WBDaddy

Little by little, I'm working my way through unfinished stuff. I just put the final chapter down on a piece I hadn't touched in 6 years (I never titled) over on ABDLSF a short time ago. I'm crawling out of the hole of non-inspiration a bit at a time, just working through this commission and another very special (but top secret, sorry) project I'm working on. The muse is starting to come back. be patient with me.

It did get out of control a bit there, didn't it?

You give me more credit than I deserve. Religion was more or less a vehicle to deliver the plot @dooglesand I cooked up together. We knew we wanted a future dystopia, one with strong misogynistic components, and bringing in that Handmaid's Tale style hyper-religious concept, with a strict adherence to actual scripture as a prescriptive roadmap for the system of laws instead of whatever the hell those crazy people were believing, felt like the right move. There were no philosophical motivations. It fit together nicely with what we wanted to do. Made sense. So I ran with it, leaning on my own history in the Christian faith and extensive study of the bible to help me along. But you're, current events were never a driver of the plot, just something I tried to leverage to add flavor and color to the world we were building. I can't thank you enough for your support, even when it got rough, my friend.

Precisely why I inserted those little tidbits. Subtle, relatable contributions via taking little pieces of right now and presenting them as part of the past of the story's world. I'm no stranger to people being offended at the mere mention of a certain person's name if they perceive it to be in jest or otherwise unfavorably. Same with the mention of a certain religion. It was a calculated risk. I just questioned the wisdom of me pointing it out rather than let the more observant spot it on their own. "Enjoy" is a valid response to a good horror novel/film. But thanks for hanging in there with me, and yes, this and my Patreon (which is still one chapter ahead, trying to improve that ratio a little) will be the exclusive outlets for it until it is completed.

Not yet. Gotta take care of this commission (A Lucky Penny) first.

Pretty sure the administration of Thorazine wasn't listed as a "tag" either. That patient slang (bag and tag) will be coming up in my current story.

Dude. Brattleboro Retreat here. 7 months (45 days on the secure unit, the rest in the halfway house).

I know. I spent time in a psych ward. We used to speak of kids who got the "show" (show of force by the staff) followed by the "bag and tag" (the staff wrapped them up in what amounted to a huge canvas sleeping bag that completely immobilized them) and then the "Thorazine Shuffle" (the tremors they got when they woke up from the stupor afterward) He asked for realism, I gave him realism. There are a variety of ways to condition an adult to behave like an infant. None of them are instant, and none of them are pleasant, and none of them involve just forcing the person to wear and use diapers and be fed from bottles and eat mush and play with baby toys around the clock, unless one is willing to spend months doing it, because it's only breaking the will and the hope that would work to this end. It might help the situation along if you, for example, moved them to an isolated location (like a remote island) where you could demonstrate to them that they had zero chance of escape. Snuffing out hope is the only way to break an adult mind without chemical enhancements and other interventions. I'm actually exploring this in later parts of a piece I'm working on right now on the forum, systematically breaking someone's will and forcing them to be a fully dependent baby. Lots of enhancements involved, but none involve chemical or hypnotic intervention, which makes it more challenging.

Depends on what's being done to them physically and mentally to force regression other than dressing them up like a baby and forcing them to be dependent. If the answer is "nothing", then it would take a long, long time, because that's how long it takes the typical human to give up hope. Beat them every time they try to rebel? Timeline shortens up from the trauma. People comply out of fear, and their resolve breaks. Still takes a while for them to give up hope, but not as long as just leaving them to do their thing. Use hypnosis? Contrary to typical usage around here, that's a slow, gradual process. You can't put them in front of a video and melt their brains instantly, it's not how these things work. Disrupt their ability to use their limbs and/or voice/language? Again, it accelerates the timeline. Trap someone in a situation where no one understands what they're saying, and they give up trying to communicate. Take away their ability to walk or move their arms, and they develop Stockholm very, very quickly out of dependence. But if you're asking if someone is just being force to wear diapers and eat baby food and what have you, nah, that could take months, years even, depending on how strong their mental resolve is.

Patience. As someone who is in his Patreon and way ahead of you on the story, trust me, this is not pointless sub-stories. The point will be revealed. In fact, if you go back and re-read a little, you might pick up on Clark's motivation for doing all this specific stuff to specific people.

Well, essentially it's three arcs. This arc is firmly in that One Flew place, while still reminding us all that this world is misogynous, hyper-religious, and intolerant. There will be another arc, and the setting will change again, to something far darker. In retrospect, I feel I shouldn't have pointed out what was essentially a joke on my part that turned into this big fracas over me injecting "politics" into the thing. It was an observation of current society that I tried to weave in here as a "nudge-nudge hahaha" thing and enhance people's understanding of the world I'm building with humor. I would have been better off if no one had gotten the joke.

9 Thoroughly annoyed, Penny stormed down the hall, making a beeline for her room as fast as possible. As she passed the nurse’s station, she caught a glimpse of Adweta standing up. “Penny?” She ignored the call. Didn’t even slow her pace. Footsteps behind her; great, Adweta was following now. Didn’t matter. She’d slam the door in the woman’s face if she had to. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to anyone. At. All. Adweta was quicker than Penny expected, though. By the time Penny got through the door and started to close it, the nurse blocked it with her body. And for such a slight-looking frame, Adweta held fast as Penny threw her weight against the door. “Hey, tough time in the group?” Penny scowled. “Look, I told you I was exhausted. I haven’t slept in two days, I haven’t eaten anything all day but a dried up muffin and a cup of coffee, and I didn’t need a bunch of kids gossiping about me right in front of my face! Can you please just leave me alone for a while?!” “We’re going to talk first. And as soon as we’re done, you’ll have a good hour or so to yourself before your evaluation with Doctor Phillips, okay?” The look on Adweta’s face said she wasn’t going anywhere. “Fine. What the hell do you want?!” Penny threw herself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. She heard the door close as Adweta stepped fully into the room. “Well, we heard you yelling all the way up at the nurse’s station. And you said some pretty hateful things. What the heck happened in there?” Penny could hear Adweta’s concerned head-cock in her voice, and she rolled her eyes at it. “So, like everybody’s got a story to tell in there, and everyone’s cool, until my turn, and they’re all freaking out because I bought sticks because I wanted to be Barren so I could get training and get a real job! Fucking judgmental bitches!” “Penny, please. That’s no way to speak of your peers.” “Well they are!” “You still don’t understand, do you? Penny, over half the women in our society are Barren, and they were born that way. Two of the girls on this ward are Barren. So am I. Do you have any idea what I would give to be able to have a family with my husband, to do as God commanded and be fruitful and multiply?” Penny sat up and glared at the nurse, fighting back a lump in her throat. “But I don’t want a husband or children! Why can’t I just have what I want?!” Adweta’s face never changed. “And that is exactly the problem, Penny. You don’t care about anything but what you want. We recovered from what was sure to be our demise by putting aside our selfishness and taking actions that were for the betterment of our society. The nation needs every fertile woman to produce children, as many as they can, just as God wants for us! The only reason you’re struggling right now is because you’re fighting against God! And you can’t win that fight!” Despite her best efforts, Penny’s eyes started to fill with tears. “Then why did God make me like this?! Why did God make me like women, not men, if that’s what he wanted for me? Why do I have to be miserable the rest of my life going back and forth between getting porked by some dude I don’t even like and having a belly full of fetus?! I don’t even LIKE babies!” “Penny, all I can tell you is that God will not give you a burden you can’t carry. But you have to stop fighting him and start trusting that he has a plan for you.” Penny wiped her eyes and flopped back onto the bed. “I knew it. I knew this place was gonna be all about beating me over the head with a bible until I broke.” “Penny, that’s not…” “Can you please just go away? Please?” Penny hated being emotional in front of people, and she hated even more that it was so easy for this woman to manipulate her like this. A deep sigh. “Alright. I’ll come get you when it’s time for your evaluation, okay?” Penny didn’t answer, and Adweta left quietly. Penny was positively haggard by the time the nurse returned. She didn’t even bother lifting her head off the pillow as she lay there on her stomach. “I… can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t talk to anyone else right now.” “Penny, I promise, you’ll have the rest of the evening to yourself. I’ll get your dinner delivered to your room, and I’ll make sure no one disturbs you before lights out. Let’s just get through this, c’mon.” Penny sat up to Adweta’s hand extended toward her. Sighing, she took it and stood up. The only thing she remembered about the “evaluation” was the uneasy feeling she had that the doctor really didn’t care how she answered his questions, that he’d already made up his mind, no matter what she said. Oh, and that he had to wake her up once because she dozed off. When it was finally over, she was glad for Adweta’s shoulder to lean on coming back to her room. She barely roused later when they brought her dinner tray in, and daylight streamed through her window the next time she opened her eyes.

You say that like it's a bad thing to evoke that kind of emotional response. Personally, I'd be breaking my arm patting myself on the back if someone told me something I wrote did that to them when that was what I was going for.

Not hard to keep your finger on that pulse. Staying active on Fetlife will make that happen for you.

I completely understand. Never meant for it to go this long. Thank you both for the support. I'm getting some momentum under me this time, so I don't expect to have another long absence any time soon.

I was working off the "loud and proud" part. It definitely tinted my view of the situation. There's no reason to be showing your diaper around a school. if that's not what happened, if the ex is just weaponizing it, then that's decidedly different, and I will happily walk back everything I said.

If you are in a situation where someone is seeking opportunities to weaponize your lifestyle against you, you are pretty dumb if you pick your kids up from school and flash a not-medical diaper in front of people in a way they will notice. It's unnecessary, and it's poor judgment, and it's the consequence you earned by trying to be "loud and proud" about something that should be personal anyway. It's why conversations about having ABDL pride days and equating ABDL to homosexuality are so dangerous. There is no reason to publicly advertise being ABDL, because exhibitionism as a kink is no more acceptable if you wear diapers than it is if you don't. It's illegal, in fact, if you don't. Be smart. Don't let diapers define your personality, because it's really not a good definition. You are far more than what you wear around your waist, and if you believe otherwise, you need mental help. Seriously.

8 Adweta led Penny to her room and admonished her to hurry up and change while she waited outside the door. Penny barely had time to take stock of the place while she ripped the prison gown off and slipped on the not-quite-knee-length white frock, but there wasn’t much to it. Bed. Desk. Nightstand with a lamp. Chain-link fence on the outside of the window. A half-bath attached with a sink and a toilet. She barely was able to take it all in before Adweta knocked on the door. “Five minutes, Penny!” Penny sighed and opened the door. “Um… ready, I guess.” Other women surfaced from the other rooms in the hall and headed down toward what she guessed was the nurse’s station. Except they were dressed in normal street clothes - blouse and skirt or jumper, dresses, socks and shoes, all of which made Penny suddenly very self-conscious about what she was wearing - and not wearing. “Wow… uh…” she stammered as Adweta led her in the same direction. “How do they have, like, normal clothes?” “Most of our patients are here either voluntarily or, in some cases, committed by their parents. So, they brought their own clothes.” “Yeah, I kinda… didn’t have a chance to pack…” “If you’d like, we can reach out to your parents, see if they can bring some clothes for you?” “Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen.” She thought again about Dee. She probably wouldn’t even help her, what with that speech about the sticks. Shame filled her; at this point, Penny wasn’t even sure she wanted Dee to know how badly things had gone for her. “Well, I can at least requisition you some socks, underwear, and toiletries. I’ll get the paperwork done while you’re in the group, okay?” Adweta rubbed Penny’s back while they walked past the nurse’s station, around a corner, and past a few more closed doors, including ones she noticed were marked women’s and men’s showers. “Sure, yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” “Okay, here we are.” Through an open door they went. The room was fairly large and had a TV at one end, with assorted sitting furniture arranged haphazardly in a circle. Four women were already here and seated, a couple of them looking like young teenagers, which took Penny by surprise. Of course, all of their eyes immediately locked on her, looking her up and down. “Go ahead and find a spot, Penny,” said Adweta. “We’ll do introductions as soon as everyone arrives.” Penny sat down cross legged in a beanbag chair, offering a little wave to the four pairs of eyes still locked on her. She pulled at the hem of her gown, glancing around the room, trying to ignore the holes they were burning in her. Another uniformed woman walked in, and Adweta whispered something to her before stepping out. Three more women in street clothes arrived, all of them double-taking when they spotted her, but they silently took their seats. One of them smiled, and Penny could have sworn it was a flirt. “Alright, looks like everyone’s here,” announced the woman still standing in the front of the room. “I’m Miss Georgia, and this is the weekly dorm discussion. Here we talk about issues relating to our treatment, make suggestions about ways to improve conditions, and talk about any conflicts with other patients or staff. We do have a new patient on the dorm, so we’ll go ahead around the room with introductions; who we are, why we’re here. Jessica, would you like to start?” A girl to Penny’s right rolled her eyes. “I’m Jessica, and I’m here because I’m an addict.” Her scrawny frame and bad teeth belied her drug of choice. Okay, so maybe this is a drug rehab after all? Penny thought. “I’m Esther, and I’m here because my parents wanted to go on a cruise and leave me behind.” The girl to Jessica’s right, one she suspected was a teenager, proved her correct. “Esther, you’re not going to get better until you embrace your challenges.” Miss Georgia cast a scolding glance at Esther. “Fine. I’m here because I have problems controlling my impulses.” Esther made air quotes around that last part, then folded her arms in a huff. One by one they went around the room, and Penny tuned out. Some chubby girl had bulimia. The toothpick next to her was anorexic. They held hands and smiled at each other after they were done talking. Who the hell even cared about these kids? Penny was here to do her time, not make friends. Until the one that smiled at her before spoke up. “I’m Maribeth, and I’m here on a court order.” That got Penny’s attention. Miss Georgia looked sternly at her. “And why did the court order you to come here?” “Because I like girls, duh.” Maribeth rolled her eyes, while Penny’s eyes got big. “Until we start being honest with ourselves, we’re never getting better, are we?” The woman folded her arms. “Okay, I’m here because some asshole decided to take exception to me liking girls, so I knocked his block off!” Maribeth glared at the woman and folded her arms right back. “Happy now?” Cute and strong-willed? And flirting with her? “And is physical violence an appropriate way to deal with your anger?” “No.” Another eyeroll. “But it’s an appropriate way to deal with a gropey old man who won’t keep his hands to himself!” “Alright, let’s just move on.” Miss Georgia was clearly fed up. “You and I will talk later about compliance with treatment.” Penny didn’t even realize she was still staring at Maribeth until the girl turned and winked at her, a wry grin on her face. “Penny?” Miss Georgia spoke, breaking the moment. “Your turn.” “I’m Penny, and I’m here because I bought sticks and got busted.” Gasps from others in the room. Whispers. “What?!” Penny snarled. “It’s not like I killed someone!” She had no patience for this, after the jail nightmare. “And why did you try to harm yourself, Penny? What was your motivation?” Because of course the woman was going to play that game with her when she was already on edge. “I wasn’t trying to harm myself, I just wanted to be Barren!” More gasps. More whispers. “What the fuck is your problem?! I’m not judging you for your weird food problems!” she shouted at the two eating disorder girls, jumping to her feet. The group fell silent, all eyes now locked on her. Miss Georgia stood up. “Alright, Penny, do we need to take a break?” “No! I just don’t understand why everyone’s suddenly all gossip and faux outrage! Bunch of fucking hypocrites!” As her volume rose, Penny could feel all the pent-up rage from the events of the last two days trying to force its way out of her. The woman started to move toward her. “Okay, let’s take a break, Penny. Come on.” “I’m fine, I’m fine!” Penny plunked herself back down into the beanbag, folding her own arms up and glowering around the room. Miss Georgia sat back down. “Alright, but in the future you need to handle your emotions maturely, by talking about them instead of yelling at people and calling them names.” Penny stayed silent, and remained so for the duration of the group. Buncha kids bringing up petty-ass “issues” with the center’s rules, lack of entertainment, and a lot of other things which held no interest to her whatsoever. She couldn’t have been happier when it ended, and she darted for the door. This was going to be a long three months. ----------------------------------------------------------- Sorry for the long layoff everyone. I started a new job last November, and it's been more mentally taxing than I thought it would be. I'm actively working again, thanks to a little creative boost from some friends, and I feel good about the progress I'm making.

It's really stellar. I have so much respect for this guy for not only his ability to keep finding ways to make minor plot points seem like they're monstrous, but also his staying power, to keep grinding through what feels like mundane parts of the story, and to not only plan out where he's going, but to have that mental tenacity to say, "this isn't the most fun part for me to write, but I'm going to find something interesting to say to keep things going toward the next big thing." That was always my Achilles heel as a writer. Just wait until you catch up with the rest of us.

Be that as it may, he certainly did his fair share of poking the bears. Silly Sock Day, anyone?

The most important thing Crissy said there had no acronyms in it. If you're talking about forced mental regression, real mental regression would mean he'd have no sense of gender identity and wouldn't care, because gender doesn't register in the brain until they become more aware of body parts (ages 3-5). Yeah, which is why the sissy component still stands alone even when the infantilizing is added. It is on very rare occasions that girl babies are dressed in elaborate frilly clothes, and that's a matter of function over form. They would ruin those clothes in a hurry just being normal babies, from not quite being able to manage self-feeding to just playing in the yard and not caring whether their clothes stayed clean.

The worst part about that kind of introduction is that they feel like the breast size is important enough to mention as part of the fucking intro. Which is so fucking degrading to women. "Who cares about your personality, all that matters is how big your titties are!"

Frankly, this is a function of the narrator failing to weave clues into the story (not two-sentence info dumps like "so and so was 20, 5'1", 120 lbs etc) to backfill that information. Though, if your gripe is that you don't have that information at the outset of the story, I guess I understand why people resort to the info dumps around here.

I did that as a joke when I actually hit 40 - "39 and holding". That was 8 years ago. Notice I also edited it a few years later to further the joke (SHUT UP ABOUT MY GRAYS!).

Nice opening.