Leaderboard

I'm sorry it has taken so long to get this out. I may make a few corrections still, but I wanted everyone to know I have not given up the story. I will not give it up until I finish it. 03-20-24 Update: I fixed a lot of errors and improved the flow. Chapter 25 - Unexpected Addition Darlene's fingers drummed on the cold surface of her desk, her eyes staring blankly at the wall cluttered with sticky notes and IT reports. She still couldn't stop thinking about the meeting with Julian, which made her feel she was being trapped like an animal, desperately clawing for an escape. She wanted a way to vent this out of her system. Anger at Julian, Bryan, and Corporate about how they justified John’s response and pinned John's reckless behavior on her. She was only doing her job, trying to keep Avery safe just as she was asked to do. Their inability to keep their own employee safe from an ill-behaved employee who seems to have a record of issues with other employees somehow is now her fault, and there was nothing they could do but install dam security badges on each floor and entrance/exit. "Ugh," she muttered under her breath, grabbing her personal iPhone phone and swiping through her contacts. She needed someone to vent to, someone who would understand the pressure she was under and the injustice that was served to her. Laurisa and Ashley, her sisters, were always there for her in times like these. Her thumb hovered over their names before she pressed the call. The ringtone kept going on and on. "Come on, pick up," Darlene whispered, willing either of them to answer. But one by one, both calls went straight to voicemail. The weight of frustration settled heavily on her chest. "Damn it," she hissed, quickly typing out a text to both of them: 'I need to talk ASAP. Call me when you can. Really need my sisters right now.' She then proceeded to text her sisters again in desperation. “I really need one of you. I am about to lose it at work.” She sighed, locking her phone and placing it facedown on the desk. Alone with her thoughts, Darlene's mind raced back to the conversation with Julian. They just didn't understand that John was about to hurt Avery. If she let it go on, that is precisely what would have happened. He came up here in a fit of rage and was uncontrollable, yet somehow, she was expected to reign him in with calm and delicate talking. Avery had already finished his second cup of coffee and wanted to check on Darlene. He glanced down at his favorite coffee mug adorned with colorful Legos. Despite its sentimental value, it was covered in dark, crusty stains. Avery knew Darlene would see the mess and tease him. From the thought of this, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. So, he made his way to the communal kitchen, trying to ignore the uncomfortable bulkiness of his diaper underneath his sweatpants. In that moment, he longed for the simplicity of pull-ups, which were much easier to hide and more comfortable beneath clothing. It was a thought he never imagined he would have in his adult life. When Avery entered the kitchen area, a couple of employees were talking. Avery put his head down as he passed them by and went to the sink to wash his coffee mug. He could hear them discussing the new security measures. "Nice outfit," a voice jibed, breaking Avery's concentration. He looked down only to realize his shit was only half buttoned and showed his white shirt underneath, which was really his onesie; half his shirt was tucked into his pants, and the other half hanging out the sides of his pants. His face flushed as he looked up to see two of Darlene’s employees smirking at him. Avery turned away from them and faced the kitchen sink as he buttoned up his shirt as panic surged. Avery forced himself to remain calm. Surely, they didn't know about the diaper. Surely, Darlene hadn’t said anything to them, but Avery still felt exposed, as if they knew his secret. It didn’t matter; Avery couldn't help but feel self-conscious as the comment was made, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He hated that he had to wear bulky diapers, and the onesie Darlene had bought for him only made him feel more exposed. Yet, it was necessary to keep his secret hidden. Their comments didn’t help him shake off the constant reminder of his vulnerability. The internal struggle between wanting to hide and needing to accept his new reality waged within him. After buttoning up and tucking in his shirt, Avery turned around to face his coworkers. “Thanks," Avery replied tersely. He tried his best to ignore the comment. Then he put the coffee mug in the sink and placed some soap in it. He began washing the outside and inside of the mug, making sure to remove any lingering stains or residue. While he rinsed his mug, he could hear the coworkers’ mumbling words, but he couldn’t make them out. His heart panicked, and he wanted out of the kitchen as fast as possible. Avery was paranoid because he just knew the coworkers were talking about him. When he finished cleaning his coffee mug, Avery walked over and knocked on the office door before entering. "Is everything okay, Darlene?" Avery asked cautiously, opening the door slowly and peering into the office. His eyes were filled with concern, but he kept a respectful distance, sensing her need for space. "Fine, Avery," she lied, forcing herself to smile. "Just dealing with some... management issues." She didn't want to burden him with her problems, especially considering the struggles he was already facing in the current environment. She knew all too well about his fragile state and the anxiety that plagued him. "Alright," he said hesitantly. “Do you mind if I grab another cup of coffee?” Avery held out his Lego coffee mug. Darlene just nodded and said, “Sure.” Her voice was dry and monotone—not the normal Darlene, and certainly not the one he met prior to this weekend at her house. Avery walked over to the Keurig and placed a K-cup in there labeled morning brew. He then went to the small office fridge and found his normal bottle of creamer labeled “Avery’s Creamer”. He turned to see if Darlene was watching, but she wasn’t. She was focused on either her email or her iPhone. He could feel her anxiety even though she was trying to hide it. Afterward, he poured his creamer into the coffee mug, set it on the Keurig, and pressed brew. Avery watched Darlene from behind. He wasn’t sure what to say. He knew this was all his fault, and she was hiding the real reason for her frustration. For some strange reason, he wanted to sit on her lap and hug her, but he refrained from doing it. She probably didn’t need a hug and would push him away right now. He was bad at reading people, and this wasn’t a time to try. Once the coffee was complete, Avery began to retreat back to his work. "If you need anything, though, I'm here." "Thank you, Avery," she whispered, grateful for his unwavering support. But right now, what she really needed was her sisters' advice. As Darlene tried to refocus on her work, she couldn't help but feel helpless, trapped within the confines of her own thoughts, the expectations of others, and the injustice she felt. Avery returned to his office to start working again, aware that he had changed the whole office atmosphere with the incident last Thursday. He couldn’t get over the feeling that everyone was looking at him, but he didn’t dare look up to see if he was right. As he sat down and sipped his coffee. Avery took a deep breath and tried to block out the distractions around him. It wasn’t long till Avery's fingers danced over the keyboard, the rhythmic tapping a soothing counterpoint to the chaos that had been swirling around him all morning. He finally had let go of the thoughts that the security cards were his fault, even though he could hear the whispers down the hallways and across the cubicles. He was able to immerse himself in his research on cell walls, seeking to understand better their structure and function for the drug interaction project he'd been assigned. The screen before him was filled with diagrams and molecular schematics, each more complex than the last. His heart pounded in his chest in excitement as he attempted to refocus on the task at hand, which he loved. He read that the cell wall lies outside the plasma membrane, which defines the boundaries of the cell itself. The wall is freely permeable to most molecules, but the membrane exhibits selective permeability, tending to concentrate specific dissolved molecules and ions inside the cell. This complicated the matter of how he could calculate the external and internal pressure effects on the cell wall, which he knew he needed to figure out to make these custom drugs effective. As he delved deeper into his research, Avery's thoughts wandered to Darlene, her own struggles weighing heavily on his mind. He wished there was more he could do to support her, but for now, all he could do was focus on his work and prove himself to be a valuable asset in their ongoing battle against cancer – and against the challenges they faced both within and beyond the walls of their workplace. A few hours passed as Avery's eyes darted between the lines of text on his computer screen, furiously absorbing every last bit of information about cell walls. The pressure of the onesie and diaper beneath his clothing weighed heavily on him today, a constant reminder of his vulnerability, but at this moment, this wasn’t what he was focused on. He clenched his jaw, determined not to let it hold him back. This whole day had not been what he had hoped to come back to. "Guess what, Avery?" A familiar voice cut through the tense silence, and he looked up to see Christy standing behind him in a pretty light blue work dress, the delicate light hugging her slender frame. Her hazel eyes sparkled with excitement as always. A hint of perfume lingered in the air, a subtle but alluring scent that added to her charm. She radiated energy and vitality as the always positive girl he had come to know. "Hey, Christy," Avery said, confused about why she was here since they didn’t have any time set up to work on anything together today. "What's going on? What are you doing here?" "Looks like we're about to be full-time work neighbors," she announced eagerly, gesturing to Bryan approaching with two boxes of office supplies in his arms. She grinned at Avery, her dimples deepening as she giggled in anticipation. "Really? That's great!" Avery forced a slight smile, though his mind raced with uncertainty. How would having a new coworker impact his already delicate situation? He didn’t want Christy to know about his diapers or, worse, about Darlene inspecting his diaper. Avery was also sure this had something to do with John, and once again, this was his fault in his mind. "Good morning, Avery," Bryan said. "I hope you don't mind us invading your space a little." "Of course not," Avery replied, trying to sound genuine but not so sure about this. "It'll be nice to have some company." Christy's enthusiasm seemed to be authentic as she started to grab one of the boxes from Bryan. "Is it okay if we put these boxes down on your desk for the moment until we know where I'm going to sit?" Christy asked, gesturing to the second box she held. "Sure," Avery managed to say, forcing a semi-fake smile onto his face. His thoughts churned like storm-tossed waves, threatening to pull him under. He really liked Christy but as an office mate. He wasn’t sure. "Here, let me help you with that," Avery offered, rising from his seat to take the box from Bryan’s hands before Christy could get to it. The box’s weight surprised him, and he nearly staggered under its bulk. “What in the world did she bring with her?” he thought to himself. He knew he should be grateful for the distraction her arrival provided—a brief respite from the relentless nagging feeling that all this was his fault—but in fact, it was just another reminder that it was his fault and another chance to be found out. "Thanks, Avery!" Christy beamed at him, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I can't wait to get settled in." There again was her enthusiastic voice. In fact, she was glad to be getting away from John and his two cohorts. It would be much better to be close to Avery and help him program his mathematical solutions in the software. Avery couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at her carefree attitude—something he had lost touch with long ago. "Let's go see where Darlene wants to put you," Bryan said, leading the way toward the office door. Avery placed the box on his desk, still feeling the shock of Christy's unexpected move.” Want to come with us, Avery?” Bryan clapped Avery on the shoulder. Avery just nodded yes, stood up, and followed behind Bryan and Christy. He prayed that neither of them could see the bulk or hear the slight crinkly sounds of the diaper he was wearing. As they approached Darelene’s office, Avery thought to himself that he was honestly a little shocked that Darlene would have agreed to this. But then it dawned on him as they approached: Darlene probably didn’t know. She would have told him. Bryan's knuckles rapped against the closed door, and Avery couldn't help but hold his breath. He could envision the conversation that was about to take place - the confusion, frustration, and possibly even anger that would follow. A wave of guilt washed over him, knowing he was adding to Darlene's already stressful day. The door opened, revealing a puzzled Darlene, who took in the sight of Bryan and Chisty standing together and Avery standing behind them. Bryan smiled. “Good morning, Darlene. I am so grateful you agreed to this. I need to know where you plan to let Christy sit," Bryan smiled. "What? No one told me about Christy coming up here," Darlene replied, both surprised and upset. Her gaze flicked to Avery, who felt he'd been caught red-handed, even though he'd had no part in the decision and no clue about it ahead of time. Avery quickly interjected, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on him. "I apologize, Darlene. This caught me off guard as well. I had no idea Christy would be joining us until just now." "Didn't Julian tell you?" Bryan asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "We're moving Christy up here for her protection away from John." Bryan watched as he read Darlene’s puzzled and upset facial expressions. “I thought Julian had already discussed this with you. He told me he was going to talk to you this morning." Bryan said hastily, trying to defuse the tension. "It's just a temporary arrangement." “Temporary by what means?! Till you get, John fired?!” Darlene quickly responded in anger. As the conversation continued, Avery became increasingly distracted by the warmth of his body and the confines of the onesie he wore beneath his clothes. He tried to focus on keeping his breathing steady, but his heart raced, fueled by anxiety and an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, as he stood there feeling helpless to control this situation. Avery's heart clenched as a stepped back up against the back wall of Darlene’s office. He listened to the heated exchange between Darlene and Bryan just beyond his cubicle. He could feel the tension thicken in the air, and a knot formed in his stomach. It was apparent that Darlene wasn't happy about this unexpected change, especially since she had yet to be consulted first. He hated tense situations and never did good with them. "An IT department isn't the place for Christy," Darlene argued, her voice rising with frustration. "This isn’t a research center dedicated to some magical DNA cancer treatments and a hideout for employees who are afraid of your troublemakers." He couldn't help but empathize with Darlene's plight – she'd taken him under her wing when no one else would, and now it seemed her generosity was being taken advantage of. "Look, I understand your concerns," Bryan attempted to soothe her, his tone measured and calm. Avery's heart raced as he heard Bryan acknowledge Darlene's concerns. His anxiety increased, and he felt a sudden need to pee. "We know it's not ideal," Bryan said, "but we're worried about Christy's safety with John and his friends harassing her. With the new security badge system causing tensions, we need to take precautions." The mention of John made Avery's bladder twinge even more, but he tried to ignore the urge to use the bathroom. He wanted to be present for this conversation in case his name came up, though his body protested against his will. Plus, he was trapped inside Darlene’s Office with Bryan and Christy blocking the way. "Christy is the last person I'm taking in from your department," Darlene snapped, her voice raised so that anyone nearby could hear it. "You can't expect me to house your whole R&D center just because you can't control John and his fucking behavior." It took all of Darlene’s emotion and resolve not to slam the door on them. Avery winced at the outburst, clenching his thighs together instinctively. He could no longer deny the pressure building in his bladder, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the room. It felt like a choice between preserving his dignity, staying informed, and not looking like he didn’t care about what happened with Christy, and he didn't know which option was more terrifying. "Darlene, we would appreciate your help and understanding in this matter," Bryan replied, his voice tense but controlled. "We'll find a solution to the John issue as soon as possible." Darlene couldn't help but roll her eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation. She knew that the solution was to ignore it and pretend like it would never happen again. Plus, they wanted to make an example out of her for office violence. Avery's mind raced, trying to formulate a plan. Should he try to slip away now or risk embarrassment by waiting too long? The sudden silence in the room interrupted his thoughts, signaling that the discussion had temporarily ended. Panic gripped him as he realized he'd missed his chance to escape unnoticed. "Get it together, Avery," he thought, forcing himself to focus on his work. "You've faced worse situations before." "Please, just let me make it through this," he silently prayed. "I can't afford another slip-up." The air in the office seemed to thicken as the silence continued. Then Darlene's voice reverberated off the walls again, her anger palpable. Avery, already on edge from desperately needing to use the restroom, felt his heart rate spike at the sudden outburst. His grip on his own self-control wavered, and in that moment of terror, he lost the battle. Warmth spread through the diaper between his legs, rapidly soaking up the unexpected release. Avery's cheeks burned with humiliation, and he tried to shift his body to the side of the door frame, trying to hide any evidence of his accident. The bulky padding now felt even more intrusive, a constant reminder of his failure to keep control. Christy, oblivious to the situation unfolding just a few feet away, had been observing the heated exchange with wide eyes. When she finally glanced over at Avery, she noticed him standing uncomfortably and shifting his posture, a pained expression etched across his face. Concern filled her, and she hurried over to check on him. "Hey, are you okay?" Christy whispered close to Avery, genuine worry in her voice. Avery forced a tight-lipped smile and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He didn't want to draw any more attention to himself, especially with everyone on edge and arguing. It took all of his willpower to keep his gaze focused on Bryan and Darlene. "Alright, if you need anything, just let me know," Christy whispered close to him, puzzled by Avery's behavior. Darlene finally let out a long sigh, her frustration dissipating slightly. "Fine," she relented, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "But this is the last time, Bryan. I can't keep taking in people from other departments just because management can't control their employees." "Thank you, Darlene," Bryan said gratefully. "I promise we'll work on finding a more permanent solution." As the conversation drew close, Avery wanted to waddle back to his office and sit in his chair, defeated yet again, but he was wet and needed a change into a fresh diaper before he accidentally leaked. It wasn't that he had anything against Christy - quite the opposite, in fact. But the prospect of having someone so close to him, someone who could potentially discover his secret, filled him with dread. He felt a tear start to swell up around his eyes. "Get a grip, Avery, don’t start to cry now," he muttered under his breath as he felt the warmth of his diaper as it swelled up around his crotch. "Alright," Darlene relented, sighing. Christy, you'll be two desks down from Avery." "Thanks, Darlene," Christy said nodding gratefully, walking back to her new spot to begin unpacking her belongings. Avery watched from the corner of Darlene’s door, not moving till everyone left. Avery then slipped towards Darlene's desk, heart pounding in his chest. The shame hung heavy in the air around him, making it difficult to breathe. "Darlene, I..." he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had another accident” as a tear slide down his face and his head hung low. "Did you bring a spare diaper in your backpack?" Darlene asked gently; concern etched across her face as she realized the argument was stressful for the boy. "Y-yes," Avery stammered, avoiding her gaze. "Alright, go get it, then." Avery wiped his tears before he left the room. Darlene got up and started closing the blinds to her office and waited for him to return. Avery quickly picked up his backpack, not paying attention to Christy, who was watching him walk back to Darelen’s office with it. When he came back with his backpack, she locked the door behind them. "Sit down," Darlene instructed, gesturing to the chair by her desk. Avery did as he was told, trying to keep his composure while his mind raced. Darlene's gentle yet firm voice offered advice, "Next time, try to remain calm. Perhaps you could practice some breathing exercises and visualize a happy place. There are some helpful apps for that." She reminded him that he couldn't let these incidents occur frequently, or others might start to question them. "I know," Avery mumbled, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He tried to focus on the patterns in the carpet beneath his feet, but his thoughts kept intruding, taunting him with images of his coworkers' reactions if they ever found out. "Okay, let's get you changed," Darlene perked up but kept her tone professional as she opened a drawer and the supplies she brought with her this morning. "And when we're done, we both need to get back to work." "Right," Avery agreed, his voice barely audible. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself for yet another diaper change. He opened his backpack, pulled out his only spare diaper, and handed it to Darlene. It felt odd to be offering this exchange. Darlene spread out a large towel on the office floor, careful to smooth out any wrinkles. She then carefully arranged a few essential items: a package of baby wipes and a bottle of sweet-smelling baby powder. As he watched her, he couldn't help but feel his cheeks flush with embarrassment at the thought of using such items for their intended purpose. But Darlene didn't seem fazed at all, simply going about her business with a calm and confident demeanor. He couldn't help but be grateful for her as he didn’t realize this was her maternal instinct at play here. "Alright, lay down on the soft towel so I can change you into a fresh, clean diaper," Darlene instructed gently as she patted the towel. He couldn't help but feel a tingling sense of awareness and fear creeping over him, not because of Darlene but because Christy was just outside, within earshot. He could imagine her giggling if she knew his predicament. As he got up off the chair, he began to unzip his pants and step out of them, revealing the bottom of his onesie. “Do I take this off?” he asked confused. Darlene looked up at him, as she was already on her knee. “No need; the snaps are made for easy access just as I did before. Now, come on and lay down.” She patted the towel. The humiliation of these diaper changes had become all too familiar, yet a small part of him craved the comfort they provided and the attention he got from Darlene. Avery placed his pants on the chair and laid on the large towel. As Darlene leaned over to him, Avery closed his eyes and focused on the slow rise and fall of his chest. The shame still clung to him like a second skin, but he resolved to push past it and told himself to return and concentrate on his work when this was done praying Christy wouldn’t find out. He felt Darlene unbuttoned the onesie as he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, focusing on the patterns within the acoustic tiles. "Do I have to have the baby powder again?" he asked, hoping for the answer ‘no’ as he continued to stare up. Darlene looked down at him and replied, her tone firm but gentle. "As I said before, it's necessary to prevent diaper rash, so just trust me." He sighed, knowing she was right. But it didn't make the process any less mortifying. He heard the tapes unfasten from his diaper as she pulled the front end of the soaked diaper off, exposing him. He then lifted his hips as she slid the wet diaper from underneath him and then slid a new, fresh, disposable diaper into its place. He gritted his teeth as she applied the cold otion and baby powder, feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath her touch. He tried to connect the dots on the ceiling, hoping he wouldn’t get erect from her gentle touch on his sensitive parts. He could smell the heavy scent of baby powder in the air as it was applied to him. "Almost done," Darlene murmured, fastening the fresh diaper and then pulling the onesie in place, snapping the crotch back together. She helped him sit up, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. “You're doing great, Avery. Just remember to breathe and stay calm when you get nervous. Maybe you can prevent this future." After Darlene finished helping him, he quietly said a grateful "thank you." As Avery stood up, Darlene's hand almost reached out to pat his bottom, but she stopped herself, realizing what she was about to do. He then pulled his pants back on, feeling the added bulk of a new, fresh diaper underneath his onesie and trousers. "Of course," she replied, reassuringly squeezing his shoulder. "Now, let's get back out there and show them what you’re made of." It was almost as if she was giving encouragement to a boy not a young man. The embarrassment weighed heavily, but he couldn't afford to wallow in it. Suppressing a shudder, he picked up his backpack like he was about to head home and brought it back to his office. "Focus, Avery," he silently urged himself, knowing Christy was just outside Darlene’s office setting up her new desk. You can't change what happened, but you can keep it from happening again. You are smarter than this, stronger than this." He told himself as he did his best to hold back a tear. With that, he exited the office, determined to put the incident behind them and move forward with their day. A cacophony of thoughts raced through Avery's mind as he tried to drown out the sounds of Christy unpacking her belongings nearby. Christy glanced up from her unpacking, her gaze lingering on the closed blinds of Darlene's office. Curiosity piqued, she watched Avery return with his backpack, his body language tense and uneasy. The door clicked shut behind him, and Christy couldn't help but wonder if he was in trouble for something. "Is everything okay?" Christy asked genuine concern in her voice. "Everything's fine," Avery replied, trying to sound casual. "Just a minor issue." "Alright then," Christy said, nodding slowly as she returned to setting up her desk. Avery settled back at his desk, praying that the walls of the office had been thick enough to keep their secret safe. He focused on his research, determined not to let his anxiety get the better of him. Avery's heart raced as he returned to his desk again and slowly started to settle down, the scent of baby powder clinging to him like a cloak. Sitting down and looking at the computer, he did his best, trying not to draw attention to himself. Christy glanced at him from her new workstation; curiosity continued to be etched on her face. She didn’t feel like Avery was being straight with her and something was wrong. "Hey, Avery, can I pick your brain about this problem I'm working on that has your formulas?" she asked, strolling over with a notepad in hand. "I could use a fresh perspective." "Sure, let me take a look," Avery replied, attempting to calm his nerves. He was starting to focus on the equations before him, finding solace in their complexity. Avery began to explain the purpose and reasoning behind the equations. As they delved deeper into the project, Christy leaned in closer, her nose wrinkling delicately at a familiar scent. Soft notes of baby powder wafted toward her, causing her to pause and comment, "You smell like... baby powder?" Avery's muscles tensed when he heard the words. He struggled to maintain his composure. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck as he hastily responded, "Oh, uh, it's just a new laundry detergent." He prayed that she would accept his flimsy excuse. "It's supposed to be good for sensitive skin." "Ah, I see," Christy mused, raising her eyebrows with a hint of skepticism. She didn't press the matter further, but Avery could tell she was still puzzled by his choice of scent. The faint aroma of baby powder lingered in the air around them, mixing with the heady scent of coffee from their nearby cups. Avery quickly explained why he did what he did with the calculations that Christy was asking about. Christy finally agreed to his method. “it will be tricky to program, but I think I can figure something out.” She smiled. A wave of relief washed over Avery as Christy walked back with the notes she had taken and sat back down at her desk. They both separately drove back to their work. His mind whirred with calculations and possible solutions, grateful for the distraction from his earlier ordeal. Meanwhile, Darlene finally connected with her sister, Laurisa, on the phone when she called her back. She was eager to vent about the day's events and seek their advice. “Finally, you call me back. What took you so long?” Darlene exclaimed in a panicked and upset voice, feeling slightly neglected by her sister's delayed response. "Sorry, I was at the police department for new clients. They needed me to review their cases and complete all the necessary paperwork." Laurisa replied, her tone a bit strained as she became defensive of her own important work. Darlene could hear the exhaustion and frustration in her sister's voice and immediately regretted her initial outburst. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to imply that your work isn't important, too." She apologized sincerely, understanding the demands of her sister's job. “Darlene paused, trying not to cry from the stressful day. “I just really need my sisters, and I can’t talk about it here. I know it is short notice, but can we all meet up for dinner tonight? I really need to talk to you girls about what's been happening at work. I am about to lose it." Darlene said, her voice strained with frustration. "Of course," Laurisa agreed, concern evident in her tone. "We'll be there for you, sis. Just tell us where and when." "Great. Let's meet at that Greek place we love around four pm if that isn’t too early. It is the only way I think we will get any reservations this late in the week." Darlene suggested, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “No problem, I can get out of work early, and I am sure Ashley can too. Her work hours are generally not till late in the day.” Laurisa and Darlene both laughed. “I will make reservations for the three of us,” Laurisa replied. Darlene thought for a second. If they were going to leave work early, she needed to take Avery with her to ensure his protection. “No, make it four.” She paused. “I am going to bring Avery, the one I talked about previously.” “Oh really? It will be interesting to meet him,” Laurisa said. “First, you can’t Psychoanalyze the boy. The poor boy is confused enough as it is.” “Okay, I won’t. At least I won’t out loud. My job is to psychoanalyze people, and I can’t just turn it off,” Laurisa giggled. With that, Darlene hung up the phone, grateful for her sisters' unwavering support. As Avery and Christy continued work separately with only one empty desk between them, he found himself growing more comfortable in her presence, forgetting about the scent of baby powder. The earlier tension seemed to dissipate, replaced by the shared language of numbers and logic. For now, at least, his secret remained safe. About an hour later, Darlene came out of her office to talk to Avery. Christy looked up. Darlene was quick to the point. “Avery, I am going to leave work early at 3:30 pm today to have an early dinner with my sisters. With everything that has happened today and last week, I want you to leave with me and come to dinner. I just want to make sure your safe when I am not around. I don’t yet trust the badge system.” Avery looked up to see that in her expression, “No” wasn’t an answer Darlene would accept; however, it would be nice to leave before Christy so he would not have to worry about being caught in the elevator with his diaper on. Plus, lunch with Darlene last week was a wonderful break from fast food. “Sure, just give me five minutes heads up to wrap everything up.” Darlene nodded as she walked over to Christy and began talking to her. Darlene wanted to apologize for her previous behavior, saying she was taken off guard and that it wasn’t her fault she was so upset. Christy's face lit up with a radiant smile as she looked up at Darlene and they began to talk, her hazel eyes sparkling with warmth and excitement as they always seem to do. Avery couldn't help but steal a glance at her, his heart clenching as he watched her chat animatedly with Darlene, possibly about her new workspace. He couldn’t help but wonder if they were talking about him, and the thought made his stomach churn with nervousness. Despite his desire to join in on their conversation, Avery stayed rooted in his seat, feeling left out and unsure of what they were discussing. He couldn't take his eyes off Christy, who seemed genuinely thrilled about something. As Darlene and Christy shook hands, Avery pretended to be focused on his work, trying not to eavesdrop. When Darlene approached him with a smile and an air of excitement, Avery couldn't help but feel a surge of anxiety. "Guess what, Avery," she said, practically bouncing with anticipation. He looked up at her, trying to act surprised by her sudden appearance. "What?" he asked eagerly. "Christy will be joining us for dinner!" Darlene announced gleefully. Avery tried to hide his nerves, but it was clear from the way his hands shook that he was taken aback. "I-I mean, that's great," he stuttered, attempting to sound enthusiastic. "I just wasn't expecting it." Darlene looked confused by his reaction. "I thought you would enjoy her company," she said innocently. Avery nodded quickly, trying to play it cool. "I do, I do. It's just...surprising." Inside, he was brimming with questions about what had just transpired between them and whether or not Christy knew about him wearing diapers. But outwardly, he put on a mask of composure and simply replied, "Christy is a wonderful person." "Perfect, Christy will join us at the restaurant around 4 pm," Darlene said with a hint of hesitation. She couldn't shake off the feeling that she had made a mistake by inviting her. However, with John lurking around and keeping a watchful eye on her was her duty. It seemed necessary to have invited her for safety. With a sigh, Darlene headed back to her office to wrap up the day's work. The anticipation of meeting her sisters and sharing all the events of the day filled her with some comfort. As she finished her work and shut down her computer, she could already picture herself sitting at the restaurant table, laughing and exchanging stories with her sisters, who were her best friends.

Hello there! Chapter 7 is finally here! This chapter in particular is a pretty "spicy" one, and I had a blast putting it together. I hope you enjoy, and please continue reading after the chapter for a quick update. With that said, here is Chapter 7, and, as always, thank you for reading. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 7: Hurts So Good (CW: Diaper Wetting, Diaper Messing, Spanking, Enema, Oral Sex) June 4th, 2023. 1:41pm A…a spanking? This early? Mommy pats her lap, ushering me to lie across it. “But Mommy, why am I being punished?” I mumble behind the pacifier. “Oh, is my baby confused? Let me clear that up for you then,” She stands up and looks into my eyes. While the height difference between us is only an inch, I can feel her towering over me. “You stayed out late last night, and didn’t think to text me beyond ‘I’ll take an Uber’. You came home drunk, and along with the scent of alcohol, your clothes reeked of cigarette smoke. You then threw up your overindulgence, and the cherry on top? You leaked all over the bathroom floor. Not to mention, you’ve already broken the “no talking” command I gave you. These are all very naughty things. And who do you think is responsible for that? I’ll let you answer.” I feel my sense of shame return, but it’s not alone. I feel…Little. Being talked down to like this, having my misdeeds listed before me, is making me feel incredibly small. “It…it’s my responsibility, Mommy.” She lets out a rather large laugh and places her hand on my head. “Oh no, my silly girl. It’s my responsibility. Mommy needs to teach you right from wrong, to help guide you when needed, and to punish you when necessary.” Oh goddess, my heart won’t stop beating. “So, I’ll say it again; you need to be punished. Now are you going to be a good girl and get over my lap, or are you going to keep being naughty?” Is…is she testing me? I can see it written all over her. This is her way of asking me how I want this scene to go. Well, if I’m going to be a baby, I might as well act like one. “NO! I don’t wanna spanking!” I stomp my foot, capping off my tantrum with the disrespectful act. “I see my baby is going to be a brat today. Well so be it,” Mommy grabs my hand and marches me over to the chair. Pushing me over her lap. I can feel her hand rubbing against my padded rear. “I would say this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you, but Mommy doesn’t tell lies.” A thwap rings through the air, her hand making contact with the diaper. That…didn’t hurt. The cushy material acts as a great insulator for the spanks, with only a slight tingling making its way through the protection. As a series of spanks continue to come, I begin to giggle, and Mommy takes notice. “I’m glad this is funny to you, 'cause this is the warm-up,” She reaches her hand out towards the floor, reaching into a large duffle bag. Rummaging through, she pulls out a wooden paddle, roughly 8 inches in length excluding the handle. “This is where your real spanking begins.” I feel the oak instrument brush against me, rubbing in circles, around and around, until a sudden swat has me flinch. OW! Okay, I felt that one. Even through the diaper, I can feel the sting across my cheeks. Swat after swat makes contact, and I can feel a warmth start to build in my rear. It hurts, but for some reason, it feels good. I don’t want it to stop! Mommy bends her head over, and I can feel her breath on my neck. “Green?” she whispers to me. “Green. Very Green.” I reply. “Such a naughty girl! I don’t think I’m getting through to you, but don’t fret. I have just the thing to fix that,” Her hand grabs hold of the back of my diaper, tugging it down, exposing my bare bottom to the air. “Are you ready sweetie?” I don’t have time to reply, as the spanking begins anew. FUCK! I can feel THAT! It hurts…but it hurts so good! Leaning into my role, I wriggle my legs, kicking them up and down in faux protest. “Don’t struggle Little One, you’ll only make this worse for yourself.” Good, that’s what I’m hoping. As the onslaught on my skin continues, I begin to feel another sensation build. Not now bladder! Having not gone since last night's incident, the urge is strong. “Mo…Mommy, stop. I need to go potty!” But she doesn’t stop. The spanking continues, and my desperation grows. “You’re not getting out of your punishment that easily. You can hold it until we’re finished. Now no talking, you little brat.” An especially strong swat tells me what I need to know; the spanking will continue, and I shouldn’t ask again. It seems like the spanking will never end at this point, the pace only growing faster, the whacks only growing stronger. I know I won’t be able to hold it much longer, so I don’t. I release the floodgates, trusting the front of my diaper to contain it all. Mommy stops her assault, taking note of the warmth emanating on her lap. “Didn’t I just tell you to hold it? Unbelievable! I guess you’re going to need a few more spanks to learn how to behave.” The combination of the warm pee and the punishment is becoming too much to bear. I can feel myself growing large, my erection poking into her lap. The wiggling from the spanking only adds to the increase in my gratification. I don’t know how much longer I can last. She whispers in my ear once more. “I can feel you getting hard baby. It’s okay, you can do what you need to do.” With the message received, she resumes her work with the paddle. Oh, oh goddess, I’m about to cum. I’m going to cum from being spanked, wearing my soaked diaper. What a naughty girl I am! Mommy brings her arm back, unleashing the hardest spanks so far. She begins to speak, enunciating each word with another smack of the paddle. “This! Is! What! Naughty! Little! Brats! Deserve!” That was all it took. The combination of emotions and sensations has reached its climax, and I release what little control I have. The tip of my penis, now tilted to the top of my diaper from the struggle, begins to shoot load after load onto Mommy’s lap. Time seems to have no meaning, but eventually, I fall limp, resting on her cum covered lap. Mommy begins to rub the small of my back, calming me down from my lust-filled high. “That’s it baby, good job taking your punishment. Such a good girl.” I can feel a cool liquid being applied to my backside, lotion I presume. Her fingers work the soothing balm into my stinging ass, instantly relieving part of the soreness. For a few minutes, I sit there, enjoying the gentle message of the aftercare. I can feel her hands remove from my cheeks and onto my shoulders. “Okay baby, stand up for me, will you?” I follow her command, and I feel the slight sag of the diaper, backside still tugged neatly underneath my butt. We both look down at her dress, noticing the white stains covering the front. “Such a dirty girl Roxie. Look at the mess you made. I think it’s time to move on to the second part of your punishment,” Shit, there’s more? Mommy grabs me by the hand and leads me to the corner, guiding my face towards the wall. “Now stay here until I say otherwise, and don’t even think about rubbing your bottom.” I can hear the door to the nursery open before closing once again. While I’m tempted to disobey, I keep my hands to my side, not daring to soothe my aching butt. The first few minutes pass quickly enough, but as time marches forward, I can feel my patience beginning to wane. Outside of the room, I think I can make out some miscellaneous noises: the sound of shoes across tile, the opening of cabinets, and…the running of the faucet? What could E…Mommy be planning? I don’t have to wait much longer for my answer, as I can hear the door behind me open once more. I can feel her approach, and tempted as I may be to turn around, I keep my nose in the corner. I can hear what I believe to be the sound of the crib’s rails lowering, along with noises I can’t quite discern. The noise quotes, and I hear Mommy begin to speak. “Okay Little One, turn around for me.” I do as I’m told, and I take a look at Mommy, her simple black dress having been replaced with a pink, long-sleeved shirt and mom jeans. She’s leaning hard into the “Contemporary” Mommy look. I can feel a little twitch beneath my diaper, my member not having the energy to resume full-mast, but still excited by the sight before me. “Can you make your way over to me sweetie?” I begin to take a single step, but Mommy holds out her hand. “Not like that, Little One. You’re a baby right now, and babies crawl, don’t they?” Oh, how I love this woman. I get down on all fours and clumsily make my way over to her, my reddened cheeks facing the sky. As I reach my destination, I look up at her, radiant as always, and I can’t help but feel like an actual baby. I watch as she bends over, and am surprised when she scoops me into her arms. “Wow Mommy, I’m surprised you can pick me up.” “Thank you, baby, but it’s really not a challenge. You’ve lost a lot of weight these last couple of years,” She’s right of course, but it still hurts to hear. When we first met, I could’ve been described as somewhat pudgy, and it caused…well there were a lot of issues that came with that. So I worked on myself, not for the expectations of the world, but for me. I started running on the treadmill, switched from regular soda to diet, and opted for fewer calories in my meals. I thought I made pretty good progress, but if Emma could pick me up this easily, perhaps I might want to consider putting some weight back on. “Alright, let’s get you in your crib!” But it’s still light out! I didn’t want the fun to end so quickly. “Mommy, I’m not tired yet.” She gently lays me down on my stomach, and I can feel the crinkle of the plastic sheet beneath the bedding, adorned with cartoonish images of teddy bears and letter blocks. “Don’t fret, it’s not quite bedtime for you yet.” She points up to the headboard of the bed, and I understand what she means. Hanging above me is a silicone bag, a shade of red deeper than my rear end. From the bag, a thin white hose extends feet in length, ending in a long tip. I know what it is from personal experience. I am no stranger to Enemas, having used them for years at this point. After all, it’s a necessary part of anal; being able to clean your insides out. “It’s time for your medicine baby. You have so many yucky toxins in your body that we have to clear out,” She pauses, waiting to see if I have any objection, before picking up the tip. She reaches into her pocket, pulls out a small canister of petroleum jelly, and liberally applies it to the nozzle. “Alright, take a breath for me, darling.” I feel the nozzle slip through my back door, and with a click, warm water begins filling my insides. I breathe in and out, letting the familiar cramps pass by as the lower part of my abdomen begins to bulge out. The water goes from a steady stream, to a light flow, and finally to just a few drops trickling into me. The tip is removed from my anus, and I clench my muscles tight, letting just a single drop escape my body. Letting the hose hang over the rail of the crib, Mommy then takes my diaper in hand, pulling the bottom back into place. I can feel the churning inside my colon, begging for an escape. “Mommy, I hafta go poop. Can I pwease use the potty?” I hope my use of baby talk may persuade her, but it falls on deaf ears. “You’re wearing your potty, silly. But I’ll tell you what. I have to get dinner started, so I’m going to leave you in the crib. If I come back and you haven’t filled your diaper, I’ll consider letting you use the potty.” She raises the side rail, sealing me inside the infantile bed, before walking out towards the kitchen, giving me one last look as the door closes behind her. I can feel the cramps increasing at a breakneck pace. Please cook fast Emma. *** Minutes seem to pass like hours, each moment becoming more agonizing. At this point, my stomach is screaming at me, demanding me to release it from its struggles. I don’t think I can hold out much longer. A thought strikes me; So why hold out? You’re a baby, aren’t you? So why don’t you just let go, and let your diaper handle the mess? My inner monologue makes a great point. Why try to fight it any longer? Sure, I haven’t ever released an enema into a diaper before, but would it be so different than just messing like usual? Mid thought, another cramp in my stomach tells me it's time. Even if Mommy were to come back in right now, I don’t think I’d be able to make my way to the hallway, let alone the toilet, without releasing. I get on my knees, spreading my legs apart, and with a crouch, I push. It takes a moment for anything to happen, but as soon as the liquidy mess makes its way to the entrance, my pushing results in an immediate wave rushing out from within me. The sounds of wet farts echo from the walls as more and more of the mess makes its way into my diaper’s seat. As soon as I thought the worst was over, another wave would make its way out, until finally, nothing remained inside me. I let out a sigh of relief, happy to have the mixture out of my body. I crank my head around, doing the best I can to assess the damage. The back of the diaper, once a solid, pristine white, was now a splotchy mess of different shades of brown. The diaper had done its job, evident by the layer of brownish water making its way toward the top of the absorbent material. I wonder… I get onto my hands and feet, entering into a crab-like position, before lowering my rear onto the bedding. Making contact, I can feel the mess shift around as my body comes to rest, making its way into whatever crevices it can reach. Oh my goddess, this will NOT be the last time I do this. I shift my weight back and forth, grinding the diaper beneath me. I’m a bit worried about leaks, but while the diaper is rather full, it seems to be holding up rather well to the movement. My grinding is interrupted by the creak of the door. In walks Mommy, holding her nose with one hand and waving the air with another. “Well, I guess that means you couldn’t hold it,” she walks over to the crib, lowers the rails, and cups the back of my diaper, checking its used status. “Such a big load you made for Mommy. Good girl.” She gives me a few gentle pats on the rear, careful not to spread the mess too much. “How about I get you changed, and we can eat dinner?” Here I am, grinding away in a lust-filled stupor, and she’s worked diligently to make us food. It’s more than that though. Throughout all of this, all Emma has done is make sure that I’ve been satisfied with our arrangement. I wish I could do something for her. I suckle on my pacifier as I think about this, and the eureka moment hits me. Duh, Roxie. I’ll just do what babies do best; putting things in their mouths. I grab Emma’s hand and pull her into the crib, catching her by surprise. “Wh…what are you doing, baby? We’ve got…” I take a page from her book, placing my finger on her lips. I gently raise the hem of her shirt, exposing her bra. “Oh, I think I get it.” She raises her arms, allowing me to remove the shirt from her body. I reach behind her chest, fumbling with the straps before the sexy garment finally falls free. I take a brief look at her breasts; even now, after all these years, I’m enamored with their size and shape. They put my A-cups to shame. I remove the pacifier from my lips and bring my mouth towards her nipple, letting my warm breath fall across the surface. She shudders in response, and I place my lips over her teat, suckling in that way that I know drives her crazy. “Oh, fu…fuck baby, keep doing that. Keep sucking on Mommy’s tit.” she gasps, and I’m more than happy to oblige her request. I work my tongue into the mix, extracting a moan from her mouth for my efforts. I take my hand and bring it up to her other breast, working my fingers around the area, gently squeezing as I go along. I hear cries of affirmation escaping her throat, so I continue, keeping up the pace. I hear her voice finally come to the surface. “Baby, Mommy…Mommy needs you. She needs to feel your mouth.” Damn, that was quick. I guess she’s more turned on by this than I thought. I’m not one to deny her request though. I remove her nipple from my mouth, a string of saliva bridging the surfaces. I proceed to carry out a series of pecks down her body, leaving a trail of black marks from my lipstick. Upon reaching her abdomen, I put my fingers to work and unbutton her pants, pulling the zipper down to reveal more of her skin. I tenderly slide them down her thighs, revealing her bright pink thong. Holy shit, that’s hot. I bring my lips to her folds, placing kisses along the entrance. “Roxie, please don’t tease me right now! I need this…need you.” The go-ahead was given, and I place my face between her thighs, lapping away at her core. She cries out, rasping at the air, and clenches her thighs around my head. “Oh fuck! Roxie, I’m so close, just a bit more baby.” I delve my tongue deeper inside, allowing the slow and steady strokes to build in pace. Hearing her cooes of pleasure urge me further, and I bring the tips of my fingers over her clit, providing her with simultaneous waves of pleasure. “FUCK! OH GOD, I’M COMING!” Her desperate cries blurting out into the air, I can feel her legs wrapping around my head, pushing me further inside her warm embrace. Her back arched out, I can sense the spasms radiating through her body. Her crevice tightens around me and I can feel my tastebuds being coated in her ejaculate. Her body calms itself, and my head is released from her limbs. I take a hard gasp of air, letting my lungs fill themselves back up. I can feel her cum coated over my lips, which I gladly lick, enjoying the taste. I look down at Emma, skin covered in a radiant glow, beads of sweat trickling from her brow. Still conscious, but reeling from the aftermath, she utters an unintelligible word of gratitude. I lay down across her chest, being spent myself, before giving her a peck on the lips, allowing her a taste of her nectar. “You’re welcome, Amore.” I collapse into her, and feel my eyes close. For this brief moment, let us rest. *** I’m unsure of the passage of time, but I awaken from our post-coital nap to see the setting sun through the window, basking the room in its orange glow. I can feel Emma shifting beneath me, perhaps the source of my awakening. “You have a good nap, Mommy?” My question is returned with a smooch, and I can see the pure elation on her face. “Thank you, Roxie. That…I needed that.” “Anytime my love. Now, I hate to kill the mood, but my diaper REALLY needs to be changed.” The smell has permeated the air at this point, creating a slightly unpleasant odor. “Okay baby, let’s get that taken care of.” She gently guides me off her chest, stretching her limbs out as she exits the crib. Holding out her arms, I make my way into them, wrapping my legs around her waist. I bury my head into her neck, enjoying the moment of being held by Mommy. Ever so gently, she lays me across the plastic top of the changing table. I can feel the mess spread itself all over again, but I decide not to worry about it. Mommy will take care of me. Walking over to the shelves, she grabs a fresh diaper, as well as a small bin, over to the table. Looking inside, I can see a wide array of changing supplies: powder, baby oil, wipes, everything that is surely needed to deal with the nuclear disaster inside my diaper. Ripping off the tapes one at a time, I avert my eyes to the sight within. I don’t want to see that. I feel the front of the diaper come forward, the stench becoming stronger whilst exposed to the air. “Pee-yew. Someone made a big stinky for Mommy, didn’t she?” Her gentle cooes help alleviate my disposition, making me feel 10 times better about the mess. Taking a wet wipe in hand, she holds it between her palms for a moment, allowing her body heat to warm it up. Lifting my legs upwards with her spare hand, she places the wipe between my cheeks, and I can feel her removing as much of the mess as she can. Throwing the used wipe into the diaper, she grabs a second one, repeating the process. After going through about a dozen wipes, she slides the diaper out from underneath my raised body, setting my legs down with care. She proceeds to wrap up the used garment, taking care to not spill any of the mess within. Tying the sides into a cute little know, I watch her grab a diaper disposal bag from the bin and place the soiled diaper inside. She then ties the bag shut and tosses the bag underneath the changing table. I hear a thunk of plastic on plastic, realizing that the old trash can still be underneath the desk. She really thought of everything. Picking up the new diaper, Mommy folds it open and gives me a light tap on the thigh. I raise my hips, allowing her to slide the change underneath me. “Look at you, being such a good girl right now. If only you could behave like this all the time.” I roll my eyes at the teasing remark and allow her to begin powdering my privates. She works her fingers around, spreading the substance evenly around my skin. She grabs a single wet wipe from the pack and uses it to clean the remnants of the powder from her fingers before tossing it in the trash. “Alright sweetie, last step! Do you want to help Mommy with the tapes?” With a blush, I nod my head, instantly slipping into my little headspace. She brings the front into place, allowing me the honor of doing the tape job. Now tightly secured to my waist, Mommy grabs my hand and helps me off of the changing table. “Now let’s get you into some more… age-appropriate clothes, shall we?” Hand in hand, she walks me over to the closet. Flicking the switch, I take notice of the changes made to the inside. What used to be a space for the storage of clothes, most never to be worn again, has been emptied out. The racks look bare, with only a couple of outfits adorning the hangers. Upon closer inspection, I realize that it wasn’t just “a couple of outfits”, but MY little clothes hanging up. “I know it looks a bit barren right now, but I’m sure we can fill it out with all sorts of new clothes for my beautiful baby,” The sound of obtaining new clothes perks me up, removing that last bit of sluggishness from the nap. “Now pick out what you want to wear, unless you want to just wear a diaper.” Just…a diaper? No, no more impure thoughts brain! I glance over my options, knowing them well, and decide to go with a classic. I pull the black skull onesie from the hanger. After all, it’s now my favorite piece. Remembering that moment just days ago brings a small tear to my eye. I was first accepted while wearing this onesie, and now, it shall remain in my heart as a cherished item. “Good choice love, now let’s get that yucky grown-up shirt off of you.” Taking the shirt from my hands, we begin to walk out of the closet. I can see the significance of my choice is lost on her, but it doesn’t matter. Guiding me back into the main room of the nursery, she places the onesie down for a moment, raising my arms up into place. I feel the cotton slip off over my head, and the chill of the evening covering my nude form. “Don’t worry, you’ll be nice and toasty soon.” I watch her open the snaps of the onesie, the satisfying pops ringing out. That sound never gets old to me. She begins working my arms through the holes, before finally sliding it down over my head. With a tug, the material evens itself out, and Mommy gets to work snapping the clothing back up, encompassing my fresh change in the black-dyed cloth. She takes my hand once more, and guides me to the mirror on the nursery door, allowing me to gaze upon myself. I look so…pretty. Except for my hair. It was admittedly a mess right now, sticking up in several different directions. I see her take notice as well. “Now that won’t do. How about I fix your hair up real quick?” *** Reminder to self: next time you eat her out, wear a damn hair tie! An agonizing 20 minutes of detangling, brushing, and conditioning later, my hair is back to its usual self. I guess you could call this a ‘fun’ bonding experience. Every time the brush made contact with a know, I’d yelp out in pain, resulting in about a thousand ‘Sorry’s from Emma. “Okay baby, that was rough, but we made it through relatively unscathed! How about we finally eat dinner? I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.” My stomach growls in response. Yeah, I guess I really haven’t eaten today. “Sure, I could eat right now.” We exit the bathroom, my body waddling behind Mommy as we make our way to the kitchen. I watch as she pulls out a chair, beckoning me to sit. Taking my seat, she pushes the chair into the table for me. I’m getting the royal treatment today! “Alright sweetie, I’ll be back in just a moment with the food. Sit tight!” I watch her disappear through the walkway that separates the small dining section from the rest of the kitchen. I wonder what’s for dinner? Maybe she made her Chicken Cacciatore, oh or maybe some Spaghetti Bolognese! I can’t wait to dig in! Mere moments later, I see Emma return empty-handed, her face flushed. “So…bad news. I thought I left the stove on low, but apparently, I turned it off, so the Bolognese is ruined,” NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! CURSE YOU, CRUEL WORLD! “But here’s the good news! We needed to go and grab your car for tomorrow anyway, so why don’t we go out to eat? We can make it a date night!” “Um, sure Em, but what about my outfit?” I was just starting to get used to wearing my onesie around her, but I guess I’ll have to get changed. “First, that’s Mommy to you, and second, just throw a pair of jeans and a jacket on. With other clothes, it will just look like a normal T-shirt, so what’s the use in changing? She makes a good point. I guess, to the average onlooker, it would appear to be nothing more than a shirt with a cartoon skull on the front, and I guess it would help cover up my diaper while out. “Okay Mommy, let me throw some stuff on, and we’ll go.” *** I looked myself over in the mirror once more, wanting to make sure my outfit was sufficiently covered. Wearing a diaper underneath my usual clothes was one thing, but leaving the house in a diaper and onesie has me a tad paranoid. The black jeans, simple in design, do well to conform to my current fit, and the black leather jacket, a size up from my standard wear, does a fantastic job covering my rear. I can’t even tell what I’m wearing underneath. Applying a fresh coat of black lipstick, I’m satisfied with the look of my “adult” self. I grab my purse from the counter and make my way to the front door. Emma is already there waiting for me, opting to keep her outfit from earlier on. “Alright, all set sweetie?” “Yes Mommy, now let’s go, I’m absolutely famished.” “Big words for such a little girl. Okay, let’s go.” She opens up the door, stepping into the cool air of the autumn evening, her hair swaying slightly in the breeze. She smiles at me, and I take a step out the door to follow her. I don’t know what the future has in store for us, but I do know one thing; I’ll have my Mommy every step of the way. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hello Everyone, I hope you enjoyed Chapter 7 of Embracing Oneself I had a lot of fun writing this one, and I hope you had just as much fun reading it. I just wanted to give a quick heads up about the next 2 chapters. The chapter following this one will be the first of the "side chapters", which will focus on how Roxie and Emma first met. It may be a tough read for some, but I believe that reading it will give a lot of insight into the character's pasts and motivations. Chapter 8, however, will go back to the main story, and will essentially be the end of "Act 1." Now, just because the current "Act" is ending does not mean the story is coming to an end, or that the chapters will slow down with their release. Instead, think of it like the ending of a the first season of a show. The story for that season comes to a close, plot points are closed out, some new ones emerge to tease viewers, and the "arc" for the season wraps up. Starting with Chapter 9, there will be a slight time jump, nothing to crazy, but it's there. Along with the time skip, Chapter 9 will be setting the stage for the true introduction of Alex and Jessica. I outlined those two along with Roxie and Emma when I initially started drafting the story, and all 4 of them are equally important to the story. I hope you look forward to these plans. I promise to work as quickly as I can, so you can learn about the second half of our protagonists. Now, if you'll excuse me, my diaper has sprung a leak, so I bid you adiue! Thank you for reading.

Neighbour’s Paradise - Chapter 2 6 months ago… Elliott had a day to himself and decided he’d make the most of it. Elliott was, plain and simple, an ABDL. He always had been, for as long as he could remember he’s wanted to go back to the simplicity of being a baby and everything that comes with it. Being in nappies 24/7 and not needing to use the toilet, playing with toys, being fed, drinking from a bottle; everything that you can imagine goes with being a baby. He also had another desire. Not only did he want to be a baby, he wanted to be a baby girl. He couldn’t explain why but it was just something that’s always been implanted in his head. Wearing girly nappies underneath a dress was something that just made him beam inside. Over the years he’d discreetly worn girls pull-ups and pampers and to the best of his knowledge his mum Penny had no idea. In recent years the freedom of more relaxed timetables and college meant he had more time home alone and therefore had more opportunities to indulge in his fantasies. That’s where Liz comes in. He sat in his living room wearing only a pink goodnite, which was heavily wet: Watching kids tv with not a care in the world. Rather carelessly he hadn’t shut the blinds so anyone who walked up to the living room window would get a full view of his soaking wet goodnite. As luck would have it Liz did exactly that. Liz was very close to Elliott’s mum Penny and were pretty much best friends. She was prone to random visits to the house and on this one day instead of knocking on the front door she looked straight through the front window, catching a full glimpse of Elliott and then sent him into shock when she knocked on the window. Elliott jolted up and sprinted out of the living room and up the stairs towards his bedroom. He felt like he was going to faint in panic, and threw on a t-shirt and shorts to hide the goodnite. He sat on his bed contemplating what to do as he heard knocks on the door. Stupidly, he thought playing it cool and not acknowledging what Liz had blatantly seen was the best course of action. “Hi Liz” Elliott greeted as he opened the front door. “Hello Elliott, I’m guessing your mum isn’t here” Liz asked as she smirked at him. “No, um, she’s at work today” Elliott replied. “Thought so, may I come in” Liz then responded. Elliott’s forehead, much like his goodnite under his shorts, was dripping wet. “Ummm I don’t know I’m a bit busy with revision for college” Elliott explained. “Didn’t know watching teletubbies was a college class nowadays. Come on let’s have a chat” Liz said as she forcibly walked in and took off her shoes. All Elliott could do was shut the door and follow her into the living room. He began to go through in his head what his explanation would be. Elliott entered the living room just after Liz, who had taken a seat on the big sofa facing the TV. He was about to sit down on the adjacent armchair before Liz held her arm out. “Ah ah ah, please come and stand in front of me” Liz ordered. Elliott honestly was a bit frightened of her so he submitted. Elliott stood there facing a cross-legged Liz as she looked him straight in the eye. “So are you going to explain what I just saw through the window?” Liz asked Elliott. “I was watching cartoons when I should be revising. Sorry don’t tell my mum please” Elliott replied, not alluding to the elephant in the room. “And…?” Liz added. “And what?” Elliott dug his hole deeper. In a flash Liz reached for Elliott’s shorts and pulled them down to his ankles, revealing his wet goodnite for all to see. Elliott instinctively put his hands on his crotch and went to pull his shorts back up, but was met with resistance when he realised Liz’s foot was holding the shorts down. He continued to try and pull for a few seconds before giving up and standing back up straight with his hands still hiding his crotch. “I was referring to this” Liz said as she tried to move Elliott’s hands away from his crotch. “Care to explain why you’re wearing a Goodnite? And if my eyes don’t deceive me, a wet one?”. Elliott was going to have to actually mutter words about his fetish for the first time. Does he come clean? Does he lie? He stood there unable to say anything. “Earth to Elliott?” Liz pressed. “Ummm. Uhhh” Elliott muttered under his breath. “It can’t be bedwetting because it’s the middle of the day and I know you aren’t incontinent because your mum would’ve told me. You can tell me Elliott” Liz pondered. Elliott had decided. He’d just come clean. Present day… Liz led Elliott into the dining room and she guided him to sit at the dinner table. As he sat down he felt the crinkly cushion press against his bum. He always loved the feeling of sitting down in a nappy, especially when it was pressed against him by his tights. After only a few moments Liz returned with his breakfast, laid out on his special bottle and plate set: His breakfast consisted of sliced bananas and cut up pancakes, and a large bottle of apple juice. “Right baby girl can you pick up your bottle and drink it all by yourself or do you need nanny to help?” Liz asked as she sat down beside him and placed her mug of coffee on the table. “I can do it!” Elliott said enthusiastically has he picked up the bottle with both hands and began to suck on the teat of the bottle. He chugged down the apple juice at speed and within a minute or so it was all gone. “Wow you were a thirsty girl!” Liz teased as she squeezed Elliott’s cheek. “Oops I almost forgot! Don’t want to get your lovely dress dirty do we”. Liz got up and shuffled around in a kitchen draw before walking up behind Elliott and wrapping something around his neck. He quickly realised it was his bib: Albeit slightly tight it did make Elliott feel extra cute. He didn’t need to worry about trying to be tidy or care about getting food all over himself. “Right, be a good baby Ellie and eat your brekkie. Do you want nanny to help?” Liz asked. “Yes please nanny” Elliott shyly replied. Liz dragged her chair closer and picked up a piece of banana and held it up to his mouth. He carefully grasped the banana with his mouth and chewed before swallowing. “Good girl, is that banana yummy?” Liz said as she smiled and continued to feed Elliott his breakfast. Elliott just nodded and smiled. As he continued to eat he felt a twinge in his bladder and without thought he opened the floodgates and began wetting himself. Truth be told he’d been holding it in all morning and wanted to wait until he was wearing a nappy to do it. As he felt his crotch and bottom go all warm he let out a quiet sigh and grinned. Liz knew exactly what was going on, but she said nothing and continued feeding the baby girl her breakfast.

JUST THE FACTS, MA'AM When Vickie used her key to enter Sarah's apartment, she wasn't quite sure what to expect. She knew that it would be more than an hour before Sarah got home, but it was possible that Ian and Priscilla would be waiting for her. It all depended on how the hunt for the diaper thieves was going. The apartment was empty. Deciding that she was hungry as well as thirsty, Vickie began rummaging through Sarah's refrigerator, but she found nothing to her liking. The apartment felt as empty as it looked, the only sign of life the chair ominously sitting in the center of the living room. It didn't take a great deal of imagination to realize that this was where Sarah would be administering a spanking, a paddling, or a caning to correct her bad behavior, as well as Ian's. Shrugging her shoulders, Vickie decided to venture upstairs to Ian's apartment. She knew where Sarah kept the spare key, and she knew that his frig and pantry would be a lot more promising. Since they would be packing everything up on Friday, there would be no harm done no matter what she chose to eat and drink. Ian's frig was a treasure chest filled with mysterious delights. She was familiar with prosciutto, and had had her share of Genoa salami, but the man had a love affair with stuffed olives and peppers that clearly did not start in Minnesota. Not for the first time, she wondered where a guy whose car was buried under a snowbank even found this stuff. And what's this? Vickie took the lid off a container with something called Tzatziki, and sniffed the creamy white contents. She had no idea what it was, but it smelled good, so she was willing to give it a try. Made in Greece. Figures … Prowling around in a cupboard, she found a flatbread that looked like it would go well with the gunk. Pita. Isn't that Lebanese, or something? Diving into the refrigerator a second time, she came away with a nicely chilled bottle of rose. Val Verde Winery … Del Rio, Texas. Huh? Who knew they made wine in Texas? Looking around, she spotted a bottle of deep, dark red wine from Jordan squirreled up against the frig, with a lovely set of Waterford wine glasses keeping it company. She grabbed two, thinking to try both wines after she camped out on the living room floor. Fine food and drink, so long as you don't mind roughing it … Vickie had no way to know that Ian had cultivated the habit of eating and drinking well in the jungles of southeast Asia. Guy's been everywhere … Getting down on the floor, leaning back against the couch, Vickie grabbed the phone and called Sarah. . . . . Sarah reached over to turn off the pump, and disconnected the lead from her left breast. She had given it fifteen minutes per teat, just as the lady running the infants and maternity wear shop at the mall had instructed. And there was no getting around the fact that having a machine slurping away at your boobs felt downright weird. She wondered how a woman was ever expected to feel comfortable with so ridiculous a contraption. Probably invented by a man … Sarah answered the phone on the first ring, her sensuous breasts not yet returned to the prison of her functional but plain bra. She made a mental note to add maternity bras to the trio's next shopping trip. Sitting at her desk on the third floor of a busy urban hospital … nude from the waist up … She felt ridiculous. “Hello.” “Mommy, it's me. I'm at Ian's. There's no one here, and no one downstairs. I'm guessing that the diaper thieves showed up, and that he's chasing them down. Has he called?” “No, baby girl, not yet. How's your diapee holding up? Are you wet, poopy, or both?” “I'm a little wet, Mommy, but okay for now. Will you be home soon?” “As soon as Heidi comes in, I'll be coming straight home. You have been a very naughty girl, and you deserve a paddling. If I find you sitting quietly on my living room floor, like a good baby, you will receive ten swats. If you are anywhere else … twenty. Do you understand me, baby girl?” “Yeth, Mommy, I unnerstan. I be good, Mommy, really! Pwese don't paddle me hard!” Sarah hung up. Training Vickie was going to be an incredible challenge, and she was eagerly looking forward to it. . . . . Am I overdoing it, Vickie wondered. Nah … Sarah is really lapping this mommy shit up! Choices … choices … Vickie reached for the bottle of rose. It would go nicely with her Mediterranean hors d'oeuvres; the Jordanian red, she reflected, was best saved for later: a makeshift anesthetic was preferable to no anesthetic at all. Besides, she was extremely fond of a well turned out, rich red wine. . . . . All in all, Ian reflected, it had gone quite smoothly. When it turned out that they were the first to arrive at the sorority house, on the spur of the moment he had asked Priscilla to drop him off in front. He proposed to stand in the driveway while she parked, lights off, on a nearby side street that offered a clear view of the property. When Tippi and her friend showed up and their brake lights came on, that would be her cue to charge in with siren blaring and lights flashing. The skeptical look on Priscilla's face told Ian that she didn't think much of his plan, but rather than argue with him, she settled for sensibly suggesting that he find a patch of light on the driveway and stand in it. He was wearing dark clothing, she pointed out, and might not be spotted before he was run over. The resulting paperwork would be a nightmare. Ian had grinned, and stolen a quick kiss. Whatever else they were, Priscilla Canon and Ian Grady were, as they say south of the border, simpatico. Narrowly avoiding a brush with the bumper of Cindy Carlson's car, Ian played the innocent bystander while Priscilla, supported by two other officers, carried out the arrests under the watchful eye of campus police chief Walt Mischof. Julia's loudly beeping transmitter made it clear to all that the stolen diapers were in the trunk of Cindy's car-- and made it patently clear to Tippi Bjornsen that the jig was well and truly up. Both girls confessed, and much to the delight of a steadily growing crowd of frat boys from the surrounding houses, were cuffed and hauled off to spend the night in a cold and drafty cell. Arraignment, and a pleading before a municipal judge, would come in the morning. Unless Ian could shut it all down first. At the house mother's urging, the Chief set up a temporary command post in her office. From there, with Bernice Miller's approval, he ordered his officers to fan out and thoroughly search the public areas for the stolen diapers. These were quickly located in a corner of the basement, most of them still in their unopened Lullaby Diaper Service bags. Once they were photographed, the substantial hoard of baby and adult diapers were hauled into the dining room, where in due course the sorority would be assembled to confront the stolen fruits of their collective labor. From Ian's point of view, it was fortunate that a time consuming search for accessories to the crime next got under way. The otherwise bored cadre of campus cops (it was a Wednesday night, after all) were tasked to interview each and every one of the sorority house's fifty odd residents, not all of whom happened to be home at the moment. For example, Janis Marsden showed up when the proceedings were barely under way, praying that her heavily diapered state would go unnoticed. In fact, on a night when the campus cops were breaking up a gang of diaper thieves who had been terrorizing the city (tune in to your local news at ten, brought to you by WPPP's very own Lyle Gunderson and Amy Kinkaid), it was Janis' sheer bad luck that a young woman waddling like an overgrown toddler was going to be noticed by everybody. Cracking under the pressure of a roomful of unforgiving stares, Janis had broken down and confessed. Having been placed under arrest for her daring theft of hospital diapers, she was currently being detained in her room. No one had got around to removing her diaper and baby pants, but it had to be done: the hardened criminals with whom Janis would soon be sharing a cell could use such deadly weapons to unleash a murderous rampage. After due consideration, Chief Mischof opted to delegate the task to Officer Canon on the reasonable assumption that she was the only female officer present with a track record of changing wet and possibly poopy adult diapers. This left Bernice, the Chief, Ian and Julia sitting around a coffee table in Bernice's office. For Ian and Julia, the moment was awkward in the extreme. Ian had made love to Julia's daughter mere hours earlier, and hoped to make love to her again before the night was out. What was one supposed to say to the Mom at moments like this? For her part, Julia had absolutely no idea what to say to an undercover government agent whom she suspected was banging her daughter. Wisely, they decided to ignore one another. I'd like to take Priscilla home, but that might be a tad awkward, given that she lives with her parents … I wonder if he speaks Farsi … shipping him off to Iran would at least buy us some breathing space ... I most definitely do not want to take her to one of those seedy motels up the street. Probably half the girls in these houses lost their virginity in those dumps. Wonder if they give a discount to sorority girls scalping members of the faculty … There's got to be something we can arrest him for … is it against the law to change his diapers in a public setting? Oh, damn it, wait … my daughter is the one changing him! “Sorry about all this, Bernice,” Chief Mischof said sympathetically. “If the Dean catches it on the news at ten, your visit to his office tomorrow is going to be pretty awkward. Hope you don't lose your charter.” Bernice shook her head in despair. “I don't understand any of this,” she lamented; “stealing diapers … what is the matter with these girls? I swear, Walt, I've been doing this for twenty-five years, and this is the worst it's ever been. Half these girls shouldn't even be here; they're wasting their time, and their parents money. And speaking of diapers ...” Bernice shifted in her chair. “Professor, are you all right? I mean … do you need your diaper changed?” She didn't know the source of Ian's incontinence, but the bulge in his pants made it clear what he was wearing in the way of underwear. “I'm fine for the moment, but thank you for asking.” Ian decided to seize the moment. “Chief, what comes next? Priscilla … er … Officer Canon tells me that a fine, a hundred hours of community service, and a term of probation are par for the course in matters like this.” “She's right, Professor. The DA will shake his head, ask me why I can't keep the lid on over here, and give them the proverbial slap on the wrist. Gareth has political ambitions, and sending a bunch of sorority girls to the workhouse isn't going to win him any votes in the suburbs.” “Makes sense, but in this case it won't work. The injured party is Spats Belmondo, and he will see a light sentence as a calculated insult to his dignity. If he lets this slide, he'll lose face with his crew, and with the other capi. So, he won't let it slide.” “Professor Grady is right, Chief; when Spats hired me, he made it clear that he wanted to handle this matter without police interference. These girls are in real danger.” “And yet you took the case.” The Chief was frowning. “Why did you do that?” “Professor Grady and I are on the same page here. If Spats had found these girls on his own, he would have fed them into a wood chipper, feet first. We collaborated to bring the police in, which buys us some time. Now, it's up to the DA to come up with a punishment that Spats will be prepared to live with.” “Precisely,” Ian agreed. “Get the DA on the phone, and tell him to haul his ass over here. I'll tell him how we're going to play this.” “How about telling me first.” “Sure. The whole sorority is going to volunteer to work as candy stripers at the hospital, and to keep at it until they graduate. The fine is going to be stiff enough to cause some real pain, and Spats is going to be generously compensated for his time and trouble. But the icing on the cake? Since Zeta Alpha Pi has a hard on for diapers, they can spend the rest of their time here wearing them, and using them. And Lullaby Diaper Service will be supplying them, which guarantees Spats a tidy little profit going forward. He's a businessman, and as such won't be inclined to murder his own customers.” “Interesting. I'll make the call. Not sure the DA will bite, but I'll give it a try.” “Let me deal with him. I can be very persuasive.” Oh, this ought to be good, Julia thought. “Drop my name into the conversation, and suggest that he call your counterpart downtown. What do you think, Julia? Will that do the trick?” “Professor Grady has friends in very high places,” she admitted in the most neutral tone of voice she could muster. “Very high.” “Once he's here?” Ian had a huge grin on his face. “I'll make him an offer that he can't refuse!” . . . . Pulling into her garage, Rita was on a mission. The first order of business was the four remaining breast pumps. One would stay in the trunk to go to the office, and a second would end up in her bedroom. The most fitting home for the remaining two, she decided, was the empty closet in the third bedroom that they were converting into a nursery for Ian and Vickie. She liked the idea of hooking Vickie up when she was lounging in her crib, but when it came to finding a way for their baby girl to pump at work, she was completely stumped. With luck, Sarah would have the answer. Dragging the boxes into the foyer one by one, Rita hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes. She visited her bedroom first, saving the nursery for last. But when she opened its door, she nodded in satisfaction. It was a tight fit, but with the two cribs set back to back in the center of the room, there was just enough space for the changing table on one wall, and the dresser and chest of drawers on the other. It seemed symbolically fitting, almost a sacred ritual given the solemnity of the moment, that Vickie's two breast pumps ended up on the closet floor. Returning to the kitchen, Rita opened her liquor cabinet, choosing to mark the occasion with a glass of Courvoisier, the expensive cognac being her most cherished indulgence. Then she strolled into the living room, studying her walls and thinking about Ian's art work, the boldness of its colors. He must like Vermeer … Looking around her living room, Rita sadly shook her head. The empty walls, the usual furnishings laid out in the usual way-- it was all so dull. As dull as my whole life. Ian? The guy's been everywhere. And me? One trip out of the country, the old 'If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium' tour … nine countries in eighteen days, and I didn't even have an affair with the tour guide. But I did fall in love with Vermeer … there's that. “The Alvar is going directly over the couch,” she said out loud. “All that red ...” She took a sip of her drink. “But on his income, how could he possibly have afforded a Chagall?” She thought that it would look nice in her bedroom. “We definitely are going to need a bigger house! A much bigger nursery … hell, with four of us and the babies … we're going to need bigger everything!” Rita had started to peruse the real estate listings, concentrating on her dream home-- an honest to goodness mansion on the shores of Lake Minnetonka. With their four combined incomes, the only limit to what they could afford was her imagination. . . . . When Sarah finally made it home, she was disappointed to discover that Ian was still not there, but relieved to find Vickie sitting in the middle of the living room floor. She was going to try out her new paddle on Vickie's shapely ass, but with a diaper rash in play, she was afraid that the threatened twenty swats would be way over the top. Ten swats would do nicely. And seeing that Vickie had already stripped down to her blouse and diaper cover, and was sitting with arms outstretched waiting for a hug, she decided to go a bit easier on her rear end than originally planned. “Did you miss your mommy, baby girl,” Sarah cooed. “Mama,” Vickie answered; “binkie, Mama … binkie!” She was pouting like an adorable little toddler. Vickie had spent several minutes in Ian's bathroom, comparing pouts and frowns in front of the mirror. She concluded that pouting, which she had long practiced to good effect with her various boyfriends and one night stands, was her best choice. “Ah, you're so cute,” Sarah oohed and awed as she reached into her pocket; “yes you are, yes you are! Open wide, baby girl … here comes your binkie!” Vickie happily accepted the pacifier, and began enthusiatically sucking … Coat this thing with crème de menthe, and it wouldn't be bad at all. Definitely beats chewing on a pencil … Sarah left the room just long enough to fetch her breast pump, and with it the cane and paddle. Vickie's eyes went wide when she eyeballed Sarah attacking one of the throw cushions on her couch with the cane. “It feels like all it takes is a flick of the wrist,” she muttered, but loud enough for Vickie to hear. SWISH … CRACK!! SWISH … CRACK!! Sitting down in the chair that she had used to punish Ian the night before, she centered the cushion on her lap, raised her new paddle on high, and repeatedly brought it down on the cushion with a resounding … THWACK … THWACK … THWACK … Satisfied with her choice, Sarah stared hard at Vickie, and stabbed her thigh with her middle finger. Vickie obediently crawled over and, using Sarah's legs for support, climbed to her feet. Sarah first unfastened and removed the baby girl's blouse. Taking the key from her pocket, she then reached out to unlock her diaper cover, which she slid down to her ankles. Vickie's pink baby pants came next, and finally her heavy diaper, which was only slightly damp and unfortunately poop free. The laxatives in your breast milk will make you go potty in your diapee, baby girl … hmm … should I add a diuretic as well? Unbidden, Vickie eased herself over Sarah's lap, her legs helplessly pinned by the heavy canvas shackling her ankles. Sarah grasped her baby girl's right hand, and pinned it to the base of her spine, then wrapped her legs tight around Vickie's calves. With her bottom protruding and her body expertly immobilized, Vickie was finally ready for her paddling. Rubbing lazy circles around Vickie's cheeks and lightly slapping her thighs, Sarah took her time with the preliminaries. When she was finally ready, she raised the paddle on high, and brought it down, but not with full force. Thwack … Thwack … Each butt cheek received a measured blow, and then Sarah began Vickie's punishment in earnest. THWACK!! THWACK!! THWACK!! THWACK!! Vickie moaned, then screamed into her pacifier, her body contorting with the pain. Sarah had not spared the skin already red with diaper rash, which was now an ugly, livid crimson shade. Four more strokes, delivered more gently, finished the first part of Vickie's punishment. Now, it was time for her upper thighs to feel the weight of Sarah's palm. Nor did she hold back, one heavy blow after another raining down upon the exposed flesh. Only when she was finished did Sarah release Vickie's imprisoned right arm, so that the wailing toddler could slide off her lap and onto the carpet. Vickie was on the threshold of a massive orgasm, her entire body seemingly on fire. Struggling to her knees, she turned wide eyed to face Sarah, sucking mindlessly on her pacifier, desperate for relief. “Mommy,” she whispered, “make me come … please make me come. Your fingers … anything … make me come!!” Sarah looked down at her baby girl in disbelief, then leaned over to run her fingers between her thighs. Sure enough. She was wet, and when Sarah grazed her clit, Vickie moaned like a wounded animal, a sound born at once of anguish and pleasure. “Please,” she whispered again. “Baby girl,” she said sternly, “I want you to roll over on your back and stretch out. Do it now!” When Vickie obeyed, Sarah grabbed the thick hospital diaper, which she knew could not be defeated by the baby's questing fingers, and slid it under her tortured bottom. Bringing it up between Vickie's legs, she efficiently pinned it back in place before pulling up her baby pants and diaper cover. Vickie offered no resistance, but her body shuddered when she heard the lock click home. In the silence of Sarah's living room, it sounded like a thunderclap. “There,” Sarah said in a soothing voice. “Now, I want you to crawl over to the corner, get up on your knees, and press your nose against the wall. Naughty babies need time outs as well as spankings. Stay there, and don't move while I prepare your ba bas.” Sarah retreated to the bathroom, and found her water pills. Two of these, in bottles already laced with fast acting laxatives, would guarantee Vickie a very wet and very messy night. But Sarah would not be changing her in the morning. She was going to send her naughty little girl straight to Rita's office, and let her do the honors. . . . . When the District Attorney walked through the door with his bodyguard, it was safe to say that Gareth Q. Ballstrom was not a happy camper. He had managed to avoid the local news crews on the way in, but he did not fancy his chances on the way out. He knew a FUBAR when he saw one, and with the next election less than a year away, bad publicity he did not need. The bottom line was that he needed something good to feed the press when he walked out the door. It was hard for Ian to keep a straight face. He put the DA in his late thirties, with a lanky frame and chiseled jaw straight out of central casting. A three hundred dollar haircut, and enough hair gel to keep things under control in a class five hurricane, would go hand and glove with the practiced insincerity of the professional politician's smile. Ignoring the others, the DA marched up to where Ian was sitting. Ian did not bother to get up. “You must be Grady,” he barked. “The Chief tells me that I need to listen to what you have to say. I'm listening.” “Take a seat.” Ian was smiling graciously as he pointed at the lone empty chair in the room. “Chief Mischof will bring you up to speed, then we'll figure out what to do next.” The Chief neatly summarized the crime, the arrests to date, and the recovery of the stolen articles in a public area of the house that they had permission to search. The evidence would be admissible in court, and they had post-Miranda confessions from two of the girls that would also hold up. His officers were currently interviewing everyone else in the house, and in due course would haul them into the dining room for a heart to heart talk about their immediate futures. His immediate objectives were to get permission to search all their rooms, and to gauge who else had been actively engaged in the planning and execution of this conspiracy. “Now let me get this straight,” Ballstrom snorted when the Chief finished his report. “You dragged me over here in the middle of the night because a bunch of sorority girls have been running around town stealing diapers off of people's front porches? What am I supposed to do? Go before the judge in the morning, and urge him to lock up these hard cases and throw away the key? Puh … lese!” “Spats Belmondo.” Julia spoke up for the first time. And I'm ...” “I know who you are, Missus Canon. Your firm handled my sister's divorce two years ago. She was pleased with the results. What's Belmondo got to do with this?” “He owns Lullaby Diaper Service, which is the injured party here. Spats hired me to find the thieves, and then report back to him so that he could handle the matter privately. I'll leave that part of it to your imagination … you know what Spats is like. Anyway, the Professor and I hatched a plan to have the police make the pinch, and it worked. Now, the trick is to find a punishment that will make both Spats and the judge happy. Ian has the solution; your job will be getting the judge to go along. Professor?” Ian took over, but when he got to the part where the girls would be wearing diapers for the rest of their university days, the DA climbed angrily to his feet. “Are you nuts, Grady? How the hell do you expect me to sell this nonsense to the unlucky bastard who draws this case in the morning?” “Well, you could bring a wood chipper into the courtroom and show him exactly how it works,” Ian scoffed. “But it would be easier simply to ask the judge to endorse a plea agreement that the girls will be affirming before they go to bed tonight. The four of us will sell them on the idea, and you sell the judge. Then you can campaign on a law and order platform, get reelected, and we all live happily ever after. Oh, and my friends back East will remember you kindly, if and when you choose to run for higher office.” The DA grinned wolfishly, pleased that the professor had got to the point without too much beating around the bush. “Professor, you've got a deal. The fine and community service is easy, but you have to sell these girls on the diapers or I won't bring it up. If they agree to it, the judge will as well. He's also up for election in the fall.” The two men shook hands, and Ballstrom left to grab some free publicity from the local news hounds. Ian fully expected him to tap into his well honed sense of righteous indignation, and preach the need to bring a little law and order to the notorious denizens of Fraternity Row. . . . . “So, what's going to happen to me?” Janis Marsden was sitting cross-legged on her bed, head bowed, utterly disconsolate. But she was no longer wearing the hospital diaper and vinyl pants; these had been set aside with the diapers in her backpack. “Well,” Priscilla began, “you were apprehended in the possession of stolen property. So, at some point you will be taken downtown and processed. You'll spend the night in a cell, and in the morning you'll be taken before a judge. If you plead not guilty, the prosecuting attorney will request that you make bail, which means that your parents will have to come to terms with a bail bondsman. If you plead guilty and agree to whatever punishment the DA's office seeks, you'll probably avoid a return trip to jail.” “It was all so stupid,” Janis sniffled. She was wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “Janis,” Priscilla cautioned, “although I've read you your rights, I want to remind you that anything you say to me can be admitted into evidence if I'm called to testify. Remember, you don't have to say a word to me, or to anyone else. Just because Cindy and Tippi have already confessed doesn't mean that you have to as well.” “But I want to because … because it was all so stupid … the usual crap that goes on up and down the Row all year long.” “And yet it was very well organized,” Priscilla countered, hinting at the argument the Assistant District Attorney would surely make before the judge. “Methodically researching the diaper service van's stops beforehand … using at least two cars to orchestrate the theft across a series of outings … playing Fox and Hounds with a highly experienced private detective, and getting the best of her.” Priscilla shook her head sorrowfully. “This was a conspiracy, Janis, and you were a participant. Even if you weren't physically stealing the diapers, you were an accessory both before and after the fact. And we haven't even got to the hospital yet … the betrayal of trust. Did you ever stop and think about how disappointed everyone would be with you if you got caught?” “Tippi … Cindy … Melanie … they said that it was just a few lousy diapers, and that if I got caught, I should just say that it was a sorority stunt. They all thought that they'd probably help me carry the diapers out to my car!” “Well, they were wrong, and here we are. So, get a grip on yourself. We're going downstairs to hear what Chief Mischof has to say.” Priscilla made a mental note to track down Melanie. She appeared to be another one of the ringleaders. . . . . “We have fifty two girls in residence,” Bernice summarized. She was looking down at the print out of the roster in her lap. “We had forty seven at dinner, so making allowance for Cindy, Tippi and Janis, nearly a full house. Only two are still out and about.” “Probably scalp hunting,” she muttered under her breath. “And you're sure of the breakdown?” The Chief had asked her to run down the list, and tag the names of those most likely to be involved in the planning and execution of the heist. “Supremely so,” she replied, her eyes flashing. “Walt, in my job you take the measure of your charges, try to figure out which ones are okay and which ones are trouble. Right now, this house is top heavy with Legacies, and they're all sitting on the Council. Cindy is currently the chair, Tippi a mover and shaker, and Janis a go along to get along type. I'm sorry that she's caught up in this. Her mother did not want her to join ZAP, and went along with it only when Janis agreed to do volunteer work at the hospital. Marilyn is going to be furious.” “And you're sure about this Melanie Wilson,” the Chief pressed. “One of Cindy's ladies in waiting? Yes, I'm sure.” “Janis' mother is Marilyn Marsden? Recruitment Services International?” Ian had not been paying much attention to the back and forth between Bernice and the Chief, but his head had snapped up at the mention of Marilyn's name. He vaguely recalled that Janis' name had come up in a passing exchange between Priscilla and Marilyn earlier in the afternoon in his office, but once again his attention had been elsewhere. Between the afterglow of making love to Priscilla, and the upcoming calls with Donnie and Irina, his attention had most definitely been elsewhere. “Yes,” Bernice agreed. “Do you know her?” “She's my agent,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin. “A nice lady … and she's gonna be pissed, if you'll pardon my French.” "It's quite all right, Professor.” Bernice quite liked Ian's down to earth demeanor. “We speak it a lot around here!” “So, you've gone and hired an agent?” Walt was relieved to hear it. “Guess this means that you won't be needing Officer Canon to chaperon you around campus anymore.” Ian stole a sideways glance at Julia. Rapidly running the pros and cons of the opening the Chief had just given him through his mind, he opted to tiptoe through the tulips. “Sorry, Chief, but I'm stealing her from you, at least for a while. I put the arm on a guy at Langley who owes me a favor or two, and Pris is now Quantico bound-- the embassy security training program. Don't know if she'll want to stay with your department when she returns, but the prospect of a substantial raise might influence her decision.” “Well, I'll be damned.” Walt was shaking his head, trying to process what he had just heard. “Quantico, eh? That's quite a feather in her cap. I'll see what I can do.” “Thanks … and sorry, Julia. She's planning to tell you and your husband tonight or tomorrow morning, depending upon when we all get out of here. Please don't spoil the surprise.” “I'll try not to.” Julia nodded her head, thinking it over. She'll be over a thousand miles away, and right now? Maybe that's not such a bad idea. “Here's what I want to do,” the Chief announced. "We'll bring the girls down to the dining room in fours, starting with the ones on Bernice's list that seem least likely to be involved. We'll seat them at the back, and watch their facial reactions when we bring the most likely suspects in. That'll tell us a lot.” The Chief stood up, and headed out the door, leaving the others to follow. But Ian lagged behind. Catching Bernice's eye, he mimicked making a phone call. “Go ahead,” she whispered as she turned to follow Julia to the dining room. . . . . “Getting a lot of calls from this area code, but I don't recognize the number. That you, Street?” “In the flesh. Sorry to disturb you at home.” In reality, Donnie Freeman was saying that he was free to talk, and Ian that he was not under duress. Years earlier, they had devised a series of casual phrases that they could use over the phone, each one of them containing a code word. “Got an interesting one for you. Vincent Belmondo, otherwise known as Spats Belmondo. A local Mafia capo. I'm looking for petals and thorns, not later than tomorrow morning.” “Not a problem. Do we have any interest?” “It's possible we owe the guy a favor. Do you remember Antonio?” “Ah, yes! I thought the name sounded familiar. A distant relative, perhaps?” “Hard to say. Vinnie's niece speaks Italian straight out of the streets of Naples, but Antonio sounded Catania born and bred. But a lot of those families headed north before they came here.” “Interesting. And I've got one for you. From the looks of it, your fiancee is following in her mother's footsteps.” “How so?” “She went shopping earlier today … used a credit card in a sex shop in the northern suburbs. Think she's into edible underwear?” “Donnie, FYI? She wears granny panties. I'm hoping that Vickie will rub off on her, so this might be a good omen.” “The Director's offer still stands: honeymoon for you and your various loves in the Greek isles, all expenses paid. But he wants a blow by blow description of your sex life in return … a morale boost, so to speak, for a joint that's down in the dumps these days.” “Too bad that I don't know any good restaurants in Teheran, but I don't. Sorry.” “Wouldn't dream of asking you for a recommendation, Street. It's not in the cards. Get back to you in the morning. Ciao.” “Ciao,” Ian replied, hanging up the phone with a heavy sigh.

"Let us never speak of that particualr diaper change again," he said. "The colors. I've never seen colors like that in a diaper, and I never want to again," she replied, and shuddered. Her and Jerry was standing outside the bathroom, he still in a t shirt and his now fresh diaper, and her holding her bags. "Oh right!" he said, suddenly remembering that he was suppsoed to be bratting. He sat flat down heavily on the floor. "Babykins, we need to go." He reached his arms up toward her, making grabbing motions. "I can't Mommy! I'm too much of a baby! You have to carry me!" "What!? No, crawl if you want." He made a show of trying to get to all fours, the collapsing on the ground. "I can't Mommy! it's too hard for a bratty little baby who needs to be put in mean daycares like me!" She roled her eyes. "Ohhh you are such a brat!" "I know Mommy! That's why I'm going to the Deliquent Daycare!" He remained lying on the ground with his hands in the air toward her. Mommy dropped her bags, then reached down and grabbed his wrist, then began to drag him accross the floor toward the door. He slumped down as much as he could, turning himself into complete dead weight to her efforts. "You... spoiled... pampered... brat," she strained. "Look mommy! It's like I'm dead! BLLAARRR!" he tilted his head back and stuck his toungue out. "Alright, here," she panted. "Mhmm. Say where are our bags?" "FUCK!" she said, and headed back to get them. "I don't think you are supposed to swear in front of babies! I'm impressionable, what if I say it now and its your fault!" "Then I'll rinse your mouth out with soap!" "That's not fair! It be your fault!" "Life isn't fair! And neither is soap!" As she walked to get the bags, Jerry slowly got back up on all fours. He began to crawl into the next room as quietly as he could. "WHAT?! You can move now! Come back here!" she shouted. "EEEP!" Jerry shouted, and got up and ran back into the kitchen. "NO! HEY! COME BACK!" Mommy shouted as she blocked him off around the table. He tried to dart to the right around it, then switched to the left. "Gotcha!" She shouted as she finally grabbed him by the wrist, and he stopped. "BLARG dead again!" he said, and slumped back down with his toung out. "Oh you. You are going to that daycare whether you like it or not," She began to drag him. "I think technically you are supposed to CARRY babies, not drag them. This feels wrong somehow." "Technically I'm also not supposed to change babies back into their old diapers, but you're verging on that too." "Eeep," he said, and went back to playing dead. They arrived back at the door, and she sat him down, then put his pants and shoes in front of him. She looked at him expetently. "Well?" "Well what?" "We are going out. You need your clothes." He shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Oh no Mommy! I'm such a dumb, bratty little adult baby I totally forgot how to get dressed! I think someone needs to do it FOR me!" She looked at him with her hands akimbo. "Alright, I can do that for my baby." She bent over down to his legs. "Huh." He said. That argument was far too easy to win, and he sensed she had something else planned. "First foot!" She said, and he lifted one. She put a sock on it. "Second foot!" She said again, and repeated the processed. "First foot again!" She said. He lifted it, and she attatched a shoe to it. "What?" He said, suprised. "And final foot," She picked up his last foot. "What about pants?" he asked. She tied his shoe laces. "And done!" "OH MY GOD WHAT ABOUT PANTS!?!" he shouted. "What about them? Babies don't need pants, they are fine in just their shirts, shoes, and diapers."

Hey everyone! Sorry for skipping Sunday when I was originally going to put this up but there was just no way I could finish this bit of the story then and get a lick of sleep. I guess things just happen that way sometimes, but I hope at least that everyone had a good St. Patrick’s Day! So, I think it’s pretty fair to say that this will not be my most popular story on here. I’m actually totally okay with that as I’m a little more assured now as a writer on here than I would have been in the past. I have a guess as to why it’s not seeming as popular by far, but considering I have two other of these ‘stuffy’s tale’ stories, I’m just curious why you all think these may be amongst my least popular writings on here. No worries, I will still finish this story out, but I’m just curious about everyone else’s opinion on this matter to see if I may be missing something in my own writing at this point. The other two deal with the creation of the drug FOY, so they’re pretty important to my overall universe at least and I want to do them, but any pointers might help me in these stories and maybe even others I write as well. Also, as this story just doesn’t necessarily seem to be clicking with readers, I’m going to try to write it as fast I can and then post it all at about the same hastened speed. This means that with only likely 8 or 9 chapters after this one, it should be all done relatively soon. Lastly, for those of you reading this one, I’m still trying to determine my next story, so be sure to let me know what you want of the three stories I placed on here to decide from. For those of you who may have missed these options or whatnot, just refer back to chapter 4. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter for those of you reading it! Chapter 5: The Way Forward is as Muddy as the Ground Two days later, I was primed and ready to try again. Unfortunately, yesterday, Pete had included me in the decision of which Little to choose, and while it was a step forward for me, we both chose the wrong Little again for what I needed at this junction. She wasn’t bratty or anything, but her extreme joy over finding a new toy companion sent her into a fitful of giggles… and a bit of a rampage. Of course, she was just frolicking around with me as a partially regressed Little might do, but she ended up knowing a block tower over where one of them hit the building Little on their head. One stern talking to and subsequent timeout later, I was pulled away from her and the day soon ended afterwards. So, today, with two interactions with Littles under my proverbial belt, I felt I was more than ready to get back in this. My confidence was only further bolstered when I found out that Damien was simply alone the day I came up to him because he was just working off a timeout that he had been placed in for extreme roughhousing earlier in the day. Today, I wanted to find a calmer Little and Pete was only so happy to oblige. Pickings were a little slim though after a few of the stuffy-less Littles were out sick today. “Hmmm,” he mused, scanning the crowd before him, “he’s not as calm as you might like normally, but see there?” I nodded as I saw the Little that Pete was pointing to. “That’s Travis. He can be a bit hyper, but he’s definitely better with toys than Damien was. Plus, he’s already a little more regressed, so a new toy, or even stuffy for him, would do him wonders. And, even better, he’s been feeling very down lately and could probably use a friend more than most of the others in this room at least. So… what do you think?” I was still hesitant about the whole hyper business that Pete had mentioned with Travis, but he also seemed shy and lonely right then, so I felt that even my visibly scarred form could be of some comfort to him today. A challenge perhaps, but one that I was up to. “I’m in. I’ll wait until after everyone is distracted during snack time and then I’ll make my move.” Pete nodded, and I waited for my moment. It took a bit longer today to get to snack time due to a few tantrums that occurred with a few of the newbies in the room, but soon, every little was handed a small cup of celery and carrots. Some of the Littles’ caregivers had allowed for dressings and the like, but others were flat-out refused. Again, some Littles threw tantrums because of this, while others just accepted it. Sensing the chaos from one particular Little near the painted barn on the wall, I made my move. Gratefully, it didn’t take long for Travis to notice me after swallowing another carrot stick in his mouth. “Oh, lookie! A new friend!” With the speed and force of a fighter jet, the Little scooped me up and held me high above his head. His eyes immediately began to widen and look on me in a fascination I really hadn’t seen since Charley had first unboxed me so long ago now. Beyond anything else, that feeling of being ‘awed’ felt good again. To my surprise though, Travis actually seemed interested in my scars, rather than horrified or put off by them as others had. I suppose a toy was just a toy to some, but I quickly found out just how different Travis was from the other Littles that had previously held me. To my surprise and elation then, the Little’s eyes grew and his previously melancholy seemed to evaporate in seconds. “Oh! Look at you! You’re just so cool! Lightning bolts and scars even? Oh wow! Were you a vet as well? A service dog maybe? So tough, but now we’re just alike!” I stared back at him in my solid toy form and quickly saw a small scar on his face and I wondered if that was all, but Travis seemed eager to connect with me. As if to confirm this, in seconds, he set me on the floor facing him and pulled aside his romper as best he could. His strength and coordination had clearly taken a hit from his regression regime, but he was able to expose his chest a little and I could see the start of a massive scar. Seeing where it was and the fact that it seemed to continue beyond the fabric he had pulled aside, I knew Travis had been gravely injured at some point a while ago. My sympathies for the Little immediately grew. “It was a big owie, but I got out and then came here for a vacation. A few oopsies later and now my mommy loves me more than anything else in the world! Now, I can do the same for you!” he said excitedly. Finally, I felt that a Little loved me for who I was and not just the shiny flashing my line came with. It still felt weird, but with Travis, I felt I could make it work. For the next hour, Travis and I played excitedly, but like with Damien, Travis then saw the buttons on my underbelly. I panicked as he began to press them, and just like Damien as well, his frustrations soon began to get the better of him. “Work! Work! Work! Come on!” His thick and heavy fingers smashed into my underside repeatedly. It didn’t necessarily hurt, but it was decidedly uncomfortable. I didn’t want to break any of the rules of being a toy, but I was getting desperate after a few minutes of him pounding away. I could already see Travis’ frustration mounting, and I knew his disinterest in me was going to take over soon if something else didn’t happen soon. As such, I just hoped I was right, and did the one thing I could. “Aarf! Aarf-arf!” I fake barked out. Travis quickly paused and flipped me back to the right way up and stared intensely at me. I feared and wondered what was going through his head. So, okay, yes, I broke… well, ‘bent’ a few rules, but I had only done it on suggestion from Pete. Damien clearly had issues beyond a broken toy, but his reaction to my busted and technically now-absent features, had been a major red flag going forward with any other Little. I couldn’t very well remove my buttons and remain physically intact around here for long, so we had come up with a backup plan. Toys could only break the ‘no life’ rule if a Little was in terrible, likely life-threatening, danger, or when the action could be passed off as something else. This could vary widely, but anything like the motion being blamed on the wind, random tremors in a table, or something like that would satisfy that caveat. It was inherently a small action, but it could be enough of a doubt in their minds if a living being noticed that they wouldn’t question our true existence after. Keeping all that in mind, when Travis hit my buttons and was quickly getting frustrated from a lack of results, I resorted to my formulated plan B. I was a dog after all, so me barking from him pushing one of my controls wasn’t necessarily out of the question. It was a little wonky as far as the rules went because my buttons did anything but make me bark before, but when Travis only smiled afterward, I knew my ruse had worked. “That’s right, boy! We need to go outside real soon with Miss Tully and the others! She said it was really nice outside when we were doin’ the weather song this mornin’!” The crisis had been averted and I could only subtly sigh with relief under the crook of Travis’ arm right after. Of course, he got a little frustrated once again when it wasn’t quite recess time yet and he had to endure a diaper change, but these weren’t my fault, and in fact, Travis only held me tighter in his frustrations. Like usual around here though, time moved quickly for a nicely distracted Little. Travis was no exception to this. “Recess!” Miss Tully finally announced, Travis practically having glued himself to the nearby window looking outside on the farm side of the Meadows room. “Come on everyone!” She began to clap a bit to ensure she got everyone’s attention. “Outside time class! Just be sure to be careful. It rained last night, and it might be a little muddy in spots.” I could see a few Littles nodding their heads at her subsequent warnings and instructions, but most only charged forward and out the nearby door. To my dismay, Travis was one of them, and when the fresh air greeted us at last, I saw that Miss Tully had vastly undersold the amount of mud that was out here still. Unless one stuck to the playground, they were going to track mud everywhere they went afterwards. Still, our time during recess flew by in a flash, and that was honestly saying something coming from me, but I felt it was almost the most fun I had ever had in my entire existence. Being the hyperactive type though, Travis and I would pretend we were something for five minutes and then quickly flip to something else. In one instance, we started off as a sailor. “Avast! Lookie ahead, Dash!” Travis shouted out to me while still being held by him at the top of the playground. I did but Travis also held me aloft to give me a better view. Travis then leaned in with his ear. “What’s that you say? There be rocks ahead?” He nodded my head. “Shiver me timbers! The sails won’t be able to give us enough wind. We’ll be sure to crash!” In our little game, I panicked at what would happen next, but Travis knew the rules of make-believe better than I did. In a second, he jumped to the side. “There! Now we’re in space! We can just fly around any rocks out there or use our laser guns! Come on, Dash! We need to protect the ship! Our kettle spice has to make it to the colonists! Without it, they’ll get all icky and sick. Come on!” We then climbed even higher on the playground equipment and then to one side where there was just some railing where Travis could just squeeze his legs underneath. He sat me carefully next to him, but I could also see that at least two volunteers were closely monitoring us from down on the ground. Travis was on the brawnier side than a lot of the other Littles here still, but I imagined that the staff probably just had one policy for all Littles here, regardless of size. Vigilance seemed to be their stock and trade. “Pew-pew-pew! Fire the lasers, Dash!” Travis called out from by my side. I imagined it myself, but I also wondered what Travis saw himself with his own imagination. His face was so concentrated. I felt just his eyes alone could shatter anything in his mind or even reality from how hard they were focusing. ‘Wow… talk about commitment… his cheeks are even starting to puff out and… oh…’ While Travis had indeed been focusing with deadly accuracy over destroying the asteroids, and later the alien invaders, the dreaded bubble greens, to anyone who knew, it was obvious what he was doing. As if to confirm even further what I had suspected, Travis slightly bent forward, and a giant wet fart erupted from his backside. Now, whenever someone like Charley ever did that for most of the time that I was with him, a look of sheer revulsion would cross their face… at least for a while that is. My mechanizations worked him down a lot in the end, but while Charley may not have had control, he could still recognize his own bodily functions when they did occur for the longest time. So, while Travis had a clear physical reaction to what had just been deposited in the rear of his diaper, his mental reaction barely registered it beyond the sound he had just made. “Oh! Gross, Dash! We’re not supposed to use the fart cannons! That’s only for the deadly space lizard. Sends ‘em into a frenzy!” Right then, I was very glad there was a stiff breeze going the opposite direction of my nose. Still, time moved on, and things went on like that for a while longer until Travis had utilized every spare inch of the playground in one of his little skits. Others were content to stay on one storyline for all of recess or to just have fun in general, but not Travis. So, like any bored Little without direct Big intervention, he tried to find other things to do, and when his patience ran out with the chalk, his eyes drifted over to the one unused piece of area back here yet; the muddy fields just beyond the mulch of the playset. ‘Don’t… please don’t, Travis…’ But my thoughts were my own. Travis could neither hear them, nor even at that point, likely register them even if he had. He was a determined Little who saw a new land to conquer and to play in. There was no second argument, and the daycare workers and volunteers were too preoccupied by an incident involving a big red ball on the other side of the lot to see what he was up to. So, without a single reservation, Travis hopped over and quickly went feet first into the mud. Well, I will be the first to admit that we did have a lot of fun. Playing dystopian scavenger and then bumbling archeologist was fun and all, but all that ended when Travis harkened back to days of old and began to play soldier. “Incoming!” To my horror, the Little then plummeted themselves to the earth before making an explosion noise nearby. The mud splattered everywhere as he smacked the ground with his body and then his hand to simulate the bomb dropping nearby. The muck below even began to seep onto me, and for half a second, I almost thought that Travis was intentionally pushing me further into the chocolate and tan ooze, but looking more closely, he was just trying to steady himself as his ankles sank further, but still… “Whew… the enemy is getting’ closer every day, Dash. Lucky for my quick reflexes, huh?” Travis asked to me just about as causally as one might as about the weather. I wanted to get out of there so badly, but the odd playful smile plastered over his face, underneath all that mud, strangely made it almost all seem worth it in seconds flat. “I guess the next round of milo is on you tonight! Just be sure to top up my sippy for…” “Travis Reese!” Miss Valerie shouted as she marched over to where we were. Flames were nearly shooting out of her head she was so mad. ‘Uh oh…’ “Yes Miss Valerie?” Travis asked about as innocently as he could, being nearly covered with mud on his front side. “You… I can’t even begin to… I…” she just rolled her eyes as she looked over the Little before her and I quickly knew that she had some speech planned, but it all seemed to vanish in a second. “Ugh! You naughty little thing, you. I can’t stay mad, but also, what you did was very wrong.” “Wrong?” Travis asked, seeming genuinely confused. “What’s wrong about playin’?” Miss Valerie sighed. “Playing is fine, Travis, but you getting into mud isn’t.” She then stuck out her hand to help the mud-caked Little out of the muck. “Now, come on. You need to get… I don’t even know… maybe a run through the hose?” Fully expecting to be clean in seconds, I was shocked when Travis suddenly crossed his arms at her request of him. “No.” Miss Valerie visibly wasn’t expecting it either. “No…? What do you mean, ‘no’?” To my horror, Travis then smacked his foot into the mud and sent it all flying, including a spot that got on Miss Valerie’s almost brand-new shoes. “I said no!” Her mind seemed to be tumbling about over the Little’s recent outburst, but confusion soon turned to anger once more. If he had only gotten out like she had asked, all would have been fine. Instead, Travis probably only just made things worse than they were in the first place. “Travis Reese!” she belted out. ‘Dang it… she’s using her punishment tone now… he’s a goner…’ Everyone here had their own tones and if you listened hard, one could almost predict the workers’ behaviors and Miss Valerie was no exception, but now, that just confirmed my fears over Travis’ soon to be fate. “You get out of that hole this instance, or you’ll be in so much trouble… ugh!” She looked back down at her shoe and even pants that had gotten splattered as well. “Geez! Your mommy will have to buy a new paddle after the time she’s done with you when you get home tonight!” Travis yelped a little bit and without any further prompting, and Miss Valerie, satisfied with his submission to her as a Little would to a Big, turned around and began to lead him to the hose on the side of the building. Right as Miss Valerie turned away though, something happened I didn’t expect by a long shot. The day had been going so well, and I thought I had finally found my Little. Travis was a bit damaged and definitely regressed, but they were all things that seemed to blend in well with my own peculiarities as well. All this felt even more definitive during our playtime, even up to mere minutes ago. So, I think my shock was reasonable when Travis looked down to me with the most hardened and evil looks that I think I had ever seen in my life. In fact, I didn’t even think it was a possible for a Little to ever look at a toy like that. If I could have run away then, I would have. “You! You did this… you… you stupid toy! You got me in trouble!” Without another word, he then picked me up by the neck and with one heave, like some Olympic athlete, he tossed me far and wide and, to my horror, straight into the muck. Not being able to move, I could only watch in horror as my form began to slip into the gooey substance while Travis walked away with Miss Valerie in the lead and none the wiser over what had just transpired. Right then, I felt so betrayed by the Little I had hoped for in all this new mess and my new path of life here. Under Pete, I had chosen Travis, and he might not have been the most ideal Little for me as far as his hyper personality was concerned, but I did feel happy with him. In seconds though, all that had changed. The mud continued to seep around me and take me under. In my panic, I saw that no one had seemed to notice Travis’ tossing of me in here, but at the same time, there were still too many Little floating around nearby to move on my own. So, devoted fully to the code of the toys, I remained still… even as the mud covered my whole body, and then finally, my eyes… Darkness… Nothingness… My doom and my terrible ending to a wasted life… It was over… “Miss Tully! Miss Tully!” a voice suddenly shouted from nearby. ‘That voice… it sounded so familiar… but how?’ I then heard a bunch of hurried footsteps near to where I was still slowly sinking. “What is it? What’s the matter, Georgie?” Miss Tully panickily asked the nearby waiting Little. ‘Wait… Georgie?’ “There’s a stuffy in the mud!” the still oddly familiar sounding Little, Georgie, cried. “He’s sinkin’! Please hurry! He’s gotta be so lonely and scared…” “Oh no!” Miss Tully called out, a legitimate tone of concern in her voice. She was always good like that with the Littles when she wanted to be or when they were good with her. “I’ll get Splash for you honey!” ‘Yep… Splash… Georgie… oh, please, oh please, don’t recognize me Georgie…’ The last thing I needed right then was one of Charley’s and Hop’s old friends seeing I was here right now. “No, no. I got Splash inside,” Georgie corrected Miss Tully. I briefly panicked, thinking she wouldn’t retrieve me now. “Too dangerous out here with all the mud! Dis is someone else! Please, oh please, help him, Miss Tully!” My heart froze, as I didn’t hear anything over the cars rushing by outside from the main road. It was about lunchtime and most workers were probably getting a bite to eat for the day. So, for a few minutes, I was left alone… seemingly forgotten, discarded, and abandoned… once more at this daycare… Then, suddenly, light! Glorious light invaded my eyes and a quick falling away from the ground and the sucking, oozing mud from beneath me. In seconds, I saw a smiling Miss Tully and an overjoyed Georgie. Briefly looking down and to my relief right then, from all the mud, I knew there was no way he could have recognized me as the former stuffy of his best friend. “Okay, Georgie,” Miss Tully started up. “You go on inside. You tell Mrs. Gillies to give you a cookie for lunch. You were a very good boy today for noticing this poor toy out here in the mud.” “Thank you, Miss Tully!” He started to sprint away, but then turned back. “Miss Tully? Is he going to be okay?” Miss Tully sighed and looked down at me, but to my relief once again, she smiled back at the curious Little. “I think so, Georgie. He’s a little rough right now, but I think he wasn’t in there for long. Probably just needs a bath…” And with that, Georgie smiled about as widely as he could and ran back inside for his cookie reward. As for me, I got exactly what Miss Tully had described… a large bubble bath in the back of the daycare. She eventually got one of the volunteers to finish up once she knew I was not permanently damaged and was going to be worth the clean-up, but a bath from anyone was still a welcome moment of my tumultuous day. Soon, after I was drying off nearby, many of the other toys began to surround me, including Pete and Sam. After a little cheering from the other toys and then clearing them away, Pete and Sam guided me back to the maintenance room. “I just don’t get it…” I mused in both happiness and confusion as Sam worked on ensuring I was still in working order, my back split open once more. Pete sighed. “It’s not your fault, Dash… these Littles… once regressed, they get confused. Sometimes, they even get flashes of who they used to be when they get stressed out. Travis was a mean and bitter Little when he first arrived. All this was ‘too degrading’ and things like that. He’s one of the few around here who probably is happier in life with a higher dose of regression, but he’s not the norm…” “I’ll say…” Sam chirped in from my rear once again. “That Little is alone for a reason. Too trained from the military and was a fighter around here with all the other Littles. Sweet thing now, but back then… ouch for anyone who got in his way.” “That’s right,” Pete concurred. “Today, all that happened to you was that you were on the receiving end of being the scapegoat for a regressing mind. I’m sorry that happened, but you handled it very well. A lot of us are impressed… as I’m sure you could tell from before.” “He’s right!” Sam exerted from behind me. “All thanks to me removing your batteries in fact, you didn’t get fried out there in the mud. Now, you actually get to brag to a bunch of toys tonight and take in all that delicious her praise.” “But I didn’t do much…” I quickly protested back. Every toy since I had come out of the wash and later been greeted by anyone else, was almost treating me like a hero. “I just kept Travis company… that’s nothing. It was just… sitting.” “That’s the job,” Pete emphasized. “We’re not there to save a government from collapsing or to take the hill and win the day. We’re there to comfort these Littles in the best ways we can. It can mean a lot to them, but often, that just means being there for them in whatever way they need, and that alone can be the bravest thing we do. It’s definitely not nothing.” “He’s not wrong there,” a voice said from the darkness. All three of us tensed up as Sam had just finished closing me up. Soon though, we all realized it was just Carmen. “You went out there, consequences or not, and put yourself on the line…” Pete exhaled loudly. “Geez, Carmen. A little warning next time…” He then turned back to me. “But regardless, I thought you two could talk. Give you someone whom you actually seemed to connect with before… and who at least wanted to come out of the shadows…” Carmen rolled her eyes at the last comment but nodded to Pete. “Thanks. I think we’ll just talk it out here. Dash might need what I have to say to him tonight more than you two.” Pete nodded and while Sam seemed like he wanted to stay, Pete ushered him out as well. Carmen then turned back to me once they were gone. “He was right, you know. Old feather-brained might be off about some bits and not have the best judgement always, but he was right then. What you did today was a big deal… and everyone else here knows it as well.” “But that’s just it!” I fired back, a little louder than I was anticipating. Noticing Carmen almost jump back, I lowered my voice. “Sorry, but it’s just so weird. I was like… the villain last week. Now, everyone else is treating me like I did the noblest thing ever getting tossed in the mud.” Carmen smiled. “That is a big deal, Dash, but what they’re commending you more on is what came before and after that moment.” I looked at her questioningly. “Well, for starters and the easier one to explain to you, but you stayed still in the muck. You followed our code over your own self-interest. That showed everyone your commitment to this whole ‘new leaf’ bit you have going for you, personality-wise at least.” “Is that not common with toys?” I asked questioningly. I was always taught to uphold that code above all else. Carmen shook her head. “Not with the pits… that’s what we call that area by the way. It’s a no-go zone after it rains, and you shouldn’t have even been out there today in the first place. Toys really shouldn’t go outside unless the playground is completely mud-free. Lost about ten toys there when this place first opened apparently…” “Oh…” It was something I never even had considered, but I thought that might have been my fate as well today, so it made a certain amount of sense to me as well. “And the second thing then?” “Right,” Carmen nodded, the singular line of gold stitching only on her right ear glinting in the lights overhead. “Second, was that you played with Travis.” “And?” Again, I felt that was what I was supposed to do. “Wasn’t that my task?” Carmen waved her hand about. “Eh… only to a certain degree. See, today, you were with a Little in your playtime, but you were only there for him. You didn’t try and regress him or change him… you just kept up with his demands and stuck it out. Before the whole mud disaster with him, his smile was wider than I had seen on him for years. That’s the big deal.” “Oh…” The realizations of the impact of today on my future here were finally hitting me. Today showed that I was serious about my change of path. Today showed that my task here to be one of them was truly possible. “The reaction of the Little is the important part… and I helped him today…” “Yep… now you’re getting it…” She then looked down and oddly almost a little ashamed. “It takes guts here to help these Littles… that’s for sure…” She scoffed. “Its definitely not something that everyone has here…” “Meaning?” I felt fairly certain I knew what she was going to say, but I waited for her to tell me in her own words. Carmen sighed. “I’ve never even attempted to bond with a Little here. Even before…” she then gestured to her body, “I was still scared… I did it because I was a toy… but that was it… I didn’t do it for a Little to help them out. It was just a job to me… but I still got burned in the end…” I hesitated but given my own scars, I had been desperately wanting to ask her about her own since I had met her. In the times since my council meeting decision, I had met with other times as well, but now, I felt I had the most right to ask. So, I did. “If you don’t mind… uh, how did that happen?” I asked, gesturing to her fairly extensive patchwork of stitching and other bits of cloth and fur. Carmen sighed, and for a moment, I felt I had royally screwed up. She proved me otherwise. “I had a Little… before here, I mean… She was a bit regressed… more mental than physical though…” I could already see the emotion welling up inside her. “She forgot me one night out on the lawn… I think she was punished for something stupid… like not calling her caregiver ‘mommy,’ but I was there until the next morning.” She then paused, and while I didn’t want to pressure her for more of her story, I wanted to know more, so I gently pressed… more in support than nagging though. “Go on…” Carmen nodded and recollected herself to continue. “Her daddy was hungover from that night… he usually was, but the next morning, he walked out and began to mow the lawn…” ‘Oh hell…’ She blinked rapidly, almost as if she was feeling the pain from that day, but she just pushed on. “He didn’t realize it until it was too late. He tried to fix me… but my Little rejected my appearance completely… screamed in terror even… So, I came here. No Little since then for me.” It was a lot to take in, but I knew that becoming one of the forgotten toys here rarely came with a heartwarming story. “I’m so sorry, Carmen…” She shook her head. “Thank you, but it’s really okay. Happened so long ago, but now… I just wanted to thank you personally tonight…” I arched one of my brows in curiosity. “Oh? What for?” “Well…” she began. “You’ve given me the courage to put myself back out there. Sam did a check on me today right before you and I’m all good to go. I’m going to try tomorrow to find a new Little of my own.” “Oh! That’s wonderful to hear, Carmen!” I was so confused with the emotions I was feeling, but pride and maybe even happiness for my new friends felt like chief amongst them. I knew she wanted it, and I could see the contentment on her face immediately with her new revelation to me. “You’ll do great. I just know it.” If Carmen could blush, I’m pretty sure she would have done it right then, but instead, she just finally managed to stumble out with a simple, “Thanks…” For me though, it was enough. We then departed, and after a few more congratulatory speeches and pats on my back, I made my way over to the Burrows room to sleep for the night. I had a long day, but I still had a few nagging thoughts before I drifted off that I just couldn’t shake… both good and bad. So, while today had been an ultimate failure in finding a new Little to be within the one-week timeline I had been given by the toy council, I also felt that I might have just turned a corner. Other toys were already respecting me more than they ever had before, but even inside, I felt a shift of something. Today, for the first time, a Little had accepted me for who I was in this new form, and I hadn’t used even a lick of regression on him. Then bonus, I even managed to have fun with him afterwards. If this was what I was trying to achieve… I wanted more. Still, I had been tossed aside like garbage into the disgusting muck on the playground in the end, and that repeatedly played in and haunted my mind. It was a major trip-up on my part, and while all the toys had assured me that I had done well, a lingering part of me questioned that as well. Deep down, I even began to wonder if all this was still possible or not for a toy like me. With that on my mind though, as I settled in for the night, I couldn’t help but hear the soft crying of a new Little arrival in the Burrows room. I wasn’t sure who they were, but hearing them in their pitiful state, I knew that there could be far worse fates for anything with a soul in this dimension. I only hoped that like my own misadventures today and yet hopeful future, their life here would improve as well.

I don't understand the confusion about this post. I see Kelly in the same light as I saw the Mom in "All My Mothers Rules". The could have adjacent cells and exchange parenting tips! I think the cop would be sympathetic to Zach's story and call CPS.

Yes, I am assuming so. It feels funny to be excited for all of that again, despite knowing how grueling those days of initial recovery really were. But, eyes on the prize!

Is it possible that Kelly did all this in desperation to have a mother son relationship with Zach? I may not like her methods, but I cannot unsee a frustrated step parent, that just wants to be a part of the family. I would love to see her express Joy and Relief to see Zach safe, followed by a well earned talk and punishment. I see Kelly as a well intentioned individual, who perhaps went a bit to far trying to fit. Though I think ole Zach just lost his big boy pants for a lot longer now lol. (Though I truly hope LS lets him have them back in the end)

Chapter 3 Sarah took a deep breath and approached Kate at recess. "Hey Kate, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to sleep over at my house this weekend? We could make pizzas and watch movies, it would be really fun!" Kate bit her lip, not quite meeting Sarah's hopeful gaze. "Oh, um... I don't think I can this weekend either. I have... another thing with my family. But do you want to sleepover at my house next weekend?" Sarah panicked, not having expected to receive an invitation herself. “Um, I have a thing… with my family. Yeah,” was the best Sarah could manage. Kate looked disappointed. Sarah's heart sank as Kate as the bell rang and they made it back to class. Disappointment and confusion swirled in her chest - why did Kate keep turning her down? Was it something Sarah had done? And what would she think of her refusal? At home that afternoon, Sarah flopped onto the couch with a heavy sigh as her mom walked in. "Kate said no to the sleepover again. I don't understand, Mom. Does she not want to be my friend anymore? She asked me if I wanted to sleepover at her house but I don’t want her to find out about my diapers." Her mom sat beside her, rubbing soothing circles on Sarah's back. "Oh honey, I'm sure that's not it. Sometimes people have their own reasons for things that we can't see." Sarah leaned into her mom's comforting touch, blinking back frustrated tears. Her mom was quiet for a moment, considering. "You know, I might have an idea for how we could make a sleepover work at her house, if you're open to it." Sarah looked up, curiosity piqued. "What is it?" "Well, what if I came over to Kate's house in the evening to help you with your 'medication'? Maybe you ‘forgot’ to bring it. That way I could discreetly diaper you for the night someplace private. And then in the morning, you could slip into the bathroom first thing to take it off and dispose of it before Kate even wakes up. You can put it in some plastic bags in your backpack so you can throw it out here. No one will know." Sarah wrinkled her nose, uncertain. "I don't know, Mom. It seems really risky. What if Kate or her mom finds out?" "I understand it feels scary," her mom soothed. "But we could practice beforehand to make sure you feel comfortable and confident. Want to try a couple dry runs this afternoon, to see how it would work?" Sarah hesitated, then nodded slowly. If it meant a chance at a real sleepover with Kate, maybe it was worth a shot. That afternoon, Sarah and her mom set up a mock sleepover scenario in the living room. Sarah's mom had her lie down on a towel for the diaper change. "Okay sweetie, I'm going to diaper you now, just like I would if we were at the sleepover," her mom narrated gently, unfolding one of the thick, crinkly diapers. Sarah blushed but nodded, trying to quell her nerves. She lifted her hips as her mom slid the diaper beneath her, the rustling loud in the quiet room, brought up the front of the diaper up snugly and fastened the tapes securely. "There we go, all set," her mom said, helping Sarah sit up. "Now let's get your pajamas on over it." Sarah had chosen her baggiest pajama pants and a long, oversized t-shirt, hoping they would help conceal the bulky diaper. She wiggled into them, relieved to find that the diaper was barely noticeable underneath the loose fabric. "Okay, looking good," her mom approved. "In the morning, you'll want to wake up before Kate to take the diaper off. Roll it up tightly and slip it into a plastic bag, then you can discreetly put that bag inside your backpack to throw away later." Sarah nodded, trying to commit the steps to memory. They practiced the full routine a couple more times, with Sarah setting a quiet alarm for the morning, tiptoeing to the bathroom, carefully removing and rolling up the diaper, and sliding the plastic bag into her backpack. By the third practice run, the process felt a bit more familiar, even if Sarah's cheeks still flushed with embarrassment each time. Her mom's calm, matter-of-fact demeanor helped somewhat, making it feel more like a medical necessity than a shameful secret. Sarah's mom gave her an encouraging smile as she taped up the diaper for the final practice run. "You're doing great, sweetie. I have an idea - why don't you keep your diaper and pajamas on for a little longer? That way you can make sure the diaper stays well-hidden under your clothes, just like it will need to at the sleepover." Sarah shifted uncertainly, the diaper feeling bulky between her legs. "I guess that makes sense," she agreed hesitantly. She didn’t want to keep the diaper on, but her mom had a good point about getting used to it for the sleepover. Her mom nodded, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "And you know, it might be a good idea to practice with a wet diaper too, since that's what will happen at the sleepover in the morning. That way you can get a feel for how to handle it discreetly in the morning." Sarah's cheeks flushed at the suggestion, an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. "You mean... pee in the diaper? On purpose?" Her mom gave a sympathetic nod. "I know it feels strange, honey. But it's better to practice in a safe, controlled environment than to be caught off guard at Kate's house with a wet diaper in the morning. This way you can troubleshoot any issues and build your confidence." Sarah bit her lip, considering. The idea made her squirm with embarrassment, but she had to admit her mom had a point. Better to confront the awkwardness now than in the middle of a sleepover. "Okay," she finally agreed, her voice small. "I'll try it." Her mom squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Brave girl. Remember, this is just practice. It doesn't define you." Sarah took a shaky breath and nodded, trying to absorb her mom's words. She stood up carefully, acutely aware of the diaper's bulk beneath her loose pajama pants and baggy t-shirt. "Why don't you go about your normal afternoon routine," her mom suggested. "Do some homework, watch a little TV, whatever you'd like. Just keep the diaper on and let yourself use it when you need to. We can reconvene before dinner to see how it went." Sarah agreed, her stomach fluttering with nerves. She made her way to her bedroom, each crinkly step a reminder of the challenge ahead. After several minutes of trying to focus on her homework while acutely aware of the diaper's presence, Sarah felt her bladder twinge insistently. She took a deep breath, then hesitantly relaxed, feeling an odd mix of relief and embarrassment as a warm gush of urine flooded into the waiting diaper. The thick padding quickly absorbed the liquid, swelling noticeably between her legs. Sarah gingerly stood up from her desk chair. The soggy bulk felt awkward and uncomfortable as she shuffled out to find her mom. "Mom?" she called softly, her voice wavering. "I, um... I wet the diaper." Her mom looked up from her book, giving Sarah an encouraging smile. "Okay, sweetie. How do you feel? Let's talk through the steps of changing out of it, like you'll need to do discreetly at Kate's." Sarah nodded, her face still flushed with embarrassment. She carefully made her way to the bathroom, the saturated diaper sagging heavily with each step. Once inside, she hesitated, unsure where to start. Her mom noticed her uncertainty and guided gently, "First, take off your pajama pants." Sarah followed the instructions, gingerly tugging her loose pj bottoms over the bulky diaper and setting them aside. She stood in her baggy nightshirt, the wet diaper now clearly visible. "Good," her mom encouraged. "Now, unfasten the diaper tapes and slowly remove the diaper." With shaking fingers, Sarah peeled open the tapes, the cool air hitting her damp skin. Gingerly, she slid the sodden diaper down her legs, face scrunched in distaste at the sensation. "Okay, now fold the diaper up carefully and wrap it tightly in one of these plastic bags to contain any leaks," her mom instructed, handing Sarah a small stack of disposable diaper sacks. Sarah did as she was told, wrinkling her nose as she wrapped the diaper into a compact plastic bundle. "Excellent," her mom praised. "Now give yourself a quick wipe-down with a wipe before putting on your underwear." Blushing furiously, Sarah cleaned herself up and quickly tugged on a clean pair of panties, feeling an odd mix of relief and residual embarrassment. Her mom smiled at her warmly. "You did great, honey. I know it feels strange and uncomfortable, but you're handling it with a lot of maturity. The more you practice these steps, the more confident and discreet you'll be able to be at the actual sleepover." Sarah nodded, trying to absorb the praise over the swirling of her chaotic emotions. Her mom hesitated, then added gently, "In fact, it might be a good idea to try another practice run, just to really solidify the process. What do you think about trying again with a fresh diaper, to simulate the full sleepover experience?" Sarah's stomach swooped at the suggestion, her cheeks flaming anew. But beneath the knee-jerk embarrassment, a flicker of pragmatism glowed. Her mom was right - the more she practiced, the less daunting it would feel at Kate's house. "Okay," she finally agreed, her voice small but determined. "Let's do it." With an encouraging nod, her mom retrieved a clean diaper. Sarah laid down on her bed, heart thumping as her mom gently slid the thick padding beneath her bottom. The front of the diaper was pulled up snugly between her legs and the tapes fastened securely, leaving Sarah once again diapered and blushing. "There we go," her mom said softly, helping Sarah back into her loose pajama pants. "Remember, this is just practice. It doesn't define you. You're still my brave, brilliant girl, no matter what." Sarah leaned into her mom's reassuring embrace, drawing strength from her unwavering support. The diaper crinkled quietly as she shifted, a tangible reminder of the challenge ahead. But beneath the nerves and embarrassment, a fragile determination was taking root. With enough practice and her mom's steadfast guidance, maybe, just maybe, she could handle this.

LOL so he can just repeat the process? Maybe, though I think we all know where he belongs. But either way, no spoilers, final section is up so you can see what happens for real Three months had passed. Ryan looked out the window at the rising towers beyond. He breathed in fresh air, and sighed, smiling. He turned back into the massive condo. His pink skirts swirled as he walked through the house, making sure every inch of it was clean before Mommy got home. She would be there soon, probably with a friend, and he wanted to make sure it was perfect. He checked the curried meat in the slow cooker. He had become a much better cook since he had moved in- the state of his butt often depended on if his Mommy liked what he cooked. An alarm went off, marking the end of his free day. He grabbed his paddle and leash from where he kept them in the living room, walked to the front door, and knelt. As he had done dozens of times, he attached the leash to the collar he now permanently wore, and held the handle, along with his collar, in his upturned hands. He bent over. He checked his outfit. As a rule, his diaper should always be exposed. Today he was wearing triple layered bunny hops, covered by locking plastic pants he never held the key to. He had already filled them several times that day, and hoped that would make his Mommy happy. He waited. From that point on, it could be minutes, or hours, until she was home. His job was to remain perfectly still regardless, and a monitoring camera ensured he obeyed. As long as he never heard otherwise, this is how he spent the time from four PM until whenever she got home. Fortunately, it wasn't long until he heard footsteps. There were two of them, and from the weight he guessed the other was male. That told him Mommy had taken home one of her boyfriends. Depending on how the night went, he may be asked to join, perhaps help the man, or he might be left locked up in his cage, merely witnessing it as he struggled, helpless, with no relief. He hoped for the first- it gave him the best chance of reward. The door opened, and his Mommy walked in. She bent and took the leash and paddle from his hand. She put a foot under his mouth, and he kissed it. She moved aside, and another larger foot came under, which he kissed too. "Knees," she commanded. He snapped up into position. This position, also called "position 2", was normally what came next. It had him kneeling regularly, back straight, and hands on his lap. Mommy walked round to his back, and lifted his skirt. She tsked. "That is one poopy pamper, Diaper Girl," she said the name that now came to him as if capitalized, the name printed on his collar, the name he was most willing to respond to. "Pathetic. A 25 year old man in a dirty diaper. Lets decide if you've earned a change." "Yes mommy," he said. "Eyes," she said. He looked up at her. This was the first time since she came in that he saw her face, as well as the man beside her. He had seen him a few times, though he didn't know his name. The man in question liked proving he was dominant over Ryan, and Ryan had no issues accepting that role. However, the ways he did it could get rough, and Ryan gulped, thinking about what kind of night he was in for. Mommy reached down and cupped his face. "Alright then Diaper Girl. We are going to look around the house, and see if you made any mistakes or left any chores undone. Then, we will see the dinner you cooked us, and decide if we like it, or if its going in your pampers too. What we decide will determine if we punish you, and if we change you." "Then tonight, we will have some fun. You will eat early in your high chair, then take your normal place waiting on us. After that, Mommy's boyfriend has some things he wants you to do to help him get ready to please Mommy, and you will watch from your cage as we go about it. If, and I mean IF, you do everything perfectly, we might reward you tonight. Alright? Ryan nodded eagerly. "Good boy. Position 1." He put his head down, prone and bowing. "Position 2." He knelt back up as he was. She laughed. "Position 3." He lay back ward and lifted his legs in the air, then grabbed at his ankles. This was something his Mommy had shown him, and he had learned from yoga. It was called "baby pose." Aside from being a stretch, it left him particularly venerable, and always made him blush. When Mommy sometimes tied his wrists to his ankles in it, he became as helpless as he looked. "Hmmm," she said. "Diaper position." He switched his hands to his knees and held his knees to his chest. This was used for spankings, changes, or just to make him feel more helpless. She shook her head. "No, position 3." He switched back, and she nodded. "Good boy. That will do." She knelt down in front of him, and put a hand on his now exposed diaper. She rubbed the mess into him, and he moaned as her hand went back and forth. She took the pacifier from the string on his chest and put it in his mouth, then returned to rubbing his diaper. "Now, you will stay like this until we return, understand?" she said, and pressed hard on his diaper. She returned to her teasing, cooing voice, the same tone that had driven him mad on the first night. He nodded. "Good boy. I hope for your sake you did your chores and can have fun tonight, or you will have to stay in your dirty diapers allll night," she said. He nodded again. She stood up. "Good boy. Just stay like that stinky pants, Mommy doesn't want your smell following us around." He nodded agreement, and watched them leave. No matter what the result from their inspection was, he couldn't wait. If they came back to spank him, keep him in his dirty diapers, and lock him up for the night, he knew he'd spend the night panting and loving every sensation. If they came back to praise him, change him and let him join in their games, then it was even better. He lay back and sighed. He didn't know if there was a more perfect life for him.

He groaned, but bit his lip again and held back his smile. He crossed his legs, then bent down to grab his ankles. A slight crunching sound reminded him of the other humiliating instruction he had been given for that morning. He smiled more, both at the humiliation and the knowledge Edward could make him do something so embarrassing. Also, it meant he may have a bit of extra protection for his punishment. He held his breath as Edward walked behind him. He felt Edward put a hand on Kaden's back. His other rested lightly on his bottom, and he felt Edward rubbing it up and down. Edward loved to grope him before his punishments, and Kaden loved knowing how he was being taken advantage of. WHACK! The first smack always took his breath away. No matter how many times it happened, it always came as a shock that he, a grown man, was being spanked as punishment. WHACK! The second one made him gasp, and he felt Edward rub him again. WHACK WHACK WHACK! Kaden closed his eyes and groaned. Edward was an expert and delivering his spankings on Kaden. They always started slowly, giving him time to realize what he was in for. Then, just as the knowledge really settled, Edward went full force. The blows got harder and faster as they went on. Kaden began grunting with each spank, then shouting, and was finally crying out loud as the blows rained down. Still, he held onto his ankles, and refused to move. Finally they stopped, and Kaden breathed out heavily. Edward rubbed his throbbing backside, enjoying the feeling of it. Kaden was confused. He hadn't been counting, but it seemed fewer spanks then he had expected. "Stand," Edward said, and Kenyan obeyed. Edward smiled at him. "Good boy. You took your spanking well. Now, I think I could tell from the feeling there that you obeyed my other order well." He bit his lip. "Yes sir." "Good boy. But let's check to be sure, shall we?" He reached into his pocket and dug out a key. "Put your hands on your head." Kaden placed both his hands on his head. He watched as Edward leaned down and unlocked the buckle on his pants. He pulled them down, revealing the thick, white diaper he had been ordered to wear. Kaden had never seen the kind before they arrived at his door, or even considered that they might exist. They were printed with baby blue band across the top with teddy bears dancing along them. He only then realized that they matched his suit and tie, and blushed at the knowledge that meant he probably wasn't going to be getting his pants back soon. He blushed at the thought of spending the day wearing a fine suit on his top half, but only a printed diaper on the bottom. The garment was humiliating enough on its own, the contrast made it even worse, as if his attempts at fine dressing was just a silly game. Edward was rubbing his hands around it, moving from groping his backside and his groin through the plastic material. Kenyan moaned and let his mouth hang open in pleasure. "Hmm. They look nice on you, very fitting. I think I'll put you in them again," Edward said with his eyes down at the diaper, and Kenyan shuddered at the thought. Edward then looked up and leaned in close to Kaden's face. "Did you follow my other orders Kaden, about breakfast?" "Yes sir," he moaned. "And what were they?" Kaden shuddered. He had a guess of why this order had been given, and was nervous to see if he was right. "That for breakfast I was to have three eggs, a bran muffin, an apple, some porridge, and a glass of prune juice, then coffee and water." "Did you eat it all?" "Yes sir." The meal had been far larger then he was used to, and far more then Edward normally told him to eat. It had more then upset his stomach, and he had been cramping and groaning by the end. "And did you follow my final instruction? What was it again" He shuddered again. This was more toward what he thought. "Yes sir." He sighed, afraid to admit it. "That between waking up and meeting you, I wasn't to go to the bathroom except to shower and wash my hands." The orders followed Edward's knack for pointlessly specific orders, except that, as was sometimes the case, Kaden worried there was a hidden reason behind them after all. His being ordered to wear a diaper, then being ordered to over eat and drink but not use the bathroom left him with only one idea of what he was going to end up doing.

Academy II By Personalias "At the end of the world, there will be neither clamor nor calamity, neither echo nor epoch. It will be mired in silence and sleep, in deliverance and death. At the end of the world, there will be both patience and purpose, both temperance and time. Only then will it be graced with eternity, and from eternity, a chance." -The Source, in valediction Chapter 1: 90 Days The world was perfect. Things like poverty, crime, disease, starvation, war, pollution, homelessness, and politics had been relegated to the history books. Slight Correction: The world was almost perfect. After today it would be perfect. After today, Ai Sinclair would be out of diapers again. Then, the world would be perfect. Ai sat on the bus on her way to work, her long flowing skirt hanging placidly down to her shins. Her sensible, navy blue skirt, matching flats and plain white blouse showed her to be the smart, talented, young professional she knew she was. The indigo colored broach around her neck added a touch of flair and sophistication, as did the knitting needles she used to keep her hair up in a bun. Only the dreaded garment she was sitting in betrayed her imperfection. Beside her on the next seat over was her black leather satchel bag (she refused to call it a diaper bag). It had just enough of the folded plain white rectangles to get her through the day. After today, she fully intended to hide it away in the back of a closet somewhere until she forgot about it. In ages past, before Ai was born, someone might have tossed the damn thing out or donated it to charity. Charities were obsolete, and throwing away a perfectly good bag might be grounds enough to extend her sentence. That meant more time before she could get married, more teasing from her co-workers, and more diapers. Ai wasn’t about to stumble when she was so close to the finish line. Nervously, Ai rolled up her sleeve and stared at the glowing dot on her wrist right beneath her palm. The one that marked her as Pink. For as long as that dot was lit up, the medical nanites in her bloodstream made it so she had no bladder control. She couldn’t remember if they affected the muscles in her body or if they somehow dimmed some small part of her brain that controlled the sphincter muscles of her bladder. Maybe both? It was the sort of thing she wished she’d paid more attention to back in middle school. In the grand scheme of things, the ‘how’ didn’t matter, only the ‘when’. It had been determined that Ai was too stressed and needed to take a break, and so for the last eighty-nine days, the only time Ai Sinclair realized that she’d needed to pee was when she felt the padding beneath her grow warm and squishy. Today was day ninety; the last day of her sentence. PING! The young woman’s eye twitched and she dug her phone out of the satchel bag’s side pocket. On it was a message: Hello, Ai. Your heart rate has accelerated and I have detected an increase in cortisol in your bloodstream. Are you feeling alright? Anxious? I can adjust your mood nanites to increase your comfort. Reading that message had anything but a calming effect on Ai. Thinking quickly, Ai tapped back: No thank you, Luna. I’m just very excited to be going back to big girl panties at the end of the day. I appreciate your concern, but help is not needed at this time. Dancing bubbles appeared underneath Ai’s message. It was an affectation, of course. Luna was capable of carrying on conversations with over seven billion people at once without missing a step. The artificial intelligence had formulated its response the nanosecond Ai had pressed ‘Send’. Hidden cameras on the bus were likely observing her initial reply as she typed it. But the little waves of ellipses gave the illusion that Ai was communicating with a person on her level instead of a supercomputer that was smarter than every human that ever lived combined. The message came back: There’s nothing wrong with being a Pink, Ai. I hope you know that. These past ninety days were meant as a way to help you reset, refocus, and recontextualize your work-life balance as well as your personal relationships. Luna had a passive aggressive streak an equator wide. It had started out as a personal assistant application; something to be downloaded to a phone. Despite its evolution, Ai sometimes got the feeling that Luna resented its origins and held it against people. Ai replied immediately: I completely agree, Luna. There’s also nothing wrong with taking pride in one’s accomplishments and how far one has come. I am simply feeling the thrill of anticipation as I re-progress in my personal journey. The bubbles danced for only a second: That’s completely valid. My apologies, Ai. Ai’s thumbs did a tarantella: Nothing to apologize for. Would you please pick out some music for me to listen to? Something to help me harness my energy and keep the positive vibes going? The reply was immediate. No waves of dots whatsoever: Of course. Let me know if there’s any other way I can be of service. Enjoy your last day. The earbuds Ai kept in the side pocket with her phone started playing something. She dug them out, inserted them, and couldn’t help smiling. “Like the legend of the phoenix All ends with beginnings What keeps the planet spinning The force of love beginning” Damn, Luna was good at her job. Ai had loved this song ever since she was a little girl. It always put her in a good mood. At the core of its programming, Luna was still a servant. The only problem was that Luna was determined to serve and fix everything at all times. And when a superintelligent near omnipotent digital god-being decides to look for a problem, it will inevitably find one, even if said problem needs to be manufactured. That’s how Ai ended up like this. She’d been too stressed, too focused, and too ambitious to the point of accidental self-harm. She’d been losing sleep, blowing off social engagements, getting in more fights with her fiancé over every little thing, eating too poorly, and generally not taking care of herself. And when people stopped taking proper care of themselves, Luna tended to intervene. Diapers and temporary incontinence were Luna’s preferred form of self-correction. It had forced Ai to be more aware of her surroundings and her personal needs. It humbled her and made her more mindful of her diet. It was a pain monitoring for leaks and having to coordinate bowel movements with how wet she was - the diapers provided were always the tape on kind - but overall it had been good for her, according to Luna. The diapers also served as a kind of warning. Luna only allowed someone as much independence as they could safely manage on their own. Those who couldn’t handle the rigors of everyday life were aggressively supported. Over her music, Ai heard a panicked outcry. “Luna! No! Please!” Ai’s head turned with the other riders towards the back of the bus. A fair-skinned man in need of a shave leapt out of his seat, eyes wide in panic. Ai followed his gaze down to the front of his jeans where an even darker patch was blossoming; his bladder releasing its contents involuntarily. “We've come too far to give up who we are So let's raise the bar and our cups to the stars” The man’s phone tumbled out of his hand and into the puddle forming at his feet. He looked at his wrist in abject horror, clamping down on it as if to staunch the bleeding. Ai didn’t need to hear the mocking giggles to notice the facial expressions and body language of the other passengers. Bemused looks, cruel smiles, heads shaking in condescension and finger pointing abounded all around her. A giant, practically celebratory chorus of “BABY!” erupted so loudly that even the music couldn’t drown it out. Ai scooted an inch away from her satchel bag. It was only an inch, but that was as far away as she could manage without pressing her face up against the window glass. Amidst the cheering and jeering at the slacker’s misfortune, the bus crawled to a halt. The doors opened with a hiss. Looking at her window, Ai could tell they weren’t at an official stop. That meant Luna had likely asked the driver to pull over. It could do that. Luna could speak to anyone through almost any electronic device. Methods and mediums of communication were more a matter of individual privacy and location and not limitations of software or technology. From where she sat near the front, Ai immediately understood why the bus had pulled over. A woman in rose colored scrubs decorated with drawings of safety pins, baby rattles, and storks ascended the steps. Slung over her shoulder was a large baby blue diaper bag of the same approximate dimensions as Ai’s satchel. Ai removed an earbud and sucked on her teeth. “Hello Georgie,” the Carer said. “My name’s Nicole. Looks like you had a little accident. Let’s get you sorted out, okay?” The man who’d just wet his pants took his hand off his wrist and visibly choked back a sob. “Two?” he asked, “Why two?” The Carer stepped forward and put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she shushed him. “It’s okay. You’re not in any trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She was gently guiding him backwards. Behind him, people were getting out of the way and making room. “But-!” “I understand you’re upset,” the Carer said, “but let’s not make a scene, okay?” From the diaper bag she pulled out a changing mat and laid it across the now empty row of seats in the back that ran side to side; an impromptu changing table. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in a nice dry diaper, and then we’ll have a little chat, okay?” “But my wor-” “Shhhhh….” Ultimately the man laid down and the Carer started taking off his pants, cooing and fussing over him as if he were a fussy toddler. Along with the diaper, this one decorated in colorful cartoon characters, the Carer produced a plain white towel. Another passenger volunteered to take it and started mopping up the pee. Only then did the bus begin to move again. Ai turned around in her seat, her neck akin to an owl, her eyes zeroing in on the humiliated man’s wrist. Sure enough, as advertised, not one but two glowing rose dots shined under his skin, advertising his reduced status to the world in a more absolute and immutable way than a diaper and a onesie ever would. Two dots? What could he have done that would have rushed him straight to two dots? The young woman’s eyes wandered over to the blue diaper bag with the same morbid fascination people used to look at car crashes. Stitched into the broad side of the diaper bag with a darker thread of blue was a name. “GEORGIE”. Ai’s mouth went dry and her stomach twisted itself into knots. The old song in her earbud ended and was replaced by a soft, calm, feminine voice that sounded almost human. Almost. “Don’t worry, Ai. I did not send this Carer here for you. You have given me no reason to believe you require this level of care in your daily life. I’m proud of the progress you’ve made.” Ai nodded her head calmly, afraid to respond verbally lest one of the other passengers suspect what Luna was talking to her about. Despite Luna’s assurances that her time was almost up, it was no small relief to Ai when her stop came and she got off the bus and away from the blubbering newly minted man-child and his new Carer. She clutched her satchel bag, and did her best to keep her composure as she trotted on the sidewalk. Just a few blocks and she could sit down at her cubicle and she could let the day blur by until its completion. She was so going out for margaritas later tonight. Near the home stretch to her work, another Carer passed by pushing a stroller. Its occupant, a black woman, sucked on a bottle of orange juice. Her diaper was on full display and squishing against the straps; the blueberry party dress too short to hide any hint of modesty. Level two Pinks didn’t need modesty. They couldn’t handle it. Ai and the girl in the stroller briefly locked eyes. The girl in the stroller had the wherewithal to look away in embarrassment. One dot was a warning that one needed to re-evaluate their life. Anything more was basically a proclamation of failure. Maybe the girl could work her way back up the ladder like Ai was about to. Maybe. Lots of influencers, entrepreneurs, and celebrities had been on record that they needed extra Caring before they got themselves together and hit it big. But some people, so Ai had been taught, just didn’t want to get themselves together. That’s where Luna and her Carers came in. Ai opened the door to her work and slipped in as quietly as she could. Marjorie at the front desk didn’t pick her head up. “There she is,” the older woman said good naturedly. “Right on time, as always.” “How did you know it was me?” Ai asked. Marjorie tapped her ear and smiled. “Who else around here crinkles whenever they take a step?” “Oh…” Ai felt her face heat up. Over the last ninety days, she’d learned to almost completely ignore the sound her diapers made with every movement and shift she made. Almost. Marjorie’s smile turned sympathetic. “Get ready to get razzed today,” she warned. “Everybody’s gonna get one last shot in before you’re back to normal tomorrow.” Her first week as a Pink had been filled with teasing and terrible jokes from her coworkers. Pacifiers had been left in her desk drawer. Her coffee mug had been hidden and replaced with a cheap plastic baby bottle. Someone had left one of those jingling wrist rattles with a note that read “To cover your dot”. People had said ‘Hey baby’ in a way that wasn’t hitting on her. But after a few days (and perhaps some discreet warnings from Luna about going too far), the jokes had gotten old and the office gossip turned inevitably to other matters. “Let them have their laughs,” Ai replied. “I sort of have it coming.” It was a lie that Ai didn’t realize she’d told until after she’d uttered it. Marjorie shrugged her big heavy shoulders. “It is what it is. Plenty of people get Pinked. It’s nothing to get worked up over.” “Yeah,” Ai lied again. “I’m just glad that it’s almost over.” On that she was truly sincere. “The janitors are too,” Marjorie chuckled. “Hank is getting tired of emptying the trash can in the ladies' room.” Ai’s ears lit on fire. “Sorry.” That was the truth, too. “It’s his job, and Hank bitches about everything. Do what you gotta do, lady.” The smaller of the two women shifted nervously. Her satchel suddenly became an albatross. “Speaking of which, I need to powder my nose. ‘Scuse me!” She shuffled off past her coworker and slid into the single stall women’s restroom. “Damn,” she hissed. “Why’d I say ‘powder’?” As had become routine, Ai locked the door and dug everything out of her bag before proceeding. Wipes. Powder. Diaper. She hiked her skirt all the way down to her ankles and ripped off the tapes as fast as she could. She wiped herself all over, careful not to miss a spot; grateful that she wouldn’t have to religiously shave down there after today. She tossed the used wipes into the open soiled diaper at her feet, balled it up, and tossed the wretched thing away. For her own ego and peace of mind, she sat on the toilet and counted to a hundred, just in case. A sliver of a smirk jerked at the corners of her mouth when she heard the sound of liquid hitting liquid. Good timing felt like victory some days. An extra wiping and a triumphant flush later, and Ai was almost good to go. Finally, she opened the fresh diaper, sprinkled baby powder inside it and taped it on herself while standing up. Originally, she hadn’t been very good at this. She’d leaked unnecessarily more than once due to poor positioning and not getting the tapes right. It’s amazing how good someone can get at something when they aren’t given a choice. After she hiked her skirt back up and smoothed it back out, she realized how nice it would be to be able to wear pants again. The last three months had forced her wardrobe to be considerably baggier. Not so deep down, Ai couldn’t stand the sight of her diapers and even a hint of bulk between the legs or a slip of a waistband was mortifying to her. If not for the necessities of bathing and changing, Ai might have forgotten what the shape of her legs looked like. She gave herself a once-over in the mirror and took a deep breath. She peeked into her satchel bag and counted the remaining diapers. The last she would ever have to wear. “One down,” she whispered. “Two to go.” ******************************************************************************************************** Late that afternoon, an email popped up across Ai’s computer screen. Dear Ai, Congratulations on making it 90 days. I’m very proud of how far you’ve come in such a short time. I believe Mr. Grant wishes to speak with you as well. Love always, Luna Ai stood up from her desk and felt the weight around her waist shift with gravity. She looked down at her satchel bag and bit her lip, nervously. She could really use a change just then. That and she had only one diaper left. Plus lunch was finally catching up to her. She decided against it, however. Best not to keep the boss waiting. That and she could use needing to change as an excuse if a hasty exit was required. It was a small benefit to her status, one she’d be glad to be rid of, but she might as well use it one last time. She opted to leave her bag where it lay and go see what Mr. Grant wanted. “Please, Ms. Sinclair,” Mr. Grant gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Have a seat.” Ai obliged him and took a seat. The chairs were cushy and comfortable, but also low to the ground. Anyone sitting in them would feel even smaller sitting across from Mr. Grant’s giant oak desk. “What can I do for you, sir?” Ai asked, professionally and politely. “I just wanted to take a moment to thank you,” Mr. Grant said. “Not many Pinks handle their situation as gracefully as you have.” Ai kept her hands neatly folded in her lap. “Thank you very much, Mr. Grant. I hope I haven’t been too much of an inconvenience to you.” “Not at all,” her boss waved off the apology. “We’re here to support you to help you be the best you can be. You’ve been a model team member and I’ve been happy to accommodate you and will continue to accommodate you as long as you need.” Ai blinked. “I’m sorry?” He laughed off her question like a mall Santa. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. Plenty of people get Pinked. It’s only one little dot. Just keep doing what you’re doing and it’ll be over before you know it.” Ai could feel panic start to set in. She was almost out of the forest but could hear the snapping of dry twigs and the hungry growl of a wolf behind her. “Luna?” she called out to the room. “What’s going on?” An artificial voice came out of the office’s speaker phone. “Mr. Grant is praising you for your perseverance thus far. I would also like to congratulate you on that front. You’ve been very mature given the circumstances.” “Why are you talking like I’m going to still be Pink tomorrow?” Ai demanded. “My time is up! I’m literally on my last diaper!” Mr. Grant suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “About that…” his eyes shifted from side to side. “Luna?” The machine’s gentle, soothing, irritating voice sounded off. “After much consideration, it has been determined that you would benefit from another ninety days of recuperation.” “Ninety days!” Ai found herself shouting. “Ninety days?! Just this morning you were telling me how proud you were of me and how good I’ve been!” “Careful…” Mr. Grant warned. “I am proud of you,” Luna droned. “You’ve made incredible progress. But progress is not the same as completion.” “What is there left to do?” Ai demanded to know. “I’m getting enough sleep! I’m not watching as much television! I’m eating better!” She gesticulated in Mr. Grant’s direction. “All of my work is still on time!” “Yes,” Luna agreed. “But you still seem to think that being Pink is a punishment. It’s not.” Without meaning to, Ai rose to her feet. “Then why are you punishing me?” “I told you she wouldn’t take this well,” Mr. Grant muttered. “You’ve been talking about me behind my back?” Ai shrieked at her employer. “What business is it of yours if I’m Pink or not? Who do you think you are? My parents?!” Mr. Grant leaned back in his chair, distinctly uncomfortable despite Ai’s relatively diminutive stature. “I have known you your entire life,” Luna replied. “And Mr. Grant has a right to know about your status as it directly affects his work environment.” Ai’s fists balled up in rage. “Fuck you, Luna!” she stomped your foot. “I’ve been pissing my pants for three months and you still haven’t told me what I did wrong!” “It’s not about right and wro-” “Shut up you binary coded bitch!” Ai’s stomping foot sounded like thunder. “As you wish…” “And as for you!” Ai pointed directly at her two-faced sonofabitch boss. “How fucking dare you! I’ve been dealing with hazing and shame and whispers behind my back for literal months! And did I see any kind of memo about it? Did anybody get their ass chewed out and fired for harassment? Did anybody else get sent back to diapers? No! They didn’t.” Mr. Grant looked like he was about to say something, but Ai’s fury was disproportionate to anything the man had ever witnessed. “You want to be supportive?!” Ai screamed. “Stop taking orders from a bonkers machine! But you know what? I’m not taking orders from you anymore. I…I…I…!” Something was wrong. Ai’s stomach cramped up. As if on their own, her knees bent slightly. Then, completely against her will, she started to push. “Oh, Miss Sinclair,” Mr. Grant said. “I’m so sorry. I can’t say as I’m surprised, but I am sorry.” Ai had no comeback. She was too busy filling her pants. She was acutely aware while her cheeks spread and the first lumpy mass exited her. It was a small agony feeling the mess hit the back of her diaper and become smushed and spread by the contents behind it. It was even worse when she felt the pressure release and was allowed a gasp as her cheeks came back together and then spread a second time while she started pushing again. There was a knock at the door. Ai couldn’t help but continue pushing, near the point of tears feeling the consistency shift to wetter and sloppier. “Come in,” Luna’s voice welcomed. A tall woman with raven hair walked around to Ai’s. Her scrubs were rose colored and decorated with safety pins, storks, bottles, and rattles. The diaper bag she carried was pastel pink. Ai had a feeling she knew whose name was stitched on it. “Hello Ai,” she said. “My name’s Maria!” The way she spoke indicated that she thought Ai was a simpleton. “If that’s too hard to say, you can try ‘Nana’.” The Carer walked back around and disappeared behind Ai. Just when the young woman’s body finished emptying itself, she felt two fingers stick themselves into the waistband of her incredibly heavy diaper and pull it back. “Good girl!” Ai felt a hand pat her on the bottom, pressing the vile stuff that had just exited her up against her bum and spread it around even more. Her legs felt a breeze. Her skirt was now puddled around her ankles. “Mr. Grant, would you mind clearing your desk off for me? I don’t think her diaper is going to last if she takes another step.” “Of…of course,” Mr. Grant stuttered. He hurriedly swiped papers, pens, his nameplate, and various other knick-knacks off his desk so that the Carer would lay out a changing mat. Not unkindly he said, “And don’t worry, Ai. I don’t hold anything you just said against you. Pinks can’t help it. I’m sure we can make a work from home arrangement if you’d like.” Ai’s world went into a spin figuratively and literally as the Carer picked her up, spun her around and sat her down on the desk. Ai could feel the mess cake itself on her bottom. The Carer took the time to slip off her flats first. “Okay,” she coaxed. “Down we go. That’s a good girl.” “Please…” Ai begged, her voice a choked up whisper. “Please not here.” Her new ‘Nana’ took out an incredibly babyish diaper and wipes. “Don’t be silly,” she cooed. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t have to be modest.” Ai’s ears didn’t hear it, but she swore she could hear an unspoken ‘anymore’ in the tall woman’s tone. Ai lifted up her wrist and stared at the second glowing dot, freshly added. “Why, Luna?” she choked. “Why?” “I’m afraid that won’t do you any good,” the Carer cooed. “Luna never talks to children.” The world went completely blurry for Ai just then. The tears finally won out right as the tapes on her diaper were torn loose.

I went 24/7 about 4 years ago. I rarely mess in my diapers since it involves more work than I care for. I recommend that you protect your skin. Rashes are a pain to get rid of. I told my urologist and my primary care physician that I was doing this as a choice, not because of any medical issue. I didn't want them trying to cure a nonproblem. Outside of that, I have been fortunate to mostly work from home or work in my own office. The gym was tricky, but it is only a big deal if you make it one.

Spats aint happy! Bad things happen when Spats aint happy. Maybe a visit with the girls will cool him down? Hope he don't screw up and piss off Ian. He would have to change his nickname to Splat!

Hey everyone. Over the last week I've been playing with AI chatbots and LLMs to see how they do with ABDL content. I think it turned out pretty well, and now I have about 13k edited words worked into a story, and maybe 20k more once I get around to editing them, fitting them into the narrative arc, etc. One note - it starts a bit heavy, but gets lighter. Full disclosure: this was written in collaboration with an LLM, but directed and edited by me. What's weird about this is that it really felt like it was a collaboration to me - some of the elements that made me want to develop the story more came from the LLM. --- Chapter 1 Sarah stepped off the school bus and walked up to her house, her backpack bouncing lightly with each step. As she opened the front door, the smell of her mom's chocolate chip cookies wafted out to greet her. "Hi honey, how was your day?" her mom, Lisa, called out from the kitchen. "Fine," Sarah replied, setting her backpack down by the door. She headed to the kitchen, hoping to sneak a warm cookie, but stopped short when she saw her mom's serious expression. Lisa gestured for Sarah to sit at the kitchen table. "Sweetie, I wanted to talk to you about something. I know the pull-ups haven't been working well lately to keep your bed dry at night." Sarah's shoulders slumped a little, but she tried to keep a brave face. "Yeah, they've been leaking a lot." Lisa reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "I have an idea I wanted to run by you - what if we tried using tape-on diapers at night instead? They're more absorbent than the pull-ups." Sarah wrinkled her nose at the mention of diapers. "But mom, diapers are for babies! I'm way too old for those." "I know this isn't easy," Lisa said, her voice soft with understanding. "But wearing diapers at night doesn't make you a baby. They're just a tool to help keep you dry and comfortable while we work on this together." Sarah chewed on her lower lip, thinking it over. The idea of wearing diapers made her feel self-conscious, but she was also tired of waking up in a wet bed. "Do you really think they'd help?" Lisa smiled reassuringly. "I think it's worth a try. And remember, your dad and I love you no matter what - diapers or no diapers. We're so proud of how brave you're being about all of this." Sarah managed a small smile at that, feeling a little bit lighter. "Okay, I guess we can try the diapers. But only at night, right?" "That's right, honey. Just at nighttime, and no one else ever has to know." Lisa stood up and grabbed a cookie from the cooling rack, handing it to Sarah with a wink. "Now, how about we have some of these cookies and you can tell me all about your day? I heard a rumor that a certain someone aced her spelling test!" Sarah grinned, biting into the warm, gooey cookie. As she began to recount her day, the worry about the diapers faded a bit. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but with her mom and dad's love and support, she felt like maybe she could handle this new challenge. *** A few days later, Sarah arrived home from school and found her mom, Lisa, in the kitchen, preparing dinner. "Hey sweetie, how was your day?" Lisa asked, looking up from the vegetables she was chopping. "Fine," Sarah replied, grabbing a snack from the pantry. As she turned around, she noticed a package on the counter. Curiosity piqued, she read the label: "Youth Diapers." Lisa saw her looking and gave a warm smile. "Ah, I see you've spotted our new helpers. I know it might seem a little strange at first, but I think these could really make a difference with the nighttime leaks." Sarah bit her lip, feeling a mix of emotions. "Do I have to wear them?" she asked hesitantly. Lisa put down her knife and came over to give Sarah a reassuring hug. "Let's just give them a try and see how it goes. Remember, this is only for nighttime, and no one else ever has to know. If they don't work out, we'll put our heads together and come up with another plan." Sarah leaned into her mom's embrace, drawing comfort from her steady presence. "Okay, I guess we can try them." "That's my brave girl," Lisa praised, giving Sarah an extra squeeze before returning to her cooking. "I'm making your favorite tonight - spaghetti and meatballs. Why don't you tell me about that science project you were working on while I finish up?" As Sarah launched into an explanation of her potato battery experiment, the diapers faded to the back of her mind. Laughing and chatting with her mom over dinner, she felt a little more ready to face this new challenge. That evening, after dinner and a shower, Sarah's mom brought one of the diapers into her bedroom. "Let's make sure it fits alright. Do you want to try putting it on yourself first?" Sarah hesitated, then shook her head, feeling overwhelmed. Her mom smiled gently, "That's okay. Lay down and I'll help you." With shaky breaths, Sarah laid on her bed, dressed in an oversized t-shirt. Her mom unfolded the diaper, and Sarah's eyes widened at how thick and crinkly it looked. She squirmed as her mom slid it under her bottom and pulled it up between her legs, securing it snugly around her waist. The bulk felt strange and uncomfortable. "How does that feel? Not too tight?" her mom asked as Sarah slowly sat up, acutely aware of the diaper crinkling with every move. "It's okay... just weird," Sarah mumbled, her face burning, as she put on her pajamas. Her mom tucked her into bed, trying to keep things as normal as possible, even with the obvious diaper bulge under the covers. "I'm proud of you," she said softly, kissing Sarah's forehead. Sarah lay awake for a while, intensely aware of the diaper's presence. She worried about waking up wet, wondering if it would leak like the pull-ups usually did. Mostly though, she just felt embarrassed and babyish as the crinkly plastic constantly reminded her of what she was wearing. *** The next morning, Sarah woke up slowly, blinking against the sunlight streaming through her curtains. As she stretched, she became aware of an unfamiliar sensation - the diaper between her legs was thick and squishy, but the sheets beneath her were dry. Sitting up, Sarah patted the bed around her, marveling at the lack of damp spots. A small smile tugged at her lips as she realized the diapers had done their job. Just then, there was a soft knock at the door. "Sarah? You awake, sweetie?" Lisa called softly, peeking her head in. Sarah nodded, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about her wet diaper. "Yeah, I'm up." Lisa came in and sat on the edge of the bed, giving Sarah a warm smile. "And how did the diapers hold up? Did you stay dry?" Sarah fidgeted with the edge of her blanket. "The diaper's wet," she admitted. "But the bed's all dry." "That's wonderful, honey!" Lisa praised, giving Sarah a big hug. "I'm so proud of you. I know this isn't easy, but you're handling it with such maturity." Sarah leaned into the hug, feeling a mix of emotions - relief that the diapers had worked, happiness at her mom's praise, and still a little embarrassment at needing them at all. As if sensing her thoughts, Lisa pulled back and looked Sarah in the eye. "Remember, sweetheart, this doesn't define you. You're still my smart, brave, amazing Sarah, no matter what. And we're going to keep working on this together, okay?" Sarah nodded, blinking back a few tears. "Okay, Mom. Thanks." "Now, what do you say we get you out of that wet diaper and ready for the day? I think I smell Daddy's famous pancakes cooking downstairs!" Lisa grinned, tickling Sarah's side. Sarah giggled, the heaviness of the moment lifting. "With chocolate chips?" "Is there any other kind?" Lisa winked, helping Sarah out of bed. As Lisa helped her out of the wet diaper and into a clean pair of underwear, Sarah felt a little flicker of hope amidst the mixed emotions. Maybe, with her parents' love and support, she really could get through this. "Race you to the kitchen!" Sarah challenged, taking off down the hall with a laugh. Lisa chuckled, following behind at a jog. "Oh, you're on!" As they bounded into the kitchen, Michael looked up from the stove with a grin. "There are my two favorite girls! Who's ready for some world-famous chocolate chip pancakes?" "Me!" Sarah exclaimed, climbing up onto her stool at the counter. As Michael slid a stack of fluffy pancakes onto her plate, winking at her over the syrup bottle, Sarah felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the food. Sure, the diapers were still new and a little weird. But here, laughing with her mom and dad over a delicious breakfast, she knew she was loved and supported, no matter what. And that made all the difference. *** Sarah arrived home from school to find Lisa waiting for her in the living room, a sympathetic smile on her face. "Hi sweetie, how was your day?" Sarah shrugged, setting down her backpack. "It was okay, I guess." Her eyes fell on the diaper laid out on the coffee table, and she felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. Lisa patted the couch next to her. "Come sit with me for a minute. I was thinking it might help to practice wearing your diaper for a bit before bedtime tonight. Just to get used to the feeling." Sarah's cheeks flushed at the suggestion. "Right now? But what if Daddy sees?" "Daddy's still at work, honey. It's just us," Lisa reassured her. "And remember, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. This is just a part of our new routine, like brushing our teeth or putting on pajamas." Sarah hesitated, then nodded, settling onto the couch beside her mom. Lisa helped her wiggle out of her jeans and underwear, keeping up a steady stream of light chatter about her day to help Sarah feel more at ease. As Lisa brought the front of the diaper up snugly and taped it securely at the sides, Sarah couldn't help but giggle. "It's so crinkly!" Lisa grinned, poking Sarah's nose playfully. "The crinkliest! But you know what that means? It will keep you dry." Sarah reached for her jeans, but her mom stopped her. "Those might be a bit snug over the diaper, honey. It's pretty thick. Why don't you just wear it like this for a little while, since we're staying in?" Sarah wanted to protest, but the words stuck in her throat. Clad in only a t-shirt and the bulky diaper, she felt more exposed than ever. Gingerly, she stood up, blushing at how the thick padding forced her legs apart. For the next half hour, Sarah went about her usual after-school routine - having a snack, watching a little TV, starting on her homework. The diaper felt bulky and weird at first, but as she got caught up in her activities, she found herself forgetting about it for minutes at a time. That is, until the first twinge from her bladder reminded her of its presence. Sarah froze, the urge to pee suddenly at the forefront of her mind. Usually, she'd just run to the bathroom without a second thought. But now, with the diaper... She thought of asking her mom for help, but didn’t want to do anything to draw attention to the diaper. She pressed her legs together tightly, trying to hold it, but the bulk of the diaper made it difficult. A small spurt of urine dampened the front of the diaper and Sarah froze, panicking. She desperately tried to clench her muscles, but the need overpowered her and she felt herself fully relaxing. The diaper grew warm and heavy between her legs as it absorbed the flood. Sarah felt hot tears pricking her eyes. The sensation of purposely wetting herself was distressing and humiliating. When the flow finally stopped, she sat motionless, overwhelmed by the soggy bulk encasing her. "Sarah? Everything alright?" Her mom came in from the kitchen and immediately noticed her daughter's distress. "Oh honey, did you have an accident?" The kind words broke Sarah's composure and she started to cry, covering her face. Her mom sat beside her and pulled her into a hug, letting her sob into her shoulder. "Shh, it's okay sweetie. You didn't do anything wrong. The diaper did its job, see? No mess." She rubbed Sarah's shaking back. "I know this is so hard. But we'll get through it together." Sarah just clung to her mom, drawing shaky breaths. In that moment, she was deeply grateful for her mother's steadfast support and lack of judgment. Even so, the road ahead seemed dauntingly steep. Her mom gave her a gentle squeeze before saying, "Let's get you changed into a dry diaper before dinner, okay?" Sarah nodded, sniffling. She let her mom guide her to lay back on the couch and remove her diaper. The process of being changed was embarrassing, but also comforting in a way. There was something soothing about her mother's calm, tender care. A fresh diaper was slid beneath her bottom and secured snugly around her hips. The clean, dry bulk felt better, but was still a strange sensation. Her mom helped her to sit up, giving her a soft smile. "There we go, all clean and dry. Ready for dinner?" Sarah managed a small nod, still feeling shaky and raw. She clung to her mom's hand as they walked to the kitchen, intensely aware of the way the thick padding made her waddle. As Sarah and her mom set the table, they heard the front door open and close. "I'm home!" Sarah's dad called out. Sarah froze, suddenly acutely aware of the bulky diaper crinkling loudly under her oversized t-shirt. She shot her mom a panicked look. Her mom gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay, sweetie. Daddy knows about the diapers, remember? There's nothing to be embarrassed about." Sarah swallowed hard, trying to calm her racing heart as her dad entered the kitchen. He greeted them warmly, kissing her mom on the cheek before turning to Sarah. "Hey there, princess. How was your day?" Sarah managed a shaky smile, fighting the urge to hide behind her mom. "It was okay," she mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as the diaper crinkled with her movement. If her dad noticed her attire or the telltale bulge and crinkling, he didn't show it. He just pulled her into a warm hug as usual. Sarah relaxed slightly, comforted by the familiarity of his embrace. Dinner was a quieter affair than usual, with Sarah's parents carrying most of the conversation as she picked at her food. She couldn't quite shake the feeling of the diaper between her legs, a constant reminder of her shame. But her parents' easy normality helped a little, making the situation feel slightly less overwhelming. After dinner, Sarah helped clear the table before retreating to the couch to watch tv, trying to ignore the diaper. As her bedtime approached, she turned to her mom and said, "I think I'm ready for bed.” Her mom nodded understandingly. "Okay, honey. Let's go get you changed and settled." In her bedroom, Sarah laid down on her bed, her cheeks flushing as her mom gently removed the still dry diaper. “Do you want to go to the bathroom?” her mom asked. Sarah eagerly got up. Once that part of her nighttime routine was finished, her mom had secured a fresh, thick diaper around her hips for the night and helped Sarah into a pair of oversized pajama bottoms. The extra room helped accommodate the diaper's bulk, but it was still noticeable. Sarah blushed as she caught sight of herself in the mirror, looking more like a toddler than an 8-year-old. Her mom turned down the covers and patted the bed invitingly. Sarah climbed in, hyper-aware of the crinkling with every movement. As her mom pulled the blankets up around her, Sarah felt tears pricking at her eyes again. "Mom?" she whispered shakily. "Do you think I'll ever not need diapers?" Her mom smoothed Sarah's hair back from her face, her touch gentle. "Of course, sweetie. This is just temporary, remember? We're going to keep working on it and I fully believe you'll get past this. But even if it takes a while, that's okay too. Daddy and I love you no matter what, diapers or no diapers." Sarah nodded, blinking back tears. She clung to her mom's hand, drawing strength from her solid presence. Her mom leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Sweet dreams, honey. Daddy and I are so proud of you. We'll get through this together, I promise." As her mom turned out the light and left the room, Sarah curled up on her side, the diaper crinkling softly with her movement. She tried to focus on her mom's comforting words instead of the embarrassment swirling in her stomach. It wasn't easy, accepting this new reality. The diapers felt like a glaring sign of babyishness, a step backward she hadn't wanted to take. But in the darkness, her parents' steadfast love and support felt like a lifeline. Maybe, just maybe, if she leaned on that love... if she trusted in their belief in her... she could come out the other side of this. A few tears slipped down her cheeks, but Sarah clung to that hope as she drifted off to sleep, aware of the diaper’s thickness. Chapter 2 (a few weeks later) Sarah lay on her bed, the crinkle of the diaper loud as her mom fastened the tapes securely. She fiddled with the edge of her pajama top, a question burning on her tongue. "Mom?" she finally asked, her voice small. "I really want to have a sleepover with Kate. She’s asked me to spend the night a couple times. But I'm scared she'll find out about... you know." Her mom checked the legs of the diaper, smiling gently. "I understand, sweetie. Sleepovers are a big deal at your age. It's okay to want that experience." Sarah nodded, biting her lip. "But how can I do it? With the bedwetting and the diapers?" "Well," her mom began thoughtfully, "what if you wore pull-ups instead of diapers for the sleepover? They're less bulky and might be easier to hide." Sarah shook her head vigorously. "No way. The pull-ups leaked all the time. That would be worse. I don't want to risk it." "Okay, that's valid." Her mom tapped her chin, considering. "What if we hosted the sleepover here, at our house? That way, you'd have all your usual supplies and routines." Sarah sat up a little, interest piqued. "Like how?" "Well, we could hide all the diapers in the master bedroom. I could diaper you there. We’d just need to distract Kate for a minute during the diaper change.” Sarah nodded slowly, warming to the idea. "And in the morning, You could wake me up early and change out of the diaper. Before Kate wakes up." "Exactly," her mom agreed with a smile. "We could double-check that your pajamas hide the diaper well." Sarah took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of excitement alongside the nerves. "I think... I think I want to try it. Having the sleepover here, I mean. It feels less scary than sleeping at Kate's house." Her mom squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I think that's a brave and wise choice. We can make sure everything is set up to help you feel comfortable and confident." Sarah exhaled slowly, nodding. "Okay. I'll ask Kate if she wants to sleep over here next weekend. I'll just tell her my house is better because... because we have a trampoline! And a popcorn machine!" Her mom laughed, eyes twinkling. "Those are excellent selling points. I'm sure she'll be thrilled." Sarah managed a smile, feeling a weight lift off her chest. Maybe this could work. Maybe she could have a normal sleepover, even with the bedwetting. It would take some extra planning and courage, but she was starting to believe it was possible. Her mom enveloped her in a warm hug. "I'm so proud of you, Sarah. You're facing your fears head-on. That's true bravery, you know." Sarah nestled into the embrace, drawing strength from her mom's steadfast support. She knew there would still be challenges and scary moments ahead. But for now, she allowed herself to feel a spark of hope and excitement. With her mom in her corner and a solid plan, perhaps even the biggest obstacles could be overcome, one diaper and one sleepover at a time. *** The next day at school, Sarah nervously approached Kate during lunch. "Hey, Kate? I was wondering... instead of me sleeping over at your house, would you maybe want to have a sleepover at my house this weekend?" Kate's eyes widened slightly, and she fidgeted with her sandwich. "Oh, um... I don't think I can this weekend. My family has... plans." Sarah's heart sank, but she tried not to let her disappointment show. "Oh, okay. No worries. Maybe another time?" Kate nodded, not quite meeting Sarah's eyes. "Yeah, definitely. Another time for sure." The rest of the school day dragged by, Sarah's mind spinning with worries and what-ifs. Had she said something wrong? As soon as she got home, Sarah sought out her mom, finding her folding laundry in the living room. "Mom? I asked Kate about sleeping over here, but she said she can't. She seemed kind of weird about it." Her mom set down the shirt she was folding, patting the couch cushion next to her. Sarah plopped down with a sigh. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Did she say why she couldn't?" her mom asked gently. Sarah shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the couch. "She just said her family has plans this weekend. But it felt like maybe there was more to it." Her mom nodded thoughtfully. "It's possible her family does have something going on. Or maybe she's just not ready for sleepovers yet, for her own reasons." Sarah hadn't considered that. She chewed her lip, thinking. "You mean... like maybe she's worried about something too? Like I am with the bedwetting?" "It's possible," her mom said with a soft smile. "Everyone has their own challenges and fears, even if we can't always see them." Sarah leaned against her mom, absorbing this idea. "So what should I do? I don't want to pressure her or make things weird." Her mom wrapped an arm around Sarah's shoulders, giving a comforting squeeze. "I think the best thing is to keep being a good friend, just like you always are. Let Kate know the invitation is open, but don't push. When she's ready, she'll let you know." Sarah nodded slowly. "Okay. I can do that." She hesitated, then added quietly, "I just really wanted to try having a sleepover. To feel... normal." Her mom pressed a kiss to the top of Sarah's head. "I know, sweetie. And you will, when the time is right. In the meantime, how about we have our own special sleepover this weekend? We can camp out in the living room, make popcorn, and watch all your favorite movies." Sarah managed a small smile at that. "With sleeping bags and everything?" "Absolutely. And I'll even let you choose the toppings for our sundaes." Sarah giggled, feeling a bit lighter. "Even if I want gummy bears and chocolate sauce?" "Even then," her mom agreed with a grin. "It'll be our own special tradition." Sarah hugged her mom tightly, grateful for her unwavering support and understanding. The disappointment over the sleepover still stung a little, but her mom's love and the promise of their own special sleepover helped soothe it. Maybe Kate just needed time, Sarah thought. Just like Sarah had needed time to work up the courage for a sleepover invitation. And in the meantime, she could focus on enjoying the little moments of connection and normalcy, even if they looked a bit different than she had imagined. With a deep breath and a determined nod, Sarah hopped off the couch, ready to start planning their living room campout.

I don't have to wear one even though I would like to all of the time. So how long will you wear a diaper after first wetting? I like to wait until I think it might leak. How long after messing in it? My wife doesn't want me to mess mine so I would have a hard time answering this one.

The brand new ABU Teddy that I came up with, a cross between an ABU Little Kings and a Kiddo Teddy's 😎😂😂😂

I don't know if you only read the stories or also the comments. But believe me compared to others (like me) you are not bad to Connor with this comment. I live for bad bad things happening to characters in DD.

Wow, what a fun read! From start to finish, the laughs just kept coming. You didn't take any prisoners here, but the take down of the Dean is a classic. Now, it's on to the parallel chapter in the Homage story. Keep them coming!

You may be on to something. As one of the responders indicated, many people have a negative association of sleeping in wet sheets. That may create a subconcious bias towards only bedwetting if in a diaper at night vs "anytime anywhere" bedwetting. In theory, sleeping for weeks without a diaper, wetting the sheets whenever the urinary urge comes on could reduce / remove that barrier. Meaning, training ones self to be comfortable letting go without a diaper every night. Eventually your body will let go automatically into the sheets (even without a diaper) Of course, you'd need to also be comfortable sleeping in a wet bed every night and probably have to reposition the idea of laundry every day to a positive. If you're wetting while asleep without a diaper consistently, I am confident you would likewise wet while asleep even with a diaper. Speaking from experience, I am maybe 25% to half used to sleeping in a wet bed (If the diaper majorly leaks, I won't change the sheets until the morning. But I do take off the wet shirt and usually the underpad and set them aside for the morning. That said, I have trained to uncontrollable wettings at night when in a diaper (Example- staying in a friend's new bed, minimizing liquids and peeing right before bed to not have an accident THAT night... but awakening having soaked the diaper and stained the bed without remembering it anyways) "Wetting without remembering" may happen up to several times a week, but I can also go maybe 2 weeks where it doesn't happen. A therapist once told me it's best to "go with the flow" meaning enjoy when it happens but don't stress if it doesn't (versus worrying about wetting or not wetting). Seems to work.

Got yet another sale email from Bambino about 2 hours ago .... I think someone's brain has finally gone 💥.

Also a furry! Just a girl that can't wait to make friends!!

Yes, post void dribble for a few seconds. That's accounted for some of the dripping between diaper changes and peeing on the floor. Yes, I can stop mid stream. I've been testing that at the urinal. I can stop, keep it stopped, and then restart if I want to resume peeing.

I saw a guy once who could grab tapes from both sides and stick them down simultaneously and with perfect alignment. He was incredible. Truly a step above all of us.

Im in my 9th year of wearing 24/7 I wear betterdry or the printed version Aquanauts I like a diaper I can trust

With the support of my gf I decided to go 24/7 for a while (not messing) and it feels so good to be in diapers long term. abdl has always been a coping mechanism for me and distressing thing. I’ve talked with her about it for a few days and she’s on board with me going 24/7. she even changes me when I ask

I don't care about discretion. I don't care if someone can tell or can figure out that plastic-backed toddler underwear is involved. I wear the normal size clothing regardless of diaper status.

Hello to all who took their time to comment on my question. Thanks for all your replies and analysis. On the weekend I was able to each out to the original author and got a short approval to post it. And I finished to type the last chapter that I added in the end. I will need to go over gramma and spelling once more before I may post it an some 2 or 3 weeks. As english is not my mother tongue I will take my time for that and its about 46000 Works and 100 pages (with a lot of new lines to make it readable). A lot of thanks also from LittleFenny for this explanation about the law behind that. As the first capers are really pretty similar, because it was where I started and were not to confident to deviate to a grater parts of the original story, The only thing apart of rewriting in my own words was that i added inner monologs to describe her feelings and padded out the plot where explanations and reasons where missing. So there, the degree of similarity is on a event to event basis and you can actually still compare each paragraph where something happens. In the later parts i just read the original and recreated another part that fit in the gap and it even has little to no connection to the original, with adding new events that happened, adding new days they where just skipped in the original, adding friendship. So it just the basic idea that is similar, and that is the reason I want to post it anyway. In the end i am glad that i got the approval from the original author. Again thanks a lot for all the comments that was a great help for me. Annie

With the disclaimers, I Am Not A Lawyer & I Am Referring To United States Law, but having had reason to look into copyright law for a few different reasons on a few different occasions: Copyright protects specifics and creative work. So you can't copyright boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy and girl get back together. But you can copyright your latest take on the age old pattern. This is also part of why the courts and copyright & trademark office have said AI created works don't get copyright -- a machine did it, it didn't do so under the direct creative control of a person but the randomized application of an algorithm, therefore it's not creative work and doesn't get copyright protection. You can't copyright titles, although if a title is really popular and well recognized you might have issues under trademark law. (Thus why you will find dozens upon dozens of stories with generic and straightforward titles like: Home For The Holidays, or Summer Vacation, etc.) Trademark too has limitations: A romance author tried to stop other romance authors from making any use of the word cocky in their titles, subtitles, or series names arguing that because she'd trademarked a series name that included the word no one else was allowed to use it. She had a momentary victory with Amazon temporarily stopping sales of a few books she submitted complaints about, and then got roundly laughed at and lost in both the courts of law and public opinion. Copyright and trademark are generally shades of grey and not absolute black and white rules. There have been three lawsuits in which Apple Records (the label started by the Beatles) sued Apple the computer company. The first time around in the late 70s based purely on not wanting to share the name, again in the 80s when Apple the music company argued the sound capablities of the Apple IIgs were a violation of the out of court settlement for the earlier lawsuit where they agreed the one wouldn't get into computing and the other would stay out of music (leading one of the Mac OS programmers to name part of the sound software for the Mac sosumi which can easily be read as so-sue-me), and then again when Apple the computer company came out with iTunes. The first two cases were settled in private agreements and the third time around it went to trial and Apple Computer won. As people get this one confused all the time: There is no obligation to defend a copyright. You can ignore violations for years without losing your copyright and then change your mind ten or twenty years later and send out cease and desist letters. Trademark has to be maintained by both actively using it and by actively opposing misuse of it (this does not however have to be antagonistic opposition, when a certain famous cartoon company sent legal threats to day cares that had painted their trademarked characters onto the walls they could have instead sent letters granting a limited license to the use of the characters. There isn't a legal requirement to threaten only to take some form of action to make the situation no longer a violation). As an example, if someone at the Apple computer corporation got it into their heads that people know them mainly for Mac computers and iPhones they could stop using the word Apple in their name or product announcements and use the name Macintosh. Macintosh Macs on the desktop, Macintosh iPads and iPhones in pockets and bags, and if the didn't use the word Apple to refer to the company or products for enough years (ask an IP lawyer, again, I Am Not A Lawyer) the board of directors could one day discover that they no longer hold a trademark on the word Apple in any field of commerce. Even if that unlikely day came to pass, you still couldn't pay me to start a company named Apple since both companies seem to have rabid legal offices. In @Annie_Austria's case: wow, the grey zone is probably murkier than usual. Mostly (in my opinion, again not a lawyer) from openly having it start as a chapter by chapter rewrite of another story. If on the other hand you had made page or a few pages long outline of the plot of the story and then worked from that, probably much further into the, "no problems," side of the shades of grey. If you made an outline of the original story, tinkered with that outline merging and splitting side characters, adding events, or perhaps changing how major plot points go ("Hey, what if instead of the major midpoint event being the protagonist's family discovering what's been going on we move that to the last act and instead at the midpoint the protagonist is thrown for a loop by _____, oh and then this happens, and because of that this character will want to do that..."). Keep in mind there are actual published for profit by major publishers books that started as fanfic and even if the rights holders to the stories they started as fanfic of wanted to do something about that there is little they can do. (I can name at least two book series, I'm sure others here can name more)

Chapter 14 (Final) Abby stared at the spot where Becky had vanished, her horrified screams still echoing in her ears. She couldn’t help but feel a little sick, but happiness quickly took over. Who cared about stupid, stinky Becky? She’d won! She wouldn’t have to wear baby clothes or diapers anymore! She wouldn’t have to act like a stupid little girl! And she could wish for anything she wanted! Intense, giddy excitement welled up inside her. She knew it was just another one of the babyish traits the Magician had given her, but she still couldn’t control herself. She started jumping up and down as her emotions overwhelmed her – she was just so happy! “I win! I win!” she squealed. “I get three wishes!” The Magician chuckled at her immature antics. “Yes, little one. You win. Now, why don’t you tell me what you want to wish for, sweetie?” Abby squealed again, wonderful ideas flashing through her mind. She’d been so focused on the game that she hadn’t even really considered what fabulous things she could ask for with her wish, but now, with the childish energy coursing through her, her answers burst from her lips at once. “I wanna big mansion!” she demanded eagerly. “And, and I wanna be rich! And I want a handsome husband to care for my every need! And-” “Hold your horses, sweetie!” the Magician chuckled. “You’ve made your three wishes! Alright then, Abby. A big, lavish mansion, all the money you could ever need, and a handsome husband to take care of you.” “Yeah!” Abby shouted, still bouncing in excitement. The Magician smiled his dark, twisted smile. “Your wish is my command.” And with a snap of his fingers, Abby’s surroundings vanished. At once, the playroom had disappeared, and Abby found herself in an enormous, lavishly decorated bedroom, with gorgeous chests of drawers, a walk-in closet, and a king size bed. She grinned. She had her mansion. And she clearly had her riches as well. Now to find her perfect husband… But when Abby took a step towards the door, she realised that something was wrong. There was still something thick between her legs. Something soft and crinkly. She looked down and breathed in sharply when she saw the puffy white nappy she was wearing around her waist. Why was she still in diapers?! And why wasn’t she wearing any other clothes?! Didn’t this new life of hers come with lavish outfits in the latest styles? Then, her stomach dropping horribly, she realised. In her babyish excitement, she’d completely forgotten to wish herself back to normal. “No…” she whispered, but even as she spoke she felt a fullness in her bottom, a pressure that became uncontrollable almost as soon as it had appeared. “No!” she squealed. Abby clenched her bottom as tightly as it would go, but it was no use. Her body betrayed her. She felt herself bending her knees and sinking into an uncontrollable squat, her padded bottom thrust out behind her and her bare breasts wobbling on her chest. Then with a loud grunt, she started pooping her pants. A stream of warm pee-pee soaked into the padding as well, drenching and discolouring the front of the large, pristine nappy she’d only just been magicked into. The seat of her diaper sagged as a heavy, stinky load dropped into the back. “No!” she cried, as the yucky mess filled her pants. “You twicked me!” she screeched, even though the Magician was nowhere to be seen. “It’s not fair! I won! I WON! I wanna be a big girl again! I WISH I WAS A BIG GIRL AGAIN!” She heard a chuckle from the doorway, and looked up. But it wasn’t the Magician. It was her boyfriend, Alex, the one she’d been serially cheating on for months and months. “Hi, darling!” he cooed, hungrily taking in the sight of her messing her nappy like a two-year-old. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart. I kept hoping you’d be back sooner, but it looks like you managed to hold on right to the end, didn’t you, baby?” Abby just stared at him in horror. Then she scrunched up her face again as her body started dumping another wave of poo-poo into her pants. Alex chuckled again and strode over to her. “The Magician told me he’s given you all sorts of babyish behaviours,” he said pleasantly. His eyes were glittering, not unlike the Magician’s had done whenever he was feeling particularly malevolent. “But that’s okay, princess. Even though you’re just a big, stinky baby now, Daddy still loves you.” Abby groaned, partly in disgust at what she’d just done in her diaper, and partly in horror at her boyfriend’s words. A big, stinky baby? Daddy?! No… She’d won! This wasn’t supposed to be happening! She looked up at him tearfully and remembered her own words – a handsome husband to care for my every need – and let out a piteous sob. “There, there, precious girl,” Alex said soothingly – but there was something darkly patronising about his tone as well. He stroked her back, and reached down to pat her sagging nappy. “It’s okay. It won’t be so bad. It’s not like your life is over, silly! But a lot of things are going to have to change, little one, and I’m not just talking about your diapers.” He leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Things are going to have to change in the bedroom.” Abby felt a chill run down her spine, and then the realisation of what was happening became too much, and she started bawling at the top of her lungs. Abby’s New Life Months later, Abby pouted in her crib. Her nappy was full and yucky and she wanted changies now. But Daddy was busy with his new girlfriend. Her nursery was right next to his bedroom, the room she’d so mistakenly believed to be her own when she’d first appeared in her new home, and she could hear the faint sounds of a creaking bed and short, excited gasps and moans through the wall. She blushed with humiliation. Daddy was supposed to be her boyfriend, but doing naughty things like that with him (or indeed with anyone) was a big no-no for her now. She’d been naughty for sleeping with other men, Daddy said, and her punishment was to say bye-bye to adult fun forever. She scowled petulantly and went back to looking at the large TV screen Daddy had set up facing her crib. Something to keep you entertained while I’m doing grown-up things, he’d told her. Madelyn Smith was on the screen. It was one of her many porn videos; Ex-Feminist Sucks Dick in a Pissy Diaper. Abby watched Madelyn deepthroat the man’s cock, cross-eyed and drooling, a clearly soaked nappy squishing beneath her bottom as she sucked, and her pussy tingled. She started rocking against her teddy-bear, biting her lip. She was desperate. Desperate for anything, for any kind of sexual contact with a man at all. Maddy might have been turned into a diaper fetish pornstar, but at least she still got to have sex! Abby could feel the beginnings of a tantrum coming on. She’d won the Magician’s game! And yet here she was, sitting in her crib in a wet and messy nappy, watching a feminist academic turned adult-baby bimbo slobber and drool over a man’s cock while her own boyfriend fucked another girl in the bedroom next door! And it wasn’t just Maddy – she saw all of her former co-contestants a lot more regularly than she’d hoped. She saw Katherine’s ridiculous adult Pampers advert whenever she was allowed to watch television with Daddy. Abby had never liked her, but she still found herself blushing with second-hand embarrassment at the thought of Katherine dirtying her diaper on camera for millions of people to see. Then there was Becky. They went to the same daycare, at least on the days when Daddy said he was too busy to be stuck changing her smelly nappies, and the staff were constantly having to separate the two of them when they inevitably started shoving or name-calling or pulling on each other’s pigtails at any opportunity. Susie was there too, but she was in the older girls class. Abby might have been jealous if it wasn’t for the bright red bottom she was so often sporting under her soggy training pants. It seemed that even though she was unable to disobey her mother, the woman always made sure to give her daughter plenty of ‘smacky bum-bum time’ to remind her of her place. When she was led past the older girls room, Abby sometimes saw Susie perched on one of the little plastic training potties than lined one side of the wall, doing her business while a daycare worker supervised – at least on the days when the girl’s mother didn’t send her to daycare with a bulky diaper under her skirt. Abby’s attention drifted back to Maddy, the baby bimbo. She watched her sucking cock jealously, growing more and more restless in her crib. She still had no more control over her emotions than the average toddler. Tears stung her eyes, and she started breathily heavily. Her chest hitched. Then, out of nowhere, she couldn’t contain herself any longer. “WAAAAAAAAAAH!” she wailed at the top of her lungs. “WAAAAAAAAAAH! I don’t wanna be a baby! DADDY PLEASE! I don’t wanna pee and poop my pants! I don’t wanna wear NAPPIES! I wanna have big-girl naughty time! I wanna be a grown-up again! WAAAAAAAAAAH!” She heard a woman’s laughter from the bedroom, followed by a girlish squeal and a moan of pleasure, and she sobbed and cried even harder, pounding the mattress of her crib furiously. She wanted to have sex! She wanted to fuck! Driven wild by the sounds of cocksucking from the television and sex from the room next door, Abby mounted her teddy-bear and began to hump it desperately in her soaked and stinky diaper, grinding her pussy against the sodden padding and trying to imagine she was with a man. Her neediness built and built, and the sounds of sex got louder and louder, not quite drowned out by the whorish moans coming from the TV. She started issuing little high-pitched grunts of pleasure. Her mind was focused on the noises coming from the bedroom, and as her boyfriend’s latest lay cried out in orgasm, Abby did the same in her poopy nappy. Then she collapsed onto her mattress, red-faced and breathing heavily, her full diaper stuck up in the air behind her. It was the closest she’d ever get to having sex again. Just like all the other girls, Abby’s life had been forever altered, and she would have no choice but to get used to it. The End *** If you enjoyed The Magician's Game and want to read more like it, I also post on Tumblr, DeviantArt, and SubscribeStar.

Sounds like fun. Glad you have a supportive gf and the freedom to be yourself!

Same as yesterday morning except for a different diaper, wet and messy in a NorthShore MegaMax Air Lock breathable diaper. An excellent cloth back diaper, no substantial diaper sag like other cloth back disposable diapers, and this morning's diaper would definitely qualify for a diaper susceptible to sagging down to my knees! Highly recommended, no leaks, no diaper blow-out, just wet, soft, warm, and squishy sitting here. Standing up the diaper remains snug and conformed to me body.

Starting off with a tranquility under my Protech briefs, wearing my NASA flight suit. I put it on just after I started laundry, just after midnight. Just got finished with it, just made a mess. Ideally, I will be taking the week off so they’re probably a bit more opportunities to pad up.

Well dang it took me long enough to get caught back up again. I got behind a bit due to work demands. Then I thought that because your chapters are a bit longer and definitely more intense I would catch up on some of the other stories and catch up on this one after. Well that didn’t work because I had to take a trip to Denver for a week and that put everything back even farther. Well I am back and taking the time to get caught back up. Happy belated birthday! I thought I was the old fart around here but I am just a babe in comparison. My hat’s off to you for all your hard work with all the writing. Being at least ten years your junior I know I wouldn’t have the energy or drive. Finally a bit of commitment on the story. I knew Ian had the potential to get himself into some trouble thinking with his little head. He did manage to accomplish that. I do believe that Sarah might have overreacted just a little. If she wants an actual relationship with Ian I don’t think that total control is the way to go. Even if Ian has expressed his desire to not have to have any responsibilities, I still think he is going to have to resist some of these restrictions. As an example, he has planned the night of drinking. I am sure at least in part due to his forced abstinence. He is a hardened combat veteran and then trained in tradecraft. I can’t imagine him just giving up that type of total control over all of his life. Awesome job with the story. I’m not going to promise anything I can’t be sure to keep, but rest assured I will be reading all that comes eventually.

ABU Teddy 🤭

Tony squirmed, and his stomach was grumbling. "Come on sweetie, drink the bottle!" Ella said. She pulled him closer into her lap, holding him tight. She held the bottle close to his face. He frowned. "This isn't fair Mommy. I don't want another bottle," he whined. "I already can't take any more." She smirked down on him, and bounced him on her knee. His diaper crinkled, and his stomach grumbled again. "I don't remember agreeing to any limit on how much I could feed you. The deal was you had to keep your pampers clean, not that I would then starve you." "But..." he said. She waved a finger at his nose. "Ah ah ah, no whining. You know Baby has to listen to his Mommy, right?" "Yeah..." he pouted. "And that Mommy always knows what's best for her baby?" "Yeah" he said again. "Then baby should listen to Mommy and drink his buh buh. Come on, drink up!" Tony frowned, but opened his mouth for the nip. She shoved it in, and he started sucking. Tony shuffled in Ella's lap, trying to ignore his stomach cramping. He squirmed as if trying to break out of her grasp, though he put no real effort into it. He was dressed in an outfit that was fairly normal for him at home- light purple shirt over a thick white diaper printed with bunny rabbits, pacifier tied on a string around his neck, and hair in pigtails, the only thing that was different from normal is his "Mommy" deliberately kept his skirt and onesies off so he "couldn't hide any accident in his diaper." The reason for that was the thing that wasn't normal for the night, the bet he had made. The bet seemed simple at first. Mommy would put him in his diapers, as normal. He would then be banned from the toilet, which happened from time to time. They had some of their kink friends coming over the next day, and if he managed to keep his diaper clean until bedtime, he could dress in normal "Big boy" clothes the next day for their visit. That came with special privileges. He could finally sit at the dom table, rather then serving them with the other subs. He could drink alcohol, rather then the normal juice and milk his AB sub status left him with. Rather then being teased and humiliated the whole night, he could finally be the one watching the show from a position of control. If he failed and filled his diaper, however, he wouldn't be. Instead, he agreed to let Mommy hypnotize him once the morning before and leave an instruction in his mind, without his knowing what that instruction was. The possibilities left him terrified, if a bit excited. She could make him act like a dog, and bark every time someone new entered the building. She could make him instantly obedient to any command, and get ordered around by the entire group all night. She could make him constantly horny, and eager for any chance and pleasure. The fact that he didn't know was what was most frightening. At first he thought this would be an easy bet to win. However, what he forgot was that the normal rules for when he played her diapered sissy still applied. That meant he had to do anything she asked, including eat or drink anything. So, after his eight bottle of milk, third bowl of beans, and constant force feedings of whatever Mommy found around, his stomach was turning with over an hour left before bedtime. "AH ah, stop squirming sweetie, or I may have to give you a spanking!" "I can't stop!" he replied. "My stomach hurts so bad!" "Then let go. Into your diapie. That's what it is there for," she smiled. "NO! I WILL WIN!" he replied triumphantly. Ella giggled. "That's a really proud way to say you MAAAYY be able to keep your diaper clean, MAYBE, if you try real hard." Tony groaned. His stomach turned, and he heard himself let out gas into his diaper. "EEEP! Mommy! Please no more!" he whined. Ella giggled. "Its ok sweetie, far from the worst thing I've seen you put into your pampers. Now drink your buh-buh." He kept drinking, and squirmed as he clenched to keep his diaper clean. Ella started bouncing him up and down harder, and he felt his innards loosening as he did. "What? Am I not allowed to bounce my widdle baby on my knee? Hear his widdle diapers crinkle? Hear his stomach..." "EEEP! Mommy!" he said as his stomach cramped up loudly. He began to sweat from the effort, and tried to distract himself by drinking the bottle, though the milk only made the feeling worse? "EEERR... ER..." he said, straining from the effort. His stomach grumbled again, and... BLAART! "NO! OH NO! NOT NOW!" He shouted his gut finally opened up and poured its contents into his diaper. Mommy giggled and kept bouncing, and he felt the mess grow and mash into him over and over. It was over in moments, but the damage was done. Mommy laughed out loud as she bounced him again, knowing she had won. "Oh no," he moaned. "Oh yes stinky, that's a full diaper. I won the bet," she teased. "But that's not fair! You didn't say you were going to force feed me all that!" She silenced him by shoving his pacifier in his mouth, which he knew came with the order for silence. "Now now, we both agreed to the deal. You were just so excited about maybe being a big boy for our friends that you didn't think things through, weren't you?" He blushed and nodded. "And isn't it that same lack of thinking and over excitement that explains exactly WHY you're my little sub in diapers and why I'm your mommy?" He nodded again. "Good. Glad you learned your lesson. Now, are you going to finish your buh buh, or am I going to keep bouncing you up and down in your poopy diapers all night?" He groaned. He was full, but the repeated squelching was already making him nauseous, so he sucked and finished the bottle. When he was done, she stood him on the ground and sniffed around him, then waved a hand in front of her nose. "Whew! You really did a number on those diapers. You stink like a sewer! No hiding that, eh?" He shook his head. "Good boy. Now, off to bed poopy pants, and we'll play our game tomorrow." She patted his bottom, giving another nauseating squelch. He looked at her with a pout, and she waved goodnight at him. He waddled toward his bedroom, thoughts about the next day turning over in his mind.

.... "Wha... wha?" Tony said. A fair of fingers were snapping in front if him, and he focused on them then felt his focus break. His mind cleared as if he was walking out of a fog, and he remembered where he was. Mommy was looking at him and smiling. "You ok honey? We're all done now." He looked around himself. He was in his own bedroom- a small, purple space with an adult sized crib, a pile of stuffed animals, and a closet full of dresses and diapers with just enough space to hide it all if someone vanilla came to visit. He was sitting on the ground, leaning back with his hands behind him, and wearing a diaper and bright yellow dress with a white collar. He realized he had just been hypnotized, and she had woken him up from it. "What did you do Mommy?" he asked. She waved a finger in front of his face, her normal reaction to his misbehavior. "Ah ah ah," she said. "That's for Mommies to know and little sissy babies to find out. Need help up?" Ella reached down and pulled him to his feet. He stood up, blushed, and straightened his dress. "Now, we have some house work to do before they come. I want you to take up the laundry, sweep and wipe the floor on your hands and knees," "Why my hand's and knees?" he asked. "Why not the mop?" "Yes sissy, on your hands and knees," she aid. "And its because I said so. Then I wand you to clean the bathrooms..." "You know I think it's unfair I clean the thing I'm not allowed to use," he said. She smiled. "You mean like how I clean your butt and pampers ten times a day even though you're the one who uses them?" He stared at her with his mouth open. "Well?" "Touche." "Good girl." "And it's only four," he muttered. "What's that?" "Ummm... nothing Mommy. Thanks for changing my diapers..." "Twelve time... "More like three..." "Fifteen times a day. So, if you are done that, you can clean under the oven and fridge, and use the handheld vacuum to clean the stairs." He thought about her demands. "Mommy, why do all your instructions involve me crouching down?" She laughed. "Obviously just because I love seeing your pretty bum sticking out of your skirt. Now be a good girl and get working," she said, and patted his diaper. He shook his head. He knew she did SOMETHING to him. The question was WHAT. So far, none of the words she used gave him any immediate trigger. He stopped for a second, and waited as if he was refusing her instructions. No part of him felt compelled to move forward. He was obeying her out of his own free will and kink, not due to hypnosis. He thought for a moment. He took out his phone and set it to record. "Hey dumb baby! Hey little sissy! Hey diaper girl!" he said, using the various names they tended to call him. He stopped recording, and played it back. "Hey dumb baby! Hey little sissy! Hey diaper girl!" his phone said. He paused and waited for any instinctual reaction. "Nothing," he said. No impulsive motion, no embarrassing line blurted out, no sudden horniness, no bending over or spanking his own bottom. He heard laughing behind him. His Mommy was leaning against a doorway and watching him from across the house. "You aren't going to figure it out that way baby girl." He waited for a reaction from "baby girl," but got nothing. "Don't you also have chores too, Mommy?" She put a finger to her chin and pretended to think. "Hmmm let me check my list," she took out her phone. "Task one, tell the little subby in diapers to do all the work for me or else I'll spank her. Step two, watch her do the work while I enjoy the site of her skirt rising over her little pampered bottom whenever she bends over." "Hmph, meanie," Tony said, and walked into the laundry room. He looked at laundry machines. The dryer had finished its load, and the basket was on top of it. He reached up to grab it, then lowered it down to the ground. BLARRT! He jumped up as he heard the sound coming from the back of his diaper. He reached behind himself and felt the padding in a panic. It wasn't entirely dirty yet, but he knew he had been close. "What was that!?" He shouted out loud. He looked over his shoulder at Mommy, who was watching while sipping wine. She shrugged and pursed her lips in a feigned confused face. "I don't know. You're in diapers, maybe it just comes out from time to time. Isn't that why you wear them?" "Uh huh," he said, and looked back at the basket. He touched the top of it, and nothing happened. He opened the dryer and grabbed the clothes, and nothing happened. Whatever caused it, it wasn't just doing a chore. That is, if the sudden release WAS from the hypnosis. He pulled the clothes out of the dryer and dropped them into the basket. He squatted down to pick it up, and... BLLARRTT! This time it was louder, and far more extreme. He bolted up, and reached back to feel a sudden lump in his diaper. "MOMMY! WHAT DID YOU DO!?" he shouted. Ella shrugged again. "I didn't do anything. It looks like you just messed your diaper, Ms. Potty Pants." "But..." "Should I get you diapers that say "Potty Pants," on them? They sell those, and it seems fitting." "Har har," he said. He looked at the basket again. Experimentally, he started to slowly squat down to grab the basket. BLLART! He jumped back up again. "Mommy! That's not nice!" he whined, with tears forming in his eyes. "Aww," she said with a fake pout. "What's not nice diaper girl?" "The hypnosis! You made me mess myself every time I squat!"

24 HOURS FROM TULSA Oh, I was only twenty four hours from Tulsa Ah, only one day away from your arms I hate to do this to you but I love somebody new, what can I do? Gene Pitney (1963), Dusty Springfield (1964) . . . . Ian leaned back, closed his eyes, and allowed his taste buds to take control of his senses. A pastrami sandwich with all the trimmings was a treat at the best of times, but coming on top of a steady diet of breast milk, it was nirvana. “Real food,” he sighed contentedly, “real food!” When he opened his eyes, he saw that Priscilla was staring at him strangely. “What?” “The look on your face. Ian, your resilience ...” Priscilla shook her head, trying to come to terms with it. “A half hour ago, you were in so much pain that I was fighting to hold back the tears, and there were a couple of times when it took everything I had not to throw up in your trash can. And now?” She continued to shake her head. “Now, here we are, eating a late lunch in my favorite deli, acting as if nothing terrible had ever happened to either one of us. I'm sitting here trying to process the strangest day in my whole life, and I'm not having much luck.” After changing Ian's diaper, she had led him out to her cruiser and driven directly to the deli, parking in the slot reserved for her mother at the rear of the building. Sitting at the small table, sandwiches, chips and beverages spread out in front of them, the only thing that seemed out of place was Priscilla's uniform. In every other respect, they appeared to be a young couple who had taken advantage of a late winter afternoon lull to duck in out of the cold and enjoy each other's company. “I'm afraid it's about to get stranger still,” Ian grimaced. He took a sip of his coffee, and was surprised to see that his hand wasn't shaking. “How so?” Priscilla leaned across the table, drawing closer to him. The intimacy of the gesture warmed her. Ian's smile, she now realized, had always been tinged with sorrow, with regret, the sometimes visible face of a broken heart. She longed to take him in her arms, to hold him close, and somehow to make all the pain go away. “I made love to you without thinking about the consequences. And they're real. Seriously, Priscilla, what I laid out for you wasn't theoretical; it's going to happen.” “No regrets, Ian … for either of us. One of the things I'm trying to process is my feelings for you. I'm nor ashamed of them, and I'm not going to apologize-- to Sarah, or anyone else.” “Good, because I don't want you to. And if anyone asks you straight out, just say da.” Priscilla's laugh was heartfelt. “I'm glad you feel that way because I don't think either one of us could deny it with a straight face!” “My thoughts exactly,” Ian grinned. “So, here's what I'm thinking.” He leaned forward, further closing the distance between them. “The security team will be organized into outer and inner perimeters, and when there are women and small children involved, the standard procedure is to have an all-female team on the inside, led by someone local with police experience. I'm pretty sure that Donnie would agree to make you the principal agent, but it would mean living on site … after completing the standard training course at Quantico, with a bit of supplemental training tossed in to fit the specific situation. The basic course is thirty-three days, and the supplemental would probably occur on site. Think you can live without me for a month?” “How on site is on site?” The twinkle in Priscilla's eyes told Ian that she was already sold, if only for the fringe benefits. “In the bedroom next to the target, which initially will be Sarah. By the way, I expect to be comfortably situated in one of the cribs that I occupied in the psych ward. The odds are good that a bedroom will be converted into a nursery, with me the sole occupant. Could get lonely in there.” The twinkle in Ian's eyes told Priscilla that Ian was not about to end their relationship. “And would this nursery of yours have a changing table, where I could look after you properly?” The twinkle in Priscilla's eyes had turned positively devilish. “Count on it … and perhaps one of those miniature refrigerators to house my ba bas.” His cock was straining to get hard inside its diapered prison. “Well, free room and board … and a course at Quantico would look awfully good on my resume ...” “But can I survive without you for a whole month? You've already made it clear that nobody else on the force would be willing to change my shitty diaper.” Ian was rather glad that the deli was all but deserted this late in the afternoon. “Suzie Marshall might be willing ...” “Can't see Sarah giving her the key. Besides, she probably isn't pistol trained. City girls just don't know their guns.” “Well, I could ask Mom; she doesn't have much to do in December, knows a good pistol when she sees one, and has definitely changed the odd diaper.” “Might make your dad jealous ...” Ian snapped his fingers. “How about one of those cute coeds camping out at the office? Maybe for extra credit.” “Hmm … nope … too late in the term. Sorry.” “Know any nannies packing heat?” “Not really … wait … Harriet's a possibility. She definitely wants to get in your pants, and her uncle is a notorious gangster. She may know what to do with a loaded gun.” “In my current state, make it a double action.” “Cocked and loaded, are you? Ready to fire?” “Not sure about the pin … might need some tender, loving care.” Just needs a little oil … a bit of pampering.” “Pampering is always good ...” Priscilla reached out to clasp the back of Ian's neck, and pulled him forward. “Such a baby,” she murmured, as she kissed him full on the lips, holding him tightly in her grasp. “But don't worry. A month at Quantico will go by fast, and then Mommy will always be here to change your shitty diaper. Da?” “Da.” . . . . “One more stop and we can call it a day,” Sarah announced. She turned around in her seat, and double checked to make sure that Vickie's seat belt was properly fastened. “Where to?” Rita was making her way slowly down the aisle. The accident rate in snow bound mall parking lots was staggering. “Mom says that we need to visit a shop in the northern suburbs. They apparently have a nice array of spanking implements that will encourage our babies to be more obedient.” “Works for me,” Rita shrugged as she glanced in the rear view mirror to see how Vickie was reacting. She wasn't particularly surprised to see that their colleague was staring aimlessly out the window, and paying no attention whatsoever to the frank discussion of corporal punishment underway in the front seat. When it came to paddling the rear end, Rita suspected that there was precious little to be left to Vickie's imagination. “Did you think that she was a bit too cruel,” Rita continued. “Who?” Sarah wasn't sure who they were talking about. “The lady running the store. It's one thing to leave that boy in the storeroom in a diaper and baby pants, sucking on a pacifier, while she rang up our purchase. But taking his trousers with her, and calling his mother to come pick him up? I don't know about that.” “Well, if the mother sent him to the store in the first place, obviously there's no harm done. But if he lied about that … if he's acting out some kind of baby fetish behind her back, it's better for her to find out now rather than later. Rita, you of all people know that reality rarely measures up to fantasy, especially adolescent fantasy. If she indulges him … starts sending him to school in diapers and treating him like a baby at home, he might decide that his fantasy isn't all that he thought it would be, and he'll move on. But if this is what he really wants, either she takes her new baby home and helps him come to terms with his infantile desires, or they end up in counseling. Either way, Tommy comes out ahead.” “I suppose so,” Rita reluctantly conceded, “but I hope that his diaper holds up. When his mother walks through the door, that poor kid is going to pee up a storm!” “They'll probably have to pry his pacifier loose with a crowbar,” Sarah laughed. “And I can't wait to slip Ian's pacifier into his mouth when we get home. It will get a real workout when I'm spanking his baby butt! How about you, baby girl?” Sarah twisted around in her seat, and licked her lips as she thought about what she had in store for Vickie. “You're so naughty that I'm not even going to bother spanking you. Nope. I'm going straight to the paddle, or perhaps I'll graduate to the cane that I'm going to buy at our next stop. Mom says that it might be the only thing that will get your attention. We'll see, baby girl; we'll see. But don't worry! You'll have your binkie to calm your tears!” . . . . Priscilla peeked at her watch, then stood up. “Be right back,” she said; “I'm going to call Mom, and see how things are going on her end.” Waving at the guys behind the counter, Priscilla opened a door marked MANAGER, and disappeared inside, leaving Ian to salivate over the next bite of his pastrami sandwich. While he ate, he was also thinking about his next talk with Donnie Freeman. Ian well understood that it was not in the Agency's best interest to find his daughter, for the simple reason that he would cease working for Langley the moment Linh arrived on his doorstep. When he had refused the latest Polish mission, he had in effect cast a formal vote of no confidence in a community that he had distrusted since adolescence. He was pinning his hopes on the Russians, but he wasn't quite ready to write the DC crowd off completely. Rita, Vickie and Sarah gave him three cards to play in this convoluted game, and Priscilla's admission that they were lovers had just added a fourth. As long as the Agency could keep control, Donnie would have been perfectly happy to learn that he was sleeping with every woman who crossed his path. Sex was merely a means, children the end. Ian concluded that pitching Priscilla to the Agency would be like tossing bloody meat into shark infested waters. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. . . . . “Fantasy Island?” Rita did a double take as she pulled into the lot. It was obviously a shop selling “marital aids,” but with a hardware store on one side and an Asian supermarket on the other, it looked distinctly out of place. “Yep. Mom says that this is the place to shop in the Twin Cities when you're looking for adult toys. Baby girl, have you been here?” Sarah would have bet a healthy sum that Vickie had an account here. After all, her wands had to come from someplace, and if her mom was right, this was the most likely source. “Uh huh,” Vickie muttered. She left it at that. “Well,” Sarah smiled brightly, “let's get you unbuckled, and then you and Auntie Rita can come inside with me, and we'll see what they have to offer!” Vickie waited for Sarah to unfasten her seat belt, and then slid out of the car. She needed a diaper change, and she knew that the shop had a restroom, but she was hoping to avoid the humiliation of being changed in public. She fervently hoped that she wasn't leaking. Vickie's heart sank the moment they walked through the door. She had done business with the young lady behind the counter on more than one occasion. “Victoria! It's good to see you again! And you've brought friends. Welcome!” “Hi, Jessica. Uh, these are two of my friends from work, Sarah and Rita.” Vickie nodded to left and right. “Sarah's in the market for an upscale paddle and a cane. Last time I checked, you had a really good selection.” “Right this way,” Jessica beamed. “Tell me how much you want it to hurt, and I guarantee you that we've got what you need. On a scale of one to ten, think two for an over the knee spanking, four for a ping pong paddle, five for a paddle with holes, and eight for a birch cane.” “Well,” Sarah laughed, “neither spankings nor paddling seems to have got my boyfriend's attention, so I want to move up. I'll need both the paddle with holes, and a cane.” “Good choices! I'd also like to sell you a whip, which comes in at ten, and I'll toss in a mannequin free of charge. If you haven't used a whip before, you really want to practice before turning it loose on your boyfriend. Whips and chains are not for amateurs, but once you master the whip, it will always be your first choice. Does he need a chastity cage?” “Do you sell them?” Sarah was getting really excited. “We have everything from cheap stuff that's good only for a bit of role playing to state of the art, stainless steel devices that can't be defeated, and with locks that can't be picked. Absolute control is guaranteed, or your money back!” “Fantastic! Show me … show me … show me! The best that you've got!” Jessica opened a case near the cash register, and brought out a life size replica of the male genitalia, and a small but brightly colored cardboard box. Opening it, she placed a ring and sheath on the counter, with a key that was already attached to an odd shaped lock. Reaching back into the case, she hauled out a small plastic piece whose purpose was anything but obvious. “Here's how it works,” she explained. “You squeeze the guy's balls inside the ring, and ratchet it closed, just like a handcuff. You want it tight, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation. Then, you slide his penis into this sheath; the best way to go about it is to tie a piece of string behind the head with a slip knot, and ease it into place. Next, slide this plastic cover into place on top of the penis; it will prevent pull out, which is the only thing that can defeat the device. Line up these two holes and these two pins like so, insert the lock, which is housed inside the ring, turn the key, and pull it out. That's all there is to it. Just ice his penis down first; the maximum length the cage will take is one inch. Oh, and for permanent chastity, just fill the lock with solder. Give him a choice between permanent chastity and a whipping, and I guarantee that he will beg you for the whip.” “Wonderful! I mean, really … wow! Thank you so much for your help; you've really got everything that I need. Now, could you do me a favor? My baby girl probably needs her diaper changed. If I get her diaper bag out of the car, do you have someplace I can change her?” Jessica looked around, not catching on to what Sarah was talking about. Then she stole a glance at Vickie's bottom, and broke out into a big smile. “Oh, yes, Sarah, changing your baby's dirty diaper won't be a problem. You can use the storeroom; there's a work bench in there that will nicely serve as a changing table. By the way, I'm Jessica!” “It's nice to meet you, Jessica … and again, thank you for all your help. Dealing with two naughty babies is really stressing me out, but with your help I'll finally have a fighting chance of bring them to heel.” “It's my pleasure, and if you ever need a babysitter, just give me a call.” Jessica handed Sarah a card with both her home and work telephone numbers. "And if you ever want to have a weekend free, I'd love to look after both of them. This one is such a cutie!” Jessica reached out to tickle Vickie's cheek. Sarah reached into her bag, brought out Vickie's pacifier, and slipped it into her mouth. “Baby girl just loves her binkie,” Sarah declared; “she finds it very soothing.” “Why don't you take her to the storeroom and get her undressed,” Rita suggested. “I'll fetch her diaper bag, and join you in a minute.” “Good idea,” Sarah crowed. “Come on, baby girl, let's go change your diapee!” . . . . When Priscilla returned to the table, she beat Ian to the punch. “Mom's sitting in the school parking lot across the street from your building. She's got a clear view of the entrance to your lot, but she says that the snow is piled so high on one old beater with California plates that she can't see all the way to the end of it. Somebody needs to get out there and clean that rust bucket off!” “I'll mention it to the owner the next time I run into him,” Ian said in his best deadpan voice. “If his girlfriend is the outdoors type, maybe he can con her into doing it for him.” “Might take a bribe.” “Rumor has it that the guy's just a big baby. He might get by with nursing on Mommy's titties.” “Be a step up from the bottles of breast milk that are his daily lot. I know for a fact that he's a tit man.” “The real question is whether he can keep his end up.” “You would have to ask his girlfriend about that.” “The last time I saw her, she had this big shit-eating grin on her face. If I had to guess, I'd say that the guy's got the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.” “I want to make love to you ...” “We could go to your apartment … no … wait … bad idea. Mom's got your place under surveillance. Really bad idea.” “Yeah.” Ian let out a deep, regretful sigh, and slipped out of Priscilla's grasp. “We should be prepared to back her play. You're a cop, and I'm a secret agent who needs to get his toy back. Who else is in on this gig?” “My boss, Chief Mischof … and he's big on dramatic entrances. Trust me … he'll show up with lights flashing, siren blaring … it's quite a show.” . . . . “Rita, I have to get back to work; remember, through Tuesday next, I'm covering the first half of Heidi's shift.” Sarah was thinking about the tasks ahead. “So, on Friday, the two of you will have to deal with Ian's apartment without me. Can you manage?” “We'll manage.” In her usual thorough way, Rita had already gathered enough boxes to pack up Ian's kitchen, bathroom and closets. She would find out on Thursday whether he had the original boxes for his stereo and TV, or needed replacements. Amos would load whatever she and Vickie left behind Friday night on his truck late Saturday morning, and dump it in her garage to be sorted out later. She would deal with Ian's artwork, far the most valuable of his few possessions, personally. “And will you help, baby girl, or are you just going to get in the way?” “We'll get it done,” Vickie shrugged. “Providing that disaster doesn't strike on Saturday night, are we still planning to tackle my apartment on Sunday?” “Absolutely.” Sarah couldn't wait to see the look on Vickie's face when she discovered that her bed was gone, and realized that she would be sleeping in one of their hospital cribs forevermore. She planned to put the cribs back to back, so that Vickie and Ian could touch and even kiss, but nothing more. With his cock safely locked inside the chastity device, her baby husband would experience a level of frustration that she would alleviate only in exchange for his obedience. She was going to enforce the D/s contract that he had signed-- enforce every word of it. “Jessica's offer reminds me that we do have to think about babysitters for our little ones,” Sarah noted. She was talking to Rita, and making a point of ignoring Vickie completely. “After all, they'll be times when we want to do grown-up things by ourselves. Do you think that Jessica would make a good babysitter?” “It depends on her schedule, but if she's free when we need her, I would certainly try her out. I've been worrying about babysitters because I would expect Ian to try and charm them right out of their panties. Once we have him locked in that chastity cage, a lot of my worries are going to disappear.” “So, you agree with my plan to keep him under lock and key?” “Absolutely. If we're going to have babies, I don't want him touching himself, and I certainly don't want him having sex with other women. We're going to keep him very busy, so he will need to conserve his energy to satisfy us.” “Ian is still my patient,” Vickie growled from the back seat, “and I fully intend to complete his treatment successfully. Both of you have a role to play here, or have you forgotten?” “Not at all,” Rita smoothly countered. “Manny and I will get together sometime on Friday and set dates for the 'diaper your favorite nurse' auction. If the sessions take hold, all three of us will be able to summon Princess Poopy Pants at will. Working together, Vic, the three of us should be able to trigger a breakthrough with less risk than if you try it alone. Once he's stable, we can keep the Princess in reserve to help him through future crises.” “At least once I'd like to repress the Major and allow the Princess to enjoy life for a while,” Sarah added. “Who knows? We might discover that we like the Princess better, and want to spend more time with her!” . . . . “Let's sneak across the road,” Ian suggested. “There's a bank of pay phones off the hospital's main lobby. I'll ring Donnie, and if you want, you can track Amos down in the ER and confirm that everything's ready for tomorrow night.” “Sounds like a plan; let's do it.” What Priscilla really wanted to do was find a vacant hospital room. Making love with Ian had left her horny as hell. Rip his clothes off, ditch the canvas chastity belt, pray that his diaper was poop free, and then make mad, passionate love to the first man to excite her since her brief but torrid affair with her eleventh grade biology teacher. Not for the first time, Priscilla asked herself what the hell was wrong with Sarah. She had somehow latched on to a great guy, and yet she treated him like crap. Did she think that he could be taken for granted because of his diapers? Given that she was sharing him with two of her friends, that seemed unlikely in the extreme. Whatever her motive, Suzie Marshall wanted Ian badly, and Vickie wasn't having it. Their rivalry was common knowledge. Ian had had a brief fling with his department secretary, and neither of them was treating it like some deep, dark secret. The lady running his diaper service was clearly in the market for a husband, and just as clearly believed that Ian would fit the bill quite nicely. Ian was wounded in body and spirit, but he was gentle and loving-- a combination so potent that it amounted to an aphrodisiac. And Sarah hadn't simply spanked him … she had paddled him! What the hell is wrong with this woman? In the lobby, Priscilla assured Ian that she could find the ER without difficulty-- in fact, it had been only two weeks since her last visit, when she and another officer had transported a professor who had collapsed in his office from a kidney stone attack. Amos welcomed her with open arms, and assured her that he had already cached the supplies that they would need for the upcoming drinking contest. He was raring to go, and no, he would not agree to man up and wear a diaper. He wanted to give the other team a fighting chance, or at least the illusion of one. Male pride, Priscilla sighed, stubborn male pride. Still shaking her head, she headed back to the lobby. . . . . “I recognize the area code, but not the number. That you, Street?” “In the flesh, Donnie. Calling from a pay phone in the hospital where Sarah works. Everybody having fun back there?” “At your expense, you mean? Sure. Setting aside the worrisome fact that one of our most senior agents can pick up the phone and call Irina Orlov whenever he feels like it, your love life is the talk of the building. If you're taking pills, the Director wants the prescription. Seriously, Street. Four women? Where do you find the time, never mind the energy?” “No pills, Donnie. Sorry, but it's simply a matter of self-discipline.” “Yeah, right. Cook up something a bit more convincing, and the Director will cover the cost of your honeymoon out of petty cash. By all means, take all four of the lovely ladies with you to Athens, have a heart to heart with Irina, and then move on to that quaint little hotel you told me about on Santorini. Get Irina to give us a bit of raw meat, and it's a legit expense. Gotta keep the bean counters happy, know what I mean?” “Helps to have something to offer in trade.” “How about we loosen the travel restriction for their embassy personnel a bit? Say another fifty miles?” “I'll make the offer, but it would be nice to have some leeway. Say … oh … a hundred?” “We can live with that, but we'd have to have something meaningful in return. And I'm not talking about bathtub vodka.” “About Priscilla … Julia's daughter ...” “Listening.” “Not to get too far ahead of the curve, but we may need a security officer in house. She's the logical choice, and she's receptive to the idea of visiting Quantico.” “Sweet. You sure you can survive without your nanny for a month, plus?” “Not really. She treats me like royalty. Diaper changes are a real treat.” “It's hard to tell on the recording, Street. How did she handle the truth?” “A couple of bad moments, but she hung in there. She gives me hope.” “You got a plan for the encore?” “Saturday night. Priscilla is urging me to do a bit of editing, but otherwise to give the same account.” “Ian, they have to know. There's no getting around this … they have to know.” “Yeah. And one of these days, I need to apologize to Emily.” Ian was badly startled when he felt an arm drape across his shoulders. Mushy poop was exploding into his diaper as he looked to his right. Seeing Priscilla, he grinned with relief, and turned to kiss her lightly on the lips. Priscilla's arm dropped, to wrap around his waist. It felt so good simply to hold him tight. “Got to go,” Ian said as his attention shifted back to the telephone. “I'll call you at home on Sunday, and share the highlights.” . . . . “Am I the only one who thinks that Sarah could use some professional help?” From the back seat, Vickie was watching her colleague exit the parking garage, holding the box containing one of the breast pumps to her chest. “I mean, really, what's she going to say when someone yells out 'hey Sarah, need help? What's in the box'?” “Considering that we're all going to add a full cup size to our bras,” Rita replied defensively, “there's not a lot to be gained by keeping this a secret.” “So, you want us to follow her over hill and dale, all the way to the seventh floor? I can see it now … 'yeah, folks, that's right. We don't have babies. We're not pregnant. But gee, we thought it would be so much fun to breast feed the boy friend that we're all sharing, so the three of us are going into the milk production business'. Think that might get our Director's attention?” “You have a point. Maybe we should come back around … say … 2 AM?” “And in the meantime, have you noticed that I'm sharing the backseat with a friggin' mannequin? A MANNEQUIN? That crazy bitch wants to lock our boyfriend in a chastity cage, keep the key, and graduate from spankings and paddling to caning and … ta da … a whip. Rita, this is nuts! Please … pretty please … tell me that you are not good with this!!!” “Of course not! For God's sake, Vic, calm down! Do I have to remind you that yesterday Sarah had all the keys to your diaper cover, and today I've got one in my purse? Here!” Rita reached into her bag, grabbed the key, and handed it over. “I'll get your diaper bag out of the trunk. Go home. Take a shower. Have something to drink. I'll give you sixty to ninety minutes, then I'll drop by to lock you in a fresh diaper and send you on your way. You are going to Sarah's tonight, right?” “Right. The game plan seems to call for spankings all around, and I've already got a diaper rash. My usual kinky fun this ain't gonna be.” “Not much I can do about the rash. My advice is to keep going with your bratty toddler routine. Sarah seems to be lapping it up, and you've got me convinced that this is the real you!” “Well, of course it's the real me! I am a brat, and I need my mommy. What I don't need is a sadistic bitch ruining my life, or Ian's. This D/s crap has to be shelved until after we've managed his breakthrough. Until then, it's counterproductive.” “I wholeheartedly agree!” “Then prove it.” “How?” “Tomorrow night. Amos and Ian want to tie one on, and Priscilla has set up a drinking contest with a bunch of cops in a bar up northeast. It's pretty much drink until you pass out, and whoever pisses his or her pants first has to buy the next round. The four of us are challenging the best the cops can put up, and Priscilla is going to wear a diaper to give us the edge. But my diaper will be soaked before we begin … unless you come along and change me just before we get started.” “Are you suicidal? Sarah will skin both of you alive!” “Rita, I think Ian is having second thoughts about his relationship with Sarah … serious second thoughts. He's signed on to become her baby husband, not an abused slave. She's changing the rules after the game's begun, and he's not having it. Look, I want the man, not the baby; you can have the baby all to yourself. Push comes to shove, we don't need Sarah. Between the two of us, we can see to all of Ian's needs. So, are you in or out?” “In,” Rita sadly admitted. “But you have to buy me some time to try and sort this out. I'll stop by the bar and change your diaper, but then I'm going to lock you up for the duration. Take your punishment, even if it's extreme. If Sarah does overreact, I can use that to play the honest broker. I don't want to lose a friend, but she's letting her fantasies run wild, and it has to stop. If she doesn't come to her senses and Ian asks for our help, I'll do what I think is in his best interest.” . . . . Sarah was crossing the lobby, heading for the corridor and the elevator that would whisk her up to the third floor. She was planning to activate the breast pump, and make sure that the mechanical beast actually worked. A twenty minute break, which she would take in another hour or so, would give her a chance to try it out. Glancing to her right, she saw a man talking on one of the bank of public telephones beyond the receptionist's desk. Her pace slowed as she looked him over. He was facing away from her, but she would have sworn that it was Ian, although she couldn't imagine what would have brought him to the hospital. Moments later, a young policewoman came into view, her face lighting up with a smile as she drew near the pay phone. Priscilla, Sarah said to herself, remembering yesterday's events. Her name is Priscilla. She watched as Priscilla's arm reached out to grasp the man's shoulders. The man turned, his face startled at first but then settling into a welcoming smile. He kissed her lightly on the lips. It was Ian. Priscilla's arm dropped, to wrap around Ian's waist. Possession. Sarah's world collapsed around her. Blindly, fighting to hold back the tears, the breast pump mocking her every step, she stumbled on across the lobby and down the corridor to await the elevator. Mercifully, it was otherwise empty as she made the brief journey to the third floor, and took refuge behind the closed door of her office. Turning on the radio, which was always tuned to her favorite country and western station, Sarah collapsed into her chair. The breast pump now forgotten, she crossed her arms and lowered her head to the desk. Quietly, she began to sob. Perversely, almost as if a demon was taunting her, a tune began to play softly in the background, a song about love lost, sudden and unexpected … The jukebox started to play And night time turned into day As we were dancing, closely, All of a sudden I lost control as I held her charms And I caressed her, kissed her, Told her I'd die before I would let her out of my arms Oh, I was only twenty four hours from Tulsa ... Soon, Sarah's tears began to flow.

Welcome to DD hope you find all you need here and on FL

Mommy remembers that Benny can't navigate too well, and it must be harder for him in the dark She points "We live that way, Benny. Why dont you lead the way? We live 7 houses down. Can you count the houses?"

"Mommy? Which way we leave? It dark outside and I can't tell"

"Thank you for changing my diapee, Ms. Beth"

Benny gets up quickly and follows Daddy. He never got his shorts back, so he's just in his t-shirt and diaper. He looks like Tommy Pickles, but he's wearing sandals. (That was interesting. Very humiliating)

Mommy puts Benny's legs down. Beth tapes his diaper up. Mommy gives Daddy the stinky bundle to Daddy to throw away. He rolls the bundle up, puts it in a bag, and heads toward the nearest trash can

Chapter 2 - New Friend Avery collected his McDonald's order when they called out his name and hurriedly left the restaurant. He did not want to linger and bring up old memories. He was trying to push the memories of his past aside and act like it never happened. Once Avery arrived home, he had already finished eating. tonight, Avery's routine was set; as soon as he entered his apartment, he changed out of his pull-up and work clothes into pajamas and hopped in the shower. Afterward, he grabbed a glass to drink and propped up a pillow behind him in his bed to settle down and read through a large notebook filled with research reports. Avery already knew that cancers were caused by errors in cell division. The instability of the cell is caused by changes in DNA, which occur in the DNA genes. So, the drug DNA Pharmacia is trying to produce will try to stabilize the cancer cells so they won’t split by addressing the broken gene. Since everyone’s genes are different, the drug would have to be different for each person. Apart from the minor bugs that Avery was hired to resolve, Avery quickly realized that there were more serious errors in the program. While it attempted to work out the energy level of a stable cell compared to an unstable one, it failed to get further and stopped with an error message. This was not just an issue with coding but a fundamental flaw. It was 1 a.m. by the time he figured out what had happened and knew he should speak to John in the morning. He took his sleeping pills but wanted to be sure not to repeat the same mistake, so he placed his phone on the dresser across from where he slept, making it necessary for him to get up if he wanted to turn it off. Avery groaned as the alarm clock blared, bright light from outside streaming through the blinds as the sun was rising and illuminating the room in a pale yellow. He stumbled out of bed to acknowledge the alarm clock on his iPhone. With a large yawn, Avery pulled off his boxers, then grabbed a fresh pull-up and slid it on. Then he grabbed his tan dockers and red-gold shirt off the floor. He could feel the sleep still tugging at his eyes, and rubbed them with the heels of his hands before attempting to tame his wild hair. In one swift motion, he quickly made a bagel and cream cheese and grabbed his notebook and notes from the nightstand. He stuffed the notebook and notes into his backpack and slung both of his smartphones, identical models except for the black protective case provided by DNA Pharmacia on the company phone and a dark hunter-green case on his personal device. He meandered half a mile to the bus stop, spinning the notes from last night's cram session while he waited. He wished for some coffee; the effects of the sleeping medication seemed to linger, leaving him drowsy. He pondered how long he could keep going on five hours of sleep When the elevator doors opened, Avery walked to the end of the row of cubicles to where his desk was next to the emergency exit. At the desk he placed his notebook and notes on the desk before reaching for the company coffee mug. He had to take a deep breath to steady himself before venturing out of his comfort zone into the community lunchroom. It was then that he remembered he had left his lunch at home. Cursing himself quietly, he knew that the company restaurant downstairs could provide him with delicious free food. But, facing one-on-one conversations wasn't something he was used to, so we would forgo lunch. Even getting coffee felt like a risk. Just then, he noticed the sexy young engineer pouring herself a cup of coffee and realized she'd spotted him, too. With a slight blush, Avery turned away to avoid eye contact. “Ah, you must be the newest recruit!” Christy's smile could light up a room. "I'm Christy." Avery fumbled for the coffee pot, fingers trembling as he filled it. "U-uh, I...I'm Avery," he stammered. "It's lovely to meet you, Avery." She offered her hand in greeting. Finally looking up, Avery was taken aback by Christy's slender, toned physique and athletic legs that strode with grace. Her bright green eyes sparkled with knowledge and curiosity, and her short bobbed hair framed her gentle face perfectly. Avery blushed and took her hand shyly, mumbling his thanks before quickly averting his gaze. From Christy's point of view, his smile was bashful and quiet. She was wearing a blouse and skirt that fitted her figure perfectly and gave off an impeccable vibe. The blouse was made of silky material in a deep emerald green; it went well with her complexion and made her eyes pop. It had a high neckline with a dainty frill outlining her face, drawing attention to her graceful neck. The fabric hugged her curves in all the right places yet still gave her some room to move around without being too tight on her stomach area. The slim sleeves ended with small buttons at the cuff for added sophistication. She tucked it into a sleek, high-waist straight skirt, completing the professional look she was going for. “Uh, if you - uh... need anything? I'm just - uh, a few desks down? Y'know and I can help...umm...maybe show you around?" Christy said. Avery gawped nervously before stammering out a half-hearted “M-maybe.” He fumbled as he scurried off to his desk; social situations weren't his thing, particularly when he found the other person attractive. Christy blinked in surprise at Avery's behavior. Typical engineer, she thought with an amused snigger. “Yup... That explains the stigma, alright.” With a smirk, she turned back to her work. Back at his desk, Avery knew that he had to make tremendous progress in debugging the program if John was even going to give him the time of day. He set out on the mundane task with determination and devoted the entire morning to solving these basic issues, hoping to an audience with John to show him the flaws he discovered last night. Just as lunch came around, John strutted briskly by. “Excuse me, Sir!” Avery said authoritatively, trying to capture his attention. John stopped and directed an intense gaze at him, his piercing eyes glinting beneath his dark navy blue suit tailored to perfection for his broad shoulders and tall stature. The suit jacket had a single button and a notch lapel, paired with a crisp white dress shirt and a coordinating silk tie with a subtle pattern. “Avery, how are you doing with the program?” he asked expectantly. “It...it's coming along; I've found some things that don't crash the user interface and a better way to input data, but....” Avery started before John cut him off curtly. “Good job. I have an important business lunch. I want more details on this in our project meeting." Without offering another chance for Avery to talk, John spun around sharply and marched towards the elevators. "But..." Avery felt powerless as he watched John leave yet again without taking any of his suggestions into consideration. As Christy unpacked her lunch, Avery watched from across the room with a look of disappointment on his face. He rolled his shoulders and started to say something but couldn't find the right words. "He's just like that with everyone," Christy said with a sympathetic shrug. But it was clear that Avery wasn't listening; he was too despondent. Turning back to his computer screen, full of lines of code he'd been working on for hours, it all felt pointless. Why bother putting in so much effort if John was just going to ignore him? Just as Avery was questioning his decision to take the job, he felt a sudden pressure in his bladder. He stood up from his desk and moved as quickly as possible towards the restroom, hoping no one was watching his rushed steps. He always went to a stall when using the bathroom so he wouldn't have to worry about anyone finding out he wore adult pull-ups. As soon as he entered the stall, he fumbled to remove his belt before lowering his pants and the pull-up underneath. His timing couldn't have been better--as soon as he sat down, his bladder released. It had been a few years since Avery had experienced a genuine accident, but there had been plenty of occasions where he had come uncomfortably close. His last accident had been back at college. He had left his last lecture, and instead of going to the bathroom before leaving campus as he normally did, he went straight to the bus to head home. Avery had realized he was in trouble about three stops away from his dorm room. By the time they were one stop away, he was crossing his legs and clamping down hard. He hadn’t come to terms with his bladder weakness at that point and wasn’t wearing any protection. “Are you OK, dear?” An old woman next to Avery had asked. Avery had nodded his head and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but even as he did so, he felt a little urine escape and soak into his underpants. Fortunately, his stop was approaching fast, and he hurried to the doors; every few seconds, he found a little more urine leaking into his pants and knew it had started running down his legs. As soon as the doors opened, he jumped off, and as the bus pulled away, he shuddered as what little control he still had gave way. After a brief moment, he felt the heat from his urine blossom all over the front of his underwear. Almost immediately, the warm liquid started running down his legs. Some of it dripped onto the floor and the rest onto his shoes and socks. After that, Avery had to waddle home awkwardly. Fortunately, it was dark, and there weren’t many people around. He was able to get to his dorm room without too much trouble. It was the next day that he had bought his first packet of protection. Avery was broken out of his reverie when he heard the bathroom door open again. He started thinking less about his past and more about his present. More specifically, he started to think about the department meeting the next day. He remembered what John had said previously, that if he had any suggestions, he should “slip them under the door” of his office. Coming out of the restroom, Avery made sure not to look at Christy, whose beauty intimidated him, and sat down at his desk. He decided to write a letter to John to describe what he was learning in all the research notes and articles and seeing in the code. He was hoping he would listen. Maybe then he would come to talk to him one-on-one. He grabbed a piece of paper and laid it down on his desk. He took his pen and twirled it in his hands while he tried to think how to start this letter… “Dear John, I have conducted an in-depth analysis of the program and notebook pertaining to current theoretical calculations. Based on my review, I have identified two potential issues; the first is the discrepancy between the stable and unstable cells in computational miscalculation, and the second is the lack of consideration for external forces impacting both cells. If it is possible, I would be pleased to discuss more details with you in my office. Sincerely, Avery” Avery folded the paper in half and wrote on top. “Please read.” He walked over to John’s office, which was empty because he was still out for his business lunch. He leaned down and slid the paper under the door. When he did this, he realized his golf shirt had slid up and temporarily exposed the white pull-up he was wearing. He stood up quickly and pushed the back of his shirt down. He was feeling embarrassed and unsure if anyone saw him. He walked back to his desk while never looking up. His anxiety was through the roof. He felt like he was about to have a panic attack. Avery quickly got into his backpack, grabbed one of his Valiums, and swallowed it down with some water. “Come on, don’t freak out. You can do this,” he kept trying to tell himself over and over. Finally, the Valium started working, and he felt a little calmer. He was able to focus back on the program. About two hours went by, and John finally came back to the office. Avery watched the corner of his eye as John bent down and picked up the letter. Avery had been struggling all day to focus on improving the subroutine, even with the help of Valium. He was still having trouble calming down and focusing. He was eagerly waiting for John to come over and discuss his idea and potential solution to the calculations, but to his disappointment, John didn't show up when the clock turned past 5 p.m. It was officially after hours. Avery was determined to talk to John, so he decided to stay late, hoping that John would come and talk to him. He began to get nervous, knowing he had to leave by 6 p.m. or he would miss the last bus to get home. Shortly after 5:30 p.m., John finally came back to the office. Avery watched from the corner of his eye as John bent down, picked up the letter, and walked into his office. A few minutes later, Avery watched as John stepped out of his office with his work bag, locked the office door, and walked towards him to get to the elevator. As he approached, Avery tried to get his attention... “Ah, John, do you have a minute? I would like to talk about my notes. I think it would be of benefit to you and the program.” John looked down at Avery sitting in his office chair. “I don’t really have time. We can discuss this in the project team meeting tomorrow. That is actually the proper forum for you to explain your idea to the team.” John’s voice was very dry and monatomic as if he didn’t really care one way or another if Avery presented his idea. Avery tried to say something, but John was too quick to turn and leave for the elevator as it opened, and he saw someone stepping in. That short talk with John made him pee just a little into the pullup. He was so shocked that he lost control for even a second as he felt the slight warm dampness in his pull-up. It must be from the extra valium. Avery looked defeated. Christy took notice as she was shutting down her computer and grabbed her purse. She walked over to Avery’s desk. “Don’t take that personally. He does that to everyone. I used to think he didn’t like women!'' “He does play favorites, though, and there are two engineers that have been with him for a while. Everyone else sort of takes a back seat.” Christy continued as she leaned in closer to Avery, “Your best chance of getting him to listen is to explain your idea in the meeting, but you will be challenged. He just likes to push people.” Avery sighed. He couldn’t help but feel the dream job may not have been what he thought it was. He had expected his ideas to be listened to and respected, but John seemed to have no interest in them. He looked up at Christy, who was still giving him a sympathetic smile. Avery also felt awkward in a wet pull-up in front of Christy, wondering if she could tell something was a miss. “If John is so bad, how come you still work here?” Avery asked, “I mean, with your skills, you could probably walk into a job anywhere else.” “That’s kind of you to say.” Christy sighed as she seemed to think about Avery’s question, “The truth is… I do actually like it here. Like I said, it takes some time to get used to John, but once you get his respect, you’re all set.” “Getting his respect appears to be easier said than done…” Avery said ruefully, “This job isn’t what I thought it would be. Do you feel like that? Do you ever wonder if this is really the right place to work?” Christy smiled sweetly and replied, "I enjoy the work and the people I work with. Yes, John can be difficult, but I've learned to navigate his style. But you get used to it, and there are some perks to the job, and the company has good benefits and opportunities for growth. Plus, the work we do is important, and I feel like I'm making a difference." Christy thought for another second and then continued. "Aside from John, the people I work with are good, and Byran, our boss, is great. Yes, John can be difficult, but I look at my long-term goals. “ Christy walked with Avery to the elevator. She was going to get off the 2nd floor for the parking garage, and Avery pressed the first floor to get off for the bus stop. As the elevator was going down, Christy spoke up again. “I have been here for two years. When you take a job here, you have a two to three-year commitment on the job you take before you can take another job. I will be honest. In that time, I scoped out the other departments and found some that I think I would enjoy with great people. So, I hope to transfer out soon when the right job opens up. I believe Bryan will give me his support, and my performance reviews with him have been good.” “I guess what I am saying is that this isn’t forever. Hang in here for a couple of years, do well, and you can go to another department. I figure any place you work will have some asshole you have to learn to work with.” Christy looked at Avery. Avery was staring into the distance, thinking about what Christy was saying and wondering if he had the patience to stick it out for years without getting the respect he felt he deserved. Unlike Christy, he didn’t have too many other options. He was new on the scene and didn’t have the CV or connections she did. For him to get another job would be tough. The rest of the ride was quiet, but just as the second floor opened to the parking garage, Christy started to walk out. Avery spoke up. “Wait, I just wanted to say thank you. I really do appreciate it. I don’t mean to come off so unappreciative.” Avery smiled bashfully Christy looked back at him as she exited the elevator. “No problem, any time.” Avery nodded, feeling a little better as the elevator closed.. He knew that he had to prepare for the meeting and come up with a solid argument to convince John to listen to his proposal. With Christy's words in mind, Avery started to imagine how the meeting would go and how he could sway John to his side. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was ready for the challenge he was going to go home and prepare. As he exited the elevator, he felt the slight wetness of his pull-up. He cursed himself for losing control again as he walked to the bus stop and stood next to the bench. He had just finished a long day at work and was exhausted. He was also wearing a wet pull-up, and he was starting to feel self-conscious standing around others. He wanted to get home, strip out of this pull-up, and take a shower. A few minutes later, the bus pulled up to the stop. When he got on the bus, he noticed it was quite full. He passed by several people as he made his way towards some empty seats near the back of the bus. Avery took a seat near the back, which was almost empty except for a woman in her 40s with a small dog on a leash. Avery sat down and took a deep breath. He felt the wet pull-up between his legs squelching as he did so. For a horrifying moment, he thought there was a trail of urine running down his leg, but he was mistaken. He hated crowded buses even when he was dry. He felt as if everyone knew he had a wet pull-up on. Avery glanced down at the dog, a small brown and white terrier mix. The dog wagged its tail and licked Avery's hand. He smiled. He had always been fond of dogs, especially small ones. "What's your dog's name?" Avery asked. "Her name is Lucy. Mine is Sarah," Sarah said. "She's a rescue dog. We found her abandoned on the side of the road a few months ago." "She's so cute," Avery said. "She is," Sarah said. "She's a great dog. She's very loving and playful." “I have always wanted a dog but never been allowed one, or any pet for that matter. My apartment forbids any animals. Maybe someday, I will get lucky and find a friendly and loving dog like yours.” Avery sighed a little, thinking about how he asked for one several times growing up. Regardless of which foster family he was with, the answer was always no. Avery continued to pet Lucy. Enjoying the attention the dog was giving him. He started to relax a little bit. Sarah talked for a while about her job, her family, and her hobbies. Avery found out that Sarah was a nurse and that she had two children. She did most of the talking, but he did tell her about his job as a biochemical engineer and just hired into a new job. As they talked, Avery started to feel more comfortable. He realized that Sarah was a nice person, and he was glad that he had started a conversation with her. It was easier for him to talk to someone he didn’t know and felt he wouldn’t meet again. There was no fear about what people would think of him if they never met again. A few minutes later, the bus pulled up to Avery's stop. “This is my stop, and thank you for letting me pet your dog. I enjoyed that.” He smiled at Sarah. As he got off the bus and waved goodbye to Sarah and Lucy, and Sarah waved goodbye back. As he walked home, Avery felt a sense of relief. He had been feeling self-conscious about his wet pull-up, but petting the dog had helped him to relax. He realized that he didn't have to be as worried about his incontinence accident because the pull-up did its job.

Scene #18 It’s always pool weather where we live even if most people don’t keep their pools open year round. I don’t exactly get it; maybe it’s a cost thing, because it’s definitely warm enough to swim in January. We hit March, though, and everyone who has one opens their pool. I hope that’s me some day. Every year, our kinky friend Brenna has a big pool opening party with a bunch of friends from the local kink scene on the first Saturday in March. As Mary reminded me before we left, I don’t have the best record with pool parties. I guess the problem stems from who I am, which is totally unfair as a person should never be punished for something they can’t change. In my case, that something is that’s I’m too adorable. It’s true. Really. It’s not a kinky pool party per se, but it is behind a privacy fence, and there’s always a few people there who are a little more playful than others and always seem to get me into trouble. Jane and Lisa always go. It can always be a bit of a struggle around Jane for all the aforementioned reasons. Sandy always goes, and she’s never happier around me than when she’s stirring the pot. And Brenna’s boyfriend, my arch nemesis: Tommy. Tommy is Brenna’s bottom, and when he wants to, he decides to act like a middle. I’m still not sure I’m a middle, but that doesn’t matter to Tommy when he decides that’s who he is for the day, and like any middle of that “age,” he delights in picking on girls. Or at least me. Last year, not at the party but on a random day we were hanging out at the pool with Brenna and Tommy (‘Voldemort’ is his last name), I did the most grown up thing I could think of and tattled, as though Mary and Brenna weren’t pool side watching. I guess if ever there was a good time to admit that Mary sees me as a middle is when she told me, “Honey, little boys play that way when they like a girl. It just means he thinks you’re cute.” Hence the root of my problem: I’m just too adorable. He got a telling off, but it worked for less than ten minutes. Tommy doesn’t do anything inappropriate; he just makes a pest of himself, and last year I got fed up, and our splash fight (I was friggin Switzerland until I just couldn’t take it anymore) ended with both of us getting our butts spanked on the pool deck. Mary didn’t bare my butt, but she did give me a wedgie spanking and made me sit in timeout on my spanked ass on the hot pavement. The thing she did with the after-sun lotion at home made up most of the way for it. It was a great day for a pool party. Sunny, not humid, gentle breeze. I had my one-piece on under my clothes and a fresh outfit in our pool bag. Mary had the same, but a two-piece. I like my one-piece, and Mary likes to remind me most little girls where a one-piece, a not so subtle point. I was on guard from the moment we got ready to leave. Tommy, Sandy, Jane, and a bunch of kinksters who would think nothing of seeing me get my butt spanked, and I didn’t even know how many people on Mary’s Spank-Daphne-As-Needed list were going to be there. Even if it does take a village to raise Daphne, I am seriously over-parented sometimes. Anyway, we weren’t the first people there, and I carried the pool bag, and Mary carried the dessert we brought. “What did you bring,” Brenna asked after she gave each of us a hug. “A cake,” I said. “Thank you for having us over.” See? I’m very polite and well behaved. “You’re so welcome, sweetie,” Brenna said. “And Daphne decorated it,” Mary proudly said as she unveiled the cake. I know how to use a pastry bag. Mary would be telling everyone who would listen that I decorated the cake. It’s sweet that’s she’s proud of me for little things and likes showing me off (most of the time). I got down to my bathing suit, and Mary just took her tee shirt off and set our bag in a corner. I was getting a couple glasses of lemonade for the two of us, minding own business when my adorability led to the first incident: someone slapped me on the butt. This is a thing that happens to me pretty frequently what with Mary’s list of approved Daphne Butt Handlers, but I was a bit wound up in preparation for the instigators and consciously trying to avoid trouble, and my first thought was Sandy. Sandy, our good friend, my sometimes babysitter who won’t admit to me that’s what she is, and the woman responsible for introducing Mary to the joy (exclusively hers; mostly) of pull-ups and diapers. “Daffy, good for you!” Oh, Lisa. “Hi, Lisa.” “I told you so,” she said. What did she tell me again? “Um, what did you tell me ?” “You’re out of pull-ups. Like I said, everyone grows at their own pace.” How does one politely respond to that? Mary is very strict about lying, so thanking her for her confidence in me was wrong, presumably. “I guess so,” I said with a smile so fake I thought my face was going to crack. “We had a little slide backward,” Lisa said and stepped to her right, revealing Jane in a purple one-piece with ruffles Lisa had to have sewn on herself. And peeking out from that suit, could it be? “Is that a ...” “A swim diaper,” Lisa said in the most chipper way ever. “Don’t be shy, Janey.” “Hi,” Jane squeaked. There’s a very subtle difference between blushing in embarrassment and flushing in arousal, and Jane was doing both. “See,” Lisa said, “If Daffy can do it, you can, too.” I tried hard not to laugh. Tables turned. “Aren’t swim diapers in case...” “Well, you can never be too safe,” Lisa said with that condescending smile she turned on me not long ago. “Mommy,” Jane whined. She is a cutie pie. “Mary’s over here if you guys wanna say hello,” I said. And they followed me, and I could see evil cogs turning in Mary’s head when she saw what Jane was wearing. Sometimes I wish we had no kinky friends at all. “So what happened,” I asked Jane when we were both leaning against the edge of the pool. Mary was standing next to Brenna with a beer in her hand by the grill. “I piddled on the floor,” she said in her adult voice. “Why?” “Level 99 Bratting. I’ve done it before, but she never made be wear pull-ups for more than a day before. Or ever in public.” She sounded less than thrilled. Good. I’m a mature person, though, so I didn’t say, “Who’s a pull-up butt, now?” Or “Na na na na na!” “How many days has it been,” K asked instead. “Three. I think she saw you in them and liked it. She kept talking about cute they are.” See? My adorability even gets my friends into mischief. “So you did it to get put in pull-ups on purpose?” “No! I didn’t even think about that. I just wanted to do something naughty.” I’ve been unfairly (and fairly) accused of being a brat at times, but at least I have a goal in mind when I do. Gimme credit for that at least. I may be a brat (debatable), but I’m not a bratty nihilist. “What would you know about naughty,” I asked, “No one even spanks you right.” “I’m just a little girl, dammit. We have more delicate heinies than you ... And at least I don’t hafta use the pull-ups.” “We’re gonna be alone one day, and I’m going to paddle you like a canoe,” I reminded her. Two kinky adult friends, but talking and teasing each other like good friends do. Or so I’ve been lead to believe. It’s a conspiracy, is what it is. It has to be. All these people ganging up on me. A little good natured joshing between friends as we got out of the pool. All I said was, “That thing is like two times the size now.” And it was! It was filled with pool water. And maybe I gave her a pat on the butt (maybe as in, yeah, I did, if you happened to be looking at me when I did it). We gravitated toward the food table. I don’t know what it is about the smell of pool water on your hands that makes eating Fritos while you’re still dripping so much better than fritos at any other time. I think it must be the magic of pool season. “You guys having fun,” Mary asked us with Lisa at her side. Lisa had a towel for Jane, also purple with “JANEY” monogrammed in big pink letters. “She said my pull-up was huge and threatened to spank me,” Jane said in her little voice. So freaking unfair. One second, adult. Next, takes our adult conversation, changes the tone of her voice, and BAM! How am I supposed to compete with that? Or even just deal with it? I didn’t want to start up with that stuff that day. I know I says ‘really’ a lot, but really (I’m being serious). So, fine. I won’t spank her. I’ll just hold her under the water until the bubbles stop. “Daphne Ann, why would you make fun of her,” Mary scolded me. “I wasn’t! I was just saying. And she was an adult until just now.” Context, people! Fucking context! “You of all people should know better than to make fun. You say you’re sorry right now.” “I’m sorry,” I said grudgingly. Jane is such a little rat fink. Saw her opening to stir trouble and ran for it. “I’m so sorry,” Mary said to Lisa. Mary turned back to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “You go play nice and remember she’s just a little girl ... And you can do it without attitude,” she added when I made my not-impressed face. “This is your second warning today. Next time is strike three. Behave yourself like you know how to.” “Yes,” I said, maybe like a stroppy teenager. That is how you use the word ‘stroppy,’ right? I walked back toward the pool in perhaps not the best mood. I lost my second warning over nothing. Even the first was over nothing; it was over my alleged tracked record at pool parties. I mean, at least let me misbehave first! Not the time or place, but Jane and I had to have some time soon to talk about boundaries. I’m o so glad she likes to turn on the littleness all the time, but it’s not fair to do shit like that to me. Knowing darn well she’d retreat into her little space like a friggin surrender monkey if I confronted her about it right then, and then that I’d probably end up raising my voice, I swallowed it down, poured myself a G&T, and got back in the pool. This is what Spring and Summer and Fall are all about (don’t you wish you lived here?): sun on your face, cool water, and liquor that’s full of alcohol. Not that I was out to get drunk, but a little tipsy never hurt a girl, and that’s what we were there for, to enjoy ourselves. Then he appeared, Tommy. I hadn’t seen him, and then there he was at the edge of the pool with Jane. I don’t know how friendly they are, but they connect at an ageplay level that I don’t really connect with unless I put some effort into it. I’ve been meaning to ask Mary when she thought we started ageplaying, but it seemed irrelevant anyway. I like playing with Jane because we’re friends outside of kink, even if we needed to have a Jane-to-person-who’s-going-to-drive-you-to-the-desert-and-leave-you-for-dead heart to hear very soon. Just because Mary and I live a lifestyle relationship doesn’t mean I’m always okay with her playing in ways that get me in trouble. Drive her into the desert, pull her pants down, spank her in front of all the coyotes and leave her there. Floor piddler that she is, apparently. Trying to salvage my good mood, I got out of the pool, poured myself another drink, had some snacks (oooh, shrimp), and talked to a few people. Or tried to. Suddenly I heard Tommy calling my name. Always happy to converse with him when he’s not in middle headspace, but obviously he was. In what way was it obvious? Adults don’t usually call the name of someone over and over and over again trying to get their attention. They get their ass out of the pool and walk over. “I think Tommy wants you,” the person I was talking to said. Duh. I mean, duh, what else is there to say than that? “He can walk his butt over here, then,” I said and returned to what we were talking about. And I kept mingling. I’m a world class mingler. Or is it mingleress? I have people skills. I’m a delight. I’m a pleasure to be around. I brighten a room. I’m getting sprayed with a water gun. That little shit! “Tommy! Knock it off,” I didn’t quite shout. He sulked away. “Act your actual age,” said my conversation companion who likewise has no patience for Tommy the Middle. I get that it can be harder for boy ageplayers. We girls are cute and don’t even get me started again about me, but boys are hairy and have beards and have all these toxic expectations they have to fight through. So I have sympathy for Tommy. I just don’t like how he usually expresses his middleness around me. It feels more directed at me. And we’re mingling again. And then Mary is there checking on me, and everyone knows I decorated the cake, and every one is congratulating me on a job well done, and Mary drifts away, and then a beach ball bounces off my head. Well, fine, if he wants to play, then I’m gonna play Daphne, 31-year-old unemployed account manager, and he can be the simpering pretend ten-year-old when I walk over and warned him, “I will march you over to Brenna and tell her what a bad boy you’re being if you don’t behave yourself ... And you, too, Jane,” I added because she was standing there smirking. For I am Daphne, and I’m not to be trifled with! And how did they respond to my threat? In the appropriate way. Well, not appropriate but expected, unfortunately. “No you won’t!” “Yes I will.” Odd, how quickly I said that without thinking. “No you won’t.” And then there was a tongue sticking out at me. And then there were two tongues sticking out at me. You can’t win that sort of fight with ageplayers. They have no shame. All you can do is walk away, but I did add, “I’m serious.” Whatever that means. I’m sure they got a good chuckle out of getting a rise out of me. And we’re mingling. We’re discussing music and the latest movies and the newest restaurants. The things erudite, mostly young people discuss at parties. Totally low key. And we’re then we’re on to discussing travel plans for the summer and the inevitable work questions slip in and I tell the truth because I have nothing to be embarrassed about and people are offering tips and some of them don’t even suck and we’re in the middle of talking about the state of the economy and then then conversation turns to snapping the strap on my swimsuit. MOTHERFUCKER!!! Line crossed. Rubicon over there; Tommy no longer on his side of it. Tommy the Middle isn’t even smart enough to run away. I turn, and he’s grinning at me with this stupid ‘now will you come play’ smile on his face, and I was by all accounts (especially the one I wrote) no more pissed than I had a right to be. I don’t remember what all I said, but I do remember poking him in the chest and saying something to the effect of “I’ll serve you to the Devil on a platter made of damned souls and pita bread.” Subsequent eyewitness accounts report that I said something a lot less quirky and a lot more expletive laden. I don’t really remember, but I do remember him falling into the pool. Potentially in fear of me as I am both adorable and fearsome (or as Mary says, “My little handful,” which makes it really hard to let others know how fearsome I am when she tells them that) but also maybe because I poked him a few times while walking toward him while he said words that sounded like “Sorry” but it was hard to tell over the hissing sound of steam escaping my ears. I probably would’ve gotten away with it if he hadn’t fallen in the pool. Not even gotten away with it. I didn’t get in trouble for telling him off. I got in trouble, according to Mary, for getting physical. No sooner had I finished telling him what I thought of him than Mary had my upper arm, Brenna was leaning over the edge of the pool telling him to get out, Jane was pretending like chocolate wouldn’t melt in her swim diaper, and some bystander said, “Every year, the Daphne and Tommy Show. Love it.” And whoever said it said it like it’s the best part of the party. I got frog marched to the patio, and Tommy and Brenna weren’t far behind. Mary picked up our pool bag, and a conference was held. Mary said, “I’ll take care of this inside if that’s alright.” And Brenna said, “Be my guest. This naughty boy is going to sit in time out for a while.” Brenna keeps her house freezing, as was very apparent, and since all I had on was a swimsuit, I knew I’d be nude and shivering in a minute. I didn’t even wanna hear from Mary on the subject of what I supposedly did wrong, but that’s not an option, nor is getting marched somewhere without “Ow! Ow! Can you you at least wait OW!” “I will not wait,” she said as she swatted me across the living room, with guests watching, and upstairs. A couple of those swats practically lifted me to the next riser and propelled me into the guest room. Mary at least shut the door. Way back when we were negotiating the parameters of the domestic discipline lifestyle I asked for, we reached an agreement: I didn’t have to agree with why I was getting punished. I just had to submit to it. Pretty standard stuff (well, for people like us), and I was feeling mighty righteous in the moment. “I didn’t do anything!” “You pushed him into the pool, Daphne.” “I barely poked him.” “Hard enough that he fell into the pool.” “So fucking ... “ SMACK! Well, that handprint will be on my thigh for a few hours. Deep breath, try again. “So what? He squirted me with a water gun, he threw a ball at me, and he snapped my swimsuit.” “What’s the rule when playing with other littles?” Well, let’s just unpack that statement: “IamnotalittleandIwasn’tevenplaying!” SMACK! There’s a lot of room between your butt and your knee. Plenty of room for individual handprints. “Don’t you raise your voice at me, little girl. I asked you a question: what’s the rule when playing with other littles? If they’re being mean, what are you supposed to do?” “Come tell you or their big.” “Now, you had every right to to be mad, and even though you shouldn’t at a party, you had every right to yell at him. But you shouldn’t ever get physical.” One of the whole points of domestic discipline relationships is the bottom doesn’t always have to regulate their emotions. I chose to exercise that right with my signature bawling-and-babbling. “I wasn’t (babble) and Jane (bawl) and he (wounded moose impression) and everybody’s out to get me today!” It works best if you cap it off in the traditional way, by opening your arms just a little and leaning forward so that Mary catches you and you end up on her lap getting a very good hug. And it wasn’t a sympathy ploy. They were being mean to me and Mary just took Jane at her word and dammit, my feelings were hurt. And Mary will never deny a hurt Daphne comfort, and she knows when that’s what I need. She likes to pet my hair when I’m like that. I like it, too. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I know it’s hard sometimes. You had every right to be upset. I just wished you’d come and told me.” “But I’m an a-(sob inward)-dult (sob outward). I shouldn’t have to. They should just do what I say if they wanna play like littles. They didn’t even ask. They just wanna get me in trou-u-uble.” “Ask you what, honey?” “If I wanted to play. I was just - hhh! - trying to enjoy the par-ar-arty.” “I’ll have a talk with Lisa and Brenna both about that.” One, two, three pats on the back. “Honey, why do you think they didn’t ask?” “Because they think I’m a little or a middle, too.” “What do you think?” “That I’m just Daphne. I don’t wanna have a label. And they still need to a-a-ask. I didn’t me-ee-ee-ean to get in trou-u-uble.” “Okay,” Mary said. She was rocking back and forth. “That’s okay. You’re okay.” She just keeps patting my back and petting my hair until I stopped crying. “You’re not my mommy,” I whine-sobbed with a big (kinda nasty) sniff when I was done. She thought that was pretty funny. “Who said I was?” “Lisa and Jane.” “They were just teasing, honey. I’m not your mommy.” “You’re my wife.” “And you’re my wife, sweetiekins. Do you feel better?” “A little.” “You know I still have to punish you for pushing Tommy in the pool.” “Mhmm.” “You ready to get it over with?” “A-hhh-hhh,” I said (does that count as saying, when you nod and cry and suck in air at the same time) and stood up. Mary stood up with me and kissed my forehead. I was actually hoping she would wallop me but good. I needed the endorphin rush. Anything less than that would’ve been cruel. But I couldn’t say so. For one, trying to top from the bottom is always a bad idea, and for two, I’m always conflicted. Yeah, I wanted that endorphiny feeling, but it’s on the far side of the OW-OW-OW-MY-ASS feeling. I like one-piece swimsuits and I don’t fully know why. There’s just something about them. Kinda that they’re wholesome, a bit of the girl-next-door vibe. And they make you looked toned, provided you are actually at least a little toned. It’s a fetish for me, obviously, and it’s the same fetish behind why I like women in leotards and singlets and ballet outfits and, yes, onesies. (I fucking love the summer Olympics.) But to this day, no one has ever invented a one-piece that’s not a nightmare when you have to pee or when your wife is trying to peel it off you so she can spank your bottom. That’s what you get when you let vanillas design things. It’s awkward standing there while she tugs at it. It always ends with the thing inside out in a heap at your ankles. “Do you understand why you’re getting this spanking,” she asked me after she sat back down on the bed and cocked her left leg up. “Because I shouldn’t have poked Tommy.” Risky, I know, but I still didn’t want to admit I pushed him. “What should you have done instead?” “Come found you or Brenna.” “That’s right. We’ve had this problem several times now, haven’t we?” “Yes. I’m sorry.” She turned around and reached into the pool bag and out came the paddle, the one that goes everywhere with her before turning her attention back to me. “I’m going to put you over my knee, and I’m going to spank your naughty little girl bottom very hard, and maybe I won’t have to spank for this issue ever again.” That wasn’t a question, I laid myself over her left knee. She scooted me forward so most of me was on the bed, and my toes were just off the floor. And I gotta say, she wasn’t lying because CRAP! did she skip the warm up. Mary knew I needed a good one and not just because of my (alleged) naughtiness, and she didn’t waste time. I didn’t try to be stoic. I didn’t try to hold still. She was spanking me like she almost always does, fast, and harder than normal. I couldn’t help but arch my back, and my feet wanted to come up and I gripped the bedspread and was pulling myself forward without even trying. Mary got a firmer grip around my hips, and from top to bottom, side to side, she didn’t miss a single spot of butt. She’s thorough m like when search parties lock arms and walk through tall grass. I was actually sweating, and that little sob session I had a few minutes ago was now a wailing session. No way the people downstairs didn’t hear me. Probably the people outside heard me. Birds flew from trees. Rabbits dashed into their dens. Dogs started barking. Car alarms went off. People hit rewind on their DVRs because they missed what the characters were saying. Well, not really, but you get the idea. That part of my spanking was over, blessedly, with not warning and the next part was the other kind of spanking. There’s no mistaking it for something other than punishment, but it’s more, too. Mary slowed down. She swung that paddle hard, but she didn’t bounce it off my butt. She let it settle before she raised it again and brought it down in the same spot, or a different spot, or the same spot six times in a row. I couldn’t anticipate it, and even though I always try not to, just the feeling of the paddle coming off my butt made one or the other or both thighs flinch away after the half beat pause that told me the paddle was on it’s way back. I was damn well punished, and now this was the other thing. You don’t get the endorphin high off a punishment spanking. You get it from being taken way past that point. To the point where you’re not flinching or wailing anymore. Just sobbing quietly into the mattress until whoever is dishing out the paddling thinks you’re done. Mary decided I was done. I kept crying, and she put the paddle down and ran her fingernails down my bare back, getting to my swollen butt where every nerve ending was electrified by her fingertips. It hurt in the best way. That feeling of warmth spread outward until it was in my feet and belly and cheeks and hair. My heartbeat was throbbing in my ass, and everywhere else felt as good as it ever had. It’s the same feeling as the afterglow of an orgasm, but even better and even longer. I still remember the first spanking that got me to the endorphin rush, and I’m not kidding: food tasted better. Mary bent down and kissed the nape of my neck, my shoulders, my back, all the way down. “You ready to get up?” I moaned, sighed, and moaned again as I stood up. She helped me and got out of the way before guiding me back to the mattress, flat on my back, knees up and open. “Feel better?” I nodded. “No one can do that like I can, can they, little girl?” “Nuh uh.” She chuckled. “Why don’t you just stay close to me the rest of the afternoon? I’ll make sure no one else picks on you.” I was in my happy place. “But you have to wear clothes,” she said and got my things out of the pool bag. “Lift up.” Crinkle noises, somewhere in the endorphiny distance. What? “I gotta wear a diaper?” “Yes, sweetie. Lift ... good girl,” she said when she got it adjusted. “Can’t I wear a pull-up?” “I didn’t bring any. Besides, this is much better after a spanking. Holds the heat in. I know you like that.” True, but, “Everyone will see.” I couldn’t even whine well. No conviction behind it. I’m very biddable after a spanking like that. Mary takes advantage of me when I’m like that in the best and worst ways. She taped the thing up, offered me her hands, and helped me sit up. “This one’s different.” I said. It wasn’t plastic like the other ones. I didn’t know what this material was. “It has monsters on it,” Mary said, “just like my little girl can sometimes be. Can you go RAAAWWWRRR for me?” “Rrrr?” “Good first try,” she laughed. I stood up, she held out my skirt for me, I stepped in, up the skirt came. Out came my shirt next. “Stick up your arms,” which I did, and she pulled the shirt over my head. I helped. My swimsuit went back into the pool bag, but the paddle went in her back pocket. Warning received. “I’ll be good,” I meeped. “I know you will, sweetie. Let’s go wash your face.” To the bathroom we went, and Mary washed my face like she always does, and she got out the brush from our bag to comb my hair for me. She put it in a pony tail, which I always do after swimming since that’s the easiest thing to do without showering first, and then she turned me around. “Wanna look,” she asked. Too proud of herself by half. Halfway between my knees and butt, her handprints. Just north of that, overlapping paddle marks. Just north of that, diaper. I didn’t mind the battle scars; kinky friends would just be jealous. But, “It doesn’t cover my diaper.” I really meant ‘her diaper’ but I was so floaty I didn’t know what I was saying. Really. “Everyone will see it.” “So? They won’t make fun, not with me around.” “Lisa and Jane will.” They’d say I had a relapse or some smart remark like that. “They will not if they know what’s good for them. I’m gonna be right by your side.” “Will you give Jane a real spanking if she makes fun?” “Absolutely.” In that case, I wouldn’t mind getting made fun of by Jane. “Ready to go back outside?” I just nodded. Pretty sure I was making Bambi eyes. I didn’t mean to. Again with the congenital adorability. No one was in the living room when we got back downstairs. I probably scared them away. Or Mary did. We walked back outside, and got blinded for a second, and Mary handed me my sunglasses back. To say I felt conspicuous would be a massive understatement. Everyone knew I just got spanked; not just shanked, but spanked like Justin Bieber shoulda been a long time ago. And looking down at myself, I had a diaper pooch. No one had even seen me from behind yet with the monsters peeking out from under my skirt like they were checking to see if the coast was clear. Twenty or thirty people were staring at us. Mary squeezed my hand twice. I gripped hers tighter. I was ready to start crying and hide behind Mary the way Jane does with Lisa. “Woooo!” Huh? “Daphne Ann, everyone!” Applause. Hoots (the non-derisive kind). Everyone was cheering for me. I was getting applause. Me! About damn time, too. I don’t know what took everyone so long to recognize my greatness, but I, magnanimously, forgive them. Mary held up my arm like I’d just won a prize fight (and like I couldn’t take any kind of punishment my imaginary opponents could dish out). And then, o, then, she put both arms round my shoulders, pulled me in close, and kissed me so hard I almost lost my balance. Which also would’ve been classic Daphne. Falling down like a baby deer. Endorphins and Mary and I don’t mind saying I got a little lightheaded. Definitely had nothing to do with the three cocktails I had or the fact I hadn’t had any water (I forgot! Okay? I don’t need a lecture). I can hold my liquor. Really. I can. So long as I don’t have too much. Brenna stepped forward, and I got a great big hug from her before she said, “Everyone told me who started it, so I kept his butt in timeout for you.” There, with his nose in the corner of the fence and his swimsuit tugged down in back and his pale butt on display, Tommy. Not so tough now. “What’d I miss,” said a familiar voice from behind. “Lots of good things,” Mary told Sandy. Sandy looked me over. “Too adorable for your own good in that outfit.” “Daffy and Tommy had their annual naughtiness contest,” Mary reported. Felt like tattling to me, but she’d call it a report. “Who won?” “I got a standing ovation,” I said proudly. “And I got my punishment in private at least.” “Tommy’s gonna get it still?” “Big time if I have my way,” Mary said. Still holding my hand, she led me over to where Brenna was putting a folding chair. “I have to pee,” I whispered to Mary. “That’s what diapees are for,” she whispered back. “Stay with Sandy.” Tommy was still standing there with his butt hanging out, seriously pale between his still-damp navy swimsuit and his slightly tan back. Sandy was standing behind me and put her arm around me. “You got it good, huh” “Got it perfect,” I was pleased to say. Like almost everybody, we wanted to watch the show. Brenna was giving him then talking to of his life. It was kind of a whiplash the way she went from, “You will respect women” to “that is not how we play with girls” to “don’t you interrupt your elders when they’re talking” to “a grown man acting this way” to “every year you behave like a naughty little boy who doesn’t get spanked enough. Well, we’re gonna start fixing that right now.” Tommy was looking straight at the ground. He couldn’t look at Brenna or at the rest of us. But he couldn’t help himself, either, and said, “It won’t even hurt! I’m not Daphne.” No, he’s definitely no Daphne. Enter the ninja I married. “Excuse me,” she said to Brennna as she strutted through the crowd, “mine just got the daylights spanked out of her. Since he started it and was picking on my Daphne, how about I spank his bottom?” “Great idea. He deserves at least what Daphne got.” Brenna stood. I don’t know if she knew what she had just agreed to. “And then some,” Mary added. She sat down in Brenna’s place. A cheer went up from the crowd like Santa Clause had hit a walk-off grand slam to win the Heisman Cup (did I get that right? that’s a real sportsball thing, isn’t it?). And Tommy’s face went from defiant to ‘o shit’ in a heartbeat. Mary thought he deserved more of a lecture, and I don’t know if Tommy is into humiliation or is just an exhibitionist or neither, but he did not look like a happy camper. Mary really laid into him. “How dare you pick on my Daphne again! She’s just a little girl, and you tease her almost every time we see you.” SMACK! “You hurt her feelings, Tommy. You made her cry. Do you understand that?” SMACK! “I asked you a question.” I’m guessing he mumbled yes, which didn’t stop Mary from delivering two more. SMACK SMACK!! “Do you feel like a big boy now?” He was smart enough to answer before she got him again. “Big boys don’t pick on little girls. Big boys don’t make little girls cry. And you know what? It hurt me, too. I don’t like my little girl crying. It hurts me inside.” O my god, she got him to sniffle. I’ve never seen Tommy sniffle. I held back my cheer because there’s a certain etiquette to these things. Decorum, always decorum. That’s me. And because I’d rather hear her lay into him than myself cheering. “And she got in trouble because of you. She just got her bottom spanked because of you! You started it, but I still had to give her a spanking.” She reached out and yanked hard on his swimsuit and it landed with a wet plop around his ankles. “You,” she said with her finger pointed under his nose, “are definitely not a big boy.” He tried to cover himself. That only got his thighs swatted again and his hands smacked. “I’m going to treat you just Ike the little boy you act like. I’m going to put you over my knee, and I’m going to spank your bottom purple, buster, right in front of all these people. All your friends are going to see you you get your bare bottom spanked, little boy. Like a naughty toddler who can’t keep his hands to himself.” She stood just to grab his earlobe, and pulled him down over her knee, took a firm grip on him, and gave him the punishment spanking she just gave me times about two, and he didn’t get any of the fun kind of spanking either. She just paddled him and kept at it. He didn’t carry on like I did, probably because we were outside, but he was struggling and tears were streaming down his face and his jaw was quivering when she was done with his butt. He danced right off my Mary’s lap at the end. All modesty gone, holding his butt (holy ass cheeks, Batman! That color...) and dancing with his thingy flopping around. Although Mary was right; I’ve seen floppier. Mary wasn’t done. She was back on her feet, grabbed his ear again, and asked him, “Are you ever going to tease my Daphne again?” He couldn’t twist away as she landed that paddle again and again and again. “No!” He said with little sobs he was trying so hard to hold in. “Why not?” Just cracking his butt with that paddle. I was honestly pretty damn impressed that he didn’t use a red light. Brenna didn’t stop it, but she did look like this was beyond any spanking she ever gave him. I’d have thought less of her as a top if she didn’t look concerned about the walloping Mary was giving him. Maybe she gave him the same sometimes, but it’s different when another top is doing it. “Because it’s wrong,” he said. “And?” Four more, all directed at his thighs. “You’ll spank me again! Please!” All those little sobs came out now. She kept hold of his ear and marched him back to the corner, landing more swats along the way. “You stay here in this corner and think about what you’ve done, and no rubbing you little fanny or I’ll start your spanking all over again, mister.” “I won’t! I swear!” Mary gave him one more hard one on each cheek, let go of his ear, and marched with determination right back to Brenna. “That’s how you spank a boy like Tommy,” she said proudly. “Why don’t you keep Daphne’s paddle for next time?” It’s. Not. MINE!!!! And it’s definitely not mine anymore (yay!). And I guess that means we get to go paddle shopping (yay paddle testing!). She put the paddle down with a clank on the table, and now she was getting cheers and applause while Tommy was standing naked in the corner with his shoulders quaking and his hands around in front of him shielding his dingaling from the eyes off he fence, I guess. Mary strolled right back to me, and if I could’ve, I’d have lifted her on my shoulders. My Champion. My Lover. My Always Defender. I got on my tiptoes, three my arms around her neck, and all the cheers turned to awws. She let me go, and with a big smile said, “Anyone else wanna pick on my Daphne?” She looked around and her eyes zeroed in on Jane, who had a raccoon-caught-in-the-flashlight look on her face. “Jane?” “No, ma’am.” Jane and I still needed to have a talk, and I knew Mary would follow up and talk to Lisa like she said she would. Sandy was standing there the whole time, looking absolutely delighted. Everything in the world that makes her happy just happened right in front of her. The only other person I’ve ever seen put a hurting on a man like that is Sandy. Not that I spend much time slaying attention to men playing. “Nicely done,” Sandy said. “It’s always so satisfying when you make boys cry.” “He’ll remember that for a while, but I’m betting he’ll need plenty more reminders.” “Boys always do.” I didn’t even realize I was looking up at Mary with an adoring smile on my face until she she looked down and tapped my nose. “My Daphne certainly does.” “Littles always do, too,” Sandy added. “She’s my little girl, but she’s not a little. She’s just Daphne.” O, my wonderful Mary. “Well, Daphne’s a little wet, but those diapers hold a lot. She’s good for a while,” Sandy helpfully chimed in. I’d actually forgotten I was wearing it. And how did she know it was wet? “She’s got the cutest little potty face,” Sandy added. O my god. From my thighs to my face I probably had so many shades of red on me I looked like a paint sample card. “She’s making funna me, Mary, go get the paddle back.” “No, she’s not, sweetie. Are you?” “Of course not, kiddo. You’re just too adorable, is all,” said the woman almost ten years younger than me. Calling me ‘kiddo’... “I’m gonna get her home,” Mary said, “and into a bath, and then into bed.” “It’s two o’clock,” I said. Then I got her meaning. I’m good at other things besides innuendo. And not sounding ditsy saying things like, “O!” when I figure it out. I don’t know who said it was the annual Daphne and Tommy Show, but it was quite a show. Not that I was eager for an encore for quite some time. Might’ve chosen a different venue (our bedroom!). But I like to think we taught people a thing or two, chief among them don’t fuck with Mary’s little girl (that’s me; just don’t call me that because only Mary is allowed, but please don’t tell her), and that a lot of Brenna’s guests went home and did the same thing we did. Probably minus the diaper. All because I’m everybody’s adorabilibuddy. I can’t help it. Really.

Growing up my sister and I found the "Adult Diapers" in the Sears catalog and thought that you'd have to be pretty strange to wear those. I was always had these odd school punishment fantasies (which stem from some abuse at school when I was in Kindergarten). It wasn't long before the idea of being punished in diapers evolved.