Ohmo

So, the reader gives Amazon the money, Amazon gives the book to the reader but Amazon does not give the royalty to the author until the reader actually reads? That's kind of a ripoff. I can't find anything even close to that in KDP's terms/conditions, though.

A nice changeup to the "Wife wants a baby, husband doesn't" trope. When involved in an RPG many technical issues can be ignored, but when taking it out of the game and pushing it into a piece of fiction for others to read and enjoy, using an editor could improve the story. Although not a satisfactory replacement for a human eye, there are several excellent "writing assistants" out there including Word's editor, Pro Writing Aid, even Grammarly. And always read it a day or two after the last edit to make sure it is ready for the audience. Where would I like it to go? Not my story, so I'd like it to go where the author(s) are taking it. I have a valid reading passport and can get a visa for almost any destination. ? ?

Autocorrect took charge. The error has been corrected to reflect the first of several drafts/edits and my response to your first question. Another example of why a writer should read their ramblings after every edit. Again, thanks for your feedback. It is helpful.

Pinioning: tie or hold the arms or legs of (someone). Pinning: holding someone firmly in a specified position so they are unable to move. Although the two words can be used almost interchangeably, pinning was chosen because: it more accurately describes the scene a viewer might look upon it brings a better rhythm to the phrase in my circles it is the more commonly used term of the two in this context Thanks for your feedback. I appreciate it!

There are more places to read and/or buy ABDL related stories than I imagined due to the relatively small niche the genre fills. What's your favorite place to read free ABDL writings? What's your favorite place to buy ABDL writings? If a selling author, what venue has been most productive for your ABDL writing? Inquiring minds want to know. ?

Interesting results, to say the least. Majority of us don't advertise where we sell, and we want to know where to advertise. My one published novella is available on Amazon, but I don't advertise there. I did, at first, but results were not paying for it. Because it is not kink by any stretch, I do advertise in several Facebook groups by adding a link to posts I make in the groups. One sale in three months, but it's a sale I wouldn't have had without FB.

Thoroughly enjoyable. Minor technical errors such as "...slid down the latter.." which might be resolved by depending less on the spill chicken and more on reading. ? I am definitely looking forward to the next installment! ?

Comments and critiques, constructive criticisms, and meandering remarks invited, requested, and welcome. Personal pronouns discouraged.? Mrs. Taylor Chapter One The hand on my shoulder startled me. I had been concentrating on not concentrating on the protective underwear the urologist suggested I wear for the next week. His nurse told me the enema might leak for several hours and that I would have some loss of control over my urine for a few days. They had given me a pair of flimsy, disposable adult protective underwear and suggested I buy some more on my way home. I spun around to see who was grabbing me and saw a blonde woman about my height and at least twice my age. “You were just standing there, so I asked you if you are all right,” she said, hesitating, then adding, “Is that you, Teddy? Little Teddy Monroe?” She seemed genuinely pleased to see me, but I had no idea who she was. Before I could confirm her suspicion or ask who she was, the woman grabbed me and hugged me. She was surprisingly strong, pinning my arms to my side. I stumbled backwards, but she kept me from falling, then stepped back. “Oh, dear,” she said almost sadly, “you don’t remember me. It’s your old neighbor, June Taylor.” Flashback! Mrs. Taylor, Mom’s best friend, our next-door neighbor, and my frequent babysitter until she moved away when I was 14. By then I was too old for a babysitter, so the reality was Mrs. Taylor was the only sitter I remembered. At that age I had had a crush on my babysitter and was crushed when she moved. “Mrs. Taylor. Of course. I apologize for not recognizing you.” I shifted from foot to foot more worried about possible leaks than being impolite. “Nice to see you again, but I have to get going.” “Nonsense, dear,” Mrs. Taylor said taking my arm, turning me around and moving me along the sidewalk. “How long has it been, Teddy? Or do you prefer Theodore now that you’re all grown up?” “About 12 years, Mrs. Taylor,” I said hoping she would accept my short reply as a hint that I really did need to go in more ways than one. Mrs. Taylor hooked her right arm around my left and began chatting as though determined to bring me up to date on the last decade of her life. I could not stop to try to exercise control below my waste so there was an occasional dribble from my rectum or penis. Just frequently enough to keep my mind off what she was saying. She stopped me in front of a small coffee shop. “How thoughtless of me, Teddy. I have been going on and on without letting you get a word in edgewise. Let me buy you a drink and a snack, and you can tell me what you’ve been up to,” she said and before I could decline, she’d opened the door and pushed me inside. We found a table for two by the shop’s bay window, and Mrs. Taylor ordered tea and muffins for us. I squirmed on the chair because the leaks I’d experienced were damp and warm despite the absorbent material in the underwear. I was glad, though, that the jarring motion of walking was over for, at least, a little while. Maybe I would make it home with any more leaks. The tea was good, and the muffin, large enough to feed a family of four, was excellent with nuts and small pieces of fruit along with an occasional explosion of brown sugar, not dry and almost gritty like most healthy muffins I had tried to eat. Sugar was not the only bomb set off, though. Mrs. Taylor leaned forward, almost conspiratorially, and asked, “Do you need to be changed, Teddy? Or maybe just some help?” How did she know? My face flashed hot red! Speechless, a crumb of muffin tumbled out of my open mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Teddy, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” she said dabbing my lips with her napkin then picking up the crumb. “It is obvious, though, that, based on the little wet spot on your bottom, you have something going on under your slacks. I just thought I would offer to help if you need it. Maybe like old times?” She had never been mean or cruel, just bossy with more than enough sweetness to make everyone agree with her. So, I poured out my problem explaining my doctor’s visit and the short-term problems it caused. “So, yes, I am wearing protective underwear, so I wasn’t aware it had leaked. So, maybe changing would be a good idea. When you stopped me, I was looking for somewhere to buy some more before heading home.” “So, you need a change and have nothing to change into?” Mrs. Taylor had that thoughtful look I did not care to remember. “There’s a pharmacy next door. Why don’t I dash over there, buy something for you, and then you can change in the restroom here. Or I can help if you need it.” She beamed at me, proud of her solution. My hesitation convinced her I agreed, and she was out of her chair before I could stop her. “You enjoy your muffin, Teddy, and I’ll be back in just a few minutes.” With that she was out the door. So, I ate the muffin while waiting. I will have to buy one to take home. The few minutes turned into 20. Mrs. Taylor entered the coffee shop with a large reusable knit shopping bag hung on her shoulder. The size of the nearly full bag meant she had bought more than a package of disposable protective underwear. Because I did not know what else was in the bag, I hoped it was not all for me. Sitting down, she commented, “Oh, my, Teddy, did you eat the whole muffin? Those are for helping keep a person regular if you know what I mean. I only eat half of one on any given day, but I don’t know what eating a whole one will do to you in your condition.” How much more bad news can there be? “Well, what happens happens. You should be protected, though.” Mrs. Taylor told me what she had bought while sipping her tea and nibbling her own muffin. Unsure what style of protection I might need over the next week, she had opted for what she thought was the most protection, adult briefs. That did not sound too bad, but when she mentioned inserts for them, I was confused but kept quiet. Then there was powder to keep me dry, wipes to clean me up, and, of course, the bag itself to carry it all home in. “Now, if you’ve never used adult briefs, I should ask you if you know how to put them on.” No question followed so I replied, “I guess so, you just pull them on like a pair of boxers – right?” That was, after all what I had been given at the doctor’s office and what I was wearing. “Oh, heavens no, Teddy,” she snickered. “These have tape tabs to hold the back to the front and are often called adult diapers.” Diapers? I felt like a deer caught in a truck’s headlights. She saw I was not familiar with what she had bought for me so suggested she accompany me into the restroom to show me how it was done. Concerned I would do it wrong and leak more into my slacks I agreed. Mrs. Taylor smiled as she stood up, picked up the bag, and took my hand. I did not feel so much embarrassed as I felt small. And protected. Inside the restroom Mrs. Taylor locked the door and then lowered the changing table. It was almost as long as I was tall, and a label declared it would hold a hundred pounds more than I weighed. She opened the bag and laid out all the supplies on the back edge of the platform, and then opened one package labeled, Disposable Pads. After unfolding one and arranging it on the table, she patted it and said, “Up you go, Teddy. Not exceptionally soft, but it will get the job done.” She waited several seconds, then said, “Don’t make me wait, Teddy.” That fist of steel inside the velvet glove voice. A flashback reminded me of the last time I had heard it. Not wanting a repeat of something that happened almost two decades ago, I gingerly climbed onto the changing platform and lay on my back with my knees up so my feet would stay on it. I had not considered removing any of my clothes. Mrs. Taylor appeared OK with that and pulled off my shoes. “That’s my good Teddy,” she cooed while unfastening my slacks and pulling them, too, off. She literally tore the flimsy protective underpants off me by ripping the sides apart, something they were designed to do, but that I had missed. She clucked her tongue and used an adult size wipe to clean up around my genitals and the thigh creases. After tossing the rag in the trash she patted my hip. “Up, baby, so I can get your bottom, too.” I raised my hips not sure if my embarrassment was more from the intimate cleaning or from the arousal it was causing. She washed my behind, gently scrubbed the crack, and finally twisted the wipe into my sphincter. “All clean,” she announced, “but keep that cute behind up until I tell you to drop it.” I did. Next step was the adult brief, the diaper. That is exactly what it looked like, an infant’s disposable diaper but big enough for someone my size. Blood filled my face again when Mrs. Taylor pushed the diaper under my hips then told me to lower them. I did and was amazed at how soft and thick the material felt. “Before we close you up, Teddy, I need to use some baby lotion on her behind to keep it from chafing, and some powder to keep your front dry. So, up again, baby.” Why does she keep saying ‘baby’? But I ‘upped’ again while she coated my bottom with a generous dollop of baby lotion. The scent was nice, almost relaxing, until her finger invaded my rectum and twisted around while she moved it in and out for several seconds. Oh, crap, I’m getting hard, so I bit my lip trying to divert attention away from my cock. “Down, Teddy.” Her laughter was soft, not cruel. “That’s all right, Teddy, you wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t get a hard-on,” she said while dusting me with baby powder which smelled almost as nice as the lotion. The bitch of it was being left with the erection while she pulled the front of the diaper up and fastened both sides. After a pat on the diaper right over my penis she leaned over me, rubbing her large breasts against my chest and kissed my forehead. “Alright, Teddy, up you go and get dressed while I pack your bag for you.” I was so glad she did not say diaper bag. The plastic diaper was heavier than the flimsy absorbent underpants I had been wearing so some of my confidence returned as I buckled my belt. Mrs. Taylor straightened my polo shirt around the waist of my trousers but I was quick enough to block the swat she aimed at my behind. That earned me a pair of raised eyebrows that I ignored. I also ignored the gurgle across my midsection as I held the door open for Mrs. Taylor. Most of my newfound confidence wilted when the busty, ginger barista smirked when we returned to our table.

Is there a happy medium, or even a maximum length for parts/chapters/stories posted for critiques here?

Exceptional advice. However, if this quotations stuff is a pain in Andrew's ass, perhaps Andrew is doing it wrong??

Free to enter, but... ? Just tossing my ticket into the hat.

End of the story. I hope. Knowing Amazon, probably not. During the last phone call, I told the rep I was upset at having to keep running around in their circles. Rep told me he would personally track progress on the request and inform me of each step completed. Next day he actually called me back and reported the transfer had been completed. I thanked him profusely. So, my one and only pubished novella is now in my KDP dashboard where I can make changes and track sales. Right now it appears there have been 7 sales in 5 years, half in April, 2021. ? This morning I received an e-mail for Amazon's advertising website stating my ad campaigns have been suspended because they could not charge my credit card for a bit over a dollar. When I clicked the link and tried to sign in the popup told me there was no advertising account with that email address. Well, duh! So, I took the survey and told them I don't have an advertising account. We shall see. I'm not sure what that means. Well, I know what it means, just in terms of royalties. Kindle book sells, author gets paid the royalty a bit later - right?

Rain has been with us here, in the St Louis area, for better than a week. Some real gully washers, some spitting, some gentle downpours, and just plain one and off rain every day. Today and tomorrow, though, look to be mostly sunny, no rain, moderate temperatures and humidity. As perfect as that sounds, it means mowing, trimming, gardening, working on the new walkway, and other outdoor chores.

I guess it depends on one's perspective of what an odd place is. At my PC or laptop I put all notes in OneNote in docked view. Nothing odd there. When away from a computer notes go in a 4"X6" sketchbook that is mostly notes. The odd part is that I seldom think to look at the notes.

Sorry, no plans to take it further.

I don't currently earn money from my writing, but I do sell a few paintings and turnings. My response is more generic than most, but it is, I believe, still applicable. "...what works ...?" Defining what success is for you. Then go after it. Offering a product at a fair price (fair to buyer and seller - do not over- or under- value your work) what people want works well. Fetish writing is a very small niche if compared to other forms of fiction, so reading as much as possible is one key to discovering what sells. Another form of research is to check out fetish authors on Amazon to see what their rankings are and read any reviews their work has garnered. Write Market your work until you are well known for producing high quality work, then promote yourself alongside your work. Those who have time to write, who can afford to put their work "out there" can afford to pay for some advertising. A large advertising budget is not necessary, but having one really works. Write Be willing to try what someone else suggests, but don't depend on it for success. Write "...and what doesn't?" Trying to trick the customer base or the platforms supporting you. Be honest with tags and other information. Don't try to bend the rules. Not writing. Believing 99% of the marketing advice out there. Success as a fetish writer is not an inverse ice berg where 90% of the effort is just writing an award winning story. Not writing.

Update. Not as easy as the reps want me to believe. I did receive another message from KDP telling me to call, again. I tried, but they still don't have a working phone number people can actually call, so I requested a third phone call from them. It was quick to arrive. Went through the same song and dance as yesterday. Rep says he'll take care of it by passing it on to another team. I wonder if the two accounts will ever be merged. Even if this sounds as though I'm just whining - I might be. ?

And that's how false conspiracy theories start - I heard it from someone I don't know, but they have something in common with me, so it just has to be true. I'll go out on a limb (a very short one, to be sure), here and state, categorically, that it never happened. If it's on the internet it has to be true - right?

I doubt Patreon has ever taken action against members for content not on their platform. Doesn't mean it hasn't happened; just saying I doubt it without evidence other than someone saying it did. One reason moderators don't read everything is that there are not enough of them to do it. They depend on other members to report things to the moderators who, still with little time, must make a decision. When moderators have a bias, they will act on the bias rather than what you or I think is logical or even in line with their rules. It's just the way it is. Another reason for misunderstandings is that many moderators on many platforms do not speak or read English (or the native language(s) of the platform) beyond a rudimentary level that let them get the job. Those who don't like the rules, or lack thereof, can leave the platform. I'm no expert, but I doubt anyone has been forced to use any particular platform. Or file lawsuits. Personally, I love it when over-reaching morons end up paying out big bucks for playing big brother. Maybe discuss options with a licensed attorney who specializes in consumer protections. Seriously, many attorneys offer free first consultations - I've used 'em. It is doubtful Patreon is not out looking for content to ban - they want every penny they can get their fingers on. One does not need millions of dollars to build a digital platform. Granted, startups of any kind face an uphill battle, but look at Patreon - it was a startup in 2013 and now is worth about $4 billion. If I wanted to do it, I'd do it the way Patreon did - using other people's money through loans, investors, etc. and I'd find a way to do it without spending millions of dollars. Sorry, making such a vague and invalid claim does not add to the conversation. If you don't want to do it, don't tell everyone else they can't. Another option would be to stop playing in digital sandboxes. Even DD has terms and conditions they choose not to disclose. It's all up to one person whether you stay or get kicked out. Conclusion: There is no such thing as a level playing field. If the boss says your hexagon is too round, make it a pentagon.

Much more complex than that - even confused 3 Amazon reps. A KDP account is created using an Amazon Account or by creating one. By closing my Amazon account, I lost all access to the KDP account even though the KDP account remained active so the book is still available, and someone bought one. I just could not sign in because the old Amazon account had been closed. Money deposited in my bank account was the first indication I have a new Amazon account with a different email address. I had to create a new KDP account so the KDP team can move all current information from the old one I cannot access to the new one. Once we were on the same page, the Rep asked 2,347 questions (poetic license used to make it sound more tedious than it was) to verify I am me. I could have told her that, but figured it would only muddy the waters more. So, one email and two phone calls later, the problem is, hopefully, resolved. Can't wait for the email announcing I am good to go.

I wrote a book. I self published the book on Amazon KDP. Two years later I closed the Amazon account. One might think that closing the main account would close the KDP account and delete all references to the book. Last year I opened a new Amazon account and provided only a valid credit card number for all transactions. I did not open a new KDP account. Yesterday my bank account received money from Amazon! At first I had no idea why, then I remembered my ill-fated book. Did someone actually buy a copy?! Long story short, after changing password for old KDP account, I logged in, but found no books or reports available. While I wait for a response from Amazon to clear up this mystery - does anyone have any thoughts on what happened?

Seems to me that, if the owner of the sandbox points out the box rules aren't being followed (in this case the use of tags the owner deems unacceptable for any reason) the contributor must comply or accept the consequences (which will probably include deletion of the content, anyway). When it is not my sandbox I know, going in, I don't make the rules. Know the rules before breaking them. Disclaimer: I don't use any of those platforms as a creator or as a subscriber.

I am changing my recommendation made awhile back. My lifetime license for Pro Writing Aid expired, which upset me no end. When asked about this I was told I had to log into my account, that I did not have, to get a response. Although the product is good, the business operates under false pretenses. Stay away from businesses like this. Microsoft Word editor is pretty good, and is included with the product.

A piece of flash fiction. C & C (comments & critiques) welcome. APRIL SHOWERS (or will it be showers for April?) It was not a date, just two people meeting for coffee. So, why was I so nervous? Because meeting new people was hard for me or because we shared an interest in what some might consider a perversion? April and I met through an online dating service. My profile was a skimpy listing with just some basic vanilla information like first name, age, essential physical description, and some of my different interests. I was amazed that more than a dozen women had contacted me through that profile, but less surprised that most decided to avoid me after the first message exchange. I had to face the fact that very few women really wanted to meet a guy who wore diapers for any reason, much less a guy who wore them for fun. April, though, seemed eager to meet face to face, so we agreed on a coffee shop about halfway between our homes. We agreed on a day and time. Well, I agreed to the day and time April suggested. And here I was, wearing what she told me she would like me to wear for our first meeting, and looking for the woman in the photograph in her online profile. A purple, short sleeve, knit top would be easy to spot, and long auburn hair wasn’t all that common, either. And there she was. Looking through the shop’s window I stared at April while she read a book. She looked exactly like the photo in her profile but seeing her live she appeared even lovelier. And her breasts even larger. I took a deep breath. Then another. The shop door hit the bell stationed above it and April looked up from her book. As cliché as it is, her smile lit up the room. At least for me. Two paper cups of coffee were on the small round table in front of her, so I bypassed the counter and walked straight towards her. April watched every step and even giggled when I bumped into an empty chair at the table next to hers. Before I could introduce myself, April pointed to the second chair at her table and said, “Sit down, baby.” “Hi,” I said sitting down, “I’m James and you must be April.” Mentally I slapped the side of my head. “No need to be so nervous, sweetie,” April said with a warm smile that put me at complete ease. “Let’s drink our coffee and see if we have anything more than a couple kinks in common.” My face felt as though it was on fire, but I managed to nod then take a sip of the coffee she had bought for me. We drank our coffee and talked. Well, April asked questions and I answered them. She was the most interesting woman I had ever met, and I knew nothing about her. As I drained my cup, she floored me again. “Are you dry, Jaimie?” There was a good chance my face would be sunburned after this. Stunned, I just nodded. “Are you sure, sweetie? Littles seldom own up to their accidents, you know. You’d better stand up and let me check just to be sure.” April’s voice was still smooth and comforting, but she had stopped smiling. It was not a mean look, just a serious one that said, I’m serious, and you’d better be a good boy or else. Silently I stood and moved next to April. The barista had her back to us, but there were other customers in the shop I prayed would not notice us. April tugged at the waist of my jeans and slid her left hand inside. She patted me beneath my boxers and frowned as she withdrew her hand. “Sit down, baby, and tell me why you are not wearing a diaper.” “Well,” I started obediently. “Did you think ‘normal and casual’ meant to forego protection?” As a matter of fact, I had. Still smarting from her rebuke, I just nodded, then whispered, “I really did. I’m sorry.” “You are probably going to be even sorrier, Jamie.” April explained that she had spiked my coffee with a diuretic and that I had five, perhaps ten, more minutes before I lost control of my bladder. The mild humiliation of being publicly treated as a child had stirred up an erection, but this news deflated it faster than a pin in a balloon. April stood up and motioned me do the same. Only now, both of us standing, did I realize just how tall she was. Her chin could have rested easily on my head. After dropping her book into her large shoulder bag she took my hand and forced me towards the door. “We’d better get you home before you embarrass yourself, baby.”

Jeff Bezos did not become one of the richest people in the world by playing by other people's rules. He ignores others' rules rather than breaks them. Presentation of the length of a book is a prime example. Although novel length can be misleading because it varies from source to source, it is almost always referenced in word count and not page count. Same with short stories, short short stories, flash fiction ... but you get the idea. Jeff created an algorithm that supports his view of what's on a page and ignores the industry standard of about 250 words/page. Jeff, through the clout of Amazon, has changed, not just how the world shops, but how it reads. I don't think there is any going back.