strange man did not know the girl was watching him. He was panicking. The man was large and strong, just like his brother. He picked up her daddy and threw him in the back of his truck along with Billy and covered them with a tarp. Then he got out and walked across the street to a familiar looking house. Aiden’s house. Hortensia had witnessed her father’s murder as a very small child. Too young to understand what she had just seen, but traumated none the less. Jennifer sighed and laid down on the bed next to her before wrapping her in a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you when you go back home.” Jennifer said. “You’re like my second daughter.” “You think mom will get out?” “As long as she doesn’t follow up on her threats to hit Cynthia over the head with a crowbar.” Jennifer said. “Speaking of…” she let go of the girl and rolled onto her feet. She offered Hortensia a hand up. “I have a surprise for you in the backyard.” Jennifer led her out blindfolded to where Brian, Matilda, Hazel, Zach and Nick all stood around eagerly before removing the blindfold. Hortensia looked around, frowning in confusion. “My surprise is a junkyard?” Hortensia asked with a laugh. The backyard was covered in tarps, and on them was a mismatched assortment of broken tellies, cracked statues, chipped vases, and other damaged items. “Yep.” Jennifer said, a wide smile on her face. She picked up a pair of safety goggles and put them on Hortensia’s face. “You’ve been going through so much, I figured you needed to blow off some steam by partaking in your favorite pastime of…” Jennifer handed her a bat. “breaking stuff.” Hortensia stared wide eyed at the array of junk and then at the bat. “You mean I get to…” Hortensia grinned. The first real smile Jennifer had seen in a long time. She gestured to the pile of junk. “Go nuts.” Jennifer watched the kids go nuts taking turns smashing things to bits. She even took a few swings herself before joining Brian on the patio. “Thank you for finding all this stuff.” Jennifer said. They had been going from yard sale to yard sale buying cheap, breakable looking items for the last month. “Half of it was in the dumpster behind the Salvation Army.” He grinned. Jennifer smiled at him before taking his hand. “I bet they won’t notice we’re gone.” She said. He chuckled and held her close for a moment. “What did you have in mind?” He asked. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “What is it?” “My test results.” She said. “If she can do it, so can I.” He took the paper and read it before grinning, eyebrows raised. “Were you afraid of needles?” “That was not a blood test.” She shuddered. He laughed and kissed her. “And what would my brave girl like to do?” “Everything.” she whispered. “Ana-” “Okay, maybe not everything.” He laughed and took her hand before kissing it. “You’ll tell me if you want to stop, right?” She nodded. He put his forehead to hers. “I love you, Jenny.” “I love you too.” she whispered before taking him by the hand and leading him upstairs. … “Thank you Rachel, that’s right. I’m standing in front of West Bishop Church off London Ave where a local youth pastor has been taken away in handcuffs. Residents in this town are in an uproar. The man in question, Christopher Redding, is under suspicion of using his position to commit sexual acts against children. An investigation was launched when one of the children in his congregation was brought in to the local hospital where she was found to have several injuries consistant with sexual assault and a high level of a unnamed prescription sedative in her system. Police investigated Mr. Redding after a tip from another victim where multiple bottles of this same medication were found in his possession. The police believe Mr. Redding was slipping the sedatives into the grape juice used for communion and giving them to pre-selected children. Now police are asking for the cooperation of the public. Parents who have attended this church are being asked to sit down and have a difficult conversation with their children. A special task force has been formed as numerous potential victims have begun to come forward. Other members of the Redding family have also been taken into custody at this time on suspicion of aiding and abetting, blackmail, falsifying official documents, hindering a police investigation, second-degree murder, and abuse of a child under fourteen. Police have also confirmed Mr. Redding has been named as the prime suspect of the slaying of the nearly half- dozen bodies found earlier this summer. Dubbed as the Buckinghamshire Boy Butcher for his preferred choice of victims, this serial killer has left the city gripped in terror over the summer, but tonight, that fear may finally be over. Our thoughts and prayers are with the victims and their families at this time. If convicted, the DA has announced he will be pushing for the death penalty. Back to you in the studio.” “Prayers? Psh, what a load of shi- Oww.” Hortensia grumbled and rubbed at the side of her head. Miss Honey turned off the tv. “Pay attention.” Matilda said, arms crossed across her chest. “Who left you in charge?” Hortensia grumbled. “I did.” Miss Honey said. “You’ve been out of school for a while, it’s time to catch up. I have to go to the office for a few hours. Poor Mr. Trilby’s been dragged out of retirement to help keep the place running since I’ve been gone.” “Where did your class leave off?” Hortensia pointed to a chapter. Matilda scoffed. “How were you only in chapter twelve? I’m going to graduate highschool before your class gets through this.” “Fine smarty pants, what chapter are you on?” Matilda scoffed again. “I finished that thing a month ago.” “A month ago? It hasn’t even been three full months into the school year. This is supposed to last all year. It’s a textbook.” “And this is why I pulled her out of the classroom.” Miss Honey said. “You guys were so slow!” Matilda groaned, her fingers dragging down her face for emphasis. “It was torture.” “You thought Mr. Larson’s class was slow?” Hortensia asked, eyebrows creased in disbelief before snorting. “What level of hell did you think you were in when you walked into Miss Honey’s class for the first time?” Hortensia chuckled. “The fourth.” Matilda admitted. “You didn’t like my classroom?” Miss Honey asked. “I did once you started giving me my own work to do, but those first few days.” Her eyes opened wide in mock horror. Miss Honey laughed. “I thought school was going to be educational. I walked in expecting to see the periodic table of elements, and got hit with the Abc’s.” “Maybe in high school. You couldn’t possibly have thought all the other runts were as smart as you?” Hortensia asked. Matilda shrugged. “I didn’t know I was smarter than them. It’s not like I had ever spent time with other kids my age.” Matilda said. “You had an older brother. Didn’t you see his homework?” Matilda scoffed. “As if he ever did his homework.” … Jennifer poked her head into Carol’s office. She was sitting at her desk staring down at a book. Jennifer knocked on the door as Carol slammed the book she was reading closed. “Jen, you’re back.” Carol said, a guilty smile on her face. “Slow day?” Jennifer laughed. She didn’t care if Carol was reading if it was slow. She wasn’t her boss. No wait, yes she was. “Two paper cuts and a crushed pinky finger.” Carol said with a shrug. “Not much to do without our problem child sending me skinned knees and bloody noses. How is she?” Jennifer sighed. “About as well as you can be going through something like that. Still incontinent though.” Jennifer said. “At least I’ve managed to get over it. Poor kid’s embarrassed enough without me gagging in front of her.” Carol grimaced. “At least she’s older and you don’t have to change nappies.” Jennifer grimaced. “Jen, she’s eleven-years-old. She is more than capable of cleaning up after herself.” Jennifer shook her head. “It’s complicated.” Jennifer said. “What’s complicated about it? Tell her where the cleaning supplies are. What are you babying her for?” Jennifer knitted her eyebrows together. “Because she isn’t capable of it.” Jennifer said. “The pain is gone, but it’s like her soul leaves her body the moment it happens. She’s like an empty shell until she’s clean. I have to literally lead her by the hand. She says she doesn’t remember the attacks, but our psychologist thinks the sensation of the sudden, involuntary, uh, pooping and the feeling of not being in control is triggering flashbacks.” “Her body remembers.” “Yeah, something like that.” Jennifer said. “It’s… hard to see her like this. ” “You’re like the Patron Saint of Lost Children.” Jennifer clenched her teeth. “I’d rather not be associated with any religion.” Rumors were spreading amongst the community of prior allegations. “They knew what he was doing with those kids. They were protecting him. Not the kids, but him.” “There’s more than a few people ready to scalp him.” Carol said. “Did you see that interview they aired of one of the parents?” “The one they had to bleep out every other word?” Jennifer asked with a slight smile. “He’s either getting lynched or murdered the moment the guards look away. He’ll get what’s coming to him. Even the other inmates don’t tolerate crimes against children.” “That’s what Brian said.” Jennifer said. Speaking of… She looked around the room. “Is there anyone here?” She whispered. Carol shook her head. “We, um…” Carol raised her eyebrows. “Had sex.” Jennifer mumbled. Carol grinned. She pushed a chair towards her. “You should have led with that. Sit. Spill.” “Oww!” Was all Jennifer could say. Carol gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’ll get better.” “The second time was better.” Jennifer agreed. “Third was the best.” “Third?” Carol nodded her head in approval, a large smile plastered on her face. “Look at you! Was it as scary as you thought it would be?” “The first time was. I was nervous he’d think I was too grotesque.” But he had gone out of his way to show her the scarring didn’t bother him. She blushed. She’d keep that memory to herself. “What was his reaction? Did he say anything?” He wasn’t talking, but his mouth had been plenty busy. “Umm, no.” “You use a condom?” “Carol!” She sighed. So nosey. “Neither of us have anything and it’s not like I can get pregnant.” “And did you get that verified by a licensed doctor like I told you to?” “Umm, no.” Jennifer admitted, shrinking back under her gaze. “Getting tested was bad enough. The nurse took one look, called the doctor in, who called another doctor in. I felt like half the clinic was staring at me. I was starting to wonder if I should start charging admission to come into the room.” “Well, I’m relieved to hear you don’t have Syphilis, and I’m proud of you for getting checked. It can cause much more serious health risks than a few sores if you leave it this long untreated.” “Not so loud!” Jennifer said with a cringe. There were already enough rumors about her without STD’s added to the mix. The women who worked in the office were gossip mongers. “They’ll hear you.” “Oh yes, you’ve missed all sorts of juicy gossip.” Carol chuckled. “I’ve been hearing all kinds of things about you and your boyfriend all week.” “He visited me at work one time.” Jennifer cringed. He hadn’t done anything. “And how would anyone know anything about him? He looked like any other parent with their kid.” She stared down Carol. “Unless someone let something slip…” She crossed her arms, fingers tapping anxiously. “Carol…” Carol shifted her eyes, a guilty grin twitched at the corners of her mouth. “I walked in on some ladies chatting in the teacher’s lounge.” “...And?” “I was only trying to help set the record straight…” Ignore it. Ignore it. Just ignore it. “What were they saying?” Jennifer asked, taking the bait. She was going to regret this. “That you were dating a woman from the bank.” Jennifer let her head fall in an exaggerated show of dismay. “Why does everyone think I’m a lesbian?” “So I told them the bloke with the kid the other day was your boyfriend.” “Oh, is that all?” She sank down in her chair in relief. “Want to hear my favorite one? These girls have quite the imagination.” “Fine, out with it.” “He’s been your secret lover for years, and he killed Agatha Trunchbull on your orders so you could openly be together.” They stared at each other in silence before erupting in laughter. “Hey, can I ask you something weird?” Jennifer asked. “There’s something I had been meaning to ask you since the revelation of the drugged juice.” “What’s that?” “It brought up a memory of getting something similar poured down my throat.” “Something to knock you out so you don’t fight back or make a commotion.” “Yeah, but I was wondering, something you told me about back then made me wonder. Did you have any memory gaps around the time you were held hostage?” She saw a strange look in Carol’s eyes. “Why do you ask?” “ I figured I had been drugged and that’s why I don’t remember much. But there is something I do remember. My aunt kept a bottle of expensive tequila in her desk drawer. I remember him finding it and pouring himself a drink.” “Is it still there? Party in your office?” “No, I think…we already drank it.” Jennifer said, studying her confused face. “I wasn’t watching what he was doing with it, but I remember he was holding it at one point. I was so angry at her I stole the bottle a few days later and put it in the vent in my room. You told me we drank it all when we were held there.” “Are you saying you roofied me?” Carol asked before letting out a sigh. “That…explains a few things.” “Like what?” “Like how I woke up with no idea where I was for the last five days with enough drugs in my system to sedate a horse. The hospital accused me of either stealing the drugs and going on a bender or trying to commit suicide. One day I was sitting in my car and saw you riding your bike and it started coming back, bit by bit.” “So you didn’t come back because…you forgot about me?” Jennifer asked. Carol grimaced and hung her head. Jennifer began to laugh. She couldn’t help it. This whole situation was so crazy. “I don’t know why, but that makes me feel better. Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been going around this whole time thinking you abandoned me, well, since you told me about it.” “How is ‘I forgot you existed’ any better? I’ve felt terrible about it. Then I thought it was because of the carbon monoxide, but five days wouldn’t cause that, you’ve been breathing it in for years.” “Maybe it was both? Like a perfect storm of events. Drugs, carbon monoxide and trauma.” “Traumatised? I wasn’t the one traumatized. You and the kid, yes, but-” “You were held prisoner for five days with three other people eating nothing but expired MRES and beat up. Of course you were traumatized. It isn’t a contest.” Jennifer said. “Eve said we all thought we were going to be killed.” “It was looking that way.” Carol admitted. “At least the kid was young enough not to know what was going on.” “I saw her pictures at the police station.” Jennifer said. “Those were…” Carol let out an exaggerated breath. “No wonder she’s so messed up.” “She said she only drew a recurring nightmare, but our therapist thinks there’s truth to it. I think he’s the adult body they found with the kids.” “Yeah, yeah, I think so too.” Carol said. “Well,” Jennifer said standing up. “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. I’ll let you get back to your book.” “Is she coming back to school soon?” Carol asked with a stretch. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. She keeps having these dissociative episodes. I might have to do what I did with Matilda and put another desk in my office and have her do independent studies.” Carol snickered. “Good luck getting anything done.” “No kidding.” Jennifer said as she walked out the door. The office staff greeted her warmly when she walked in. They asked her how her “vacation” was. One woman even thought she had gone to the Bahamas with her boyfriend. “One of my kids is sick.” Jennifer explained. They wished Matilda a speedy recovery. Jennifer didn’t correct them. She sat at her desk and scowled at the large pile of forms waiting for her. She was starting to understand why Agatha kept tequila in her desk. She really hated paperwork. Jennifer was only halfway through when the phone rang. Please don’t be Matilda. Please don’t be Matilda. It was.

Woke up in a wet Rearz Daydreamerz. It felt so good, and even better once I dropped a big, firm load in it. Now back in bed, watching the Price is Right in my warm wet and messy diaper!

There's a couple of authors that have written in a town called Preston. To be honest they're a little harsher than I tend to like to read. Looking forward to when you resume more postings!

I changed (no pun intended) my morning routine just a little. I woke up wet in my Crinklz Fairy Tale diaper as usual, messed my diaper in the kitchen checking emails on my phone and getting coffee (that's what I call multitasking), and now here is where I changed my routine. Instead of sitting down right away and logging into the forum I did my morning exercise first while wet and poopy. Now I am sitting here after a rather vigorous morning exercise, feeling the warm squishy potty in my diaper. I am going to do a few more exercises for abs then I'll change into another Crinklz, but this time an Aquanaut and wear and wet my diaper while at the office very discreetly. A have developed confidence in my diapers while at work in a professional setting with casual dress. If there is any trace of a suspicion that I am wetting a diaper it would be a momentary glassy eye gaze as my diaper gets warm and wet. I am relatively sure that no one knows, and if they do know, I am not treated any differently.

Chapter 3 Landing on the floor of the bar, Sandra tucked and rolled, coming up with daggers out. Immediately, she felt the pressure of passivity weighing on her mind–the adorable fox-pup on the floor yipped and jumped up to her, licking at her face while it gave her the biggest, softest look possible, eyes glittering like pools. (Awww,) Sandra thought, her focus taken up by the creature’s overwhelming presence of cute. A second later, a sharp thud impacted on the creature’s side, and it lurched, rocking away. In an instant, its cuteness vanished, and Sandra saw the truth–teeth, claws, and fury, all in a tiny, fluffy package. Two arrows stuck out its side, each crackling with a hint of lingering lightning. “Break its concentration!” Tarja called down. Sandra needed no other encouragement, lunging forward at the fox with both daggers. The fox thing snapped at her, cute, doe-eyes replaced with pits of black fire. It chomped once, twice, but missed with both, and Sandra responded with a quick slash of her knife. Compounding on the damage Tarja had already dealt, Sandra needed only a single hit, and the fox simply burst into pure energy, vanishing completely. Sandra stood, wobbling a little, in time to see Quinn–sitting atop one of the invisible stalkers, his dress pulled over the monster’s head, wailing on it with heavy elbows dropped onto its head, one after the other, slamming its head through the frilly fabric. Hadrian was too good for fighting, apparently–instead, he hovered above them all, hands out, channeling strings of purple energy. “They’re summons!” Sandra called, gesturing to the enemies around them. “We’re fighting summons, we have to get to the summoner!” Another arrow whizzed past her, striking one of the powder-coated elementals behind her. With the fox thing gone, the other adventurers in the guild bar were fighting back, but they’d already lost much of the upper hand. Those who weren’t already disabled by mindbreaking pacifiers were pinned or struggling, outnumbered and caught unawares without their full suite of weapons or armor. Sandra, on the other hand, was supercharged for a fight and had no qualms about going all out. Spinning, she threw one dagger and slashed with the other, speed and dexterity coursing through her limbs. Her attacks came so quick it was hard to separate the individual slashes, and she made them as she tumbled through the bar, dropping a wound on one invisible foe before rolling to the next, trying to deal just enough damage that the struggling warriors could free themselves. Then, around the room, Hadrian’s complicated magic kicked in, and five of the guild adventurers who’d been pacified and rendered helpless rose up, eyes still glassy, drool still dribbling from behind their pacifier shields. Thin strands of energy went from their wrists and ankles up to a series of hovering constructions in the air, x-shaped handles, like the kind used to control a marionette. Despite their mindless appearance, the five warriors raised what weapons they had available and charged into battle, carried forth by Hadrian’s pupeteering. Sandra’s mood surged, feeling triumphant–they were winning, and doing well to boot. Her confidence dropped when she felt something slam into the back of her head, an attack she hadn’t seen coming in the slightest. Turning to face her new attacker, she saw nothing, but footprints in the baby powder dusting the floor told her another enemy was there. Swallowing, she called up, “More! Hadrian, there’s mo–” An invisible hand grabbed her by the throat, lifting Sandra into the air, and her umbral knives vanished from her hands as she grabbed the wrist, trying to hold herself up enough that she could breathe. She felt fingertips pressing on her blood vessels, cutting off air, blackness creeping in, and she could do little to fight it off when she saw the pacifier gag appear from nothingness, a bulb moving towards her gasping, breathless lips. If it entered her mouth, she’d be defenseless, helpless, mindless, but she couldn’t wriggle away from the iron grip on her throat. “RAAARGH!” Quinn bellowed, lunging forward and slamming the invisible arm with his warhammer. Sandra heard a sick crunching noise–elementals had something like bones that could be broken, it seemed–and the grip on her went slack. Falling to the floor, she gasped, stepping away. “Summoner,” she coughed, ducking to the side of a flying mug of ale. “We need to take out the summoner.” “If we leave the adventurers, they’ll be disabled,” Quinn said, “And we still don’t have a countercurse for those pacifiers.” Pressing her lips into a line, Sandra called up, “Hadrian, Tarja, do you have this?” Fingers dancing to move the marionette handles, eyes unfocused as magic surged through him, Hadrian nodded. Tarja didn’t even need to reply, instead nailing another pair of arrows into the head of an invisible foe. “You and me then,” Sandra said, nodding to her lacy, brutish friend. “We don’t want them dead, though–when we find the summoner, we knock them out.” Hefting his warhammer, Quinn nodded grimly. Too much damage was being inflicted on their allies to revel in the fight, but she saw the anticipation in his eyes–he was furious, and ready to extract revenge. Taking a guess on location, Sandra ran out the front door of the bar, her steps supernaturally light and quick. Casting her gaze around, she spotted their target almost instantly, a figure surrounded by a confluence of magical energy. It took Sandra a moment to comprehend exactly what she was looking at. The figure in front of her was on all fours, but seemed stilted, awkward. They were in the form of a quadruped, like a wolf or maybe just a dog, but wrong. Their body was all a slightly shiny purple, more like a constructed latex facsimile of an animal than the real thing. It seemed to have very little range of motion, as though its forelegs didn’t have joints, and its hind legs dragged on the ground, giving the impression of a figure crawling on elbows and knees rather than a proper dog. “It’s the summoner’s pet,” Sandra said, realizing–Summoners didn’t work alone, they had Eidolons to help them, companions that could handle the nitty gritty up-close fighting. “Where’s the summoner, then?” Quinn asked, turning to look around. “One thing at a time,” Sandra decided, charging the eidolon with reckless haste. It was just a planar being in the shape of an animal, and once Quinn came in they could get on both sides of it, bringing it down with ease. Or, at least, that was her plan. Instead, something slick and cool conjured itself around her body, and as she charged at the creature, she lost her footing, tumbled, and fell onto her back in front of the latex eidolon. It stepped over her, and she tried to make sense of what she was looking at. Its face seemed to be covered by a muzzle, and yet it managed to open, revealing a layer of canine teeth and, beneath that… (Another muzzle?) She saw the distinct shape of a leather face muzzle inside the creature’s jaws. Storage, she guessed, a way to keep magical restraints ready to go, so it could be spat out onto helpless targets. Sandra made a mental note not to allow herself to be pinned by this thing, and rolled out of the way just in time to avoid its snapping jaws. Quinn skidded up next to her, but had to stop and pinwheel for a moment as he stepped onto the same slick patch that’d toppled Sandra. Arms waving, he got his tentative balance, though his charge had lost momentum and the swing of his hammer landed with merely gigantic strength, instead of titanic. Still, it was a start. Getting to unsteady, slippery feet, Sandra threw two dagger slashes at the eidolon, ripping its latex skin to reveal ‘flesh’ made of fluffy cotton. It spun, growling and snapping, but she was ready for the attack to come from the beast. What she wasn’t ready for was the cloberring from behind as another invisible attacker struck her. She felt stupid–of course there’d be more invisible summons–but it hadn’t crossed her mind in her haste to deal with the visible enemy. She stumbled forward, right into a snapping bite from the wolf-thing that latched down on her leg, grappling her in place. Quinn, for his part, slammed his boot into the ground, sending out a quake of power. The invisible figure holding Sandra tripped, falling back, and by the thuds she heard, a few others went down as well. Only the dog-eidolon-thing remained, as four legs rather than two gave it an advantage in stability. Sandra could win a one-on-one. Raising her daggers, she brought them down in a double slash, taking advantage of its uneasy position, directly between her and Quinn. It staggered, and Quinn struck it right back into her, playing a game of tennis with their foe’s body. The eidolon made eye contact with her–glassy, false black circles staring into her, and Sandra hesitated. She’d seen a flicker of magic come from the eidolon, but there was no time to identify the spell, and besides–Eidolons weren’t typically known to cast spells themselves. She understood, then. “That’s not the eidolon,” she said aloud, first quietly, then louder. “That’s not the eidolon, it’s the summoner!” Maybe they were bound up in a spell, completely covered by the latex and cotton body that rendered a person into a four-legged, growling thing, but beneath it all there was a sentient being, the one summoning the monsters. Flinching when Sandra called out the truth, the summoner first snarled and swiped to the side, tossing Sandra to the ground, then turned to flee–not away from the fight, but into the bar, where its other summons were still battling. It threw open the door, bursting inside, where the other melee was going on. “Don’t let it get away,” Sandra said, before shouting at the top of her lungs, “Hadrian! The summoner is the thing!” Quinn was right behind it, while Sandra had to struggle to stand, still coated in slippery lube. She got to her feet, just as Quinn got into the bar, then began making her way towards the bar herself. Before she could take one step, her whole self seemed to blink. One moment, she was running in the street. The next, she was in the bar, looking up at Hadrian as he brandished his holy symbol and conjured power. His eyes went wide, but it was too late–in the second it took him to react, his spell had already been cast, and invisible force lashed out at Sandra. She tried to react, but she’d been left in the most vulnerable possible spot, arms out, ready to take the hit in place of the summoner. Magic twisted her arms and her legs, forcing her body down, prone, into almost the same four-legged position that the summoner had been in, and she felt cuffs spring into life around her wrists and ankles, bolting and shackling her to the floor. “Sandra!” Quinn yelped in surprise. “Hadrian, what did you–dispell it!” “I can’t, it’s not concentration, it’s just–” Hadrian stammered. Sandra tried to lift her head, but though the spell didn’t conjure any visible restraints, it still kept her gaze down and low, forced her to stay on all fours. She could just barely see in the corner of her vision as her pants were yanked down, revealing her diaper, and then the diaper went next, leaving her naked from the waist down to her knees. She knew what Magic Hadrian had been dabbling in, and she had a good guess what was coming next. THWAP! A sensation like a paddle stuck her bare, exposed ass, hitting with excruciating force. This was an offensive spell, not a tender-but-forceful partner: There was no warmup, no build, no safe word, only deliberate pain. Sandra cried out, gritting her teeth against the sudden shock. THWAP! “How long does this last?” Tarja called. “I don’t know–like two minutes?” Hadrian said. “I–shit, how did Sandra get there?” THWAP! She couldn’t survey the bar or get a sense of the battlefield, not between the shocking slams of impact that struck every second, hitting hard enough that she could feel the impact reverberate up through her chest and into her head. She couldn’t help but yelp and whimper at every impact, the assault on her exposed ass was just too powerful for her to try and retain dignity. Everyone could see, everyone could hear her whimpers, she couldn’t escape. (Fuck me–) THWAP! “Where’s the summoner?” Quinn finally asked. (Do they not get it?) THWAP! “Fuck!” Sandra yelled. “HE’S OUTSIDE, WE–” THWAP! Tears were hot on her cheeks. It felt as though scalding oil had been poured over her tender, exposed flesh, and every impact of the paddle set the whole thing alight for a split second, flashing pain and heat up through her body. “They swapped places!” Hadrian realized. “Shit, that means he–” “On it,” Quinn said, sprinting out the door. THWAP! “Don’t go alone!” Tarja chided, gliding gracefully down the stairs after him. Sandra’s indignity continued to burn. THWAP! Sandra could hear whispers. Onlookers. She was vaguely aware that her diaper was incredibly visible, but the embarrassment of that didn’t even register to her next to the pain. She was helpless for all to see, a display of sheer masochistic torture. Every part of her body felt like its senses were on overdrive, she could feel everything, the cool air and burning hot skin, all the smells of the bar, all the sounds of whispering onlookers who had nothing to do but watch her spanking play out. THWAP! She felt something hot on her leg. At first she thought blood, but the spanking hadn’t broken her skin–the acrid smell of urine assaulted her senses, though, and she got it on her second guess. She’d begun to wet herself. More for the onlookers to laugh at. THWAP! Balling her fists, she took deep breaths. The pain felt like it had reached a crescendo on every strike, always harder, always deeper. She couldn’t wait for it to be over, she had to fight. She could take it. She had to take it. It was just pain. THWAP! “I can do this,” she whispered. She realized she wasn’t whimpering anymore–she’d begun to growl. She could take the pain, she could withstand it, she would not let a stupid spell break her. She could win this. She only acknowledged the pain and moved on, accepting it, allowing it to pass through her, endorphins flooding her brain to fight off the torture. THWAP! “Argh!” she called out. “Is that all you’ve got?” It didn’t matter that there was nobody holding the paddle, no actual master standing over her to deliver this punishment, she conjured one in her thoughts, an enemy she could get mad at, to overcome. THWAP! “Harder,” she whispered under her breath. “If you want to win, you’re going to need to hit me harder.” (Let them watch,) she thought. (Fuck it. I don’t care. I’m better than thi–) THWAP! “HARDER!” She was dizzy, her vision spinning. Whether it was the soup of hormones swimming in her head, or the sheer physical damage inflicted on her by the paddle and through her ass. There was something dark in the room, like a fog, encroaching over her eyes, making it hard to see. THWA– ... I've been told that the joys of supporting my writing is even better than getting changed into a fresh diaper. Or, for those of you especially yucky babies out there, it's better than *not* getting changed no matter how badly you need it! Is this true? Or am I engaging in hyperbole for the sake of a quippy call to action? You decide! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Chapter 2 Hadrian’s fiery rage ran against the mental asbestos that was information scarcity. The desire to go after the Wizard, spells and blades brandished, couldn’t be realized without knowing the Wizard’s location, and the Wizard had left behind few clues. The locations of the four temples that’d been destroyed–or, rather, three temples and a holy site–didn’t seem to show any pattern, though given his power, it seemed likely he could teleport at will. The primary captives, two high priests, one ‘grand’ priest, and a merchant with a series of divine connections, hadn’t been able to send for help or signal their locations. Nor had the others who were taken. Nothing else was missing, he hadn’t taken any relics or valuables. He’d stolen only people. There was no satisfying-but-impossible revenge to be had. The only way to help the situation was to help. And so, they did what they could. Counterspells were largely out of their repertoire, but there were people who needed aid, and Sandra’s party were able to give that aid. A team of clerics working on magic to unlock the pacifier-feeder-brain-corrupting gags needed reagents and supplies, Sandra or Quinn could run and go get them. Hadrian knew more about the Wizard’s magic than most, and could provide detailed lore and insight into the ways of paraphilic magic. Tarja could only walk and exert fine motor control for ten minutes at a time, and doing so required her to wet her diaper, limiting how often she could make it happen, but she could still read books of magic and look up citations, still offer insights into healing and medicine, still make food and fetch water. All hands could help, and so they did. It wasn’t the sort of guild heroics that stories were written about, but it was the kind that made a difference. Hadrian worked until long after the sun had gone down, and would have kept going if Sandra hadn’t insisted he needed a good, long rest or he’d be useless to them tomorrow. Finally, the party ended up at the Blackbird, a guild inn where the drinks were cheap and the rooms were soundproofed. They ate on a balcony overlooking the bar floor, watching other late-night guild members drink and eat and chat. Faintly cheerful music drifted from a player piano, and a waitress almost as busty as Quinn brought up mugs of ale whenever their ran low. “Let’s talk,” Sandra said, without looking at her dining companion. “You waited until Quinn and Tarja went off for ‘quality time’, hmm?” Hadrian asked, glancing over at her. The room soundproofing wasn’t just to keep the noise of guildmates out of the bedrooms–it was to keep the noise of hot-and-bothered lovebird quiet. “I figured you wouldn’t mind the discretion,” Sandra confirmed, watching everything and nothing. “So.” “Let’s talk,” Hadrian agreed. “It’ll be a quick talk. We’re going after the Wizard.” “You’re not going to do Serendipity any good bound, gagged, empty-headed and full-diapered,” Sandra replied. “The Wizard hit four temples, full of clerics and even paladins, waltzed through them all, and took their strongest champions. We’re strong. We’re getting stronger. But we can’t fight that.” “That’s crap,” Hadrian snapped, unwilling to accept bad news. “We’ve gone against him before, and we’re twice the party we were then. We’re not going to sit on our asses and let him keep doing this!” Slamming down his tankard on the table, he drew a couple eyes from the lower floor from cautious, jaded warriors ensuring they didn’t have to be ready for a bar fight. Sandra sipped her own ale and set her tankard down silently. “I didn’t say we’re going to sit on our asses, either.” “I’m not opposed to the whole stick-around-and-play-butler aid,” Hadrian said, “But we’re just playing catch up. The only way to stop the Wizard is to put him down or at least bring him in, we can’t be cowards.” She didn’t mind his heat, his anger. She understood where it came from and could accept that Hadrian was only throwing it at her because he couldn’t throw it at its true target. “Let me talk, Hadrian,” she said. His lips flattened into a line. “Fine. Talk.” Leaning forward, she watched the bartender, then sent her eyes to the waitress, then an old, gruff dwarf leaning against the piano. “I was thinking while we worked today, why hit where he did? Why four temples, four priests?” Hadrian didn’t answer right away, before asking in sarcastic tones, “What, can I answer? You said you wanted to talk, skip the hypotheticals.” “Alright,” Sandra said coolly. “The wizard operates in curses. He’s got powerful spells, sure. You’ve figured out all sorts of ways he twists magic to be kinky and torturous and vastly stronger than it should be, but his bread and butter is curses, objects, constructed things. It’s cursed items that do the most harm–be it mass produced locking pacifiers that can disable a person completely, or bespoke humiliations he invents on a whim. He does curses.” Hadrian kept his mouth shut, but nodded. “And what dispels curses better than divine magic?” Sandra let the question hang for a moment, lending it weight. “I don’t think he hit four temples. I think he hit four Clerics. Four of the strongest in the realm. I think he took out the people most suited to challenge him, the people who–if they got together and pooled their might–could bring him to task.” Sitting back, she took a long sip of her ale. Hadrian eyed her, a little annoyed at the request for silence, but didn’t interrupt. “We can’t face the wizard directly,” Sandra said, “But we can deal with his traps. We’ve done it before. If he’s not there, actively hampering us, we’ve got the savvy to stay safe, and we know his magic. We can’t win the battle, but we can rescue the people he’s taken, and once they’re free…then they can take their power, find the wizard, and put. Him. Down.” Hadrian nodded, in silent thought. After Sandra didn’t say much else, he said, “I’m going to talk now.” Sandra nodded. “It’s a good speech.” “Thanks.” “And a good plan, too, if we can find where the captives are,” Hadrian said. “Find them, spring a rescue. They might be too cursed to move, though, or to fight once they’re free.” Sandra nodded. “We’ll have to take it one step at a time. Finding their location will take some doing, releasing their curses will be a long term effort, but we’ve got some powerful allies in our corner. The guild isn’t going to stand for an attack like this, and if they pool all their resources into defense, we can fight off the wizard while we get the priests cured. Plus, if we locate the captives, and free them, that’ll include Janet.” Hadrian blinked for a moment. “Serendipity.” “Her given name’s Janet.” Sandra smirked. “I never understood, why do you call her by her performing name? You two seem closer than that.” “It’s…complicated,” Hadrian conceded, face turning pink. “It’s almost that we’re too close, but it just doesn’t feel quite right calling her… er… mist–” The front door of the tavern opened, and Sandra held up a hand. “Hold that thought.” Hadrian had to double take to see what was unusual. The door had opened, but nobody had walked inside. A floorboard creaked, barely audible above the sound of chatter, but a few others noticed. This was a guild bar, after all. Everyone their had been taught in the school of ambush paranoia, and those lessons carried daggers along with failing grades. After a moment, though, a figure, no taller than a foot off the ground, padded inside, tongue lolling out adorably. It was a puppy, and a particularly cute one at that. The coloration and pointed ears made Sandra thing, ‘Fox pup,’ though it didn’t quite match–foxes didn’t have cute, colorful eyes, and they didn’t pant like dogs. Rather, this creature looked as though someone had mashed together the cutest elements of both–fox, puppy, and maybe just a touch of cat in there too. Even from forty feet up, Sandra wanted to pick the little creature up and snuggle it. It seemed the rest of the bar agreed. After the pup gave a happy little, “Arf,” the entire room responded with a chorus of D’awwws. “Danger,” Hadrian said. “Agreed,” Sandra replied, standing up. Scooting back a couple steps, she kept her gaze over the balcony while sending a few hard knocks on Quinn and Tarja’s door. “Sorry to interrupt!” She could just barely hear their responses, frustrated grumbling by the tone, but they’d come through. She trusted them. Walking forward, Sandra inspected the creature for magic, and saw the faint spell aura wafting off it. “Mental magic.” “We’re out of its aura, right?” Hadrian asked, preparing spell reagents from his belt pack. “I think so,” Sandra said, conjuring black knives in each hand. “Take it out fast, before it can do anything else?” “Buffs first,” Hadrian suggested. “It’s not actively attacking right now. Let’s wait a second, be sure we’re ready to fight before the music starts.” Sandra smirked. Hadrian glanced at her. “What?” Gesturing with her chin towards the player piano, Sandra said, “The music’s already going. Hit me.” Hadrian twisted a bit of licorice root between his fingers and Sandra felt the speed surge in her, followed by a secondary surge of precision as he sent a second spell her way. She felt ready to fight, to fly, to take on the world, filled with energy and a buzz that made her want to move. A second later, the windows of the tavern all exploded inward in unison, and the door flew inward as though kicked by an invisible boot. The people in the bar reacted, but their foes couldn’t be seen, and they seemed unable to attack, only to throw up defenses and try to prepare to face an invisible enemy that surrounded them on every side. Sandra couldn’t spot any magic at play, at least not from the windows, though magical shields and wards started going up almost at once, and the fox creature in the center still yipped and cheered happily, sending out some mental effect or another. Hesitating, she tried to resist the urge to leap into battle. Tarja and Quinn stumbled out of the door, Quinn hastily donning his battle dress while Tarja struggled to stay upright in the doorway, clad in only the cursed onesie she couldn’t remove and a puffy diaper crinkling beneath the crotch snaps. Quinn’s battle armor was something to behold–a large pink dress made almost entirely of silk and lace, it seemed to always poof out and flounce around him with very movement, and yet it turned away attacks better than any armor they could afford. He wasn’t cursed to wear it, per say, but it was hard to turn down the benefits of protection when a misplaced attack could cost his life, while a floofy pink princess dress only cost a bit of dignity. Tarja, on the other hand, got neither. Though she held onto her bow with a death grip, it was clear from how she trembled that her curse was in full swing. “Tarja,” Sandra said, eyeing the chaos below nervously. “You’re going to need to–” “I know,” Tarja shot back, flushing. “It’s–kinda hawd wi’ now.” “Make it work, we’re on a time crunch here,” Sandra insisted, fidgeting, feeling a buzz like adrenaline and caffeine and something harder all driving her to move. Maybe Hadrian had sent out the buffs too quickly, but she wanted nothing more than to dive into battle, to get attacking, to run a marathon– Below, invisible forces were throwing around the guild adventurers, twisting wrists and kicking out legs. Sandra danced from toe to toe, battling her good sense–she wanted to get in, to start fighting, but she was waiting on her party and on a good plan. “There’s nothing there,” Hadrian said, “But I’m not seeing magic.” “Me either,” Sandra said. “So…not a spell, not an illusion.” “Crap, crap, I know this,” Hadrian said, tapping the side of his head in thought. “Tarja!” Sandra repeated, glancing back at their trembling ranger, whose face was screwed up in concentration. “Any time now would be good.” “I can’t–” Tarja said. “You can’t make yourself pee at all?” Sandra looked back at her, trying not to be annoyed. The curse was a cruel one–Tarja could only have control of her body if she wet her diaper, but it didn’t take much wetting to make it happen. Surely she could pee, just a little, and– “It’s hard when–” Blush deepening, Tarja said, “It’s hard ta’ pee when I’m…er…” (Ooooh.) Sandra blushed sympathetically. She and Quinn had been interrupted right in the middle of fooling around, and Tarja’s curses hadn’t been limited to clothes. In possibly the wizard’s cruelest trap, he’d set something up that rearranged Tarja’s nether regions, a transformation that she hadn’t been able to undo since. And that was the trouble–she was trying to pee with an erection. Now that it’d been pointed out, Sandra couldn’t help but notice the slight tent bulging beneath her onesie. “Just–” Sandra tried to think of an idea, “Try to think not-sexy thoughts!” “Yannow how hard it i’ to twy not to fink about somethin’?” Tarja snapped back, her blush rising a note. “What’re you–” Hadrian started, before piecing it together himself. “Oooh–don’t try to think ‘not sexy’, try to think ‘gross’.” “I don’–” Tarja said, “Ugh, I dunno, I–” A crash, and a yell, and Sandra’s heart almost stopped–from nowhere, a gag appeared, a pacifier on a leather strap, and locked itself around the mouth of the waitress. Instantly, her eyes rolled back in her head, she stopped struggling, and a dark yellow stain grew on her dress. Then she fell to the ground, no longer a concern. They had no time. “Tarja,” Sandra commanded, tail swishing anxiously, “Gross yourself out, now, we need to fight!” “I, I–” Tarja stammered, her face totally awash with red, before nodding. “Okay.” Squatting down, Tarja held onto Quinn’s hand for support so she didn’t fall over completely, screwed up her face, and– “Mmm, okay,” Sandra mumbled to herself, looking away to give her friend a modicum of privacy. Her acutely pointed ears couldn’t help but hear Tarja’s slight grunts of effort, but there was nothing to be done there. And, a second later, Sandra heard an accompanying hiss, and then Tarja stood, steady and balanced, bow drawn. “I’m ready,” she said, nocking an arrow and stepping up next to Sandra. Neither of them said a word about what’d helped her get ready, they just took shallow breaths and pretended nothing was amiss. Below, the scene was chaos. More gags had appeared, more adventurers were on the ground. Fighters were dropping like flies. “Let’s go,” Quinn added, holding his massive warhammer at the ready. “Then–” Sandra started. “Wait,” Hadrian said, shaking his head and reaching for his component pouch. “I’ve got it. These are elementals–Invisible Stalkers, or something close to them.” “You have something for that?” Sandra asked, itching to go, ready to scream if there were any more holdups. He grinned and nodded, producing a little pinch of baby powder. “I do. Let’s see how this works when it’s heightened.” Raising his hand, he blew, and the baby powder cascaded out of his fingers, turning from a pinch to a torrent, white, fine dust cascading towards the room, outlining everything–including eight invisible bipeds, shuffling, shambling figures. Sandra couldn’t wait anymore. Grabbing the balcony railing, she leapt over it, daggers out, and plunged into battle, and a second later, her party followed after. ... December's been a pretty rough month as far as being an ABDL creator goes, but I'd be super grateful if anyone would consider supporting my writing by following me on Ream or SubscribeStar! Both platforms get all of my content, so it's a matter of user preference - I think the reading experience on Ream is fantastic, but I'll let you be the judge of which you prefer! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Probably one of the most "tasteful" takes on this subject. I mean, he didn't take cheap shots like most commentators do. I do agree through that it really is unhealthy to make your desires your identity.

I am brand new to this site. I have never been able to express my love for diaper spanking until now. I would love to chat about it with anyone.