Cute_Kitten

Being able to stay home and diapered is an upside. But I wear my diapers out and about (under my clothes) so to me it doesn't make much difference.

I like the idea of clear packing tape, I'll have to try that. That way the tape won't obscure the front panel prints on my AB diapers. I've always used duct tape incase of diaper tape problems. I like to indulge in a role of printed duct tape, but plain old classic silver/ gray works just fine too.

This made me think of a quote I came across not too long ago. It sounds like they were there just when you needed them.

That girl and her mom sound like they were chill, accepting peops and just what you needed at the time. It's great you could open yourself up and be vulnerable with them- that takes a lot of trust in another person.

It's a very interesting idea. Admittedly, I know little of sound and audio stuff, but I think it's an avenue worth exploring if it interests you. As to how effective hypnosis is- well, I'd say it's much like Big Foot. The jury is out. Some believe in it, some don't. I think if it's something someone truly, truly wants (in this example, to be incontinent), repeated listening to hypnosis/ relaxation/ meditating during hypnosis, etc may help give a person a mental boost or a confidence boost in support of their goal. It might help some people, and for other people it won't be much help. It's not a magic cure-all, a few listens and boom suddenly you're incontinent and diaper dependent. Diaper training/ incontinence, etc can be achieved with dedication and hard work (time and effort) and perhaps hypnosis can help some in the mental effort department.

Skye climbed the steps, holding out her arms for me. “Come here, baby.” She whispered in a gentle mother’s coo. The moment my eyes fell on her, I blocked out the crowd, the stage, the creepy clown and even creepier snake. My world shrank to the loving refuge of those blue eyes and the heavy smelly mush pulling my diaper down. I reached for Skye as my vision blurred. I took a few shaky steps forward to my haven, Skye’s waiting arms. My diaper swung heavily with each movement of my hips. My mess shifted, slipping and sliding all over the inside of my diaper. Tears trickled down my cheeks and my legs wobbled. Disgusting. I was so disgusting. Helplessly messing myself like a big...baby. I whimpered then I felt Skye’s arms around me. “Shh. It’s okay, baby.” She kissed my forehead, one of her hands prodding at my padded rear. The poopy lumps smushed even more under her pokes and pats. A strangled sob tore its way out of my throat as my legs fully buckled. She caught me, enveloping me in her embrace. I buried my face in her shoulder, hiding from the world. A pressure settled on my poop-coated, thickly padded behind, another bar of pressure behind my back then I felt my feet leave the ground. I barely noticed, drowning in fecal covered shame. How could I have done this, and up on stage, too? Peeing was one thing, but pooping? And I’d never felt it coming. “Let it out, Gavi-poo. It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Skye said, so calm and reassuring. Like it really was alright for me to helplessly soil myself. I heard the clunk of her heels on the wooden stage and felt myself moving. Almost like she was carrying me. “I’ll get you all cleaned up and in a fresh diapee.” Skye hummed a soft lullabye. Her hand on my back rubbed little soothing circles in rhythm with her humming. Occasionally she patted my bottom, and I felt the huge load shift and squish with each touch. I whimpered, tears trickling down my cheeks and splashing onto her neck and shoulder. I just wanted out of this horrible mess. “Sweetie. It’s okay. It was just a little poopies.” Skye said sympathetically. Her hand left my back then I felt a tug on the waistband of my diaper. Air rushed over my feces encrusted butt; I felt the suction of my mess pulling apart like sticky mud as Skye pulled back my diaper and peered down. “Oh dear. You really gave that diaper a workout. Let’s get you changed before that thing explodes.” The surprise and worry in her tone took me by surprise. What was wrong? I wanted her humming, her reassurance back. Just a little mess, right? All I needed was a new diapee. No problem. Just a little diaper change. Happened all the time, right? But not to big boys. Not to me. Except it had happened to me. Was I still a big boy? I sobbed softly. I wanted to voice all these thoughts but they knotted up in my throat, choking me in emotions. All I could do was cling to Skye. “Shhh. It’s okay, baby. I got you. We’re almost there.” She kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back some more. She didn’t pat my bottom anymore and her pace quickened. I heard voices of the crowd around us, but it was just a buzzing in my ears, background noise. White noise I barely noticed. My face stayed buried in her shoulder as she hurried along while trying to soothe me. The background noise of the open air, animals, and people faded suddenly as Skye stepped through a door. The smell of pee, poop, and baby powder dominated the air and her heels clicked off tiled floor, echoing off walls. “Here we are!” Skye cheered enthusiastically. I suddenly found myself pulled from her embrace. I whimpered in protest of the loss of contact. I wanted her warmth, her soft skin, her arms around me, shielding me from the world and the horror I put into my own diaper. She tried to soothe me with a kiss, her soft lips getting wet from the tears on my cheeks. At the touch of the soft plastic padding of a changing table on my back, I opened my watery eyes to see Skye smiling down at me. I felt a tug on my waist as she secured the safety strap. We were in a changing room. I vaguely registered the background noise of babies crying and shrieking. “Let’s take care of that icky poo-poo diaper, Gavi-poo.” Skye chuckled. I wanted to blush, to holler in protest, but words clogged in my throat. My insides were a storm of turbulent emotions, drowning me. I was sensitive, vulnerable, exposed and raw. Her teasing joke was like salt rubbed into a wound, and all I could do was let out a strangled sob in protest. My lower lip trembled. I could feel the dam inside me ready to burst then I’d lose what little shreds of dignity I still had left. I bit down on my lip, my thumb pressing into it. I wanted to shove my thumb in my mouth and suck, shut my eyes and shut out the world and hide. I jerked my thumb away, smacking it down onto the changing table’s padding. My legs lifted into the air and I peeked up at Skye. She just looked down at me with a little smile then went to work cleaning me up. Cold wipe after cold wipe brushed over my butt, removing hand full after hand full of my mess. My own stench melded perfectly with that of the other dirty diapers. Slowly, wipe after wipe after wipe, Skye worked her way from my back end to my front then from my front to my back, leaving no cranny or crevice of my diaper area unwiped. Not a crotch, but a diaper area. My diaper area that had been covered in my poopies. I winced at the thought while Skye moved my legs and pelvis around, double checking to make sure she’d gotten all of that mess. I even felt the cool, wet tip of a finger wrapped in a baby wipe poking at the puckered crevice of my butt, dipping into my back door briefly. I gasped, sucking in air, my chest trembling and tight with swirling emotions. I opened my mouth to try and talk but all that escaped was a painful wheeze and strangled squeak of a sob. Done wiping me, I heard the familiar crinkle and flap of her opening a new diaper, then my bottom was lifted higher as she slid the fresh diaper under me. Salvation! No more poopy diaper! I should have been happy, or at the very least relieved to be out of that mess. Part of me was. Another part still burned in shame at having messed in the first place. “Shhh.” Skye started humming again as she worked, rubbing baby powder into each clean cheek, my buttcrack, coating each of my balls and all over my penis and surrounding skin. The she sprinkled some on my lower belly, rubbing little circles on my tummy. I could feel the love in her touch, the reassurance in her humming tone, but even that couldn’t reach me. My emotions had curled up into a little fetal ball. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I trembled as I lay there. “Almost done baby. Poopies all gone!” Skye chirped, trying to cheer me up as she brought the front of the diaper up between my legs, positioned it, then deftly secured the tapes like an old pro. How was she so good at this? Just from my diaper changes today? “Gavin. It’s okay.” Skye soothed, rubbing the front of my diaper. Her fingers pressed on the tapes securing me into my padded potty. I didn’t look at her. She leaned down to press a soft kiss to my belly, right above my diaper. Surely she could feel me trembling beneath her lips. Then she pulled my shirt down and unfastened the safety strap. I was crying, despite all my willpower as Skye guided me off of the large padded table to my feet. In my blurry, tear streaked periphery, I saw another woman carrying a screaming toddler in just his diaper- one that matched my own...my second one of the day…-and lay him on the padded surface to begin changing him. She was decidedly non-judgemental about wiping her son’s ass immediately after witnessing a grown man go through a similar treatment. Skye pulled me away onto a nearby backless bench, and pulled me into her lap as I huffed and puffed my way to a temper tantrum. My diaper-my fresh, clean, dry diaper- rustled as I shifted my weight onto the soft material of her skirt. Her legs felt firmer and fitter than my own just then. Good. Even though she was taller than me, biology gave me more than a few pounds on her. Any other time, I would have been conscious of her over myself. I would have been thinking about how I must be crushing her legs and that they’d be losing circulation within a minute. Normally, I’d be thinking about how after lugging my useless ass through crowds of people to find a place to clean me up after I’d publicly humiliated myself, but right then, I couldn’t. I was stuck in the moment. The awful, awful moment. It was like every embarrassing nightmare I’d ever had rolled into one and multiplied by a factor of three. I had been at the head of the class, about to give my oral report that will determine fifty percent of my grade, and then I’d look down and realize that I was naked. Only naked would have been preferable to what had actually happened. I’d never shit myself in front of the whole class in my dreams. “Gavi-poo?” Skye whispered to me, rubbing my back tenderly, while busy mothers came in and out to change their crying charges. “Is everything okay? Are you alright.” I just kept heaving with each breath, my shoulders bobbing up and down uncontrollably. No words would come. “Gavin, baby. Say something to me.” That’s when the gates burst inside of me, and I don’t mean my bladder or my bowels. “I’M SORRY!” I turned around and bawled into Skye’s shoulder. “I’M SORRY! I’M SOOOOOO SORRRRRY!” I couldn’t control my emotions, and only short, gasping sentences would come to my lips. “I...hyuk...DIDN’T...hyuk...MEAN...hya..TOOOOOOO!” The smell of freshly applied baby powder invaded my nose. It was probably me that I was smelling, which made things all the worse. I hadn’t needed baby powder earlier today. I hadn’t needed diapers today, either, but as of less than ten minutes ago, I had. Skye’s skin pressed tightly to my own as she embraced me and hugged me harder and harder with each sob. I was riding pony style on her knee while I cried into her shoulder, her beautiful blonde, pink, and teal hair covering my shame as I cried freely. “I’M SOOOOO….hyuh...SORRRRRYYY...hyeee...I DIDN’T MEAN TO...hyuh hyuh...EMBARASS YOUUUUUUU!” “Shhhhhh” Skye rubbed my back and bounced me on her knee, trying to soothe me. “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay. I’m fine.” she whispered. “You didn’t embarrass me at all.” But the truth was, I wasn’t apologizing to Skye. I hadn’t really been talking to Skye right then. I’d been talking to myself. “You did nothing wrong,” Skye assured me, still jiggling me lightly on her knee. “You had a diaper emergency, and like a good mommy, I took care of it.” There was that word again. Mommy. Why that word? “Mommy?” I sniffled, pulling back and looking at Skye so I could look her in the eyes. This time it was her turn to look slightly teary eyed. Only she was smiling instead of bawling. “Yeah, baby?” She responded, her breath becoming shallow, a look of anticipation in her eyes. “No,” I shook my head. “I mean, why did you say it like that? Why like a good mommy?” Skye shrugged noncommittally. The anticipation and satisfaction dashed from her eyes. “How many girlfriends do you know who wipe their boyfriend’s butts?” she replied, her voice back to a calm casual matter of fact tone. “It wasn’t very girlfriend like.” “Yeah,” I conceded. “I guess it wasn’t.” And somewhere in the depths of me, I pondered the question of whether that was a good thing or not. “Promise you won’t make fun of me for this later?” I sniffled, wiping a string of snot from my nose. “Gavi-kins,” she giggled as if I had just asked the silliest question in the world. “I’ll never make fun of you, I promise.” And she drew me in and hugged me for the first time all over again. For an instant we were back in time. Me crying in her arms, her offering me quiet comfort. Only this time she wasn’t in the wrong. I was. Yet it still ended the same way. Skye never needed comfort. She just gave it. Another piercing scream echoing off of the concrete walls of the changing area ruined an otherwise perfect moment for me. An older woman, with red hair up in a bun and flecks of gray trudged in dragging along a little red headed freckle-faced boy, maybe three-years old at most. Even in black slacks, the dark stain on the front of his pants gave away what had happened to him. “MOMMY! MOMMY! NOOOOOOOO!” the carrot top screamed. “PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS TO ME! PLEEEEEASE!” his voice was raggedly becoming scratchy and hoarse from yelling. He must have been screaming all the way. Mommy? Mommy? That seemed unlikely. The lady dragging the screaming toddler behind her was almost as old as my own mother. Granny, maybe? But Mommy? Adoptions happened, sure, but if this was his biological mother, he must be her miracle baby or something. “PLEEEASE MOMMY!” the little ginger boy screeched, digging his heels in all the way to the changing table across from the bench where we were sitting. “I’M BIG! I’M A BIG BOY! I’LL BE GOOD! I’LL BE A GOOD BOY!” Her face filled with consternation, the older woman lifted the little pre-schooler up onto the changing table and shoved him down before pulling the strap across his chest. “You had your chance to be a good boy plenty of times already, Tyler.” The greying woman proclaimed staring daggers at what seemed to be her son. “But you’ve proven that to be a lie too many times to count. And I gave you a chance to prove that you were a big boy,” she gestured to his wet pants, so similar to mine only a few hours ago. “And look what you did with that opportunity?!” Tyler fell silent, cowed by his middle aged mom. Tyler’s mom reached into her clunky, puffy gift bag and took out a bottle of “Baby Formula”. From her pocket, she withdrew a baby bottle and poured some of the oversweet drink in before screwing the nipple on. “Now drink this and keep quiet,” she ordered her child, “while I get to work cleaning up yet another of your messes.” The little redhead took the baby bottle, and suckled obediently while his mom took off his shoes and socks and ripped off his pants. The kid didn’t have any underwear on. Then, his mother reached into the bag and took out a Rearz Safari diaper. I rattled my noggin in disbelief. No way was that going to fit on a kid that size! He’d be enveloped in the damn thing. I blinked, rubbed my eyes and looked again. I must have been dehydrated, or something. Too much diapers on the brain. When I looked again, Tyler’s legs were up in the air, and his mother was sliding a perfectly normal sized but still safari printed diaper under his bum and taping it up. “Late to the zoo?” Skye inquired, breaking the silence. “Oh yes,” the mother sighed exasperated as she finished putting her pre-school aged son back in diapers. “Just got here. We would have been on time, but Tyler here couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed and ready on time, just like always. Well that stops right now,” she wagged her finger at her now crying, diapered, son. “Some boys, y’know,” Skye sighed dreamily. “They’re just late bloomers and never really grow up, do they?” “He’s been given a lot of trust, but now he’s losing it,” the middle aged mom enunciated so that her son could understand every word. “If you can’t keep your pants dry, then you shouldn’t be trusted on what to wear, or what time to go to bed, or what to eat. You’ve earned this, Tyler.” The lady reached again into the gift bag and pulled out a pair of shortalls with a little lion on the front. Skye scooched me off her lap and onto the wooden bench. “Oh, you came prepared?” she asked the woman. “I figured little Tyler here would have an accident in his pants,” the woman nodded holding out the shortalls for Skye to examine. Tyler, still on the changing table was suckling empty air from his ba-ba. He started whimpering when presented with the shortalls. “But I got this outfit from one of the gift shops.” she looked at Skye approvingly, like they were two kindred spirits. Then she glanced at me. “They’re selling them in all sizes, you know?” Skye audibly gasped with excitement and spun me around to look her in the eyes. “Gavin, baby, we are so totally going to go shopping!”

Crapperdoodles, I thought I finished reposting this. So, posting time. I hope everyone has been staying safe and taking care of themselves. Also, shameless plug time: If you have Kindle Unlimited on Amazon, you can read my new stories for free anytime you like. (There's diapers and beach fun with Beach Baby and Summer Swim, romance with Secrets To Keep, Fae magic in The Rainbow's End, and a serial killer thriller in Daddy's Girl.) See my profile for links to each story. https://www.amazon.com/C-K-Kat/e/B07WQHB9RR/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1 Personalias is on patreon, where you can check out his latest stories. https://www.patreon.com/personalias “So, what should we do next?” Skye said as we wandered away from the lunch area. She looked around, talking more to herself than me, as if she was a mother with a toddler unable to decide such things. I was used to her impulsive decision making. In our relationship, she was the more assertive and I was usually content to follow her lead. My ideas for dates were always predictable- dinner at a nice, normal restaurant and some chick flick that bored us both- Red Robin and Nicholas Sparks’ latest hit. Her idea of a romantic date: pita bread, hummus and a hot air balloon. Have you ever had sex in a hot air balloon, hundreds of feet up in the air? Yeah, that’s why I was usually happy to follow Skye’s weird ideas. I did say no to some things. LIke the Valentine’s Day when she wanted me to go sky-diving. Bungee jumping had the same results. Wetting my diaper on the pony ride, feeling the animal’s muscles shift and sway beneath me, rubbing that swollen, warm and wet padding all over me….I shivered, remembering the pleasant sensations. That was even better than the hot air balloon. A daddy pushing a stroller passed us. It was a simple, classic and sensible umbrella stroller, not one of those overpriced SUV sized monstrosities that some morons with more money than sense bought. The print on the canvas seating was the same as the toddler’s diaper; white background with colorful happy safari cartoon animals. The diaper was the only thing the blonde haired boy wore; well, his diaper and a pair of blue plastic sunglasses with little smiling zebras on the corners. He happily licked at a melting ice cream cone. Drops of runny vanilla smeared all over his mouth and cheeks and chin and dribbled down his chest. He swung his bare feet contentedly, looking very comfortable in his stroller as his huge father pushed him along. I wondered what that would feel like, to sit in a stroller and have Skye push me. My cheeks blazed at the thought. What was I thinking? I was….just a little curious...and the little boy looked very comfy….I stared until his dad’s shadow fell over me; then I shrank, side-stepping with a loud crinkle, closer to Skye. I peeked up at the boy’s father, tilting my head back. Damn, the man was huge. He looked like he could wrestle a bear and win. Unlike the muscular douchebag from the entrance gate, this guy’s muscles came from whatever his day job was. He didn’t work out to look good; he looked good from life. These weren’t show muscles; they were working muscles. Tall and wide and just huge. His head was shaved; he wore a floppy, somewhat dorky khaki hat, dark sunglasses and a thick mountain-man beard. Like the guys on Duck Dynasty. I couldn’t help but quickly glance at his crotch; he was the only unpadded male I’ve seen today. Of course he wasn’t wearing a diaper. He was a daddy, a grown up. I frowned, confused at those stray thoughts. Then I caught him glance appreciatively at Skye with a slow nod of his head. Skye smiled back. Both me and the little boy in the stroller frowned. The man didn’t look like he was flirting with Skye; I couldn’t see his eyes because of the sunglasses, but his head was raised like he was looking at her face, not her boobs or the curves of her body. “What a cute baby you have. All that blonde hair!” Skye complimented the dad on his baby. “He looks like he’s having a good time.” The man laughed, a deep belly laugh. His dorky had flopped. With as huge as he was, towering even over Skye, no one would dare laugh at him. “He’s really enjoying the day. Yours is a little shy, eh? Better not leave him in that wet diaper too long; they get rashes so easily in the heat.” My jaw dropped open; my entire face went red as the man looked at my crotch. My saggy, visibly wet crotch. I crinkled to Skye’s other side, away from the man, and took her other hand. How dare he! He talked like I was just another little baby. Was he trying to emasculate me in front of my girlfriend? I opened my mouth to object, words strangled by embarrassment. Only a garbled squeak came out. Skye smiled and patted my diapered bottom; the plastic crinkled noisily under her touch. “It was just a little tinkle when he was riding the ponies. He’s good for a little longer. We just got done eating lunch.” The man smiled at Skye’s words, giving me a knowing look. He just nodded his head at Skye. “You got lucky. We head an early brunch; in the middle of feeding my little boy his baby food when he had a diaper blow out.” “Dada!” The little boy’s face went red just like mine had. He tilted his sunny blonde head back, arching his back, straining against the simple lap belt holding him in place. A little bit of drool ran down his chin to mix in with melted ice cream. He continued to talk, but it was all baby babble. Skye laughed in delight as the baby scolded his daddy. She bent down to the boy. “He just learning to talk? What a little chatterbox! My Gavi-kin’s is more on the quiet side.” There it was again. Being mistaken for a kid….unless I was just being teased for being a grown man in a diaper. Just like the clowns and male workers. One big, run on joke. That was something Skye would enjoy. “Yupp, said his first word today.” The man beamed proudly and ruffled his baby’s hair. I tugged on Skye’s hand. The joke was getting a little old for my taste. I was in a diaper. So were a lot of other guys. Big deal. So what? “Let’s get some ice cream.” The man tilted his head to one side. “Iweam?” He stared at Skye as if expecting a translation. Skye said nothing; she just stood there with a cat ate the canary grin on her face, as if she was really enjoying this. I felt like kicking that mountain right in his shin. Not that I ever would- I’m not suicidal. I pouted down at the ground so I wouldn’t glare up at him. That would be like poking a pitbull with a stick. I shivered at the thought. I just wanted to get away before I did something stupid. Like poke my tongue out at a man who could squash me. I’d be mincemeat in a New York minute. I tugged on Skye’s hand again. “Please, Skye. Let’s go get icecream.” The man stared at me some more then chuckled in amusement. “That’s adorable. ‘Iweam Peese” I almost wish my little guy was at that stage.” This jackass really was taking it too far. I blushed and tugged harder on Skye’s hand. Skye sighed. “Okay, okay, I’ll get you some ice cream.” She looked at the man and shrugged. He laughed and waved her off. “Yeah, I know how it goes” He looked down at his little boy in the stroller then started walking again. “Skye!” “Okay.” She giggled. “You’re impatient. You really want some ice cream, huh? Got some more room in that tummy, huh?” She poked me in my belly, right on the front of the diaper. Her finger pushed in with a crinkle. “Skye!” I pulled my shirt down. She just poked me higher. I brought my hands up to block her; she dodged and poked lower again. I slammed my hands down but she was too fast for me, poking me here and there with both hands now. I squirmed, giggling. Then Skye’s hands suddenly grabbed me by my arm pits and swung me around in a circle so fast my feet left the ground as I laughed, my tummy flipping and flopping around. “There’s my happy boy!” Skye cooed once she set me back down. She held onto me, her hands on my shoulders, until she was sure I had my balance. Then she took one of my hands. “Come on, the daddy and baby came from this direction, so the ice cream place must be around here somewhere.” We passed a few more animal exhibits but they were all too crowded to get a good look at the animals, such as kangaroos, camels, buffalo, and pandas. Right after the pandas, we found the ice cream cart amid a grove of bamboo. We joined the small line. “Oh, goody, this is gonna be a special treat.” Skye chirped. I looked at the cart but with all the people around I couldn’t really see. Once we moved up closer in line, I saw the sign reading “Today’s special: Mommy Milkshakes and Cub Cones”. I groaned, remembering the Zoo Friends lunch plate. Just what fresh horrors compromise the Cub Cone? None, it turned out. The cub cone was just creamy sweet Baby Formula deliciousness in a small cone. The only downside was the bib Skye tied around my neck. “Skye.” I whined in protest but she just shushed me. “Do you want to be like that drippy baby in the stroller? Well, I could always take your bib and shirt off. Your shirt’s already messy enough, but you could go around in just your diapee while you eat. I’ll just clean you up with some wipes.” Skye chirped. I stared at Skye like she was nuts. Bib, or run around in just my diaper? Neither one was appealing….but I’d take the bib over diaper streaking any day. Well, my diaper was already showing, but with my shirt on it was almost, sort of like wearing shorts. Not really, but it felt like it. Running around in just my diaper….that was something little babies did. The baby in the stroller could barely even talk. “Was his daddy checking you out?” I squinted up at Skye as a little drop of Baby Formula ice cream dripped down my chin and onto my bib. I blushed. I had to focus on eating my treat or it would melt. “You silly baby. See, the bib was a good idea after all. I’m not his type, not at all. Trust me.” Skye sucked down her Mother’s Milkshake. She didn’t get any drops on her. We sat down in a small bamboo grotto a little further down from the ice cream cart. Bamboo grew tall, the reedy branches intertwining to create a small, green cave. A tinkling little fountain was surrounded by benches. Skye sank down elegantly in one fluid motion, crossing her legs. I plopped down next to her with a loud crinkle, wobbling a little as my padded posterior hit the cool stone bench. The cone slipped from my grip; my hand was a mess with melted ice cream and the force from sitting down caused me to drop it. Skye caught it easily; she held the sticky cone gingerly between two fingers. “Here, Gavi. Let me hold it so it doesn’t fall again.” Her voice was warm, but her face was wrinkled in distaste at the sticky mess. “Your face looks silly. I can hold it.” I reached out with my hand; it was already a mess anyway. Might as well finish with it. “No.” Skye almost cringed. She put her milkshake down and caught my wrist with her free hand, as if she didn’t want melted, sticky ice cream all over her. I giggled at her reaction, at the funny faces she was making as she grimaced, pulling away from my outstretched fingers. “Gavin. Let me hold it for you, sweetie.” “Oh, alright.” I pouted, relenting. It was nice to be able to tease her, for once. I dropped my hand and she sighed in relief. We quietly finished our desserts. Skye was done before me. My cone was small, but my belly was still full of hotdog. It gurgled as chewed up hotdog and Baby Formula digested and churned within. Once my cone was all gone, Skye got out a baby wipe and cleaned my hands. My lips, chin, and cheeks were still smeared with ice cream. She ran the cool, cloth-like wipe over each finger, determined to wipe away every last trace of melted sticky mess. She concentrated hard, her face close to mine. That’s when I got a wonderfully wicked idea. Just like I’d had with the baby goat at the petting zoo. I darted forward suddenly and planted a big, sloppy smooch on her cheek then sat back, giggling like crazy. Her cheek now sported a large, sticky smear on it, a token of my affection. Her face froze in horrified shock. I laughed so hard my belly hurt and I would have fallen over if Skye wasn’t holding my wrist, in the middle of cleaning my hand. Her face almost clouded over in annoyance then she was laughing. “Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?” Her voice was warm with affection then she blew a raspberry on my sticky cheek. I shrieked with laughter; even on my cheek it tickled. The crinkling of my diaper was just background noise I ignored. I squirmed, feet kicking as she tickled my sides. I managed to wiggle free and slide to my feet. Soon as the sandals of my soles hit cement, I took off, still giggling. “Skye, can’t catch me!” I stuck my tongue out at her, teasing her. I ran a few steps then stopped, looking back to see if she was following. Skye still sat on the bench. I stuck my tongue out again, but she just calmly gathered up our garbage. I blew a raspberry at her. She stood up; I jumped, ready to run, but she turned calmly to the garbage can just outside of the bamboo grotto. “Hah, you know you can’t catch MEEEEEE” My taunt ended in a squeal of surprise as Skye suddenly lunged toward me with her arms outstretched. I jumped, feeling a little spurt of warmth into my already soggy diaper. I barely paid attention, more focused on avoiding Skye’s reach. I walked backwards, just beyond her finger tips. “I’m gonna get you, Gavi-poo!” She called in a playful mock threat. She made a monster face and twisted her hands into claws as she lunged again. I laughed, wobbling a little as I walked backwards. “Missed me!” I turned and walked ahead, picking up speed. My wet diaper swung between my legs, weighed down from my urine. It swung back and forth like a pendulum as I waddle-ran in an awkward gait. I took no more than half a dozen steps when my balance wobbled and my knees suddenly buckled. The ground rushed up to meet me; all I could see was cement. I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact and the pain of freshly scraped and blood skin. “GAVIN!” Skye cried, true horror and worry in her voice. Then her arms were around me, squeezing me tightly as she lifted me up. One moment I was nearly horizontal with the ground, the next I was vertical once again, Skye squishing me close in a hug and running her hands through my hair. She pressed little worried kisses to my forehead and cheeks. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” She sounded as if she was more scared than I had been. I never knew carefree Skye was such a worry wort. “I’m okay. I didn’t get hurt.” I said in confusion. My heart beat against my ribs from the adrenaline rush. It had all happened so fast my mind was still catching up with the events. One second I was falling, the next I was not and Skye was there, smothering me in her concern. “Really, I’m okay.” “I know, baby. I made it in time. “ Skye’s voice was still shaky with anxiety. After a final hug, she let me go and took one of my hands. “But I want you to stay close to me from now on, okay?” “But why did I lose my balance? The ground is flat and my sandals are like sneakers.” I lifted one foot to show her, and suddenly I wobbled again. Skye held me steady. I would have tipped right over if she wasn’t holding me. I frowned. My sandals had sturdy, grooved rubber soles perfect for walking. “W-what’s going on? This is weird!” I pouted in frustration. Sure, I was not the most coordinated or athletic person out there, but even I could manage to lift my foot and run. “Maybe….maybe it’s my...my diaper?” I whispered the last part with pink cheeks. “It could be. It’s pretty thick and you’re not used to it yet. Plus it’s been a very busy day. I bet you’re legs are just tired.” Skye reassured me, kissing both of my cheeks. “Maybe.” Still, it didn’t feel quite right. Skye had been walking around in those high sandal wedges. The damn things were practically stilettos. She hadn’t lost her balance once! Then again, she made a living swinging around, climbing and gyrating against a pole on a stage in stilettos. She was used to it. I was not used to the thickness of the swollen padding forcing my inner thighs apart and giving me a new waddling gait. I mean, I was comfortable in my diaper but my muscles were still getting used to it. “Let’s go sit down for a bit. We can catch a show!” Skye announced cheerfully. I had been blindly following her, lost in my own thoughts as we turned onto a new path and left the bamboo behind. “Huh?” I looked up at her then followed her gaze to the outdoor stage up ahead, surrounded by rows upon rows of backless benches in a seating area. “Um...maybe….what kind of show is it?” I asked doubtfully as she walked over anyway. “Probably something with animals. It doesn’t really matter. You need to sit down before you fall down, Gavi-kins.” Skye blithely led me to the nearest bench and smoothly slid into her seat. She held my hand, guiding me and wrapping an arm around me as I sat down with a loud crinkle and squish of my wet diaper. “Skye. I’m not tired.” I protested. She kept her arm around my waist; she just pulled me closer to her, snug up against her side. “Sure.” She agreed easily. “But I’m comfortable, and now I’d like to see the show. Aren’t you curious?” I stared ahead at the faded, weathered wood, looking for any signs or clues about what the show was. The curtains were tattered and filthy even from a distance. The zoo really needed to upgrade. “I guess.” I mumbled. Her body was warm and soft; I laid my head on her shoulder and relaxed against her. She kissed the top of my head. From this angle I got a good view of her breasts. They really did look bigger than I remembered. Maybe she was wearing a push up bra? But there was an aching fullness to them that no bra or boob tape could recreate. I bit my lower lip as the strange urge to suck washed over me. Skye’s hand rested on my padded hip; she absently ran her fingers over one of the diaper tapes then started patting the front of my diaper. The wet, swollen interior squished over my privates pleasantly and I sighed, smiling happily. Just then the speaker crackled, full of static and feedback. It died once, then started up again, much more clear. . “DEAR PATRONS,” the speakers mounted on rickety looking stage blared. “THE CREEPY CRITTERS SHOW IS ABOUT TO BEGIN. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE ANIMALS UNLESS INSTRUCTED TO BY THEIR HANDLERS OR MAKE ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS THAT MIGHT FRIGHTEN THEM. THEY WILL BE MORE AFRAID OF YOU THAN YOU ARE OF THEM. PLEASE BE WARNED THAT THE FIRST FIFTY ROWS ARE THE SPLASH ZONE.” A lot of the adults chuckled at that. Skye and I were in the very back, and I glanced at our row. “Row 49” it read. Ah, that’s the joke. “FINALLY,” the pre-recorded message ran, “PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH CREEPY THE CLOWN. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHERE HE’S BEEN. NOW...HEEEEEEEEERE’S CREEPY!” A clown in a lab coat and a stark white mad scientist wig entered the stage from behind the withered looking curtain, to a smattering of applause, and pre-recorded organ music and lightning. His stark black and white makeup made him look more mime-ish than clown. His lab coat, which had probably been white at some point, was spray painted in streaks of red, blue, and neon green. Honestly, he looked more like a member of the Insane Clown Posse than anything you’d remotely consider funny. It wasn’t even close to Halloween. Why would they even have this attraction year round? Like every other male employee working there today, his lab coat was wide open to reveal a safari print diaper with smiling cartoon animals on it. “Ladies and gentleboys!” his pack-a-day croon send shudders down my spine. “Welcome to the Creepy the Clown’s Creepy Critter Cavalcade!” Applause echoed through the amphitheatre, bouncing off the rickety looking stage. “I of course, am the aforementioned Creepy the Clown, and I have the best job of any clown in the whole park! I get to scare little kids!” He looked down at a poor kid in the front row and began growling and barking. The little boy was unimpressed, and sat there with his arms crossing his chest. “Okaaaaay…” the clown in the lab coat paused, “We’ll work on that.” The sound of him clearing his phlegmy throat echoed from his headset and through the speakers. “But,” the clown went on, “it’s not just about scaring the pants off of people. It’s also about educating them. Many of our creepy little friends that you will be seeing today are simply...let’s say misunderstood, and it is my sincerest hope that by the end of this show, you’ll find some of these animals a lot less scary.” “Well,” he seemed to consider for a moment, “maybe not a lot less scary; but a tiny bit less so. But I can’t do this alone. I am simply your charmingly creepy MC this afternoon. The real hard work is going to be done by my lovely assistant. If you took the tram ride this morning, you know her, you love her; if you didn’t you’re about to; ladies and gentleboys, please allow me to introduce the woman on this show that actually knows what she’s doing: RAAAAAAANGER RHONDA!” The tour guide from earlier that day her, mousey brown hair in a bun sans pith helmet, jogged out onto the stage carrying a light blue, thin cardboard box. It looked like something you might deliver doughnuts in. “Well, Rhonda,” Creepy the Clown addressed her, “what do you have in there?” “Well, that’s a secret right now,” Rhonda replied in obviously scripted dialogue. “Is it a...creepy critter?” the Clown asked, sounding genuinely excited. Clearly he was the better actor in this bit. “Nope,” Rhonda smiled, shaking her head. “Well what’s in it?!” Creepy asked, seeming more agitated and anxious with each passing second. “You’ll never know,” Rhonda puffed her chest out. “This is a clown-proof box.” “A clown-proof...a clown...a clown-proof box?!” Creepy half-shrieked. “That’s no fair, Rhonda! No fair at all!” Rhonda just shrugged. The clown turned around in a huff, every move, every facial expression exaggerated so that the people hiding in the back rows could tell what he was doing. The clown marched to the pre-schooler in the front row, the one who had had his arms up in the front row. He grabbed the child roughly by the wrist and whirled him around onto the stage. “You!” he pointed to the kid once he stopped spinning. “You’re not a clown! You open the box!” The boy looked back to his mother, who waved him on, and then approached Rhonda. Rhonda bent over so the kid could reach the box. Just as the kid was bending over, the edge of his diaper peeking up over his shorts, the lid popped open. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” the kid shrieked jumping back on his heels. The little boy lost balance and fell to his butt. Bawling and wailing, he stared down at his crotch. “NOOOOOO!” he began pawing impotently at the front of his pants, pressing down on his privates and curling into the fetal position. His mother came onto stage and scooped him up, now with fresh tears and likely a not so fresh diaper. Rhonda opened the lid more so we could all see what the tot had. “I said that there wasn’t a creepy creature; and there isn’t. There are many.” Even from the top row, I could see the black, squirming mass of disgusting insects crawling over each other in the boxes. “Madagascar hissing cockroaches everyone!” The diapered clown announced. “Why don’t you tell us a little bit about these buggers, Rhonda?” Rhonda happily complied. She reached into the box and held up one of the roaches. It was huge, about the size of her thumb, with a brown butt and long, wiggling antennas. Its butt wriggled as it let out an agitated hissing noise. “These moody little buggers are one of the largest cockroach species. They’re from Madagascar and they love to nest in rotting logs. There’s three types of hisses. The first one is what this little cutie is doing. The disturbance hiss, which basically translates to “hey buddy, back off”. Next up is the mating hiss, when the males try to flirt with the females. Then the fighting hiss. Two guys fighting over one lucky lady. Now, Mommy Roach carries her babies around in a sack until they hatch. Unlike some bugs, Mommy and Baby Roach often remain in close physical contact for long periods of time.” “Skye, what kind of show is this?” I whispered over the speech Rhonda was giving. “That was a mean trick to play on a little boy.” “Oh lighten up, Gavi-poo,” Skye whispered back. “It was all in good fun. Besides, he’s in good hands, now.” Over in the side of the stage, the little boy was being cradled by his mother, sucking his thumb as she gently rocked him; smiling warmly. She patted the front of his crotch and whispered something to him before she gave him a light kiss on the forehead. “All’s well that ends well.” “Now for this next creepy critter,” the clown rasped into his headset, “we have a perfect photo opportunity for a lucky boy or girl in the audience. Who wants to come on down?” Mothers grabbed their children’s hands and raised them up into the air, waving them around, volunteering their pride and joys as the next victim for this macabre sideshow. I felt Skye’s slender fingers grip my wrist. “OVER HERE!” She called, waving my hand frantically into the air. “OVER HERE! PICK HIM! PICK HIM!” “Skye?!” I hissed, “What are you doing?” “Gettin’ you up on stage, big boy,” she grinned. “Come on, don’t you wanna show me how brave you are?” “Oh come on!” I whined, “this is a baby show! No way I’m going up there.” “Does that mean you’re scared?” her grin took on a more sinister glint. “Yes! You there! In the back!” The clown called out. “Come on dooooowwn!” I was a deer in the headlights. “Go on, Gavi-poo.” Skye encouraged me while scooting me off of my spot on the bench. “Go get ‘em, big boy.” My stomach lurched and began to gurgle as I stood up and descended the steps towards Creepy the Clown. I was out in the open, yet trapped at the same time. “Hurry up, hurry up. Don’t be shy!” he called out. “While we’re all young….” he stopped and looked around. “Poor choice of words.” My diaper swung and swayed slightly with each step down to the stage, the front weighted ever-so-slightly because of my pee-pee in it. I waddled like a cowboy until I was standing, front and center, face to face with the diapered clown. I’d been trying to avoid his kind all day, but Skye had taken that choice away from me. “Nice duds, dude,” the clown gestured to my diaper. “Looks like you’re really getting into the spirit of things today.” There was some laughter from the audience. I grinned nervously and beared it. “Name’s Creepy the Clown,” he extended to shake my hand. I eyed the buzzer in his hand and declined to shake his hand. “Smart man,” he showed the buzzer to the crowd and more appreciative laughter rang out. “That normally gets ‘em. You must be one of the smart ones. What’s your name, little buddy?” I opened my mouth to talk, but Skye shouted out before me, “His name’s Gavin!” “Gavin?!” exclaimed the idiot with the grease paint. “I just met somebody with that name...right here! Small world isn’t it, Gavin?” I just smirked and rolled my eyes. “Though seriously, Gavin,” the clown joked, “I’m kind of embarrassed. If I had known we’d be wearing the same thing,” again he pointed back and forth to our diapers, “I would have worn something else. This is why we should coordinate more. Didn’t you see my status update on instagram?” More laughing filled my ears. “But to be fair, Gavin, I’m pretty sure I was wearing mine first, so maybe you should do the honorable thing and go and get changed.” I heard Skye’s giggling waft down from the top row in the stands. I took that as my cue and started to walk off stage. “Noooooot so fast, little buddy,” the clown’s fat meaty hand came down on my shoulder. “You’re not getting off with just a few yucks and a joke. No one gets off that easy, on my show. Good try though. Ranger Rhonda, what do we have for Gavin?” “We have our very own Biiiiig Bertha!” Rhonda cheered carrying a large burlap sack over her shoulder. I had the creeping notion that there was something besides potatoes in that sack. She opened the sack and then reached in and pulled out a long...scaly...vomit green with rotted log spots...thick as my thigh,snake. I froze. “Bertha is a nearly fully grown burmese python!” The stage shuddered with each step Rhonda took toward me. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted to grab a fire axe and decapitate the legless monster that was even now being bought up to me. “Burmese pythons are among the top five biggest snakes in the world,” Rhonda spoke into her headset, her voice echoing through the ampitheatre. “Now, like all constrictors, burmese pythons are nonvenomous. Instead they kill their prey by wrapping around it and squeezing the life out of it ” That’s when I felt the rough, scaly skin of the apex predator brush against the back of my neck. I was only vaguely aware of the tour guide and the clown to either side of me. They were wrapping this monster around me, setting me up to be it’s next meal. I broke out into a cold sweat as its head swiveled around in the air, a vicious forked tongue probing for its next meal. “But don’t worry, Gavin,” Rhonda assured me, “Burmese pythons rarely attack humans, though some can get big enough to actually eat alligators.” My mouth was dry. This thing could eat a friggin’ alligator and I wasn’t supposed to worry? “A common misconception about reptiles is their predatory nature,” Rhonda lectured, oblivious to my terror, as the skin crawling monster slithered around on my shoulders, only barely being supported by the two professionals. My own frail, almost rabbit-like frame bore most of the weight. Didn’t snakes eat rabbits? “Most burmese pythons only need to eat once every month or so, and the bigger they get, the less often they need to eat.” “Hey Rhonda,” Creepy the clown asked, “how long has it been since we fed Big Bertha, anyways?” “Well, you were supposed to feed her last month,” Rhonda answered. “No I wasn’t,” Creepy replied with mock incredulity, “It was your turn.” “I thought it was…” Rhonda sounded worried. “Gavin...buddy,” I heard Creepy stage whisper. “Don’t move. And if you feel Bertha hugging you...don’t scream...you’re gonna need alllll your air.” The snake writhed around and made eye contact with me, it’s soulless killer eyes locking with mine. “Watch this, folks, we actually taught Big Bertha a little trick.” Creepy took a wand and waved it over Bertha’s head, her tongue dancing in the air barely inches from my nose. The wand struck Bertha’s snout and the snake opened it’s mouth with an audible hissssssss. I stared into the pink, ribbed abyss as the leviathan opened its maw right at me. Too many living things had gone down into that living squirming, pulsating cave and never come back. My jaw felt like it unhinged itself, mimicking the apex predator lying on my shoulders and staring directly at me, it’s pink mouth spread open to consume me. I tried to scream in abject terror, but nothing came out. Then something did. It just didn’t come out of my mouth. Mushy, sticky, disgusting poop rushed out of me, hitting the seat of my diaper and spread out instantly. The constant crinkling that had become so much white noise to me that morning and afternoon was drowned out by a thick, sickening, squelching sound, as not quite solid stool collided with the soft cotton lining meant to hold and absorb my pee-pee accidents. Uproarious laughter at my shocked expression gave way to pitiful silence as wet farts erupted from my backside in the intervening seconds. I was pooping my pants, except I wasn’t even wearing pants, and I had a live audience of mothers and their toddlers all watching in shocked silence. I willed myself to stop, to scream to cover the noise, to run, to walk, to fall down; anything really. But my body continued to betray me. All I was allowed to do was bend my knees, mutely grunt to myself, and stare off into the middle distance, as I pushed out more and more of my own bodily waste into my seat. The weight of the mess practically jerked the back half of my diaper downwards as it sagged with the weight I was putting into it. I was only, vaguely aware of the snake handler taking “Big Bertha” off of my shoulders as my mess spread first up my crack and ass, and then as gravity took over, down into my taint, and coating my balls with smelly mud-like scat. It now felt less like I was wearing plastic backed underwear, and more like a grocery bag full of shit strapped to my hips. I was dirty. I was vile. I wasn’t even human anymore. I was unclean. And there was an entire audience of people watching me quietly debase myself. In the front row I saw mothers hide their tittering behind their hands, and even toddlers blushed on my behalf. Further back, I was keenly aware of manicured fingers pointing at me and slender hands suddenly remembering to check their own babies for accidents in need of changing. Some of the kids even turned around to look at their parents, clear sounds of objections from their lips and looks of indignation on their faces. As if they were as bad as the big person shitting himself in public! How insulting! How ridiculous. They were all younger than me, but bigger than me where it counted. Up in the back rows, I spotted the little black baby and his mother from the pony ride. He was giving me the thumbs up with one hand, his other hand jammed back into his mouth, a thin line of drool visible from even where I was standing. Way to go, he seemed to congratulate me. Way to go. I had just gone alright. An unfamiliar hand, patted my backside, gingerly squeezing the mess I had deposited. “Uh, I think this guy needs a little help over here.” The clown called out awkwardly from behind me. “Ma’am, could you come get him?” I needed help. I needed out of this place. I needed to go home and cry and forget all about this wretched day. But most of all, I needed a new diaper. And for any and all of that, I needed Skye.

Very good tip!

I haven't heard of her. Have you tried looking her up on tumblr or twitter or patreon? I know several ABDL authors who have twitter profiles. If she's been silent since 2014, she may have had to drop out of the ABDL scene for personal or real-world reasons. It's a shame, but it happens some times. There have been a few authors I've greatly admired who dropped out of the scene.

You could also watch some documentaries on real serial killers/ read some books/ surf the web for info on them and hunt up some crime scene photos. Or police interviews with suspected (and later convicted) serial killers, read up profiles on them, to get a general overall feel for how they operate/ their mentality and develop your plot/ scene/ characters from there. Don't feel confined to it, just use it as a spring board/ starting point and extrapolate from there. That's what I did when researching for my ABDL thriller, Daddy's Girl. When I was writing Cameron's background and his father in Bad Seed, I profiled nasty child abusers. I should probably say, word of warning- do that with caution, because knowing it's real-world violence may make one feel sick/ upset. For me, writing from the POV of a serial killer and Cameron's dad weren't happy headspaces to be in.

My character surnames come from all over the place. A lot of the times it's determined by what other posters already mentioned- ethnicity, time, and place. Aside from that, I try to go with something that feels like it fits the character or the character's station in life. At that point, surnames can come from anywhere- other characters in a TV show/book/movie, people or names I've come across in real life, phone book, historical figures, the internet, criminal records, political and court documents (part of public records, so anyone can access that stuff).

Yay, toilet paper! I wonder if TP will start becoming available more now that some time has passed, giving people a chance to stock up. Some stores in my area have done that too- putting markers on the floor, and putting signs up for customers to maintain 6 ft. distance. Alas, people in my area give 0 fucks and keep standing right in line behind each other.

Kindle Unlimited is where I've made most of my money, too.

There's always cloth diapers. They're more expensive upfront (especially with plastic pants) but you can get multiple uses out of them. One thing I like about being an ABDL; it opens the mind up to other toileting possibilities than those imposed upon society. (Like, wearing a diaper on a long trip or outing to avoid having to use public restrooms or port o potties. Unless one ends up needing a diaper change, lol.)

It probably exists, somewhere. I haven't found it yet thought. How are things working out with Smashwords?

I like a thick disposable like ABU Peekabus or Rearz InspireIncontrol or Northshore Megamax. I wear my thick diapers under a onesie, it helps hold them up when the diaper swells up and gets heavy and wet. The onesie helps prevent diaper sag and keeps the expanded bulk pressed against me.

It may vary from person to person. I haven't read too much about people re-potty training themselves after incontinence/ diaper training. What few statements I've come across have said that it is more difficult as an adult.

When in doubt, it's generally best to play it safe. Too bad you can't just check with Amazon and get it pre-approved.

I remember this one. An excellent read, and I love the setting. We don't see too many ABDL stories set in different cultures/ countries, so that was one of my favorite aspects of this story.

I've heard of some hospitals and nursing homes just putting chux pads under bedridden/ unconscious or comatose patients for bowel movements.

I'm partial to the first one myself. It's nice and subtle, but still obviously a diaper.

That is very nice of you Sophie! People could use some well written entertainment to take their mind off this whole Corona mess.

That's part of why the critiques and writer's discussion sub-forum was formed for. People have started up threads to get ideas for their stories/ feedback on their ideas. They've also discussed ideas about how the diaper dimension works/ concepts of that world, etc. You could also try discussing it in DD chatroom.

Diapers are great in many situations. Glad you had a good experience. I've read about vanilla people (non ABDLs) wearing diapers on New Year's Eve in Times Square, and on the crowded trains in China, especially during Lunar New Year when everyone travels home for the holiday.

If you have a septic tank, you could try a septic cleaner. Something like Rid-X for a septic system or for your drains products like Draino or Liquid Plumber to eat away clogs.