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Cute_Kitten

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Cute_Kitten last won the day on January 21

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About Cute_Kitten

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    Diaper Royalty

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    Female
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    27

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  1. Tape Diapers vs Pull-Ups

    Cloth backed diapers let you unfasten/ refasten for toileting for #2. It's rare for me to use pull ups anymore- they just don't hold much. When quiet and thin are needed for discretion, I just use a cloth backed diaper. Back when I first started wearing a lot, I started out with pullups- Abena Abri Flex Pullon, Level 3. It had a pretty good absorbancy, comparable with some of the cloth backed diapers. Now I mostly wear ConfiDry 24/7s.
  2. Favorite Disposable Diaper?

    For medical diapers- the ConfiDry 24/7s because they're thick and I can go a while before I need to change. When discretion is needed, I wear cloth backed diapers. Though the more I wear, the more I find myself just using the 24/7s. They went from being just a night diaper, to being my go-to day diaper as well. For ABDL diapers- oh geeze, there's too many! Rearz and ABU. Though I do get shy about going out and about in them due to the prints.
  3. Diaper/Pee

    For me, it's just the diapers. But wetting is what diapers are for, so I do wet them, and I enjoy the feel of a wet diaper.
  4. When did your diaper last leak

    Yesterday was a lazy day at home. I had on a thinner, cloth backed diaper, didn't pay attention to how much I was wetting, and it leaked. I changed into a much thicker Rearz Princess and got through the day with no more leaks.
  5. When I don't feel like writing, but need to write- like for a looming deadline- I plot map. I'll read over the last scene or two and figure out what needs to happen next. Then I make a list of it, and just start writing, whatever comes to mind. A good chunk of what I write like that ends up being edited out or re-written in later drafts. But that's the whole point of a rough draft, just to get it finished. The best way I've found to avoid writer's block/ low motivation, is to make writing every day an important part of my routine, even if it's just half an hour. It helps me stay focused, and it makes getting back into the story that much easier. I often struggle with a work if I haven't touched it in a long time.
  6. Forget being wet?

    I know when I'm wet/ when I'm wetting, but sometimes I forgot how wet I am, since I'm so used to being wet. That has led to a leaky diaper or two, especially if it's a thinner diaper.
  7. Diapers: Which Brand Are You Wearing Right Now?

    currently in a pink Rearz Princess.
  8. Five days in nappies

    As others have already said, the more you wear, the easier it gets :3
  9. Frohliche Weinachten

    When I posted this over on ABDLST, I didn't put the warning. This board's a little different, so I figured it'd be better to put the warning up. If you prefer to call me Kitten, I"m okay with that. I just use CK since that's what several people I talk to online call me since it's shorter than typing out Cute Kitten.
  10. Bad Moon Rising

    Luc clung to Fiji and shit his eyes tight. He sucked hard on his pacifier and managed a little nod of his head. The bib pressed gently into his neck as she tugged on the strings, tying it behind his neck. He felt the...his bib flutter as she fluffed it, making sure it covered his torso and his bear. “There. You really do look adorable. Honest. I’m not teasing. I really mean it. And your bear is all safe and sound under your...the bib.” Sincerity filled her voice, chipping away at the last bits of his shy-hard shell. His insecurities and resistance crumbled. “Fiji. Hew name’s Fiji Beaw.” The rubber nipple pressing on his tongue skewed his words. He lisped softly, as if letting her in on a precious secret. Fiji was special to him, to the hurt Little part of him. Letting Pru know that exposed a vulnerable, vital part of himself. He was letting a stranger he’d met today aim an arrow at his open heart. His bib should’ve comforted him. It usually did. In her presence, he just felt more exposed. “Fiji, like the island? How fitting. Her fur looks like tropical water.” Luc opened his eyes and smiled up at her. “Yeth!” Maybe she didn’t think he was a weird freak. She understood Fiji. At his smile, Pru beamed. She felt like she’d cracked open a particularly stubborn clam. Her finger hooked his paci’s handle and tugged, popping the nipple out of his mouth. A string of drool ran down his chin and onto his bib. He blushed some more and dropped his eyes. He shifted in his wheelchair, diaper rustling. Another snap popped open. The swollen, yellowed front of the diaper bulged clearly out of his now fully open crotch. His diaper was on full display just like Fiji’s. “Bottoms up.” Pru held the warm styrofoam to his lips, pressing him to drink. Luc opened his mouth, intending to take a small sip and see if he liked it. The funny smell hit him again. Sometimes, off brand products were horrible. His aunt sometimes bought the imitation Cheerios that tasted like cardboard, or the wannabe Reddi Whip that left a filmy aftertaste in his mouth. Pru tilted the cup more than he expected. Instead of a small sip, he got a big gulp. It flooded his mouth faster than he could swallow. Orange liquid dribbled out the corners of his mouth and splattered his bib. He sputtered, orange sloshing down his chin before he caught up to the flow and gulped it down. Sweet and bitter mixed on his tongue. Chocolate, vanilla, and caramel underscored by paint thinner passed by his tastebuds too fast for him to truly savor or be repulsed by any flavors. Too soon, not soon enough, the cup was empty. He panted, catching his breath. “I’m sorry. I poured too fast, didn’t I?” She dabbed at his face with the dry portion of the bib. Soon as the drink hit his stomach, warmth spread throughout his body. The constant worries and doubts that nibbled away in his subconscious like maggots feasting on a corpse grew fuzzy and faded. For the first time all night, ever since he left the house with Rosie, he fully relaxed. He leaned back in his wheelchair, melting down to his bones. A comfortable fog settled in his brain, shushing his thoughts. HIs muscles grew slack. His diaper grew warm as he peed. Just what was in that drink? The suspicion faded, sinking down in his hazy thoughts just as soon as it bubbled up. A rubber tip prodded his lower lip. He automatically opened his mouth. A familiar nipple glided over his tongue and a plastic shield pressed against his mouth as he sucked. His tummy rumbled even lower, but he didn’t mind. That’s what his diaper was for. He closed his eyes, wishing his chair had a headrest. He was so warm and cozy he could fall asleep. The chilly air kissed his exposed skin, a delicious contrast to the heat radiating from his belly. After giving Lucas the pacifier, Prudence pulled up a chair and settled next to him, waiting for the alcohol to kick in. She eyed the mostly empty donation jar. No one would notice if she helped herself...but Luc would cry when he found out. And the money was for the animals….She rifled through the bags and purses Rosie and friends left behind. No valuables worth palming. By now, even his face was slack. She smiled, pleased with her handiwork at how relaxed he was. His eyes were closed, long lashes inky against his pale doll skin. His chest rose and fell softly and his paci barely moved in his mouth. “So, earlier you said I look like the notorious Prudence Piper.”
  11. Frohliche Weinachten

    She carefully, quietly shut the big door behind her then trudged into the cold and deep snow to the barn. The bottom of the coat and the hem of her nightgown dragged through the snow. She held the lantern down low. There were no windows on this side of the barn, so she wasn’t afraid of giving away her position. There was no hiding under the full moon, anyway. And she was the one with the gun. Snow crunched under her boots, her feet slipping around inside and knocking her off balance. The diaper forced her legs apart, already throwing off her center of balance. She wobbled back and forth with each step as her feet slid around inside the huge boots. Between the diaper and the boots, she waddled and lumbered like an unsteady toddler just learning how to walk. The barn seemed much further away than usual, thanks to her hampered gait. The yellow light from the lantern swayed with each waddle. Cold air blew against her face, turning the tip of her nose and cheeks a rosy red. The closer she got to the barn, the tighter she clutched the rifle. Anger faded to a nervous fear, yet she trudged on. The press and sway of the diaper swaddling her loins reassured her. She held the rifle like a toddler would a stuffed animal for security. Was this was what soldiers on the eastern front felt like as they faced the Red Army and a Russian winter? As Gertrude trudged along, she couldn’t help but think of her cousins away at war. Were they, like her, dashing through the snow, gun in hand, to face the enemy? Or were they hunkered down in a bunker with their fellow soldiers, gathered around a tiny Christmas tree like the magazines and newspapers depicted? They weren’t in diapers, though. Diapers and a rifle. She would’ve giggled, finding that thought amusing, if she wasn’t so angry and nervous. She reached the barn. The footprints were almost completely covered. Snow piled up on her head and shoulders. She dislodged most of it by shaking her body. She froze as she stared at the closed barn door. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her cold palms grew sweaty. She really should’ve gotten one of the menfolk. What if it was someone besides Ilse? But who else could it be? Especially on Christmas Eve. Ilse was the only one for miles around who’d been caught stealing in the barn. Twice. Besides, Gertrude had the rifle and she knew how to use it. She had the advantage. Her cousins on the front lines weren’t scared. They were brave, strong German boys. They’d laugh at the big baby scared to go into her own barn. Maybe she really did belong in diapers. Gertrude clenched her teeth, screwed her courage to the sticking place, and siddled into the barn as quietly as she could. She raised the rifle so it looked like she was ready to shoot. She slowly looked around. Shadows and darkness; only a sliver of moonlight peeped through one small window. She only had that little bit of light and her lantern to see by. Smells of hey, dirt, animal sweat and manure filled her nostrils. The light also gave away her position while the darkness hid the intruder. Her pulse sped up. She kept her back to the barn door to prevent an ambush. Her gaze slowly swept the quiet dark, looking for any movement in the shadows. Darkness within darkness. “I know you’re in here. I saw your footprints. Come on out with your hands up, you yellow bellied polecat.” She tried to sound tough and intimidating by repeating a line she’d read in a book set in the American wild west. The cowboy character had sounded tough and badass as he gunned down Indian savages. Her pounding pulse seemed to bounce off her bladder like it was a drum echoing her heartbeat. Fear made her suddenly aware of how badly she needed to pee. Silence. The two cows, goats, and big draft horse were sound asleep in their stalls. Hens slept in their cages. A few clucked softly, rustling their feathers as they settled back down. Even the cranky old rooster slept on. He usually squawked up a storm anytime a stranger passed by. Underneath the stench of the barn and animals lurked the faint smell of stale human urine, like an outhouse. “If you don’t show yourself, I’ll blow your brains out.” If the thief hadn’t seen her, she just gave away she was armed. Maybe that would intimidate the thief into surrendering? Ilse was a young widow with many children; she was too poor for a gun, and too stupid to use one even if she did have it. The silence stretched out. Gertrude raised the lantern to widen the circle of flickering, yellow light as she took tentative steps forward. Josef’s huge boots clomped heavily. Her feet slid. The diaper’s thick padding prevented her from bringing her feet together. Her bladder twinged. She clutched her pelvic muscles together. “I mean it.” Her voice warbled, losing its threatening edge. Pale brown eggshells appeared in the edge of the light’s reach. Drops of wet, clear egg white glistened in the light on the shells. Gertrude’s eyes narrowed as her lips compressed into a thin line. A trail. Her confidence grew. The barn was small. Even in the dark, there weren’t many places to hide. Animals and equipment and tools were squished in together. She checked the stalls. No one hid in there. The shells convinced her it really was Ilse, just as it had been the other times. A wheelbarrow leaned against the hayloft ladder, blocking it. Gertrude had left it there earlier after feeding the animals, too tired to put it away. The only place for someone to hide was the little nook in the corner at the end of the chicken cages. Gertrude clomped forward slowly, warily. Her ears strained for any small sound that would give her quarry away. Nothing. Had the thief somehow gotten away? Impossible. There was only one door, and she was in front of it. The closer she drew, the stronger the underlying smell of human urine grew. The thief was just very good at hiding. But not good enough- as the lantern light approached the back of the small barn, more broken egg shells appeared. She slid her hand under the thin metal handle of the lantern and let it slide down her forearm to rest in the crook of her bent elbow. This left her free to grip and steady the rifle with both hands. Everytime she lifted a foot to take a step, the oversized boots slid off her foot, hitting the worn wooden floor with echoing thumps. The eggshell trail led to the dark corner past the chicken cages. Gertrude’s gaze was so intent on the rim of lantern light and the dark nook she forgot all about her bladder. Her muscles tensed. Her breathing slowed. Her heart pounded in her ears. She approached the end of the chicken cages. One cold, sweaty finger hovered near the trigger. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she rounded the corner. The lantern lit up the little storage corner. More eggshells. A few hay bells. Wooden crates full of old, broken tools. Some metal milk canisters peeked out from under an a partially fallen tarp. Perhaps it had been pulled. The other end of the tarp covered a stack of crates, making a tent between the tool crates and the milk canisters. Perfect for hiding a body. The outhouse smell was strongest here. Gertrude shuffled closer in an awkward, scooting waddle to keep the boots quiet. She took a deep, steadying breath as she neared the tarp. Her heart thundered in her ears. She used the tip of the rifle to fling the tarp aside. “GOTCHA!” She froze in shock. The girl huddled on the floor was not Ilse. Gertrude would know those big blue eyes anywhere, even if she hadn’t seen them in years. Ever since they’d been marched away at gunpoint.
  12. Frohliche Weinachten

    Thank you for commenting. I did a lot of research/ note taking on this- I have about 20 pages of notes just on research facts and terms. I'm glad to hear I've gotten things right so far. I wanted to make the back stories/ setting as realistic and plausible as possible. So far I haven't had any hate mail or complaints- probably because I put a warning up beforehand.
  13. Bad Seed

    It's not complete- not yet, anyway. Other projects with deadlines took priority, but I'm finishing up my last project so I hope to get back to working on my unfinished stories soon. :3
  14. Frohliche Weinachten

    Thanks for the comment. :3 You might've thought that since both stories are set in Germany and take place during Christmas. Heidi was one of the victims of the Nazi T4 Euthanasia program. (Well, a fictional victim xD) The T4 program was the blue prints the Nazis ended up using for their Final Solution, and it seemed a good way to parallel Heidi and Magda, and to plant some seeds of doubt in Gertrude about propoganda-controlled Nazi society. Thanks for commenting. :3 One of the aspects I find interesting about Nazi Germany is the mentality behind the regime. Like, how daily life was for the Germans and how they viewed the world through the propoganda the Nazi Regime pumped out. That's why I chose to write from Gertrude's POV instead of Magda's.